Valkyrie got up slowly, painfully, and her dad tried to pull her back down. No, not pull. He was tugging at her shirt. She glanced at him, saw he was looking behind Darquesse. She followed his gaze, saw Fletcher standing in a doorway across the street. He was holding up his hand, five fingers splayed. He started counting down.

Four fingers.

Three fingers.

He vanished, and Valkyrie turned her attention back to Darquesse, continuing the countdown in her own head—

Two.

One.

She lunged, energy erupting from her hand, blasting Darquesse right in the face. Darquesse screeched, staggered, managed to grab Valkyrie as she went and she twisted, hurling Valkyrie off her feet. Before she hit the wall, the impact snapping her bones like they were dry twigs, Valkyrie glimpsed Fletcher again, teleporting in right behind Darquesse. And he wasn’t alone.

94

They were all around Darquesse before she knew what was happening. Fletcher’s work. So that’s why they’d been keeping him out of the fight until now. Sneaky. She saw hazy outlines, heard voices, felt hands on her. Valkyrie’s blast – whatever it had been – had disorientated her for a moment.

But just for a moment.

Darquesse healed her eyes first so she could see what the hell was happening. She was on her knees. Four people formed a circle around her. Cassandra Pharos stood in front with her eyes closed, one hand on Darquesse’s head. Finbar Wrong and Geoffrey Scrutinous were on either side, a hand each on Cassandra’s shoulders. They held hands with Philomena Random, standing behind Darquesse and closing off the circle.

Darquesse didn’t know what the hell these crazy old hippies were trying to do. Probably kill her with love, or something.

As the rest of her face healed, she reached up, wrapping her fingers round Cassandra’s wrist. That hand on her head was annoying her. She crushed the wrist as she stood and Cassandra’s eyes popped open in astonishment, like she hadn’t expected something so pedestrian as pain to interrupt her meditations. Darquesse’s own eyes lit up and she let Cassandra have it full blast. The old woman’s head blew apart.

Geoffrey tried to run, but Darquesse grabbed him, twisted his head round, let his lifeless body crumple. Finbar, fair play to him, at least tried to attack. In his last few moments, he realised that a pacifist’s life was not for him, and he launched himself at Darquesse with a war cry. She killed him easily, of course, and wondered if Sharon would mourn the loss.

Philomena shot her point blank in the head. Darquesse gave her a smile, took the gun from her trembling hand and used it to cave in her skull.

Fletcher was kneeling by Valkyrie’s side, next to Desmond and Melissa. They hadn’t even noticed that the circle of love had spectacularly failed. Melissa was sobbing. Valkyrie wasn’t moving.

“Fletcher,” Darquesse said.