Armageddon Outta Here

  “He is. I’m going to get him back.”

  There was a moment’s silence. “And you’re doing a wonderful job of that.”

  She glared at the darkness. “So what about you? What are you doing here?”

  “Right now? Right now I’m on hunger strike.”

  “Since when?”

  “Since this morning. It’s going pretty well so far, but I always falter around dinnertime…”

  “What are you striking about?” asked Valkyrie.

  “I don’t want to play their game any more. Have you seen the arena? The pit?”

  “Yes.”

  “Every Friday night,” said Caelan, “we’re taken to the pit and we’re made to fight each other.”

  “We?”

  “The others like me, in the other cells.”

  “Vampire pit fights?”

  “Not just vampires. All sorts of creatures. It draws a crowd. Of course, I’m not allowed to change fully. The beast I’d become would rip apart anything it faced, and where’s the fun in that? So they give me a half-dose of serum to trap me halfway through the change. For the sport. If I win, I’m taken back here and before my next fight I’m thrown a morsel to keep my strength up. You are said morsel. If I lose, I’m dead. Real dead, not just vampire dead.”

  “So you’re not drinking my blood because…?”

  “They want me strong when they put me into the pit. That’s the only way the crowd will be satisfied. Who wants to pay to see a starving vampire flail at a zombie or a bridge troll? If I don’t eat, they won’t put me in the pit. I’ve been here three months, and I’m not going to do it any more.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense,” said Valkyrie.

  “You really don’t want to be talking me out of this, you know. I’ve been draining every person they throw in here. You’re lucky today’s the day I’ve changed my mind.”

  “Who are they? The men who do this?”

  “You mean are they sorcerers?” asked Caelan. “They are not. They’re mortals who know more than they should. Those shackles binding your power are just one of the things they’ve picked up over the years. Everything they have is scavenged. The big one’s Bruno. I don’t know the name of the smaller one.

  “As far as I can tell, the whole thing is run by a man who calls himself the Promoter. And the audience that gathers every week? Mortals, also. They keep all this a secret from the press to prevent the Sanctuary from noticing them and sorting them out. I’ve come to the conclusion that mortals are far worse than any vampire or sorcerer.”

  “What’ll happen when they realise I’m still alive?”

  “If I don’t feed on you, they’re going to give you to someone who will. What day is it today?”

  “Thursday.”

  “Then you’ll be dead by tomorrow night.”

  Valkyrie didn’t say anything to that.

  She didn’t have anything to say for the next four hours, either. She was cold, and getting colder, and she was hungry, and she had other needs.

  “I have to pee,” she called out.

  For a moment there was just darkness and silence.

  “Well,” Caelan said slowly, “that’s a little awkward.”

  Embarrassment made her angry. “So what do I do? Knock on the door, or what?”

  “I’m really not sure. No other meal has survived long enough to want to go to the bathroom. You’re going to have to just go in here.”

  Valkyrie got up, felt her way to the door, and banged her fist against it. “Hey!” she shouted.

  She heard the voices from the other cells shouting “Hey!” back.

  She kicked the door. “I have to use the toilet!”

  The responses she got to that one were predictably disgusting.

  And then a new voice, clearer than the others. “Shut up in there!” It wasn’t a voice she recognised.

  Most of the other prisoners quietened down, and those that didn’t got a sharp rap on their iron door as a warning. Valkyrie waited until she could be heard.

  “Hello?” she called. “I need to go to the bathroom. Hello?”

  She heard striding footsteps getting louder, and then the door rattled and the viewing hatch slid open. The beam of a torch blinded her and she immediately looked away.

  “What’s going on?” the man demanded. “Why isn’t she dead?”

  “I need to use the toilet,” she told him, blinking her vision back.

  The man ignored her and repeated his question. “Why isn’t she dead?”

  “I’m on hunger strike,” Caelan said.

  The man shoved the torch through the hatch in an attempt to see into Caelan’s corner, and Valkyrie reached out and grabbed it, wrenching it out of his grip.

  “Give that back!” the man roared.

  “You let me go to the bathroom and I’ll give it back.”

  “You’re supposed to be dead!”

  “Well, I’m alive and I need to pee.”

  “Keep the bloody thing!” he snarled, and slammed the hatch shut. She heard him striding away.

  “I won’t look,” Caelan said, “I promise.” Angrily, Valkyrie swung the torch to the sound of his voice.

  The beam fell upon a boy around her age, maybe a bit older. He languished with his back to the corner, one long leg stretched out straight along the floor, the other pulled in. His boots were scuffed and his jeans dirty and torn. His torso was bare, the light flowing over the lean muscles of his arms. But it was his face that caught her attention – black hair falling to his brow, and a smile so wicked and cheekbones so sharp. He had one hand up, shading his eyes.

  “I won’t even tell anyone about it,” he continued. “Your dignity is safe with me, I swear.”

  She let the torch beam drift down to his torso again, and allowed herself a moment to marvel at the way the light caught his abdomen.

  “Excuse me?” he said. “I’m starting to feel just a little bit objectified here.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself,” she retorted, but still the beam lingered. “You’re kind of good-looking, in your own way, but you’re really not my type.”

  She was, of course, lying.

  She swept the beam to his outstretched leg, to the shackle that was attached to the heavy chain. She scanned the walls, looking for cameras or windows, but there were none.

  She pointed the torch at one of the free corners. “I’m going to go here.”

  “I’m not looking.”

  Valkyrie went to the corner and kept the torch on him, to blind him if he did look. But it appeared that he was going to keep his word. His face was turned away and his eyes were closed.

  She hesitated, then undid her jeans and hunkered down.

  “Talk,” she ordered.

  “What?”

  “Talk to me, but do it loudly. I don’t want you to hear me.”

  That smile again, playing with the corners of his mouth. “What would you like to talk about?”

  “I don’t care.”

  “Very well. Your friend, the skeleton. How do you plan on rescuing him from this other dimension?”

  “It’s a long story,” said Valkyrie. “It’s complicated. I’m almost there, though. I just have one more thing I need to get and that’s it.”

  “And what is this one more thing?”

  “The Murder Skull.”

  “I’m afraid I’m not familiar with it.”

  “You don’t have to be. I’ve been trying to find it for ages now, trying to find out who has it. That’s what got me in trouble, actually. The guy who has it is a man called Chabon. In my efforts to get in touch with him, I’ve been mixing with a bad crowd.”

  “What a nice way of putting it.”

  “Thank you. The bad crowd led me to the big guy… What did you say his name was?”

  “Bruno.”

  “Bruno, who figured out I was a sorcerer and thought I was coming to arrest him or set him on fire or something… I turn away for one second and bam. I wake up in a van with
my wrists shackled.”

  “Just when you’d got within arm’s reach of your goal.”

  “I’m a little more than arm’s reach away. I don’t know anything about this Chabon guy.”

  “He’s a criminal,” said Caelan. “Thames Chabon, an information broker-slash-lowlife from London.”

  “You know him?”

  “I know some people who can get in touch with him.”

  “Can you help me?”

  Caelan laughed softly. “Sure. We’ll just explain to the Promoter that we’ve got stuff to do and he’ll let us walk out of here.”

  “If I can get you out, will you set up a meeting?”

  “You’re chained up in a cell, about to be fed to whichever monster isn’t picky about its food. You’re not getting anyone out.”

  “But if I do?”

  He sighed. “If you get me out, I’ll owe you a favour, I suppose.”

  Valkyrie stood, doing up her jeans. “Good.” She walked to her corner, but didn’t sit. Instead, she leaned back against the wall and turned off the torch. “How long have you been a vampire?”

  “Longer than some,” he said. “Not as long as others.”

  “How did it happen?”

  In the dark, there was silence, and then he spoke. “I was in love. Her name was Anna. Our parents wouldn’t allow us to be together, they said we were too young, so we planned to run away and get married.”

  His voice changed as he spoke. The rhythm became slower, like he was suddenly living in a different time.

  “We quietly sold our possessions and saved our money, and every night I’d climb through her bedroom window and we’d lie in each other’s arms, and we’d talk about the things we were going to do. We planned to go to England, and then France, and Africa. I could see my whole life in her eyes, and she could see hers in mine.”

  Valkyrie sat while Caelan continued.

  “Her family owned a tavern. She was used to leering men and wandering hands, and she had no patience for either. And then the tavern door became darkened by the presence of a stranger. She’d tell me about him as we lay together. He’d sit at his table and he wouldn’t touch the drink he’d ordered, and his eyes would never leave her face.

  “Night after night he’d sit there, looking at her, always with a smile beneath his beard. One of the regular patrons was sweet on Anna, as many of them were, for she was a beautiful girl, and he took offence at this stranger. This patron, and two of his biggest friends, attempted to eject the man from the premises. Anna was fetching wine from the cellar at that moment so she didn’t witness the fight, but according to the bartender it was over as quick as it had begun.

  “He said the stranger had lifted one of the men over his head and thrown him the length of the room. He said he then gripped the shoulder of the second man and pulverised the bone. And the patron who was seeking to defend Anna’s honour, he was dragged outside and no one saw him again.

  “After that night, the stranger started talking to Anna while she served him. She said he was rough but educated, and he was charming, in his way. She found herself telling him a great many things. She told him about me. She even told him of our plans to run away. He seemed… interested.

  “One night, he was waiting for me in the garden below her window. He dragged me to the willow tree and bared his fangs. But he didn’t drain all of my blood, and he didn’t kill me. He just threw me away.”

  “And that’s all it took?” Valkyrie asked softly. “Just one bite?”

  “That’s all. I crawled through a narrow window, dropped down into the tavern cellar. I lay hidden by barrels for three days while the fevers took me.

  “When my senses returned, I smelled blood, and I was starving. It was a hunger I had never experienced. I left the cellar. The tavern was dark and empty and I went up, to the living quarters. The stranger had visited only hours before, and he had torn Anna’s family limb from limb. Blood painted the walls, still wet. I can’t recall if there was a part of me that was horrified by the scene. All I remember was the blood, and that it was the only thing that could satisfy me.”

  “You… drank it?”

  “I lapped it off the floor. I licked it off the walls.”

  Valkyrie didn’t say anything.

  “It was orchestrated, of course. The stranger did like his little games. In the three days I had been gone, he had convinced Anna that I had left without her. She was distraught, and he was her comfort. And he manipulated events so that when I was at my weakest, on my knees and smeared with blood, Anna would return home and see me.

  “She fled to him, and he took her to his bed, and when he was finished he cut out her heart and left it for me, as a gift.”

  “Did you ever find him again?”

  “No. I tried but he was gone. I never even knew his name.”

  Valkyrie looked into the darkness where Caelan sat. “I didn’t know vampires could be like you,” she said.

  There was quiet amusement in his voice. “Known many vampires, have you?”

  “Only one,” she admitted. “And I gave him a scar that’ll never fade, so he doesn’t like me very much.”

  There was a moment of silence. “Dusk,” said Caelan.

  Valkyrie’s eyes widened. “Yes. He’s not a friend of yours, is he?”

  “No,” said Caelan softly. “No. Not a friend.”

  She slept badly.

  She was cold and there was no padding on the ground. She was hungry and thirsty, and every time her defences lowered she thought about Skulduggery and how she was his only hope, and here she was, chained up and about to be killed. The thought that she was going to fail him brought tears to her eyes.

  Sleep came in fits and starts. In the cell, time wasn’t something that could be judged. Time was something that went on outside. The door would open whenever it would open, and then time would be allowed to flood in. But until that happened, there was only the cold and the dark and the vampire across the floor.

  She thought of her parents, living the rest of their lives with the reflection standing in for their daughter. She thought of her friends – of Tanith and Ghastly, and Fletcher. They’d have noticed her absence by now. They’d be worried. They’d talk to the reflection, and the reflection would tell them that Valkyrie hadn’t even taken her armoured clothing when she’d gone off to do her investigating.

  That’s what she got. That’s what she got for letting this take over her life. She made stupid mistakes. She talked to the wrong people without taking the proper precautions.

  That’s what she got.

  Morning came. Valkyrie heard the men making their rounds. The hatch in the door opened and the light fell on her. She heard a grunt, and the hatch closed.

  “They’re not happy with me,” said Caelan.

  His voice was weak.

  He didn’t talk much that day. When he did, his voice was dry and thin, and there was something else behind it. A hint of anger. No, not anger. Fury. Violence. He was trying to hide it, but it was too sharp to disguise.

  More hours passed, until he said, “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “They’re coming, Valkyrie. The stadium is filling up. I can hear them talking and laughing. I can hear the cars outside.”

  “What will they do with me?”

  He didn’t answer for a moment. “They’ll feed you to someone else.”

  Outside the cell, a light switched on. The edge of the door lit up.

  Valkyrie stood. The torch was in her right hand, and she gripped it tight. “I’ll make a run for it,” she said. “The moment that door opens…”

  “You won’t make it,” he told her wearily. “There’ll be too many of them.”

  “I’m not going to just wait here,” she spat. “If I’m going to die, I’m going to make them hurt.”

  He managed a last laugh before the hatch rattled, and slid open. Yellow light burst through.

  She pressed her back to the wall, her eyes on the light, blink
ing quickly to help the adjustment. The door opened and when the big man, the man Caelan had called Bruno, stepped in, she launched herself at him. The torch cracked against his head and he cursed and flung her back. She tripped over the chain and sprawled on to the ground.

  “What the hell is this?” he snapped.

  “I told you,” said the man behind him, the one whose torch she had stolen. “I told you he wasn’t drinking.”

  “Vampire,” Bruno said, “why isn’t she dead yet?”

  “We talked about this last week,” Caelan said calmly. “I’m on strike.”

  “And what makes you think that changes anything?”

  “You have a crowd out there baying for blood,” Caelan said, “and as much as they hate me, I’m still the biggest draw you’ve got. They’ll be expecting a certain standard. It’s not going to be a very thrilling fight when I’m as weak as I am.”

  Bruno laughed. “So you think we’re going to let you forfeit, simply because we don’t want to upset your fans?”

  “That would seem to be the reasonable thing to do.”

  “I hate to burst your bubble, vampire, but you’re really not that entertaining, and there are quite a few people out there who think you’ve been given too easy a time in the pit.”

  “That’s ridiculous and you know it.”

  “Hey, if you don’t want to take part in the scheduled fight, then so be it. We’ll shake things up a little, what do you say? We’re going to give them a spectacle tonight. Yes indeedy we are. Caelan, the weakened champion, going up against Victor, the eager young contender.”

  Caelan’s voice changed immediately. “You… can’t put me up against Victor.”

  “And yet we are.”

  “He won’t do it. Vampires are forbidden to harm other vampires.”

  “That didn’t stop you, now, did it? And it’s not going to stop Victor, either.”

  Bruno stepped to the side, and two burly men came in and unlocked Caelan’s shackles. They started to pull him to the door.

  “You can’t put me in the pit with him,” Caelan protested. “He’s at full strength.”

  “Then you should have fed when you had the chance.”

  Caelan looked at Valkyrie and there was something in his eyes that made her step back. “Just give me a second,” he said.

  Bruno shook his head. “To the pit, boys.”