The man in the black leather jacket hated getting the bus to work. He hated it for numerous reasons; all the unsavoury characters who used public transport in this city, not to mention it was always late.
More importantly, however, it meant he had to walk the last half a kilometre.
The pungent odours of stale beer and cigarette smoke wafted from the nearby rundown pub. The noise of the patrons was even worse. Thank God he'd gotten past that stage of his life.
The man carefully crossed the road after the figure in the crossing lights transported himself to the second light, changing from red to green. He smiled wryly. Modern technology. Gotta love it.
When he crossed the road, the man lowered his aviator sunglasses, allowing them to rest on the bridge of his nose, and looked up at the sign of the building. Cairns Central, it read. The man looked back down, his sunglasses still down. His eyes were of different colours; his left eye was blue, while his other was green. Doctors had some strange, long-winded medical name for it. The man, however, just called it cool.
He walked through the automatic doors, immediately feeling a gratifying breeze of chilly air. Ah…air conditioning. A godsend in the city of Cairns. In Australia in general, really. Well, except for Thredbo.
The man ignored the (what he called) peddlers at the door of the shopping centre and moved to one side of the centre. Internally, he sighed. Why was it such a long way to his destination?
Eventually, he made it to the large shop called Myer. The biggest store in the centre, the public used the two floors to shop for pretty much everything.
They didn't know what secrets this place held.
The man in the leather jacket stepped into the elevator and waited for the door to close. When that happened, he ignored the panel with the buttons marked '1' and '2'. Instead, he moved to the back wall and ran his palm along it. "Why the hell do those bastards keep moving it?" he demanded of the air.
Eventually he found what he was looking for…on one of the side walls. He cursed. He pressed the hidden button: it was marked 'S'.
For a while, nothing happened.
Then the elevator shot downwards at ludicrous speed.
A normal person would probably be floating in the air or hanging on for dear life.
The man, however, stood relatively still, his hands in his jeans pockets. He was whistling a tune.
The elevator suddenly stopped, and the man jolted. The doors didn't open. The back wall, however, did.
Beyond the elevator was a grandiose-looking stone pathway with bad lighting. It had pairs of Doric columns placed every once in a while. The man rolled his eyes. Bloody Poms and their love of all things Greek and Roman.
The man in the leather jacket stepped out of the elevator, which then shot up with a speed even faster than the one going down.
Footsteps echoed through the hallway and the man went on guard involuntarily, taking off his sunglasses. The sound came closer, and a man in a grey suit stepped forward. He had red hair trimmed very neatly, eyes that were strangely yellow, and his face was plain and unremarkable. "Mr Faust," he smiled ironically. "You're late."
The man known as Faust shrugged. "Sunbus."
"Ah." That was the only explanation needed.
"Look, can we get on with this, Administrator? I know the Elder's gonna be pissed at me, so let's go see him be pissed at me."
The Administrator smiled and started walking, his hands clasped behind his back. Faust fell into step beside him.
"How are you, Logan?" the redhead asked in a conversational tone.
Logan Faust grunted. "As good as I can be. I'm on the wagon again."
"Well done," the Administrator smiled. "Your alcohol abuse is well documented."
"Don't I know it," Logan sneered. "Put it this way: the smells coming out of the Railway on my way here made me sick. And it takes a lot to do that."
The Administrator smiled. He never laughed.
The pair stopped in a circular room at the very end of the hallway. It was like an underground basilica, Logan thought. Fitting. This was Sanctuary, after all.
The Administrator tilted his head as if hearing something. "The Elder will be with you shortly." He walked out.
"What, so I'm gonna be kept waiting even after I show up late?" Logan shouted indignantly. What was the point?
Ten minutes passed. Logan's feet hurt. He was only wearing a pair of black skate shoes; they were not designed to be standing in one spot for a long period of time.
Eventually an old man stepped through a beam of light. The man wore a flowing white robe that looked ever-so-slightly ridiculous; couple that with his long grey hair and beard and it looked like Merlin himself had walked in the room. "Logan," he rumbled, "you're late."
"I know," Logan said calmly. "My car broke down, and we don't have fancy magical mechanics like they do in Dublin." He'd been to Dublin once. A long time ago. On loan to the Irish Sanctuary. A messy case he'd been working with a living skeleton.
The Elder chuckled.
"So why am I here, Youssarian?"
Youssarian Fox smiled behind his beard. "We've been contacted by some of our foreign constituents. Ireland and England, if you can believe it."
Logan raised an eyebrow.
"Tanith Low and Billy-Ray Sanguine."
The younger man's eyes widened. The tragic story of Tanith Low was well-documented. Her budding romance with Ghastly Bespoke stopped before it could even begin by a Remnant. Her possessed form then took up with Sanguine, a known psychopath-for-hire. Together, the two of them made a dangerous team of murderers. "What?"
"They were spotted by Sanctuary spies boarding a plane in London. On its way here."
"So why call me in?"
"Because only one person can match Tanith's skill and…well, her new-found brutality."
"Me? I'm touched."
"Not you," Youssarian smiled. It was a somewhat insulting smile. "Skulduggery Pleasant. But he's occupied by another crisis in Dublin, and you're the closest thing to a replica of him in the world."
"I'm not sure whether or not I should be insulted."
The Elder smiled. "You won't be doing this alone."
"Oh, good." Logan's tone was sarcastic.
"I've arranged for a partner to be flown in from our mother Sanctuary in Canberra." The old man gestured slightly. Heels clicked against the stone path, and a woman stepped out of the shadows. Her shoes were black leather, and her jeans were dark grey. She wore a white top that displayed her curves impressively, and her jacket, unlike Logan's, stopped at her elbows, revealing powerful, muscular arms. Her face was pretty, and her black hair framed her face quite well. Her hazel eyes burned with a fiery determination.
"May I introduce Miss Drake?" Youssarian smiled wryly.
"Drake?" Logan pretended to not know. "I pegged her as more of a Michaela." He stepped forward and stretched out a hand. "A pleasure," he smiled. "Logan Faust."
Michaela Drake smiled; it was a very pretty smile. "I know. I've read your file." She shook his hand.
"I didn't need to read yours. You're practically a legend. Compared to that comic book character…what was it? Oh yeah. Black Widow. Beautiful and deadly."
She raised an eyebrow. "Are you implying that I date men then kill them?"
He chuckled. "No. If you did, you wouldn't be here right now."
Youssarian cleared his throat. "If you two are done flirting, can we move on?"
Logan turned red and coughed. Michaela, on the other hand, seemed unfazed.
"As the two of you probably already know, you are opposites when it comes to powers. Logan is an Elemental, Michaela an Adept."
"We know our own powers, Youssarian," Logan rolled his eyes.
Youssarian glared at him.
"Shutting up."
"Thank you. As I was saying, Michaela is special. As well as a trained Adept and martial artist, she is a scholar in magical remedies."
Logan looked at the woman, impressed. "I didn't know that."
She gave him a smile. "I even trained with Kenspeckle Grouse in Dublin."
Youssarian cleared his throat. "Anyway, Michaela has discovered something no-one else in the world has."
There was a pause. "Which is?" Logan asked.
Michaela took over. "How to separate a Remnant from a long-possessed body."
Logan gasped. "Does Bespoke know about this?"
Youssarian shook his head. "Grand Mage Ravel in Dublin thought it best to not tell him. Ghastly's been using research into Remnants to get his mind off of the painful memories of Tanith. Ripping that out from under him…"
"…would probably send him to the brink," Logan finished.
Youssarian nodded. "Anyhow, Tanith and Sanguine were most recently spotted at the casino. We have a Sanctuary agent working undercover there. Name of Bella Richelieu."
"I assume you're worried that Tanith and Sanguine will kill her," Michaela guessed.
The Elder nodded again. "Scout it out. If they're going to make their move, it'll be tonight."
Michaela nodded. "A good-old-fashioned Bond-style punch up?" she said to Logan.
He grinned. "Can't wait."
How typical this was. The Reef Hotel Casino was usually very lax on dress code. Tonight, though, it was a black-tie event. Logan hated black-tie. Except bowties. Bowties are cool.
He adjusted the sleeve of his black suit jacket. He felt practically naked without his leather jacket. Not to mention he had to leave his aviators at home. He checked his watch. Michaela was late. The shoe was on the other foot this time.
Someone cleared their throat behind him and he turned.
Michaela wore a long red gown that flowed into a short train at the back. She had a black clutch purse in one hand, and gold rings on her fingers. She had minimal make-up, wearing only light mascara and scarlet lipstick.
Logan whistled. "You scrub up nice."
She smiled, her white teeth made brighter by the dark hue of her lipstick. "You're not so bad yourself. Although…" She tugged at the bowtie.
He slapped her hand lightly and readjusted it. "Hey. Bowties are cool."
"Sure they are," she said sarcastically.
He cleared his throat and looked pointedly at her long dress. "Won't that tangle you up if we have to fight?"
She gripped the material and raised it slightly to reveal tight leather pants, though she still wore heels. "Always come prepared."
Logan grinned and offered his arm to her. "Shall we, darling?" he said, stepping into character.
She chuckled and kissed his cheek. "Let's."
Together, they walked through the casino, feeling very much like secret agents. Which they were, when you think about it.
As they walked, Logan whispered into Michaela's ear. "See anything?"
Her eyes narrowed slightly as she scanned the crowds. One of her powers as an Adept was seeing magic in people. If she saw Tanith, especially, she'd light up like a roman candle, being a magical person possessed by a magical creature.
Michaela sighed slightly. "Not yet."
Logan looked around and saw a man in a brown leather jacket and sunglasses much like his own. "Wait. I think I just saw Sanguine."
She followed his gaze and gasped.
"What? What is it?" he asked her.
"I just found Richelieu."
"And…?" He knew there was more.
"Tanith's right beside her."
"Dammit," Logan swore. "Sanguine must be planning a distraction while Tanith kills her."
Michaela detached herself from his arm. "You distract Sanguine. I'll handle Tanith." She walked off without a word.
"Hey!" he shouted after her.
She ignored him.
He swore to himself. Someone rammed into him from behind. "Watch it!"
"My apologies," the man drawled in an American accent. Southern, at that. The man was wearing sunglasses.
An idea came to Logan. He grabbed the man's shoulder. "Excuse me…"
"What?" He turned around.
Logan reared his right hand back and punched the man in the face.
The American's glasses went flying and he turned back to Logan, digging into his pocket and pulling out a fold-out straight razor. He had no eyes.
Logan smirked and ran at Billy-Ray Sanguine, his fists raised. Sanguine went to stab him, but Logan deflected it and slammed a hand into the American's wrist. Sanguine cried out and the razor fell from his hand. Logan punched him in the chin and kicked the razor away.
Sanguine massaged his jaw. "You hit like that skeleton guy…Pleasant."
"We've learned a few tricks from each other," Logan admitted.
"Looks like you learned from that lil' twerp Cain, too," he snarled.
Logan tilted his head, much like the skeleton detective in Dublin did on a regular basis. "Never met her."
Sanguine suddenly changed the subject. "What's that thing with your eyes? Why are they different colours?"
"Heterochromia," Logan explained. "Rare condition. Not that you'd know, with your…" He gestured to the American's face. "You know…your lack of eyeballs."
Sanguine rushed forward, his fist raised. Logan grabbed the hand and bent it back, causing his opponent to cry out. Logan clicked his fingers on his free hand and summoned a fireball in it. He made a fist and the fire engulfed his hand; he used his flaming hand to punch Sanguine in the face, leaving a burn. The smell of burning flesh suddenly permeated the air.
Logan raised his foot and kicked Sanguine in the stomach, causing a roar to erupt from the American. Logan knew that Valkyrie Cain had cut him with Tanith's sword some years ago and all but ruined the American's powers, not to mention the pain it caused.
Sanguine went down, groaning. Logan knelt next to him. "So what now, Billy-Ray?" he asked in an almost conversational tone. "I took you down. My partner's probably stopped Tanith. What happens now?"
An English-accented voice then drawled behind him. "This does, handsome."
Logan turned, only to be kicked in the face by Tanith Low. Logan raised his legs and leapt up, raising his arms in a boxing stance. Tanith tried quick jabs to the head, but he blocked them and tried his own punches. She blocked all of them, then launched a sweeping kick to his legs, sending him to the floor. His head bounced on the carpeted floor, but he didn't get knocked out.
Tanith helped Sanguine up. "You alright, baby?"
He gave a pained smile. "I'm alright." The ground beneath them was starting to crumble.
Logan sat up, clutching his head.
Tanith gave him a sadistic smile. "Next time, you won't be so lucky."
The ground opened below them and they vanished; the carpet returned to its original state as soon as they disappeared.
His mind was slightly fuddled by his fall. If Tanith had attacked him, then what had happened to…?
He gasped. "Michaela!" He stood up and ran in the direction she'd gone moments before.
When Michaela had reached where Bella Richelieu was working as a barmaid, she saw Tanith Low in her sleeveless tunic and leather pants, glaring at Richelieu.
Michaela smiled at the 'barmaid'. "What's the local drink?" she asked.
Richelieu's eyes widened slightly as the other woman said the password. "Uh…" She chuckled, seemingly feeling awkward. "I could make a martini, Miss."
Michaela dug into her clutch purse and placed a $20 note on the bar. "Thank you," she smiled. "Keep the change."
Richelieu picked up the note and turned it over. Written on the back, in heavy black, was the word 'RUN'. Her eyes turned into dinner plates and she pocketed the note. Breathing heavily, she walked away slightly, before realising it'd be a good idea to keep the codes going. "Uh, I-I'm sorry, ma'am, but m-my shift's ending."
Michaela pouted. "That's too bad." Then she shrugged. "Oh well. I wasn't that thirsty anyway."
Richelieu smiled and practically bolted.
"Why did you do that?" a clipped, English-accented woman's voice said from the other side of the bar. It was Tanith.
"Do what?" she replied, playing dumb.
"You know." Tanith gave her a condescendingly sweet smile. "You are from Sanctuary, after all."
Michaela's calm, ditzy demeanour fell immediately. "Miss Low. If you plan on killing me, you don't have your sword to do it."
Tanith moved quickly behind her; Michaela suddenly felt something slide into her back, missing her spinal cord by centimetres.
The Englishwoman had stabbed her with a knife she'd hidden in her pocket. "I don't need it," she whispered into her ear.
Michaela felt the knife leave her body, and she started to falter. She fell onto her back, panting, her skin pale.
Tanith's head rose as she heard a sudden roar of pain nearby. "If you'll excuse me, I have a boyfriend to save." She dashed off.
She was fading. Her blood-loss was getting to her. Her vision blurred; the last thing she saw before she blacked out was brown hair and a pair of eyes: one green, one blue.
Logan was just glad that Michaela had a car for him to drive to the Sanctuary. Sure, the shopping centre would be closed, but there was a back way in.
Who heals the healer? That was the thought that ran through Logan's mind as he drove. He knew that the Sanctuary had a doctor, but was he good enough to fix this? He had to be. Logan had to think that.
He eventually reached the 'back door' of the Sanctuary: a door that led to a fire hose. Logan threw Michaela's unconscious form onto his back and made his way to the door, opening it. Next to the fire hose reel was a panel with an encryption on it. He swore. Bloody Latin. Just because the Sanctuary officials who were members of the First Fleet loved the damn language didn't mean they had to keep using it now!
Logan grit his teeth and read it. Loqui Vestri Postulo. 'Speak your needs.' Even now he rolled his eyes. He then pawed through what little Latin he knew before he came up with it. "Sanctuarium egere sumus*."
The encryption flared with light and the wall opened slowly. "Come on, come on!" Logan said through gritted teeth.
The door opened fully, and the sleepy-looking Administrator was there. "Logan? What are you…" He trailed off when he saw Michaela on his back.
"Call Youssarian!" he barked. "She's been stabbed."
The Administrator started running. "The infirmary's this way! I'll waken the Elder."
Logan followed him. "Hang on, Michaela," he said quietly.
She was unconscious, he knew that. So why did it feel like her arms wrapped around his neck tightly, almost like an embrace? Maybe it was just his imagination.
When they reached the infirmary, there was already a blonde man in a white lab coat standing there. He looked as if he'd been struck by lightning. Well, his hair did. "Lay her down here," he ordered calmly.
Carefully, Logan placed her face-first on the bed, allowing access to the wound.
Youssarian walked in in a long grey nightgown. Normally Logan would have made a comment about it, but now he said nothing. "What happened?"
"Tanith stabbed her," Logan explained. He touched the rising bruise on the side of his head gingerly and winced. "She also beat the crap outta me."
The doctor looked up from his first patient. "Sit there." He pointed to a second bed. "I'll see to you once I've stitched up Miss Drake."
Logan obeyed, moving to the bed.
Youssarian stood beside the man. "Doctor Yolo…you can heal her, can't you?"
The man scoffed. "Of course I can! Even mortal doctors can fix someone with a stab wound." It seemed that Doctor Yolo had a towering contempt for ordinary practitioners of medicine.
The doctor used a pair of scissors to cut open part of Michaela's dress, revealing the hole. For some reason, Logan couldn't resist looking at the woman's smooth skin, even with the injury. "The wound is deep," Doctor Yolo proclaimed, "but it missed her spine. She should be able to recover fairly quickly, if the blade missed anything important." He grabbed a strange contraption, a long, thin metal tube with a sight glass at the end, and slowly, painstakingly, pushed it into the wound. He looked through the glass, humming to himself. Then, seemingly satisfied, he retracted the device and cleared his throat. "She'll be fine. I just need to stitch the wound. And she'll need a brief period of transfusion to recover the blood she's lost. Otherwise, she's fine. Any later, however, and she may have bled to death." He looked at Logan. "Well done."
Logan just nodded.
Youssarian breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Doctor. Explaining how we got Canberra's top agent killed on her first night here would have been difficult. Not to mention I couldn't have lived with myself for being responsible for it."
Logan looked at him. "It wasn't you that stabbed her, Youssarian. It was Tanith. Well, the Remnant controlling Tanith." He clenched his fists. "We need to get that thing out of her, fast."
"Agreed." Youssarian turned away. "Well, I'm going back to bed before you can make any quips about my nightgown."
"Aw, but it looks so cute on you," Logan grinned, thankful for the opening.
The old man chuckled. "Good night, Logan." He walked out.
Doctor Yolo turned to him. "Right. Now it's your turn." He poked the bruise. "Does that hurt?"
"Ow!"
When Michaela woke up, she saw white everywhere. White curtains, white tiles, white bed sheets… Yep, she was in a hospital of some sort.
She looked down. She was even wearing a white hospital gown. One thing that was not white, however, was the intravenous tube embedded in the crook of her elbow.
A man with ridiculously spiky blonde hair in a white lab coat walked in, carrying a clipboard. He looked at her. "Ah, you're awake. You gave us quite a fright last night."
Michaela said nothing.
The man chuckled. "It's alright. We're at Sanctuary. My name's Doctor Yolo." He walked forward and carefully disconnected the tube from her arm. She winced.
"You're lucky," Doctor Yolo smiled. "If that friend of yours hadn't brought you back when he did, you might very well be dead right now."
"Logan?" she asked.
The smile widened. "The very same. He took quite a beating, as well, but he's alright. If you want, I can call him in."
She gave him a smile. "If you wouldn't mind. I'd like to…thank him."
Doctor Yolo apparently didn't notice the pause, or the sudden change in her tone, because he simply nodded decisively and moved to the door. "Mr Faust, your friend wants to see you."
Michaela heard the legs of a chair scrape on the stone floor outside the room, followed by scampering footsteps. Logan bolted to the doorway, stopping as he bumped into the doctor. "Sorry," he muttered, looking at Michaela when he said it.
Doctor Yolo looked at the two of them, then made a decision. "I'll leave you two alone," he said, walking out and closing the door behind him.
Logan made some show of composing himself and standing next to Michaela's bed as she sat up. "You're OK, then," he stated the obvious.
"Well, according to Doctor Yolo, thanks to you."
He laughed lightly. "I wasn't the one who stitched you up. I just got you here."
She treated him to one of her luminous smiles. "I must look terrible."
"No, actually, I think you make that gown look rather…fetching."
Michaela laughed.
Logan grinned. "Proof you're alright."
"What?"
"Something my old man used to say. You know you'll be fine when you can laugh."
"Sounds like he was a wise man."
"He was. Mostly."
"Huh?"
"I…don't want to talk about it," he said flatly.
"Oh. That's alright." She swung her legs over the side of the bed. "There's something I want to give you. As a thank you for helping to save my life."
"Uh, what?"
She gripped his shirt and kissed him on the lips.
Logan's eyes were wide open from shock, until that little voice in the back of his head – the one that sounded disconcertingly like his father's – rang out. Don't be a drongo, Logan! A pretty sheila's kissing you? Well, kiss her back!
So he did.
His hand started to run through her lustrous black hair even as the hand that had grabbed his clothing snaked up behind his head. The kiss was fierce.
Michaela was the one to pull away, panting heavily. "So…" she said calmly, "does that help or hinder our working relationship?"
Logan grinned like a teenager. "Well, I think it helps. You?"
"Help," she confirmed.
He chuckled and kissed her again.
It was, of course, at this point that the Administrator walked in. "Mr Faust, Miss Drake, the Elder…" He trailed off.
The two people in question stopped kissing and looked at the shocked Administrator.
"The-the Elder would like to see you two…now…" he muttered.
Logan looked at the woman. "Later?"
She nodded, grinning. "Later." She stepped off the bed and moved to her bundled clothes; she'd left some at her room here in the Sanctuary. Clearly someone had brought them in. She looked at the Administrator pointedly. "I'm going to change now."
The man got the point and left.
Michaela's gaze moved to Logan. "You?"
He was grinning. "Nah, I'm good."
Youssarian's face was stern as the two of them walked in; he didn't look mad, just…focused on something. The jubilant grins on Logan and Michaela's faces fell.
"Something odd has happened," Youssarian started.
The man and woman looked at each other.
"Billy-Ray Sanguine has left the country. Without Tanith Low."
Logan raised an eyebrow. "Lovers' spat?"
"It seems to be more serious than that. Sanguine had a cut above his left eye socket, and bruising all over him."
"Well, that brings new meaning to the phrase 'tough break-up'."
Michaela, despite herself, grinned.
Youssarian offered him a small smile. "The point being that Tanith is alone, and vulnerable. Together, the two of you can bring her down."
"That we can," the woman smiled.
"She's at the Lagoon. Go there, fast." With that, the Elder vanished.
Logan looked at Michaela. "Short and to the point, huh?"
She nodded.
"So, will we be going undercover? Maybe as tourists there for a swim?"
She arched an eyebrow. "You just want to see me in a bikini."
Logan raised his hands in surrender. "Okay, you got me."
Michaela gave him a seductive smile. "Maybe when this is all over."
They walked with confidence, their hands brushing against each other every once in a while. Eventually they found their target leaning against a tree, her eyes closed. Tanith Low did not look like she had been crying. In fact, there were traces of a smile on her pretty lips.
When she heard the pair of footsteps, Tanith opened her eyes and looked at them. "Took you two long enough to find me."
"We found you a while ago," Michaela said matter-of-factly. "We just decided to meet you again now. I still need to pay you back."
"Me too," Logan growled, cracking his knuckles.
Tanith laughed, her lips suddenly turning deep black. "As if you could." She drew her sword, which she had been hiding behind her back.
Logan suddenly smiled.
"What?" she asked.
The man reached behind him and pulled a broadsword from the scabbard that Tanith had not seen before. The blade glinted in the sunlight, and a ruby sparkled in the steel pommel. He held it in a stance that suggested he knew how to use it.
"Oh…" She smirked devilishly.
Logan stepped in front of Michaela, who, for her part, backed off slightly. Then the man grinned. "Come and have a go if you think you're hard enough."
Tanith frowned. "That's my line." She flew at him.
Logan blocked her quick slash and countered with a massive amount of power behind it. The blade of Tanith's sword warped under the force, immediately returning to how it was before. Tanith cursed under her breath, and that distraction left an opening for Logan. The man hammered the smaller sword with his own, knocking it aside. He pointed the blade at her heart; she somewhat mockingly held up her hands in supplication.
Logan gave an almost imperceptible nod, looking behind the Englishwoman. Tanith frowned and turned…
…right into the arms of Michaela Drake.
Michaela wrapped her arms tightly around Tanith, trapping her. The dark-haired woman started chanting in a foreign language under her breath. "Iarsma Bréan, fág an sluagh agat goidte. Ní chuireann sé leatsa, ach bhí sí a rugadh dó**." Her hand suddenly moved to Tanith's forehead and she shouted in English. "Begone!"
Tanith's eyes snapped open, and her mouth opened wide. Something crawled out of Tanith's mouth; dark and frightening. A screech emanated from it as it darted towards Michaela.
But then Logan was there, his sword aloft. "Diflannu, cythraul!***" He slashed at the Remnant, his sword shining with a blue light.
The Remnant howled, feeling pain for the first time in centuries. It slowly dissipated even as Tanith fell back. Logan dropped his sword and caught the woman before she fell.
Michaela stared at Logan, her eyes wide. "That…that was an Adept technique!"
"Actually, no," Logan denied, "it's an old Druid technique, not Adept. They used chants so that anyone of any discipline could use it. Even back then, the Remnants were hated and feared."
She was still shocked, but it went out the proverbial window when Tanith started stirring.
"Wha… Where am I?" she asked, woozy.
"You're in Cairns," Logan told her. "You don't remember?"
Michaela picked it up. "She's been possessed by a Remnant for a few years. That's bound to screw up your memory."
Tanith suddenly sat up. "Ghastly! I need to see him!"
Logan looked at Michaela. She nodded and picked up Tanith's fallen sword, handing it to her. She then looked back at Logan. "Fancy a trip to Dublin?"
He smiled. "It's been so long since I visited the Emerald Isle."
They were met at the airport by a thin man in a navy blue suit and a girl in all-black clothes who appeared to be around eighteen or nineteen. When Tanith saw the girl, she broke out in a smile that she hadn't used in a long time. "Val!"
The girl looked wary.
Behind Tanith, Logan smiled. "It's alright. My friend here…" Here he pointed at Michaela. "…managed to get the Remnant out, then I killed it."
The thin man whistled. "That's impressive. And I rarely say that, because not many people impress me. Well, except for me."
Logan grinned. "Nice to see you too, Skulduggery."
The girl stepped forward hesitantly, her hand raised slightly. "It's…really you?"
Tanith smiled again. "It's me, Valkyrie."
A tear ran down the girl's cheek.
"Are you crying?" Skulduggery asked, his false face smirking.
"Shut up," Valkyrie Cain told him, hugging Tanith tightly.
Tanith pulled back and looked at Valkyrie's arms. "You've gotten fit," she marvelled.
Valkyrie shrugged. "Training will do that to you."
Skulduggery moved closer to the duo. "Let's go. Ghastly will want to see you again, Tanith."
She looked at him.
He suddenly pulled her into a hug of his own. "Good to see you again, Tanith."
Tanith hugged back. "You too, Skulduggery."
Valkyrie was looking at Logan and Michaela, who were smiling and holding hands. "But wait…who are you two?"
Logan smiled at the girl. "Just…the stuff of legend."
Word Count: 5,257
No. of Pages: 11
Time Taken: Approx. 5hrs.
Translations:
* = Latin: "We are in need of sanctuary."
** = Irish: "Foul Remnant, leave this host you have stolen. It does not belong to you, but to she who was born to it."
*** = Welsh: "Vanish, demon!"