Dark Days. Derek Landy

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СКАЧАТЬ but as a result of its overuse, it began developing certain quirks of behaviour, a problem compounded when it “died”. They had returned the body to the mirror, and the reflection came back to its imitation of life, but after that it became even more erratic. It had broken free of some of its own boundaries – the changing of its clothes being a primary example – and every now and then there were short gaps in its memory.

      But Valkyrie didn’t have time to worry about any of that now. She needed to get Skulduggery’s head. Besides, someone had to go to school today and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be her.

      She buttoned up her black trousers and pulled on her boots, letting the trouser turn-ups fall over them. The top was sleeveless but warm, and when she slipped into the coat, it was like she was suddenly wearing thermals. The material reacted to the environment and to her body temperature, keeping her in comfort no matter what. The coat was black, but its sleeves were the dark red of dried blood. A Ghastly Bespoke creation.

      The reflection picked up Valkyrie’s schoolbag and left, closing the door behind it.

      Valkyrie rang Fletcher Renn and he stepped out of empty space beside her. The phone crackled in her hand as the network struggled to compensate, then gave up. His blond hair was painstakingly untamed, and his grin was the usual mix of cocksure and mocking. He wore old jeans, scuffed boots and an army jacket, and the only problem with how he looked was that Fletcher knew he looked good.

      “What happened here?” he asked, the grin vanishing as he noticed the mess.

      “I was attacked.”

      His eyes widened and he grabbed her, as if making sure she was still alive. “Are you OK? Are you hurt? Who did it?”

      “I’m fine, Fletcher. I’ll tell you about it when I tell the others.”

      “It wasn’t the vampire, was it?”

      “What?”

      Fletcher let Valkyrie go and stepped back. “What’s-his-name, from yesterday. Mean and moody vampire boy.”

      “His name’s Caelan. And no, of course not.”

      He nodded slowly. “OK then. And you’re sure you’re all right?”

      “I’m fine.”

      “What did he say anyway? The vamp.”

      “He set up the meeting, like he said he would.”

      “No chit-chat then?”

      “He’s not the type.”

      “Strong and silent, eh?”

      “I suppose. Also the sun was going down.”

      “Ah, OK. He probably didn’t want to turn into a horrible monster and tear you apart on your first date.”

      “I’m sensing that you don’t like him very much.”

      “Well, no, on account of the horrible monster part. Do you?”

      “Like him? No. I don’t even know him.”

      “Well, all right then.” Fletcher seemed satisfied. “Can I ask you a question?”

      “You already did.”

      “Can I ask you another?”

      “Can you ask me somewhere my parents won’t hear?”

      He took her hand and in an eyeblink they were standing on the roof of Bespoke Tailor’s. These days, teleportation didn’t even make Valkyrie dizzy.

      “Ask away,” she said.

      He hesitated and then said, very casually, “Do you think things will return to normal for you when we get Skulduggery back? You and him, out solving crimes and having adventures and stuff?”

      “I expect so. Don’t see why they wouldn’t.”

      “That’s good,” he nodded. “It’s nice that it’s finally coming to an end, isn’t it? After everything we’ve all done and been through.”

      “These past few months have been terrible,” Valkyrie admitted.

      “Yeah, I know. But at the same time, like, I’ve actually been, you know, enjoying it.”

      Valkyrie said nothing.

      “Not in a bad way!” he added, laughing. “I didn’t enjoy the fact that he was lost, or that you’ve been so worried about him. I just mean that, for me, being part of everything, it’s been good. I’ve liked being part of a team.”

      “Right.”

      “So, I mean, I was thinking, I was wondering, do you think he’d let me tag along on your cases?”

      Valkyrie took a sudden breath. “I … I really don’t know.”

      “I’d be pretty useful, you have to admit. No more driving everywhere in that ancient car of his.”

      “He loves the Bentley. And so do I.”

      “I know, I know, but still, maybe you could mention it to him, when he’s back.”

      “I will,” she said. “I’ll mention it.”

      “Unless you don’t want me around.”

      Valkyrie raised an eyebrow. “Did I say that?”

      “No, but … Actually, yes, you have said that, a lot.”

      She shrugged. “That’s only when you annoy me.”

      “Have I annoyed you lately?”

      “You’re annoying me now…”

      Fletcher grinned and Valkyrie held out her hand. “Downstairs.”

      He took her hand and bowed. “Yes, m’lady.”

      Instantly, they were in the backroom of Bespoke Tailor’s.

      “You can let go of my hand,” said Valkyrie.

      “I know I can,” Fletcher responded. “I just choose not to.”

      She rotated her wrist, forcing him to release her in a relatively painless manner.

      They smelled coffee and heard conversation, and emerged into the shop to find Tanith and Ghastly Bespoke sitting at the small table by the wall. Ghastly was shaking his scarred head in disgust.

      “What’s wrong?” Valkyrie asked.

      “Dreylan Scarab got out of prison yesterday,” Tanith told her.

      “Who’s Dreylan Scarab?” asked Fletcher.

      “He’s the assassin who СКАЧАТЬ