Fletcher stood beside Stephanie, his hand touching hers. In his other hand he held up the Soul Catcher. It started to glow, lit up from the inside with swirling light. Darquesse threw her head back and screamed, her whole body shaking. Skulduggery gripped her arms, keeping her sitting upright.

“The sparrow flies south for winter,” he said loudly. “The sparrow flies south for winter.”

The Soul Catcher shone so brightly Stephanie was almost forced to look away, but then a deep blue spread over its surface, locking the light inside, and the Sensitives stepped away, their link broken.

“We have her,” Cassandra said, taking the Soul Catcher from Fletcher and holding it like it was a bomb about to go off.

Stephanie moved round so she could take a better look at Darquesse. No, not Darquesse. Not any more. Valkyrie.

Valkyrie’s shadowskin went into spasm and she scrambled away from Skulduggery, away from everyone, scampering backwards into the corner. Her eyes were wide, uncomprehending and terrified.

Skulduggery rose, his hands up. “Valkyrie,” he said. “It’s me. It’s Skulduggery. You’re OK. You’re safe. Listen to me, listen to my voice. Your name is Valkyrie Cain. You’re in control.”

The darkness that covered Valkyrie’s body twisted and writhed, its sudden movements seeming to scare her more than anything. Skulduggery took a thick necklace from his pocket, on which hung a heavy amulet. He tossed it on to the ground beside Valkyrie and the shadows latched on, started flowing into it. Then Skulduggery whipped off his jacket and rushed forward, covering Valkyrie as the amulet absorbed the last of her Necromancy power.

“Valkyrie?” Skulduggery said softly.

Valkyrie blinked, looked up at him. For a long time she didn’t speak, and then, “You … you’re a skeleton.”

Skulduggery tilted his head. “Yes I am. I have been one for a few years now.”

Valkyrie nodded. “I like skeletons,” she said, and closed her eyes, and Skulduggery scooped her up into his arms.

22

THE RETURN OF VALKYRIE CAIN

tephanie went shopping.

While everyone was still fussing over Valkyrie’s return the previous night, she took a walk through Roarhaven’s shopping district. A few of the stores were obviously beginning to struggle, denied as they were the promised influx of sorcerers eager to part with their cash, but they were all still open, at least. She found one that sold armoured clothes – not as effective as Ghastly Bespoke’s, and certainly not as finely tailored, they nevertheless did the job they were supposed to do. She bought a whole outfit, paid at the till, and while she waited for her change the lady behind the counter positively radiated hatred. But Stephanie was used to it.

It wasn’t her fault she looked like Darquesse.