It was, of course, destined to happen. The views of many were that the relationship between the two was unhealthy. That, eventually, something would spiral out of control. Something dangerous. We thought that Darquesse was that something. We were...
Mistaken.
Fletcher Renn stepped into the air beside his accomplice, falling into his stride with ease. "Everything in order?" The sorcerer named Gaul Faux asked, in a strangely deep voice.
"Of course. Did you think that I would not deliver? The vampire is dead. Now, what about your part of the deal?" Fletcher said, with an air of annoyance.
"It was difficult. Almost...Impossible. If you only knew the trials that I faced...The obstacles..." Faux said, in a wistful manner.
"I have no interest in your life story, Gaul. If it is as tedious as I believe it is, I would probably pass away from boredom. Get to the point." Fletcher growled.
"Okay, okay. Gant is dead. Your precious Valkyrie is safe."
"Good."
"Skulduggery." Valkyrie Cain said slowly.
"Yes?" Skulduggery tilted his head.
"What the hell happened to the Bentley?" she exclaimed, staring at the car before them. The rear end was completely totalled; the area right above the wheels was pushed inside the main body so that the vehicle appeared near two feet smaller.
"Oh. That. Yes...I was hoping you wouldn't notice that."
"Notice? Notice? How did it happen?"
"It was Saracen." Skulduggery muttered quickly.
"He crashed it?"
"Well...In a way."
"It was you, wasn't it?"
"Yes." Skulduggery hung his head in shame.
"Hey, I can drive today!" Valkyrie almost yelled with excitement.
"You...Drive...In the Oompa Loompa? I think I'd die of embarrassment." Skulduggery laughed.
"Get in the car." white lighting crackled at Valkyrie's fingertips. Skulduggery chuckled and got in.
The Skeleton Detective tilted his head down to look better into the mist. This was not like the vision which Darquesse featured in. For a start, there were no screams. Only silence. It was so unnaturally muted that Skulduggery thought that the vision did not have sound, at first. Then a single noise broke the air. The shriek of a raven, clear against the stark, silent scene. Then, another noise followed it. The soft crackle of a boot on twigs and dry leaves. The noise belonged to a beautiful, dark haired woman, with a long swirling black tattoo on her muscled left arm. She wore an all black ensemble, the jacket of which was torn on he left sleeve to reveal said tattoo. The right sleeve was intact, as was the rest of the outfit. A tall, balding man approached her. The woman rose her right hand, and Skulduggery turned away.
