Chapter 29: Who Knows What Darkness
Chapter 32: A Bad Night in Haggard
Chapter 34: Valkyrie and Fletcher
Chapter 35: Teaching the Twins
Chapter 36: Confiding in Uncle Gordon
Chapter 37: The Wisdom of Leonard Cohen
Chapter 38: Back at the Window Again
Chapter 40: The End of the Death Bringer
Chapter 44: Mission Accomplished
Chapter 45: The Nicest Town in Ireland
Chapter 47: This Evening’s Entertainment
Chapter 49: The Pre-Emptive Strike
Chapter 51: Flirting Disastrously
Chapter 53: The Death Bringer Rises
Chapter 62: They Walk Among Us
The Skulduggery Pleasant series
“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. I’ve changed my mind about this. Please. I don’t want it any more.”
“I understand,” he said sadly. “I do. You’re scared because you don’t think you’re strong enough. But I know you’re strong enough. That’s 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, there’s no need for begging. The Surge is a beautiful, wondrous thing, and it should be cherished. You’ve taken your next step. You’ve 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 it’s not supposed to last so long. You said I’d be the most powerful sorcerer in the world. You didn’t 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, you’ve just had to suffer a little more than the rest of us,” he explained. “But all the work we’ve been doing, preparing you, it’s going to be worth it. Trust me. The symbols I’ve etched into you are seizing the power of the Surge and they’re keeping it, they’re looping it around, letting it build, letting it grow stronger.”
“Let me out.”
“Just another day or so.”
“Let me out!”