Every cell of Valkyrie's shattered body was screaming agony at her; her instinct was yelling to get to her feet, to run, to fight, but she couldn't move, she couldn't breathe, she couldn't give voice to the screams of pain that were building up inside her head.
Slowly, she realised that no new pain had been inflicted. Was the game over, was Melancholia gone? She tried to see, to open her eyes, but her lacerated eyelids were glued closed with a crust of dried blood; she dragged them open with a stab of pain, in time to hear a vicious, animal snarl from behind her. With panic rising in her throat, she tried to sit up, but her arms were shaking uncontrollably and every motion sent butterfly wings of agony fluttering through her body. She slumped back onto the ground, the damp earth sending chills through her t-shirt, and twisted her head to one side, but what she saw made no sense.
Melancholia, a tall, lanky figure in necromancers robes, blond hair ruffled by the sea breeze, stood with her face twisted in savage rage, sending waves of shadows crashing down on- what was it?
Valkyrie's first thought was 'dog,' but that wasn't right- the creature was too lean, too graceful, too lithe, it's eyes too yellow. And she knew that there was a word that would fit it perfectly, but her groggy mind couldn't comprehend it. Wolf.
What the bloody hell was a fricking wolf doing in Haggard? Her mind was too weary to search for an answer, her body too wracked with torment to do anything to help. All she could do was lie and watch as the blue grey creature faced the Death Bringer.
Melancholia sent a spear of shadows, which the creature neatly sidestepped; another jab was leapt, the third slid under. The wolf was incredibly fast, moving so as to nearly blur in front of Valkyrie's fuzzy eyes; but it was just a wolf, and sooner or later it would have to stop dancing. As it happened, sooner.
The necromancer sent a wave of darkness crashing down on the animal, and Valkyrie was certain there was no way it could evade this attack- she was right. But something strange happened, something that should be impossible. The wolf leapt straight through the wave, emerging seemingly unharmed, yellow eyes blazing, lips drawn back to show white teeth in a snarl.
Melancholia's eyes narrowed in confusion, and taking its chance the wolf darted forward and closed its teeth around her leg, ripping through the flimsy robes she wore and heading straight to the flesh beneath. The Death Bringer let out a shriek that was music to Valkyrie's ears, and sent a wall of shadows slamming down on the canines head. It seemed to feel that, but again it was curiously muffled- the attack should have taken the creatures head off, but all it did was force it into retreat, shaking it's head as though to clear water from it's ears.
They circled each other warily, Melancholia with a hand clasped to her injured leg- Valkyrie, even in her injured state, felt a flash of contempt. The wound couldn't be that bad, she'd had far worse in the course of her and Skulduggery's adventures.
With her free hand, Melancholia reached into her robes and pulled out a long, slender knife, presumably realising that Necromancy didn't seem to be working well on the animal, but that cold steel would do the trick. The wolf let out a low growl at the sight of it, and, moving so fast Valkyrie's eyes could hardly follow the motion, leapt at Melancholia. The jaws closed on the arm that wielded the knife, and Melancholia screamed as the crack of bones sounded sickeningly loud in the night time silence- a shadow darted up and hit the wolves ribs, this time having more affect than before and causing it to yelp in pain and loosen it's hold for a moment. Melancholia brought down the knife with her injured arm, and the wolf cried out as the metal pierced it's flank, cutting through the thick greyish fur. It let go of the broken arm and dropped to the ground, retreating hastily out of range, eyes turning wary now that it's opponent had a knife in her hand.
But Melancholia showed no inclination to attack; she was swaying where she stood, the weakness Valkyrie had glimpsed earlier returning to her pale face. She dropped to her knees with a thud, the knife falling to the ground and the wolf regarded her with narrowed eyes; a little sob escaped the necromancer's lips, and the animal took a step towards her, hackles bristling.
At which point, Melancholia drew an old fashioned revolver from her robes and pulled the trigger.
She was no good at aiming, but this close she didn't need to be. Twice she missed, but four bullets found their mark- two on the flank, one near the foreleg, and the final shot directly in the chest. The wolf let out a cry and staggered backwards, but Melancholia was already gone, gathering enough strength to shadow walk. Valkyrie's body, which had been kept awake despite the pain and blood loss by pure adrenaline and the knowledge it was still in danger, began to shut down, and darkness clouded her vision.
"Valkyrie, what happened?"
The Sanctuary bed was thin and hard, and even through her exhaustion and shock Valkyrie was keeping an eye on Nye as it stalked in it's long legged way round the Sanctuary, lopsided rip of a mouth twisted into what might have been a smile. She was still far from trusting that thing that had once dissected her, and she wished Kenspeckle was still here to heal her and be grumpy and make her feel bad about being hurt. But no.
Next to the bed stood Skulduggery Pleasant, the Skeleton Detective, mentor, and best friend. Though his skull was, as normal, expressionless, Valkyrie had become very good at judging his moods, and right now she could see he was ready to kill somebody. For once, she was right behind him in that particular urge; humiliation and anger were both racing through her mind at the moment, and she'd have loved to pay her tormentor back in kind.
"Melancholia." She told him, and saw his fists clench. He gave a tight little nod, and she continued. "She wasn't there to kill me, she just wanted to cause me pain, and she's powerful, Skulduggery, too powerful. There are symbols etched all over her face, and I don't know what they're doing to her but it's not right. She had these moments of weakness, and-" she gave a self conscious, embarrassed laugh. "I think I might have been hallucinating for a while."
Skulduggery tilted his head that way he did. "Why's that?" his voice was velvet and restrained, as it always was, but Valkyrie could sense the rage lurking beneath the surface, and it unsettled her. She wasn't used to this version of Skulduggery, and angry as she was at the thought of Melancholia, he almost… frightened her? She dismissed the thought instantly, but it still lingered at the back of her mind.
"Well, don't laugh at me, ok? But for a while, I thought I could see a wolf fighting Melancholia." She gave an embarrassed chuckle that came to a halt as she looked at Skulduggery.
The skeleton was standing as still as stone, frozen in place. "Skulduggery?" she sat up, anxious, her body still aching.
"What did it look like?" he asked, his voice emotionless. Valkyrie frowned, confused.
"Skulduggery?" she asked again uncertainly. Suddenly, his bony hands were on her shoulders, squeezing tight enough to hurt.
"What are you-"
"What did it look like?"
Close to fear, Valkyrie searched through the foggy memories. "Um, grey?" she hazarded. The detective didn't lose his grip, but continued to stare at her.
"Bluish grey." She improved hastily. "Uh, wolfish? Yellow eyes, four paws, maybe a white smudge on its muzzle?"
He loosened his grip a little, but didn't move away. "What happened to it, Valkyrie?" his words were little more than a breath that stirred her dark hair, and suddenly the words she was about to speak seemed dreadfully significant.
"It got shot." She said quietly. "The shadows didn't seem to have much affect, but she knifed it when it broke her arm, and then she collapsed. It was over, you could see she was in no fit state to use magic, but… but she had a gun."
Skulduggery withdrew, and bowed his head in a nod for a moment. Then, with a suddenness that made her jump in shock, the detective punched the wall with enough force to shatter the plaster. Nye scurried away, and Valkyrie merely stared, mouth open in shock. The skeleton looked at her expressionlessly, and she had to fight the urge to recoil from his burning anger. "Any chance it might still be alive?"
She thought back, shutting her eyes as she struggled to remember, and once again saw the four bullets entering the wolf with brutal force. "I don't know." She answered honestly, still not certain why it was so important. And then, suddenly, the detective's bony arms were around her and they were flying. The Roarhaven sanctuary was small, but even so Skulduggery didn't bother making his way through the corridors. He just went straight through a nearby window, out into the open air.
"Skulduggery- what-" Valkyrie tried to speak, but she didn't know if he even heard her. This was flight with no regard to safety, as fast as Skulduggery could possibly move, the ground blurring far beneath them. Valkyrie tried to scream, but the air whipping past them stole the sound from her as soon as it escaped her mouth, and she merely clung on, petrified, and screwed her eyes shut in the hope that it would all be over soon.
Mysterious, eh? All will be revealed in the next chapter or so. Please review and let me know if you liked it or not, and whether you think I should bother continuing with this storyline. Thanks for reading ;)