From The Ashes We Rise: Chapter 14...
OH MY GOD JUST FINISHED READING KINGDOM OF THE WICKED. My life is complete...well, until the next book comes out ;) If you haven't read it you need to, it's brilliant! And now my story is going to seem so dull in comparison... But here all you ladies and gents are anyway :)
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The last month or so had passed uneventfully enough; Art had settled in, Valkyrie had taken up her elemental training again and Ravel had dropped in once or twice. Vex had left for overseas and China had ressurected the protective bubble around the Edgley mansion. It was nice to get back to some form of normality after so very, very long.
Valkyrie swallowed, feeling strange. Her stomach was churning, her breakfast threatening to pay her a not-so-friendly visit. She'd been feeling this way for days, it was horrible. Without warning, she'd needed to run to the bathroom several times to empty the contents of her stomach, hugging the toilet bowl for moral support. Once again, she bolted for the ensuite, hating whatever parasite was making her ill.
Soft leather stroked her cheeks as gentle, gloved hands pulled her hair back from her face while she crouched miserably over the loo.
"I'm ill. Why am I ill? I hate it. Magic people shouldn't get ill. I hate being sick," she complained.
"It could be worse."
"It could?" she looked hopefully at her husband's big empty eye sockets, searching for reassurance.
"Oh yes. You could have chronic diarrhoea. Now that would be embarrassing." Valkyrie swatted at him and turned away to throw up convulsively, until her stomach was entirely empty and tears streamed down her cheeks. She brushed her teeth to get rid of the taste and stared, dejected, into the mirror. Her cheeks were grey, her lips were grey, she felt grey. She felt entirely drained of any sort of energy.
The only part of her that still held any strength was her gauntlet-covered right hand. Over the years the little vein-like tendrils of liquid metal had stretched right up to her shoulder; her hand was now entirely cased in oxidised metal, silver swirls running through it. It bent like liquid at her knuckles, wrist and elbow, peetering off into thin slivers that curled up her upper arm. Solomon had explained that as she grew older and her magic grew stronger, her container had needed to expand. It was designed to adapt to the ebb and flow of her magic. It had stopped expanding a year or two ago.
"Are you done saying hello to your breakfast now, dearest?"
"I hate you," she grumbled.
"No, you don't."
"I do, I hate you with a vengence. I...loathe you." She smiled triumphantly. "That's a good word for it. Loathe."
"Nonsense, nobody could loathe my elegant charm." He doffed his hat. "I'm a gentleman." Valkyrie snorted.
"A gentlemen?"
"Indeed I am. Only a gentlemen would hold a lady's hair out of her face while she vomits," he said cheerfully. Valkyrie glowered. "Joking aside, though I am rather hilarious, how long have you been ill for Valkyrie?"
"I don't know. A week, maybe? I forget."
"Hmm."
"You're thinking. You know something. What is it that you know? Am I seriously ill? Am I going to die?"
"What? No, don't be so melodramatic."
"I'm a melodramatic person, now tell me what you know that I don't." He tilted his head quizzically. "Don't make me stamp my foot, Skulduggery."
"I'll be right back."
"Skul? Skulduggery! Skulduggery Pleasant get your skeleton ass back here!" The Skeleton Detective just carried on walking, whistling 'The Girl from Impanema' as he strode away. Valkyrie growled indignantly and ran a hand through her dark hair. She hated when he did that. He got an idea, disappeared for a few hours without telling her what on earth he was doing, and then he returned with it all figured out. And the annoying part was that he was usually right.
What she didn't understand was why her getting a tummy bug required a lengthy consideration period. It was a temporary illness, nothing to be worried about. That was all.
She took a calming breath to quiet her jangling nerves, brushed her teeth again for good measure, and pulled her hair into a quick pony tail, leaving the ensuite for the direction of the huge living room. No surprise that Emma was sat with her head buried in her book again. Alice was perched atop a mahogany book case, swinging her legs and reading the original print of 'Warlocks and Werewolves', a small frown furrowing her brow.
"I've read that book," said a voice from above Valkyrie's head. She looked up and raised her eyebrows; Artemis was sat cross legged on the ceiling, reading another book from one of China's many volumes. This particular one appeared to be completely blank, with black pages and a brilliant white cover, though the boy appeared to have no trouble reading it.
"Are we going to have a problem?" Valkyrie asked. He looked down at her, blinking those cat eyes innocently.
"I'm sorry?"
"You're sat on my ceiling. I don't want foot prints on my ceiling. Do you have any idea how hard they are to clean off? I mean come on, it's a ceiling, for crying out loud. You don't walk on it, you hang lights from it."
"Tanith walks on the ceiling whenever she wants," Emma pointed out, not even raising her head. "You never say anything about that."
"That's different."
"It isn't," Alice piped up. "While Moo may only be defending her new boyfriend-"
"He's not my boyfriend," she muttered, her cheeks colouring. Artemis merely blinked serenely.
"Whatever, while Moo may only be defending her crush, she makes a valid point. You don't yell at Tanith." Emma shot Alice a glare, but said nothing.
"Just sit on the sofas. Sofas are for sitting. Ceilings are for...uh...not sitting. And Alice, get off the bookshelf, that's Skulduggery's favourite piece of furniture."
"I thought his favourite was his mirror."
"Well, yeah, but he likes the bookshelf a lot, so get down." When Alice didn't move, Valkyrie narrowed her eyes. A tendril of shadow snaked across the room and snagged her younger sister's ankle, pulling her off the shelf with a quick, careful tug. Alice made a noise of protest as she was dropped to the ground, but managed to get her legs beneath her, absorbing the impact in the balls of her feet. Artemis detached himself from the ceiling, turning gently in the air and drifting to the floor the right way up. Valkyrie raised her eyebrows.
"I apologise for sitting on your ceiling. From now on I will sit only on the sofas and other furniture meant only for sitting," he said quietly. That lilting voice of his immediately made Val feel bad for chastising him.
"Never mind," she sighed. "I'll just make Skulduggery clean it when he comes back anyway." Alice snorted appreciatively and snapped her book shut.
"I'm going to make some lunch, anybody want some?" she asked. Emma didn't answer, Art rarely ate and Valkyrie turned a faint shade of green. "I'll take that as a no then..."
"Pop Tarts," Emma said. "I want Pop Tarts."
"The only person that can get you those is Skulduggery, and he's not here," Val said, looking like she was trying not to vomit.
"I know," Emma sighed forlornly. "It's times like these when I miss him."
"He's only been gone ten minutes, Moo," Alice told her.
"Yeah but I really want Pop Tarts."
"You should have told him that before he left," Alice called from the kitchen. "Val, we're out of milk."
"Damn lazy cows," Valkyrie muttered. Art looked at her oddly, a small smile quirking up the corner of his mouth, but didn't enquire into the joke. Valkyrie felt a dull longing for the sight of her father in his mismatched socks, her mother making coffee in their old kitchen. She squashed it quickly and ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time, heading for the nearest bathroom.
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When she emerged, Artemis was leaning against the wall with his hands in the pockets of a baggy pair of jeans. He wore a dark hoodie, made specially by Ghastly to protect him, and a pair of colourful trainers. A chain, plain silver, hung around his neck. He looked up with concern as she appeared, clad all in black in the doorway, loose wisps of hair curling round her ears.
"Are you alright, Mrs Pleasant?" he asked. She felt a flutter at the sound of her marital name, but pretended grimace.
"Ugh, Mrs, that makes me feel old. It's just Val, alright?"
"Of course. Are you alright though?"
"I'm fine, it's just a tummy bug."
"Mages don't get tummy bugs," he pointed out. "Especially not mages as strong as you. You're strong enough to heal yourself even when you have a fist clutched around your heart. You survived decapitation. Something tells me a tummy bug would not be the worst you could ever experience."
"Well, what else could it be? I'm never sick. Even before I had magic I was never sick, but I can't think of any other explanation."
"Hmm. I have a feeling your husband will have worked it out by the time he returns," Art told her.
"What? You already know what it is that's wrong with me?" He nodded. "Tell me then. Come on, out with it."
"You must discover this for yourself, Valkyrie. It is not my place to tell you what is causing your illness."
"So you know what's wrong, but you won't tell me?"
"I've known what's wrong since perhaps a week after I came here."
"You can't tell me that and then not tell me what it is."
"Ask Skulduggery. I just wanted to see if you were alright," Artemis said, and hurried away before she could ask him any more questions. She was really getting sick of people giving her half formed ideas and then just walking away. It was like getting a puppy for christmas, getting all excited, and then finding out that the puppy was only interested in her father, not her. The disappointment was extremely irritating, and her temper was short.
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Valkyrie sulked alone in the living room, moodily flicking bits of fluff from her worn jumper across the chair arm. She was flicking her twelfth piece of lint, and making a sizeable hole in the sleeve of her top, when the door swung open hard enough to bounce off the wall. She jumped, sitting bolt upright as Skulduggery practically threw himself onto his knees in front of her. He pressed his hand against her stomach abruptly, and yet gently, and she felt a strange sensation as he read the flow of liquid and oxygen inside her.
"Oh my. Oh...Oh my," was all he said.
"Yep, you're officially insane. What exactly are you doing?"
"Valkyrie..." he seemed dazed. That was odd. "I...I know what's wrong with you." She blinked.
"You do? Tell me."
"This sickness, Valkyrie, it's not a stomach bug. It's morning sickness."
"...Pardon?"
"Valkyrie, you're pregnant."