"That's not true, you made that up."
"No, I didn't."
"Hellcow. Hell. Cow."
"Yep, Hellcow. Her arch nemesis is Howard the Duck."
Dexter grinned. "You spend too much time on modern entertainment."
Tanith frowned. "Comics are modern?"
"In comparison to books." He shrugged.
She threw him a look. "In comparison to books, everything is modern."
Dexter rolled his eyes playfully. "Is Hellcow in this one?"
"No, cows are underrepresented in the film industry today." Tanith sighed tragically.
"Shame…" He sighed along.
She looked around as they walked through the streets of Roarhaven, the sun was still relatively high in the sky, yet slowly neared the evening light.
It was a busy day in the city, mages of all kind scurrying past and around each other, buying groceries for the weekend, or presents, or makeup, or clothes for upcoming holiday parties. The restaurants were filled with people enjoying the end of the work week with their friends. It was cold out but, as usual, Roarhaven only offered rainy, grey weather, instead of snow.
At a small distance, Tanith spotted a hat and then a familiar person underneath. She poked Dexter and pointed at Skulduggery, who was walking a couple dozens of meters away from them. He was heading their direction, some other mages between them.
"Well, well." Dexter said bemusedly.
Skulduggery seemed to have noticed them too, now. However, he did not push through the masses, just waited for it to carry him along, until they stood next to each other and all stopped.
The crowd started circling around them, most too busy with shopping or conversations to pay much attention to the two Dead Men and one Tanith Low without her sword.
"Good afternoon." Skulduggery nodded.
"Hey, Skulduggery. What's your take on vampire cows?" Tanith asked immediately.
He turned his skull to her confusedly. "Vampire cows."
"First thing that pops into your head." Dexter threw in.
"The first thing? I certainly hope they do not exist." Skulduggery said. "That might cause some problems for the farmers."
"I'm pretty sure they would eat the farmers." Tanith nodded helpfully.
"Cows are herbivores." He reminded her.
"Well, it's a vampire cow. It needs to drink blood."
"They aren't real." Dexter quickly clarified before more confusion could come up. "We're on our way to see a movie."
"Oh, yes?" Skulduggery asked interestedly. "Which one?"
"The new Marvel flick. I swear, this series is endless."
"Timeless." Corrected Tanith convincedly.
"Either way." He waved and turned to Skulduggery. "What are you up to?"
He shrugged nonchalantly. "Nothing important."
Dexter sniffed. "Really? I thought everything you do is important."
"By extension." Skulduggery replied cockily.
Tanith checked her watch and jumped at the time. "Oh, movie starts in five. We're going to be late."
Dexter nodded and they started easing away backwards, making sure not to walk into someone. "Have fun with…" He gesticulated a hand at Skulduggery. "Unimportant thing."
Skulduggery inclined his head lightly as they moved away, speaking quietly, so that his voice almost disappeared in the noise of the crowd closing around them. "Enjoy your movie."
They waved, turned, and proceeded to hurry on through the masses, to the cinema.
"How did Hellcow become a vampire?" Dexter asked.
"Count Dracula turned her."
Dexter sighed. "Of course, he did."
"Thanks for coming by." Valkyrie said with a smile. "I wasn't expecting you."
"Of course, you weren't." Myosotis Terra replied, giving her a hug. "You know, I was here already, a couple of months after I heard you were back. But then, suddenly, you weren't anymore."
She closed the door behind her. "Oh, Skul and I were just out of the country for a while. But we're back, as you can see."
"So am I." Myosotis grinned. „For a couple of hours."
Valkyrie gestured to the living room and they strolled there. "Want anything? Water? Coffee? Pop?"
"Nah." She said and joined her in sitting down on one of the couches. "Just had lunch. But I wouldn't mind taking you out for a coffee, sometime."
Valkyrie smiled. "Sounds great."
Myosotis smirked at a new thought and leaned forward, looking intrigued. "So, I hear you've been hanging out with Nuce Evans, lately."
the smile made way for a frown. "And who told you that?"
She shrugged. "Oh, spies are everywhere, dear. And we talk. Someone knows something about someone I know… I'll know."
"Right." Valkyrie snorted. "Well, yeah, I've seen him around a couple of times."
"He's pretty easy on the eyes." Myosotis smirked on, wiggling her shoulders coquettishly.
"True…"
Valkyrie's phone buzzed and she checked it, finding a message from Skulduggery. It was about something to do with cows. It did not seem work-related, so she just pocketed her phone again.
"How about you? How is work?" Valkyrie asked afterwards.
"Ugh," Myosotis made exasperatedly, waving the topic away lamely, "let's not talk about work. It's just the same as always. Someone overreacts, they try to cover it up, and then I uncover the cover."
"Getting bored?" Valkyrie grinned.
"Who, me?" She posed, feigning insult. "Never."
"I curse you, Diamond Irie, curse you, I say!"
"Thank you, Mister Scratch."
"Goddamnit, are you always this disgustingly plain and nice?"
"Yes, Mister Scratch."
"I hate nice people." Scratch grumbled and continued letting himself be pushed along by his shoulder.
She could have dragged him by the chains between his wrists or his shirt collar but Diamond found these kinds of power displays quite distasteful. She would always rather be disgustingly plain than plain disgusting.
And so, they both walked with dignity, across the Memorial Square, past the giant entrance of the High Sanctuary. As they passed their large stone statues at a distance, Diamond suppressed the urge to nod to Ghastly Bespoke and Anton Shudder, standing on the edge of the square, guarding the main entrance of it. of course, they were not standing right in front of the High Sanctuary. Someone like China Sorrows would not allow two other people stealing the spotlight of her glamorous estate.
And even though Diamond had barely seen the two men from afar, let alone met them, she still felt as if she somehow had known them, from the amount of Dexter's stories alone.
Scratch, however, Diamond did not know and felt no familiarity towards. Neither did she have any interest changing this. He was a scrawny, ill-kept, greasy man, who seemed to have made his life goal to honor his own name.
Scratch had actually tried to scratch Diamond. He had tried twice, in fact, until one of his long, pointy nails had broken off on her diamond skin. She had taken care of his bleeding finger, and now Mister Scratch seemed mostly uncertain about how to feel about his guard.
They had requested Diamond for this job, and her alone, and she had soon understood why this was no job for anyone with a low tolerance for irritation. In fact, it was no job for anyone. But it certainly was none for explosive hotheads in training.
They circled the building to a back-entrance that led to the cells in the Sanctuary building.
"Ah." Said a sharp voice from ahead of them. "What a relief to see you two, still in two pieces."
Detective Konelius Slay was standing in front of the back door, arms crossed, legs wide, as if he were a cop from an eighties movie.
"I hope this one wasn't giving you too much trouble." Slay said, secretively leaning closer to Diamond as he took over Scratch. "I hear he can be a bit... demanding."
"I'm standing right here, you know." Scratch scowled.
Slay grabbed him by the shackles, a disinterested look in his eyes. "Mister Scratch, in the name of the Irish Sanctuary, I arrest you for three charges of torture and two charges of murder, on English soil." He monotonously listed. "You have been charged with seventy-five years in prison. Your transferral will happen today."
Scratch's eyes widened in horror and outrage. "You can't do that right here! I demand a trial!" He argued.
"You were vetted by Sensitives in England. Your trial is over."
"This is ridiculous! We're not even inside the Sanctuary!"
"We're on Sanctuary grounds." Slay unimpressively replied.
"You can't do this!" Scratch continued, desperation adding to his frantic voice.
"You are going to prison, Mister Scratch."
"Hell I will!" Scratch growled and moved to launch himself at Slay.
The Detective stepped back as his hands jerked up to defend himself but he soon realized that there was no threat.
Scratch was hanging in the air, hands curled to imitate claws, sharp teeth exposed to a growling grimace, yet perfectly unmoving and transparent.
A couple of people on the main street nearby stopped to stare but most took no notice of the silent, glittering statue of an angry, badly dressed man, entirely made of pure diamond.
"Well." Diamond sighed relaxedly at the quiet, keeping her hand on Scratch's crystal shoulder. She smiled at Slay. "I certainly hope you don't have many more of these to deal with, tonight."
"Oh, no." He snorted and waved a hand. "Just him. How about you? Any more extractions today?" Slay asked casually.
"Just him."
He leaned an elbow on a nearby railing of the staircase. "Any plans for afterwards? Visiting anyone in Roarhaven?"
"Hm, maybe." Diamond nodded. "I've been thinking, I might get in touch with some people, while I'm already here. And you?"
"Dinner with the wife."
Diamond smiled. "Enjoy."
"Thanks."
She lifted her hand from Scratch's shoulder. The transformation seceded from his body, pulling back towards her hand, letting it be flesh and blood again. Scratch rang for air, gasped, and collapsed.
Slay bent down and picked up the unconscious man. He threw Scratch over his shoulders and nodded to Diamond. "Miss Irie."
"Detective."
He turned and she watched him carry the felon into the Sanctuary.
Once again, Diamond found herself driving her car down the road with the two funeral homes. This time, she did not snicker at the location. Just now, she had been beginning to wonder, if they served any other death-related purpose, other than being a morbid joke for a property...
Diamond parked her car near one of them and walked the remaining distance to clear her head of the fog that usually hung over her eyes from travel.
As she arrived by Skulduggery's house, she noticed that the lights were all turned off. She wondered if that was a sign that there was no one home, or simply that the house owner did not need any light to see.
However, once she had arrived by the front door, Diamond thought to hear voices inside the house. She paused, listening intently. Yes, there it was; someone having a conversation.
Skeptically, Diamond mustered the house. After all, she had come here to see if Skulduggery was available for a chat but, since someone else was here, this now started to feel like an intrusion.
But then, why were the lights off? Diamond frowned. Sure, Skulduggery probably did not need light, as he did not actually have eyes to depend on it. Yet, whoever his guest was, would have.
Quietly, Diamond stepped back from the door, walking a bit along the walls, and peering through the windows, trying to catch a glimpse of him. Her growing curiosity daunted each time she looked through a new window. She could see nothing but black, and the unknowing made her growingly uneasy.
When she still did not find anything, Diamond moved back towards the door, feeling moreover that checking on him would be a good move, he would not mind, would he?
She raised her hand carefully, unsurely inching towards the doorbell. As she did, Diamond could hear his voice more clearly. It sounded like he was coming closer.
At this point, she could define struggle in his tone, it seemed he was having an argument. Diamond tightened, preparing to see Skulduggery, and whoever else, blast through the door in front of her.
Suddenly, a bang.
Diamond flinched back, almost gasped loudly, but just kept herself from doing so, closing her lips tightly. She stared at the door, from which the loud noise had come, but no one came through. She waited, unmoving, for something else to happen but there was no other thud on the wood.
Skulduggery was starting to sound truly aggravated now, voice raised frustratedly. But through the thick stone walls, Diamond could only make out the random words he annunciated sharply, as he made his point; "done", and "thousand", and… "you".
But Diamond realized that there was no "you" there. Listening to the voices converse, she could clearly tell that there was only one: Skulduggery's voice.
She could hear him mutter directly behind the door now, and then understood what had happened. It became so clear to her, she could almost see Skulduggery standing there, on the other side of the door, balled fist up against the wood.
More shuffling, then a sliding noise. And Diamond mirrored him, silently, turned her back and moved along down until she was sitting on the ground, slowly leaning against the door.
Behind her, Skulduggery was still talking to himself, or to Lord Vile, or the voices in his head.
Diamond did not know, and she did not hear his words clearly. Here and there, she could make out more snips of them, but they had no meaning to her without context. And there and here, she could hear a sound from him that was not a word.
But Diamond did not feel like she needed to hear the things Skulduggery might have been saying. It was the way that he said them, that made her falter and let her own head hang.
Legs crossed, eyes on her lap, Diamond just listened. Listened to the irritation in his voice that she recognized. And then, the pain and the desperation, which took her off-guard.
It made her feel heavy. Uneasy too, yes, because it did not fit his image. An image, she realized, that was not only polished but entirely made of polish. So washed-out over the years, she could simply wipe that polish away, as easily as opening this door right now.
But mostly, Diamond just felt heavy.
She did not open the door. Or ring the bell. She knew, this was not the moment. Maybe, the moment would never come. She knew, there was nothing she could do, right now. Nothing but sit here, and let his suffering trickle through the door, over to her, let it in, let it get to her, as it did to him.
But that heaviness also came from understanding. There was no easy solution for this, there was no cure. And this was not about magic, not really. These were no simple episodes that could be prevented in the moment. It was a continuous struggle that, once in a while, he grew too tired of.
There was no one checking on him. And no one would come to do so. Unless something changed, Skulduggery would spend the rest of his days sitting on the other side of this door, listening to the voices, fighting, until he broke again. Until he broke in the wrong place, or in front of the wrong person.
Diamond would never help by simply being in the right place, at the right time, or by being a name and a number on his phone. No half-hearted attempt would ever be enough to solve a mystery like Lord Vile. It seemed; it was time she involved herself.
And that made Diamond sit longer, listen all the while, let the dread enforce her decision, as Skulduggery slowly calmed down, and eventually grew quiet.
Afterwards, they both dozed there, catching a break. Diamond did not know for how long she had stayed with him. But by the time she heard Skulduggery get up laboriously from the ground, and she had a chance to quietly sneak back to her car, the first, soft slithers of light already illuminated the horizon.