Blufox03, thank you so much for your support! Your review is greatly appreciated; let me know if you think anything should be added to the story. I was like, happy on steroids when I read your review. Thank you!
eyesocketsandsuits, I started jumping up and down and smiling like a lunatic when I read your review! I agree that that one line seemed a little unwieldy, but I am actually planning on making Frost a list-y character. Can I steal that dialogue you suggested? Please? Seriously, it was amazing! Thanks so much for your awesome review!
So, this is the second chapter, yeah… Enjoy! I know the last one was kind of short, but this one will be longer! Also, Erskine isn't a traitor and Ghastly + Anton are still alive.
When Valkyrie awoke, she was in a cell.
But at least she could move again, and the constricting cold had released her. She shivered at the memory.
"Valkyrie?"
She jumped, pressing herself against the concrete wall. The cell was completely, utterly black, and the air seemed thick as tar. "Who's that?" she asked sharply.
A small flame sputtered to life, illuminating an alabaster skull.
"Oh my God, Skulduggery!" She threw herself into his arms, nearly burning herself in the process.
"Valkyrie. Thank God you're safe."
"Hi, Val."
She tensed, relaxing when she recognized the voice. "Dexter?"
He laughed, sounding just as relieved as Skulduggery.
"Valkyrie, you're as cold as ice," Skulduggery said, sounding worried.
Valkyrie nodded, remembering Frost. "Yeah, it was the guy who captured me. Has some kind of weird snow power."
"Like Elsa?" said a fourth voice.
"Saracen?"
"Got in in one." Skulduggery turned the flame, lighting up the face of a grinning Saracen.
'Yeah, like Elsa, I guess. His name's Frost. He was on a walkie-talkie, said they were sending others after you guys."
Saracen winced and rubbed his neck. "You could say that. Damn you, Swift," he muttered to himself.
Dexter sounded smug. "I got the hot one."
"Yeah, she distracted you pretty well," Saracen shot back. "How's your head?"
Dexter scowled.
"Hey, you were supposed to wait outside!" Valkyrie recalled. She glared at Skulduggery. "If you had just done what you were supposed to do, we wouldn't be locked up in a dingy cell!" She turned to Dexter and Saracen. "And the rest of the Dead Men weren't even supposed to be there!"
"Valkyrie, Valkyrie," Skulduggery protested, raising his hands. "I called them in for backup. When you didn't come out, I decided to go in."
"But if I didn't come out, you should have known not to go in!"
"That's why I called for backup. Turns out, even a full squad of the Dead Men wasn't enough."
"Oh? Where are the others?"
Skulduggery stepped onto one of the prison bunks, stood on his tiptoes, and rapped on the ceiling.
A replying knock came from the floor above.
"Erskine, Anton, and Ghastly are above us," Saracen explained. "Check this out." He pointed to a slightly darker patch of shadows.
Valkyrie snapped her fingers and caught the spark in her hand. But the flame wouldn't grow beyond that of a candle.
"What the hell?"
"They've bound our magic, but not completely," Skulduggery told her. "We can make small flames, get the dust to move around a little, but that's about it. I have no idea how they've done it."
Valkyrie shoved the tiny flame in her hand towards the object of interest. She squinted, just to make sure she was seeing right.
"It's a telephone," she said uncertainly.
"A working telephone," Dexter corrected, "that we can only use to call the floor above us. We can't see the others, but we can talk to them. No one else."
Valkyrie held the phone up to her ear.
"Press the button," Skulduggery told her.
She pressed the button.
"Dexter, stop calling every five seconds," came Erskine's extremely irritated voice.
"It's not Dexter. It's Valkyrie."
"Valkyrie?" Erskine's tone abruptly changed. "Thank God you're okay! Guys, it's Val!"
There was a scuffling sound coming over the phone, some muffled cursing from Erskine, and "Ghastly, stop, she's fine! Ghastly, gimme the phone back!" And then… Thump.
"Valkyrie? Are you okay?"
She had to laugh. "I'm fine, Ghastly. Few scrapes. Nothing to worry about, but I'm not sure about Erskine. What did you do to him?"
"Oh yeah…" Ghastly trailed off sheepishly. "Um, Erskine? You okay?"
"You hit me. Hard."
"Don't be such a baby."
"Anton, do you think I'm being a baby?"
There was some muttering in the background.
"Okay, fine," Ghastly said, "maybe I did hit him pretty hard, but still. It wasn't that… Oh. Erskine, that's, um, that's a pretty big bruise…"
"Yeah. On my eye."
More muttering.
"Oh, shut up, Anton! He's lived through a war! He can survive a black eye!"
Valkyrie was trying not to laugh.
"Yes, I know, but - but, I mean…"
Valkyrie could imagine Anton raising an eyebrow.
"Oh, come on! Why are you defending him? He's being a baby."
"You're fired." Erskine's voice.
"From what?"
"From being an Elder."
"Oh, thank goodness."
More arguing. Valkyrie hung up when it got boring.
"Right, SKulduggery said as soon as she was off the phone. "Now, I want a detailed description of this 'Frost'"
"Well," Valkyrie said, "he was an old man."
Dexter and Saracen roared with laughter. Valkyrie's face turned red. "Guys, come on! He had ice powers."
"Come on," Skulduggery said impatiently. "Old man, what else?"
"Well, he had white hair, exact color of snow, and deep lines in his face. And he was wearing a fur-lined tan jacket. And he had ice powers."
Skulduggery stared at her. "That's it?"
Valkyrie glared at him. "So what if it is?"
"What about eye color? Height? How he talked - any foreign accents?"
"No, just Irish. Don't know about height - he wasn't muscle-bound or anything, probably around average. And I don't know about eye color, maybe ice blue or something. Maybe that's why he's called Frost?"
Skulduggery face-palmed. "I believe his name is Frost because that is what his power is."
"Oh, shut up," she snapped. "I'm trying to help."
She heard a long, drawn-out creak behind her, like the sound of an old man stretching his bones. She turned to see that a little window in the cell door had opened, light streaming into the blackness and silhouetting the face at the opening. Then there was a snap, and Valkyrie, Dexter and Saracen froze rigid, falling on their faces, stiff as boards. Frost.
"Hey, Fox, hand over the shackles. The living skeleton can't be frozen." Frost sounded disappointed.
"Out of my way." A woman shoved Frost away from the opening and peered in. "Bones, get up here."
Skulduggery reluctantly walked up to the window and put his hands through. A moment later, Valkyrie heard the click of the shackles fastening, tightening unit they fit over Skulduggery's wrists. The door opened, and Skulduggery was lead through. Three others walked through the doorway and hoisted Valkyrie, Dexter, and Saracen over their shoulders.
"God, Frost, this guy's as cold as ice," one of the men said, setting Saracen down and rubbing his bare palms.
Frost gave his signature grunt. "Shackles," he ordered.
A pair of shackles were placed around Valkyrie's wrists, loose, but not quite loose enough to slip out of, and then she was blissfully, mercifully released from the cold. She stood up, scowling.
Besides Frost, there were five others, plus Anton and Ghastly, who were also cuffed, and Erskine, who had been wrestled into a straightjacket. He had a bad black eye, the left one, which was so puffy it could only open a crack.
"Right," Frost muttered. He was still wearing his tan jacket, and Valkyrie could now see his eyes were light grey, the exact color of a winter sky, and just as cold. He may have been an old man, but he was dangerous. His face was lean and long and sharp, like the rest of him, and he had that kind of rough arrogance, like a wolf that knew it could kill you with a snap of its jaw. Except, in this case, a snap of its fingers.
"Right," he repeated. "The directions are simple. Stand there. Listen carefully. Don't attempt to run away, or you will be caught and kept in a frozen state for twenty-four hours. Don't attempt to fight back, or you will be put in a straitjacket like Mr. Ravel here. Got it?"
All seven of the Dead Men nodded.
"Good. You're smarter than you look." he turned to a hallway, drowning in dark. "Avarice, we're ready for you."
Avarice… Where have I heard that name before? Valkyrie thought. Then she saw how wary Skulduggery had become, and she remembered. Avarice was the one that had taken him down. Avarice had taken down the Skeleton Detective.
Which meant Avarice was the most dangerous of the lot.
And as Avarice came forward, Valkyrie prepared herself for a huge man, possibly even a giant like Brobding, to step out of the shadows. She imagined him, huge towering, with dragon tattoos encircling his neck and shoulders, brass rings around his thick knuckles, a thick black beard to hide his face...
And a redheaded petite women emerged from the darkness.
Valkyrie frowned.
Skulduggery's shoulders slumped in embarrassment.
She was dressed all in black, sure, and she did have a huge sword strapped to her back, but still. She was, like, five feet tall. Skulduggery, tall as he was, towered over her.
She raised an eyebrow at the stupefied looks on all the Dead Men's faces, excluding Skulduggery. "Not what you expected, eh?"
She sounded slightly Spanish, but she had no main accent. Her voice contained the roughness of America, the clipped tones of Russia, the sharpness and aristocracy of England, and so many more, all rolled into one. She was a woman of all places.
"You know why you're here," she continued, walking down to stand at the end of the line of bad guys. "You fiddled with our private business, and we object very strongly to that. Now, I'm not going to kill you, but as I'm sure you know, that can be a curse as much as a blessing. I have brought you from your cells now for the sole purpose of introducing you to my team. This is my deputy, Frost."
Frost stepped forward and flashed a grim smile.
"Frost's magical discipline does not have a name. He was born with it, which is incredibly rare. I like to call him my popsicle maker. Thank you, Frost. You may step back in line now."
Frost scowled but did as he was told.
"This is my sister, Fox." A pretty girl, her hair redder than Avarice's, stepped forward. Now that Valkyrie looked closer, she could see that while Fox's hair was truly red, Avarice's was more auburn, like dried blood. Looking at it made her feel sick. She shuddered.
"Fox, please demonstrate your power to the young lady."
Fox stepped forward and, with a single tap on the shackles, released Valkyrie from her bonds. She flexed her hands, feeling her magic surge through her.
Fox reached forward to touch her arm, but Valkyrie was faster. She scrambled back and took off running, stumbling but regaining her footing quickly, darting forward and through the closest hallway she saw that wasn't pitch black. She heard yells as the others ran as well, and pushed herself harder, careening down the hallways. No footsteps followed her. Why?
Don't worry why. Just go, you fool.
And she did, like when she had been running before. She was in that moment when she felt like she could run forever, her lungs burning but not hurting, adrenaline pumping through her system and driving her forward.
And then Avarice appeared in front of her.
She tried to stop, tried to dodge, try to turn, try to anything, but then fingers clamped over her arm, nearly as cold as her's when she had been imprisoned by Frost, and she yelped and tried to hit her, and then her other arm was grabbed.
Teleporter.
But how did she know where you were? Teleporters can't do that.
Could they?
No.
But she had to be a Teleporter. Nothing else could appear out of thin air like that.
Her train of thought was cut off as pain stabbed inside her. Avarice wrapped an arm around her neck, and twisted her arms behind her head. Valkyrie roared in fury, trying to kick her, but she couldn't see. Her head was pressed downwards, into her chest.
Avarice turned her sharply to the side, and pressed one pointed fingernail into her throat, forcing Valkyrie to look up. She saw her friends, battered and bloody, being lead in by Avarice's associates, Frost in the lead. He smirked at her.
All of them had broken noses, or cuts across their face. Erskine was now not the only one with a black eye. Skulduggery seemed to be the only one who had not sustained any serious injuries. he held his head high.
"Skeleton gave us some trouble," Frost reported. "But we got them all."
Her friends were hurt, badly cut and bruised. And it was her fault for running.
But even her guilt couldn't compare with her rage. Rage against these people, against Frost, against Avarice especially. She struggled fruitlessly, breathing hard, her face turning red, brows coming down, anger, so much anger...
And this anger only intensified, became white-hot fury, when Avarice leaned down and whispered in her ear.
"Now look what you've done."
And then the demon laughed.
Okay, I know that was a kind of boring chapter, at least (I hope!) until you meet Avarice, but what I really wanted was to establish some more of the bad guys, and I promise you'll get to know what Fox's magical discipline is! Hint: It's pretty cool and I invented it.
