CHAPTER NINE: Glasgow

Stinton Sterrange wasn't a bad man. He really wasn't. He was just sick to death of being a minority, sick of mortals overpowering him because they were too stupid to realise that he could, quite literally, burn them alive. He was tired of hiding, and he was tired of following rules.

Stinton Sterrange was absolutely fed up of being oppressed. Because that's what it was: oppression. Mortals were sticking it to him, constantly, and they could get away with it because they were just so, so, pathetic. Well, not any more.

Oh, he initially didn't want there to be a war. He came into this world a good, honourable man, fighting the good fight; democratic to the teeth too. He had spent the last thirty years of his life slowly working his way up the British Sanctuary, voicing his opinions politically against the unfairness between mortals and sorcerers. He despised the fact that if a mortal murdered a sorcerer then they got away scott-free. Even if they were caught their justice system only gave them twenty-five years in prison. And that was ironically considered a 'life sentence'. If it were the other way around a sorcerer would be jailed for no less than two hundred.

The unfairness didn't end there, but it was one of the countless issues he brought forth during the many numerous meetings he attended, fighting tirelessly for sorcerers' rights. Each and every one of them, however, met with the same, ancient and crumbling wall:

Magic is to stay secret from mortals.

That's what they always said, Quintus Strom and the other Elders, old men who always looked down their noses at him, as if the obvious was gospel.

Don't disturb the order of things.

And they would say this calmly despite the fact that the mortals were always in conflict with each other. Hell, their warring ways had destroyed more magical communities than they had. Each time they had to pack up, leave, and never ever retaliate in fear of revealing magic, and being imprisoned for doing so.

After a while Sterrange knew how the world would work out for the best. It was horribly simple. Sorcerers would rule. Just as they had in the time of The Ancients, when humans lived in an effete fear of being discovered and those with magic could go about their daily lives unhindered. It was then he begun to research The Ancients with religious fervent. They were strong, powerful, and above all, righteous.

Then he discovered that bloodlines from their people still existed in the world, and that those sorcerers contained a magic that far excelled even the most powerful and skilful conjurer. They were beings that exulted magic.

That night he packed his bags and began the lengthy search for the very Last of the Ancients.

His search had led him across the continent, then on a boat headed to America. There he voiced his opinion and beliefs to the Sanctuary in Arizona, and to his amazement, they agreed with him wholly and wanted in. They wanted to overrun the mundane mortal existence and lead the world themselves.

It was there that he met Heller Decay, who also knew of The Ancients. He wanted life to be as it was in their time, and claimed to already know the whereabouts of one living descendant of the Last of the Ancients. Her name was Darquesse. The World Destroyer.

At first Stinton Sterrange had wanted this Darquesse character to perish. If sorcerers were to rule then there had to be a world. It was then, that Decay presented him with The Staff of Eurus, an artefact that had been excavated from the oceans near Ireland. It had been a weapon used against The Ancients at the time of their demise.

It was made to deal with those of heightened magical prowess.

But why waste such power? Sterrange thought to himself one fine day. Why not have her join the cause? She is after all, descended from The Ancients.

Aided by a variety of sensitives Sterrange and Decay managed to narrow her location to Ireland, killing any mortal-to-magic correspondents, or any sorcerer who quelled the knowledge of magic from spreading, on their search.

Sterrange knew where the war had to take place.

Ireland – one of the cradle's of magic.

There he would not only locate and find Darquesse, but also harness the raw power that embedded the land. Plus, the magical societies looked to Ireland, and if it were to collapse, the rest of the world would fold in on itself. All opposition would perish.

Armed with American Cleavers and mages of all disciplines he led a coup on the British Sanctuary, overtaking it with ease. Then he took control, set up base of communications and continued his glorious killing spree.

And now Glasgow.

Ah, yes. Glasgow.

Already Stinton Sterrange was forgetting what it looked like. Was forgetting the amount of scum-ridden mortals that had crawled about, unaware of the atmosphere growing more and more dense around them.

Sterrange didn't need an army to destroy whole towns. He just needed Decay.

Heller Decay was partly descended from The Ancients himself. Not enough to be powerful, like the World Destroyer, but stronger than average. He was a particularly skilled Adept, and specialised in compressing the atmosphere. Glasgow had been his trial, his project. He wanted to see if he could do it, wipe out an entire town. Bring it down to nothing but rubble. The Staff of Eurus had helped him channel is magic, condense it, absorb it. It sucked the very essence from the air and channelled it through him, making him brim to the eyes with energy.

The next moment, Glasgow collapsed in on itself.

The sound had been unlike anything Sterrange had ever heard. Nothing else could describe it, it was the sound of a million branches breaking. Wood, brick, tar, trees, people, all flattened to the ground in a single second.

Sterrange studied the rubble, unable to identify anything with any accuracy. There were some bloody scorch-marks on what remained of a road. Some poor soul had stood there. Alive one moment, dead the next. Not even a trace of his body remained, no bones or organs, nothing except the gooey stain.

He should have been pleased, his plans were proceeding nicely; he had successfully invaded Ireland and occupied Belfast, working his way southward to Dublin – and Darquesse? Well, it was only a matter of time before he found her.

But Sterrange wasn't happy. He studied the flattened horizon with a sneer and then raised the newspaper to his level of sight.

Storm of the century rips through Glasgow, it said in bold, mocking, san-seriff letters.

He growled lowly to himself and screwed the paper up violently, throwing it fiercely out over the destruction – the quickly wind picked it up and sent it flying away behind him. He watched it go bitterly.

"Geoffry Scrutinous," said Decay, standing as stoic as a statue beside him, observing his handiwork. He looked worn and exhausted, but pleased, although a frown creased his heavy features. "He'd be the one keepin' the lip on'all this." His American accent was thick but smooth.

"We need to take care of him, now that we're in Ireland," Sterrange said quietly. His husky voice barely making it over the wind that howled across the vast space.

"Would ya like me to, take care of him?" Decay asked, looking at him from the corners of his remarkably grey eyes.

Starrange nodded. "Immediately. If not, sooner."

Decay inclined his head; the sound of gravel crunching echoed around as he turned on his heel and marched off.

Sterrange looked to the sky. The brown, dust filled sky that reflected the chaos around him perfectly. "Soon, Darquess," he said, a grin lifting the corners of his mouth. "Very, very soon."

The staff in his hand hummed eagerly.

o(0+0)o

Ghastly was never one to think about things he didn't have. It seemed pointless to pine for luxuries which would remain infinitely beyond his reach. But as Ravel ran another hand through his luxuriously brown hair, he couldn't help but wish that he also had hair, just to have the ability to show everyone how exasperated he was by a single gesture – by running his hand through some hair.

To his right, he saw Agog leaning over his knees, combing his own pale fingers roughly through his dark brown locks.

Wreath seemed to slick his own back idly.

Even Fletcher was busy standing his drying do up.

Ghastly sighed irritably and turned his focus back to the matter at hand. "It would seem the best strategy is to aid the sorcerers in Belfast, and locate Darquesse before Stinton Sterrange can get his hands on her."

"I don't trust those Roarhaven mages enough," Frightening Jones said gruffly, his arms were folded tight across his broad chest. "They're a bunch of backstabbing spider lovers."

"That's kind of why we're having the meeting here," said Ravel tiredly. "Oh, they all seemed keen about this war, but I get the feeling that they're excited for all the wrong reasons."

Ghastly rubbed his chin and got to his feet. "It would seem that Skulduggery and Valkyrie need to be called in. I'll have them locate this World Destroyer. If anyone can find anything, it would be those two."

Ravel gave him a face of pure relief, and everyone nodded in mute agreement.

Anton Shudduer rose with him and opened the door, allowing Ghastly to exit The Room. As he passed under the doorframe he felt his shoulders tingle as certain spells activated, sigils that would reveal him as a traitor if he revealed any secrets that had been said while in The Room.

Anton closed the door softly behind him and he pulled his phone from the folds of his hideous robe. He flicked it open and pressed call.

o(0+0)o

It hadn't been to either of their tastes to leave Valet Chambers lying dead in his own blood. If time had permitted they would have wrapped him up in some sheets, somehow make the whole ordeal more respectable. But the clock was against them. Valkyrie wasn't sure if China would keep her secret. She had no reason to, especially since Darquesse was out to wreck havoc and destroy the known world and everyone on it. To warn someone about it was the logical preventive measure to all this upcoming doom and gloom, and Valkyrie found herself at peace with that.

Not that she wanted the whole world after her, being in that kind of centre of attention gave her the chills. It was that she understood why people would now want her dead. Even those closest to her, like Ghastly, and Ravel. She was becoming evil; her actions this morning had made this clear. That small part of her, the tiny voice of decency and kindness which held back her alter ego was taking a stroll over to the dark side.

Valkyrie stole a glance at Skulduggery, his façade as stoic as it had been when they left Wickerly Manor. His eyes were grey today, and the surreal colour added to the distant look he had going on.

Skulduggery turned and his eyebrows rose when they met eyes. "You seem perturbed."

"I've had a rough morning." Valkyrie turned back to the road and leaned her elbow against the window ledge. The silence lasted a long time. It was comfortable enough, but she could feel Skulduggery quietly waiting for her to talk.

"Penny for your thoughts?" He asked hopefully, when the silence had tested his impatience.

Valkyrie shrugged. "Depends. Do you have a sack full of pennies?"

Skulduggery glanced at her briefly and shook his head. "One penny, one thought."

Valkyrie bit her lip and rested her chin against her arm, pressing her forehead against the Bentley's window. "Just say, someone like…like Ghastly finds out I'm Darquesse. And he comes after me. Do I-" She felt a hand on her shoulder closest to Skulduggery and glanced at it from under her eyelashes.

"It won't come to that," he said sternly, his steel eyes still trained on the road ahead of them.

"I want to know if you would be all nonchalant about it, like you were this morning, if it had been Ghastly I killed, and not Valet." She shuffled her head around to stare at him. Skulduggery's façade was hard; a slight frown marred his forehead.

"Valkyrie, I don't think that-"

"Please, just answer me."

Skulduggery squeezed her shoulder tightly. "What do you think?"

"I don't know," she murmured quietly. "Sometimes, I get this feeling that you would let me, you know, kill. That when the time comes, you won't stop me." She laughed bitterly. "I want to count on you, Skulduggery, but I don't know if I can."

Skulduggery was silent and he let the hand slide off her shoulder and placed it back on the steering wheel. The hum of the Bentley powering down the highway was soothing.

"I thought you died this morning," he started softly, his lips barely moved, his voice wasn't intensely deep as he spoke, but it was smoother than usual. "I saw you disappear in front of my eyes. I hadn't even been able to save you, or protect you. You were just, gone. And something happened to me that hasn't happened in a long time," he paused, his face tightening at the memory. "I wanted to kill. If I had broken from those bindings China would be dead, Valet would be dead. I doubt I would've stopped there.

"But then you returned from nothing. I don't know how you did it Valkyrie, but I've never been more grateful." Skulduggery looked at her and their eyes met; his eyebrows raised upwards sadly, his eyes sincere. "In all honesty I couldn't care less for Valet. Not because I'm a horrible, brutal man, or skeleton," he corrected, "but because I am so grateful that you're alive," he smiled wryly at her. "You were disintegrated by the Sceptre, I…" he shook his head. "Valkyrie, I truly thought I'd lost you, and the fact I did nothing, well, it's not aiding my conscious, or my perception on what's right and wrong."

Skulduggery sighed heavily, his shoulders sinking, he seemed to almost concave into the cavity of his chest, and when he next spoke it was in those tones Valkyrie had only heard when he was worried. When he was really worried. Valkyrie could recall times when they had stared into the face of death and, well, mocked the bejeezus out of it.

"I hope you can forgive me if you felt I acted careless about this morning."

Valkyrie studied him and filled her cheeks up with air before exhaling loudly. "We are so messed up, but yes. Yes, fine. I forgive you."

"I appreciate it."

"You should! Here I was thinking I could rely on you to be my moral anchor!"

Skulduggery chuckled, his mouth showing a row of teeth which he flashed at her momentarily.

Valkyrie grinned carefully. "Why're you laughing?"

He continued to chortle softly. "Because, I'm going to admit that for a few years you were my moral anchor."

Valkyrie blinked. "I was?"

"Indeed. It's all very sobering to have a small, helpless pet follow you about. Suddenly you have to be the guiding figure, be resolute and certain. One day when you have your own annoying student, you'll know what I mean," his laughter continued for a while longer before gently fading off.

Valkyrie glared at him, unsure whether to take or leave the comment. She decided to leave it and rested her head back against the window. Trees and houses passed by, flashes of blurry colours before disappearing from her sight.

It will all be gone soon.

Valkyrie tensed, her breath quickened. You're back!?

Of course, did you think your little stunt would keep me down for long?

A little longer, yes, Valkyrie admitted wistfully.

A sardonic chuckle. You're doing well, Val, Darquesse said – there was a hint of pride in her voice. I leave you and you, just you, all by yourself, go and kill a man. In cold blood too. Very nice.

Go away.

How did it feel? I bet it felt good, yes? Let me guess, you feel bad about it – but not as bad as you should be.

Valkyrie closed her eyes and willed the voice to be silent. Anger and darkness gripped her heart. Even her mind's voice was starting to sound more and more like Darquesse's.

However, the scary thing wasn't the fact the she didn't feel bad about Valet anymore. It was that she wanted to do it again.

Wanted to kill the next person to oppose her.

My favourite side character in the Skulduggery series has to be dear Geoffrey Scruntinous. He's just a weird, strange, enigmatic character and I sort of see him kind of like Gordon Edgley. If poor old Gordon had magic I think he would be a sensitive like Scrutinous is - making everyone believe everything he says. It seems like the obnoxious skill he would learn, haha, just to make himself awesome.

Ah, poor Ghastly, having no hair. Just to show how weird my thoughts are I have always wonder what'd be like to be completely bald (polished ;D) and how I'd go about showing people I'm frustrated, because I'm a furious-hair-ruffler when I'm exasperated, haha. Would I rub my head still? Or would that just look weird? My completely bold uncle NEVER touches his head.

And so I ponder...

On another note, guesses on the person Valkyrie attempts to kill! :D

Cheerio!

Psst - if I reach 30 reviews you can have the next chapter: Death and Decay!