Stuck: Chapter One...
Another new Skulduggery fanfiction starting now. Inspired by an idea I've actually read on here from a writer called Charlseeyy titled 'A Sticky Situation' and the issues with the facade mentioned in that story. I hope you all like it. Set after the new books, will be non-canon with any releases after Seasons of War.
oO0Oo
Skulduggery Pleasant climbed out of the Bentley and stooped to scratch Xena behind the ears. He'd arrived at the Edgley mansion just as Valkyrie finished her morning run. Her dark hair was pulled back from her face and her cheeks were rosy as she approached the sleek vehicle. When he saw her coming he straightened up and slipped his hands into his pockets.
"Good timing," Valkyrie grinned.
"You're nothing if not predictable," he answered with a shrug.
"If I was predictable you wouldn't be friends with me. You'd get bored." Her words were stilted as she regained her breath.
"Touche."
"Hang on while I shower and then we can go." He nodded and followed her inside with Xena at his heels. Valkyrie headed straight upstairs and stepped into the shower in one of the many bathrooms in the house, grateful for the hot spray as it worked the tension from her muscles and washed away the sweat on her skin. When she was done she pulled on her protective gear and left her dark hair loose around her shoulders. Once upon a time her clothes had been created by Ghastly Bespoke. They'd saved her life over and over again. Since his death she'd outgrown the ones he'd created, though she still kept them to remind her of him. She missed him terribly and she knew Skulduggery did too. She sighed and checked her reflection in the mirror, taking in the tight leather trousers, the heavy boots, the plain tank top and the long coat. The brooch that activated her necronaut suit sat against her hip.
Once upon a time she'd been shorter and slender. Now she was tall and strong. She'd lost some of her muscle over the last year, though her arms were still strong enough to rival Tanith Low. Her face had lost its childish roundess, her high cheekbones becoming more prominent over time. She supposed she was pretty by mortal standards, but most mortals had never met China Sorrows. Valkyrie knew there were many levels of beauty that she could never even hope to reach. She liked her eyes though. She'd always liked her eyes.
She walked back downstairs to find Skulduggery sat on one of the expensive sofas with Xena draped across his lap, her head resting on her paws. She stared up at Val with baleful eyes, obviously upset that they were leaving her. Valkyrie chuckled.
"Now don't give me that. You know I have to go out to work," she warned. Xena whined, her ears pricking up. "Well if you didn't eat so much I wouldn't have to work as often," Valkyrie answered. Skulduggery's head tilted.
"You know she doesn't understand you."
"I live alone, Skul. I probably talk to Xena more than I talk to you." She stretched and cracked her knuckles over her head. "What's on the agenda for today?"
"Vaurien Scapegrace," he answered.
"He isn't dead yet?" Valkyrie felt her eyebrows creep upwards.
"Quite the opposite. And it's she now."
"Huh. Alright then." She remembered how vehemently he'd refused to accept that he was a woman and how he'd repeatedly insisted to Thrasher, an unremarkable man-turned-zombie formerly named Gerald, that there could be nothing between them because he was a man and would always be a man despite what his body looked like. "Why are we looking for her?"
"Apparently she's mixed herself up with the wrong crowd and gotten back into a life of crime."
"Has she been successful this time?"
"That remains to be seen." Valkyrie remembered the 'Killer Supreme' monologuing on a tower years ago instead of killing her.
"Is there a reason this is big enough to catch your attention? Don't we handle cases that are actually dangerous?"
"This case is actually dangerous, or at least it has the potential to be. It involves a group called the Scribes of Nocturne."
"Am I supposed to know who they are?" She flopped onto the sofa beside him, smiling when Xena shifted to make sure she was touching both of them.
"No. In fact I'd be surprised if you did; the Scribes have been out of the public eye since before the war." He brushed a speck of imaginary lint from the brim of his hat before placing it on his head. "I must say I was shocked myself."
"How do you know it's them?" She stroked Xena's thick fur absently as she watched him. She could see the wheels in his mind turning even now. One of the first things she'd ever asked him was if he had a brain. The answer to that was no, yet he was still the smartest man she knew. He no doubt already had a good idea of what they were walking into.
"Scapegrace is now missing. The only clue left behind was this." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a scrap of paper with a black dahlia drawn on it. When Valkyrie looked closer she saw that it was actually made up of multiple intricate symbols joined together to look like a flower.
"What is it?"
"A calling card of sorts. The Scribes of Nocturne are an incredibly ancient band of Necromancers specialising in the language of magic."
"You mean like China?"
"I suppose." His head tilted. "If China focussed entirely on sigils bringing about death and destruction."
"Okay." She thought about it for a second. "What's Nocturne?"
"The beliefs of the Scribes of Nocturne have been largely disregarded by the rest of the Necromancer community, mostly because Necromancers choose to believe in the Death Bringer as their saviour. The Scribes believe there is a goddess that is part Faceless One and part something else that will elevate them to a level of power they could only dream of when she finally decides to come and rule the world," he explained. "Her name is Nocturne and the Scribes worship her."
"Why do all these weirdos always believe somebody is gonna come along and kill everyone except them?" She frowned. "And why the Hell is Scapegrace involved?"
"This is the same person that stumbled across the Revenger's Club, Valkyrie. The same person that could have killed you at twelve years old and instead decided to talk about how incredible a murderer they are, without ever having actually murderered someone."
"Hmm, yeah. Now you say it I can see this being a huge accident," she nodded. "I thought Vaurien was happy running that pub with Clarabelle and Thrasher."
"So did I. It's highly likely this is just one big unfortunate misunderstanding and she wandered into it entirely by mistake." He scratched Xena once more before getting to his feet. Valkyrie did the same and Xena watched them with wide, sad eyes.
"Don't pull that face at me," Valkyrie chided, bending to kiss the dog's warm forehead. "We'll be back later with treats." She perked up immediately. "Still think she can't understand me?"
"You said the word 'treat'. Any time you say 'treat' she gets excited. It's like saying 'walk'. Dogs are capable of associating sounds with things they enjoy and with things they don't, like the vet. Or baths. There's been a lot of research around it."
"If you're about to reference Pavlov's dogs I'm going to feed you to Xena." His head tilted in surprise.
"You've heard of that study?"
"Of course I have. I went to school."
"Your reflection went to school."
"Yeah, that was one of the best things about magic," she grinned, following the skeleton out to his car. "Sometimes I miss it."
"It tried to destroy the world."
"I know that," Valkyrie answered. "And I hope to Christ nothing like that ever happens again because I'm more than happy to continue existing without it."
"You said you miss it."
"I miss how useful it was before it went insane." She shot Skulduggery a sideways look. "That's bad isn't it?"
"Probably. I won't tell anyone." She felt him smile. "I'm glad you can say those things now."
"Meaning?"
"When you came back from America you weren't yourself. Now you've made a real home for yourself in the mansion and you can say the things you really think because you know I won't judge you. There was a short while where you didn't trust even me with your thoughts." He put a hand on her shoulder. "I know I've said it before, but it's good to have you back, Valkyrie."
"It's good to be back," she grinned, touching his hand lightly where it rested on the collar of her jacket. He pulled the brim of his hat low over his eyes and opened the car door for her, ever the gentleman. She slid into the soft leather, breathing in the scent of the beautiful machine. Over the years the Bentley had become as dear to her as it was to Skulduggery.
He pulled out of the long driveway and onto the road, activating his facade to hide his skull from passers-by that might happen to glance their way. This face was handsome and it had striking eyes, one green and one blue, and the kind of lips that seemed ready to crack into a smile at a moments notice. The hair beneath the hat was a dark blonde and his skin had a light tan. Over time the facade had been improved to the point that it was impossible to tell it was fake. The skin was no longer waxy and the eyes were surprisingly expressive. Aside from the odd malfunction it was essentially real. It covered his entire body and even gave the impression that Skulduggery had a beating heart in his chest. China liked to say he was her finest work.
"You're staring at me," he said without taking his eyes off the road.
"I was just thinking about China and how proud she is of the facade."
"She does like to brag about it."
"I hate to say it, but she should brag about it. Compared to what it was when she first created it, it's a masterpiece." She wrinkled her nose. "Do you remember when your face melted?"
"You won't let me forget it."
"It was so weird." She shuddered, remembering his ear sliding down his neck to rest on his shoulders. "It's much better now. And this face is a nice face, I like this one."
"You like all my faces."
"Yeah but this one is up there. Definitely top five."
"You have a top five?" She saw his eyebrows raise.
"Yeah. Number one is the one with black hair and green eyes that you wore the first time I saw you when I got back from America. Number two is the red head with the freckles across the nose that you complained about but refused to change because a pretty lady smiled at you in the Sanctuary. I'd say this one is number three because of the eyes.
"The eyes?"
"What's it called when they're different colours?"
"Heterochromia."
"That's it. This face has it. It has good symmetry too."
"Good symmetry?"
"Yeah, it looks good with your cheekbones."
"Thank you," he replied with a smile. "It's always reassuring to hear I look excellent." He glanced at her for a second. "What other two faces did you like?"
"Number four is the blonde one that you hated because the hair was curly. You said it looked like instant noodles."
"It did."
"You're over-exaggerating and you know it. Number five was the bald one with the crinkles at the eyes because it looked friendly and kinda reminded me of Ghastly." She smiled, but it quickly became a frown. "Though I think we both agree it would be better never to see that one again because it was too weird." She paused, her frown turning sad. "I miss him."
"Me too," Skulduggery replied. "But if he were here to listen to us he'd tell us we're being ridiculous." He forced his tone to brighten even though Valkyrie knew he wasn't fooling either of them. She let it slide, knowing that he missed Ghastly a lot and time did nothing to lessen the ache. She couldn't imagine how awful it must feel to lose a best friend after so many years together.
"So where do we go looking for Scapegrace?" she asked, trying to dispel the melancholy feeling inside her.
"Well I thought we'd start at the Temple. Solomon Wreath is most likely to know where the Scribes call home."
"The last time you saw him you kicked him in the face."
"And I don't do that nearly as often as I'd like."
"Are you still mad at him for teaching me Necromancy while you were in the Faceless Ones' dimension?"
"My distaste for him is seated much deeper than stealing my student." He scowled. "But yes, I'm still mad at him for that."
"Please don't kick him. I'm hoping to lead a less violent lifestyle and you make that very difficult at the best of times."
"I won't kick him."
"And don't punch him either." Skulduggery's scowl deepened.
"Fine," he grumbled. "I won't punch him either."
"Do you promise?"
"I promise."
"Good."
oO0Oo
The Necromancer Temple was as uninviting and unimpressive on the surface as ever. They walked through the mausoleum doors and down into the dingy interior, guided by a sour looking gentleman in his ridiculous black robes. He took them to Wreath's office, making no secret of his distaste for the man. Traditionally a Necromancer lived without unnecessary trinkets or possessions and devoted their life to their teachings. Solomon Wreath was not that kind of person. Where they wore the traditional plain robes, he wore suits sharp enough to rival Skulduggery himself. That day he sported a suit of the deepest black, with an equally dark tie and a crimson shirt. His cane lay across the top of his desk and as they entered he looked up from the book he was reading. He arched an eyebrow when he saw who was standing in his doorway.
"Cleric Wreath," the sour man said. "You have visitors." He bowed in a display of submission and respect that was ruined by the murderous look on his face before he left.
"Making friends as always, I see," Skulduggery remarked.
"What can I say? I'm a popular man," Wreath answered dryly. Valkyrie looked between them warily as the silence settled around them.
"I don't like you," Skulduggery said eventually.
"Okay," Valkyrie cut in quickly. "We're not here to be friendly, we're here to ask for your help." The Necromancer got up and walked around his desk to stand beside them. Valkyrie shifted positions subtly to make sure she could intercept Skulduggery if he tried to punch Solomon.
"What could I possibly help you with?" A small smile played around his mouth as he surveyed the two of them.
"The Scribes of Nocturne. They've either kidnapped somebody by mistake or that somebody has very stupidly decided to join them. Either way it won't end well for said person," Skulduggery explained.
"And you care why?" Solomon asked.
"The person in question is someone we thought had turned over a new leaf and because of that we agreed to forgive her past crimes. Unfortunately that means when something happens involving her we have to investigate," Valkyrie said. "Do you have any idea where the Scribes might take her?"
"They have their own Temple in a graveyard two miles south of us," Wreath answered. "They wanted to show us they were a credible organisation. Look for the biggest, most ridiculous mausoleum you can find and that'll be them. I can't guarantee you'll find the person you're looking for but you might find some information that will help."
"Thank you." They turned to leave and Valkyrie was about to relax when he spoke again.
"How's the Necromancy going, Valkyrie? I trust Skulduggery has made it a point not to address it?" Valkyrie sagged.
"The last time I checked, Wreath, you were being as dishonest as ever and trying to manipulate Valkyrie into becoming your Death Bringer. A feat that almost killed her and the majority of the planet along with it in the end." Skulduggery turned back to the Necromancer with a neutral expression on his face. She was relieved that he didn't mention she couldn't do necromancy anymore; the last thing she needed was a Q&A session with an old tutor.
"She had the potential to become our Saviour. It would've been wrong for me to ignore it," Wreath replied innocently.
"You don't normally care about right and wrong though, do you Solomon?" Skulduggery's face was still blank but there was an edge to his voice. Valkyrie swallowed nervously.
"Oh come now. You can't still be mad at me for something that happened centuries ago." The smile on the Necromancer's face was smug and irritating enough that she actually considered grabbing her partner's wrist to stop him swinging a punch.
"You know me well enough to know that I can be very mad for a very long time. You should also know that you're a thoroughly dislikeable person and if I didn't want to punch you for what you did, I'd want to punch you for that instead," the detective replied smoothly.
"Please don't punch each other," Valkyrie muttered.
"All that anger can't be healthy for you. I wonder what effect it has on your partner?" Solomon's eyebrow arched as he continued to goad the skeleton. Valkyrie's eyes narrowed in irritation. Once upon a time she'd trusted Wreath, even looked up to him. "Tell me, Pleasant. Does it make you feel good knowing that she becomes more like you every day?"
"I can speak for myself," she said. "And I'd rather be like Skulduggery than you." Something inside her snapped, and her composure disappeared. She was tired of hearing the same old tropes about how terrible Skulduggery could be.
"I think you might say different if you knew the truth of what he was capable of," Solomon answered with a smile. It annoyed her immensely that he was trying to use her to provoke Skulduggery into a reaction. It annoyed her even more that he still assumed Skulduggery's dark secrets were something she wasn't privvy to. How naive of him.
"I know what he's capable of," she snapped. "I haven't lived as long as you, but I know enough to know who I'd rather be around. Skulduggery has never betrayed me. He's never used me for his own gain. That's unforgivable, Solomon. Don't sit there pretending that you have the moral high ground after everything you've done." She turned to leave again, but as they reached the door she turned back and stalked up to the Necromancer. "I almost forgot." She punched him as hard as she could, right in his face.
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