Derek Landy - Skulduggery Pleasant: Death Bringer (Book 6)

This book is dedicated to my nieces. Girls, none of you were born when Skulduggery Pleasant first appeared. But since youve arrived, no one in our family wants to talk about the writer any more. Now all they want to talk about are the damn babies . All of a sudden, no one wants to cuddle me , and for that I blame you .

But, I suppose you have your good points. Its because of you that Valkyrie has a little sister, after all. Youre all mildly cute, reasonably adorable, and you make me laugh when you fall over.

So this book is dedicated to you, Rebecca and Emily, Sophie and Clara and

(insert names of any more nieces or nephews that might sprout up between now and when theyre old enough to read this).

I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I am your favourite uncle. And you probably prefer me to your parents, too.

(Ive met your parents. I dont blame you. Theyre rubbish.)

Contents

he closing do or made the candlelight dance, waltzing and flickering over the girl strapped to the table. She turned her head to him. Her face, like every other part of her, was decorated with small, pale scars, symbols painstakingly carved into her flesh over the course of the last few months. Her name was Melancholia St Clair. She was his secret. His experiment. His last, desperate grasp for power.

It hurts, she said.

Vandameer Craven, Cleric First Class of the Necromancer Order, esteemed Scholar of Arcane Languages and feared opponent on the debating battlefield, nodded and patted her hand. She had entered into this arrangement with the kind of zeal that only the truly greedy can muster, but recently her bouts of annoying self-pity were becoming more and more frequent. I know, my dear, I know it does. But pain is nothing. Once our work is done, there will be no pain. You have suffered for all of us. You have suffered for all life in this world, in this universe .

Please, she whimpered, make it stop. Ive changed my mind about this. Please. I dont want it any more.

I understand, he said sadly. I do. Youre scared because you dont think youre strong enough. But I know youre strong enough. Thats why I picked you, out of everyone. I believe in you, Melancholia. I have faith in your strength.

I want to go home.

You are home.

Please

Now now, my dear girl, theres no need for begging. The Surge is a beautiful, wondrous thing, and it should be cherished. Youve taken your next step. Youve become who you were always meant to be. We all go through it. Every sorcerer goes through it.

She gritted her teeth as a spasm of pain arched her spine, and then she gasped, But its not supposed to last so long. You said Id be the most powerful sorcerer in the world. You didnt say anything about this .

Craven made the effort to look her in the eyes. He despised people who sweated, and the perspiration was rolling off her in heavy rivulets. It turned his stomach to look at her wet, dripping, scarred face. With the power I promised you, youve just had to suffer a little more than the rest of us, he explained. But all the work weve been doing, preparing you, its going to be worth it. Trust me. The symbols Ive etched into you are seizing the power of the Surge and theyre keeping it, theyre looping it around, letting it build, letting it grow stronger.

Let me out.

Just another day or so.

Let me out! she screeched, and shadows curled round her, rising and thrashing like tentacles.

He stepped forward quickly, gave her a smile. But of course, my dear. Youre absolutely right the time has come.

Her eyes widened, and the shadows retreated. He doubted she was even aware of them. Strapped and bound as she was, she shouldnt have been able to wield any kind of power. For once, Cravens smile was genuine. This was a good sign.

Its done? she asked, her voice meek. Youre going to let me go?

Let you go? he echoed, and gave a little laugh as he undid her straps. You make it sound like Ive been keeping you prisoner ! Melancholia, I am your friend. I am your guide. I am the one person in the whole of the world that you can trust to always be honest with you.

I I know that, Cleric Craven, she said.

He took a handkerchief from his robes and used it to take hold of her wet, slippery arm in order to help her sit up. We have to choose the right moment to tell the High Priest about you, but once we tell him what weve been doing down here for all this time, its all going to change. Word will get out that you are the Death Bringer, and there will be many people vying for your favour. Trust none of them.

She nodded obediently.

There will be some who wont understand, he continued, even within the Necromancer Order itself. Whenever you feel unsure, or scared, or whenever you just want to talk Im here for you.

Im scared now, Melancholia said, her fingers closing around the skin of his wrist. It took all his self-control not to shiver with revulsion at her clammy touch.

He smiled reassuringly. Theres nothing to fear, not while youre with me. Rejoice, my dear. Very soon, youre going to save the world.