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“I’ve been having this vision since before Abyssinia returned,” she said, “and not a whole lot about it has changed. Auger’s still injured. Omen still dies.”
“The more information we get about it, the better our chances of averting it,” Skulduggery responded. “The latest detail you picked up was that it happens here, in America – possibly in Oregon. It stands to reason – though I make no assumptions – that what we are investigating now is somehow linked to what happens to the Darkly brothers in an indeterminate amount of time. So I would suggest that we continue as we are, and learn as much as we can about what’s going on.”
“But we’ve got so many things going on,” Valkyrie countered. “We’ve got Alice’s soul to heal, President Flanery’s missing aide to investigate and now we have Temper’s melty-face people to find.”
“Kith.”
“Melty-face people is more descriptive. My point is, we can’t do everything.”
“Of course we can,” Skulduggery said. “We’re Arbiters. We’re detectives. We have incredible bone structure.”
“All that is undeniable, but aren’t we in danger of missing something if we have all these different things calling out for our attention? I don’t want to lose a chance to find Doctor Nye because we’re chasing down a lead on Flanery’s assistant.”
He shook his head. “Flitting between investigations will keep us sharp, and prevent us from developing tunnel vision. It’s a good thing to be so busy.”
“I told Omen to stay out of America for the next few weeks,” Valkyrie said. “Do you think that was a good idea?”
“Yes.”
“OK.”
“Unless by telling him to stay out of America you’ve inadvertently set him on a collision course with the events you saw in your vision.”
“Oh, God. Do you think I have?”
“Probably not.”
“Phew.”
“But maybe.”
“Skulduggery, I swear to God …”
They turned right at a junction. “When it comes to visions of the future, we can’t know anything,” he said. “We could continue on exactly as we are and not one thing you saw will actually come true. Or we could second-guess every decision we make from now until then, and the future would happen just as you foresaw. From what we know, there are an infinite amount of possible futures that stem from any given moment. Sensitives can glimpse one of these possible futures, but there’s no way of knowing how close it is to what will eventually transpire.”
Valkyrie let his words soak in. They didn’t make her feel any better. In fact, they made her glum. Which in turn made her wonder.
“Am I as much fun as I used to be?” she suddenly asked.
“No,” Skulduggery said immediately.
She shot him a look. “You could have taken a little more time to think about it.”
“You’ve had a lot on your mind for the last thirteen years,” he responded. “First you found out that your uncle had been murdered, then you had to help save the world, then you met some transdimensional supergods, after which you found out that you were this Darquesse person that all the Sensitives were so worried about. Then you thought you were going to be the Death Bringer, then Darquesse emerged, and then she took over your body, and then you died, and then you had to fight her, and then you were in America for five years to recover, and now you’ve come back and you’ve had to rescue your sister from a serial killer who blamed you for the death of his serial-killer apprentice, and now this whole thing with Alice’s soul … But I think there was maybe a three-week gap somewhere in there, before things got too serious, when you were what could be considered fun.”
She grunted. “We’ve been busy.”
“Yes, we have.”
“And do you think I’ve become too … serious?”
“It’s a serious world.”
“That doesn’t answer the question.”
“You’re as serious as you need to be,” said Skulduggery. “And you’re as flippant as you need to be. It’s a balancing act. If you tip too far one way or the other, you fall off the wire. People like us, Valkyrie, it’s our purpose in life to walk that wire.”
She nodded, and looked out of the window. “I don’t think I’m as happy as I used to be.”
“It would astonish me if you were.”
“I’ve got issues. About everything that’s happened. I think I need to talk to someone.”
“You can talk to me.”
She smiled. “Thank you. But I think I have to talk to someone else. You’re … I don’t mean this in a bad way, but—”
“But I’m a part of the problem,” Skulduggery said.
“Yes. Sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’m a bad influence, and I always have been. You need a professional. China has a few on her staff at the High Sanctuary.”
Valkyrie looked at him. “I might make an appointment, so.”
He nodded. “That’s probably a good idea.”
“Would you ever consider it?”
He flicked the indicator and they overtook a slow-moving truck. “I’m too far gone, I’m afraid,” he said. “I have my demons, but they work to keep each other in check at all times. My mind is in a permanent state of finely tuned chaos that I would be loath to disrupt.”
“And you don’t think it’s too late for me?”
He angled his head towards her. “Your traumas have made you who you are, but they don’t define you. You can live with them, I have no doubt.”
Valkyrie nodded. She was satisfied with that. For the moment.
They got where they were going a little over an hour later. An operative from the American Sanctuary indicated the car on the other side of the street, the one Oberon Guile was sitting in. Valkyrie nodded her thanks to the operative, who ignored her, and drove off.
“I don’t think that guy appreciated handing this case over to us,” Valkyrie said as they parked. “Can we send him a muffin basket or something?”
“No.”
“Then can we get muffins?”
“Sure.”
They got out and Valkyrie crossed the road, approaching Oberon’s car with a bright smile on her face. She motioned for him to wind down the window, and as she reached the car Skulduggery slipped in the passenger side, gun levelled at Oberon’s midsection.
Valkyrie leaned in. “Hands on the dash, if you wouldn’t mind.”
“This is really not a good time,” Oberon said, complying. He was stubbly, and even better-looking in person, and he had a nice accent and a nice voice. It had an edge to it.
“Who are they?” Valkyrie asked. “The people in the house you’re watching?”
“I’m not watching anyone, Miss Cain,” Oberon said. “I’m just sitting here in my car.”
“You know who I am.”
“I may not be the most sociable of sorcerers,” said Oberon, “but I’ve heard of the Skeleton Detective and the girl who almost killed the world.”
“My nickname sucks.”
Oberon looked at Skulduggery. “You can put the gun away. I’m not your enemy.”
“I’ll decide what you are,” Skulduggery replied. “My partner asked you a question that you haven’t answered.”
Oberon drummed the dashboard with his fingertips. “The people in that house are of no concern to you. You want something – tell me what it is so I can get back to sitting here. But, Miss Cain, would you mind getting in the car? I’m trying not to draw attention to myself.”
Valkyrie got in the back, then scooted over so she could look at Oberon while they talked. His car was very clean.
“Bertram Wilkes,” Skulduggery said. “You were in his house last week.”
“So?”
“So why were you there?”
“Maybe I was his guest.”
“For you to be his guest, he would have to have invited you in. That would be rather hard to do, seeing as how he’s been missing for six months.”
“OK then, I broke in,” said Oberon. “He owes me money.”
“How much?”
“Few hundred.”
“Did you get it?”
“No.”
“When was the last time you spoke to him?”
“Well,” Oberon said, “how long did you say he’s been missing? Six months? So, let’s say that I haven’t spoken to him in six and a half.”
“Why are you lying to us?” Skulduggery asked.
“I don’t really see a reason why I should answer any questions at all, to be honest. I’m not part of your Sanctuary thing. You got no jurisdiction over me.”
“We can arrest you.”
“For what?”
“Obstructing an investigation. Wasting our time. Not being forthcoming.”
Oberon gave a little laugh. “That’s a crime now, is it?”
“We’re Arbiters,” Skulduggery said. “That means we can make up our own crimes.”
Oberon sighed and scratched his cheek.
“OK,” he said at last, “I’ll tell you the truth. But you gotta do something for me in return. You gotta help me raid that house.”
Valkyrie sat forward. “Who’s in there?”
“Bad guys,” he answered. “I think they might have my son. I haven’t been able to confirm that because there’s one of me and nine of them – but, with you two, I could probably make a go of it.”
“Why would they have your son?” Skulduggery asked.
“You know who Wilkes was, right? His job?”
“President Flanery’s personal aide.”
“My ex, Magenta, that’s Robbie’s mom, she’s a Sensitive, the kind that specialises in persuading people to do things, oftentimes against their own interests. That’s a very particular talent to have, and it’s one of the reasons we broke up. She’s not a bad person by any stretch, but I don’t think she could resist some small manipulations to get her way every now and then. That’s got nothing to do with anything, though.
“Four years ago, right after we split, she mentioned something about taking a job for a mortal politician – Flanery. It paid good money and it wasn’t overly time-consuming, so she could give Robbie the support and attention he needed. I wasn’t around much, so I got to see him at weekends and whenever I was back this way. It wasn’t perfect, but it worked.
“Magenta was used to convince senators to vote a certain way, to push judges to make favourable decisions, that kinda thing. She said Flanery had an advisor, a sorcerer.”
“Wilkes,” said Valkyrie.
“No,” said Oberon. “Wilkes came later. I don’t think Flanery knew that Wilkes was a mage. Or maybe he did, I don’t know – but his advisor was somebody else.”
“Where does your child come into all this?” Skulduggery asked.
A muscle flexed in Oberon’s jaw. “When Flanery started his bid for the presidency, he needed Magenta more and more. She resisted. She was talking about quitting. That’s when Robbie was taken.”
Valkyrie’s eyes widened. “Your son has been missing since before Flanery became president?”
“Three years now,” Oberon said. “Every two or three days, Magenta gets to spend a few hours with him. As I’m sure you know, I spent most of that time in a prison cell, so I didn’t know that Robbie had been snatched until I got out of Ironpoint and received a letter she’d left for me.”
“Why were you in Wilkes’s house?”
“I was trying to find what you detectives call a clue. Am I pronouncing that right? Clue?”
“Surely your wife could help you …?”
“I haven’t been able to speak to Magenta,” Oberon said. “I haven’t been able to get close. She’s got the Seven-As-One guarding her.”
