mother sighed. “Get in the car.”
“This is my anniversary gift to you,” he protested. “And that means I’m in charge.”
“Get in the car.”
“Yes, dear,” he mumbled, picking up his bag and shuffling out the door. He stopped to give Valkyrie a hug and winked at her. “You behave, OK? And be nice to your cousins. God knows someone has to be.”
He continued on and her mother came next, giving her a hug and a kiss.
“Beryl is expecting you for lunch,” she said. “It’s not going to be as bad as you think.”
For a single moment, Valkyrie managed to push all thoughts of Crux out of her mind. She looked at her mother and wished she could warn her of what might be coming.
“Hope you have a great time,” was all she could say, and she watched her parents throw their bags in the back of the car and reverse out of the driveway. Her dad was driving and her mum was waving. Valkyrie forced a smile on to her face and returned the wave until the car was out of sight.
Then she broke into a sprint.
It was a few seconds before she became aware of Crux behind her. She turned sideways, slipping between a fence post and a wall, to run across the grassy embankment that bordered a field of cauliflowers. She heard the fence rattle and glanced back in time to see him squeezing through.
Valkyrie left the embankment and ran across the field. Her feet were heavy, her trainers picking up great clumps of muck. It wasn’t easy keeping her balance, but she used to do this all the time as a kid – her friends and her, racing each other home from school and taking all the short cuts imaginable. There was a certain kind of rhythm required to traverse the deep cauliflower drills – a rhythm that Crux didn’t have. He had only crossed ten drills when a thick stalk snagged his foot and he sprawled into the dirt.
“You’re under arrest!” he screeched.
By the time he had pushed himself up, Valkyrie was halfway across the field. Running like this, with her feet so heavy and having to lift her knees so high, was rapidly draining her energy. She turned and ran up one of the drills, heading for a break in the hedge. She looked back and saw Crux go sprawling once again.
She reached the edge of the field and ran straight for the gap. When she was eight, she had tried this jump and had ended up waist-deep in ditchwater, her skin slashed by thorns and briars. But that was a long time ago.
She pushed at the air behind her to add distance to her leap, and landed on the other side, her tired legs stumbling slightly.
This field was mercifully free of cauliflowers, and Valkyrie ran diagonally across it. By the time she hauled herself over the gate to the narrow road on the other side, she was exhausted. She looked back, saw Crux jump the ditch and then stagger to a halt, bending over with his hands on his knees. He looked like he was about to collapse.
She scraped her feet against the ground, shaking loose the remaining clumps of muck, and took off, heading away from town. She needed somewhere quiet and isolated to hide, and then she’d call Skulduggery and get him to pick her up. She really wanted to be there when he got his hands on Crux.
She reached the part in the road where it split into two, heard an engine and looked back. A black van had stopped by the gate, just as Remus Crux was climbing over it. Even from this distance, Valkyrie could see the state of him – covered in muck from head to toe. He was saying something, gasping out his words probably, to whoever was inside the van, and then the side door opened and a Cleaver got out.
“Oh hell,” Valkyrie breathed.
Crux pointed and the Cleaver’s grey helmet turned to look at her.
She ran.
She knew Cleavers were fast, but she had never been chased by one before. He was like those athletes she’d seen on the Olympics, the 100-metre sprinters, and he got faster and faster as he came. She’d never outrun him, and if she tried to fight him, she feared he might use the scythe strapped to his back.
A tractor with a rotovator attached rumbled out from a nearby field. Valkyrie ran to it, relief washing over her. Cleavers were the Sanctuary’s police and army rolled into one, and she knew they would be more mindful of alarming civilians than Crux seemed to be.
The tractor stopped and the farmer got out. She knew him – he was a friend of her dad’s. He stepped between the rotovator and the tractor and tightened the chains that connected them. She checked behind her, but the Cleaver had disappeared.
“Heya, Steph,” the farmer said when he saw her, half smiling and half frowning at her filthy jeans and trainers. “What have you been up to?”
“Hi, Alan,” she said, trying to catch her breath. “I’m just out for a run.”
“Ah, I see. Right then.” Satisfied that the chains were tight enough to stop the rotovator from swinging as he drove, he wiped his hands on his trousers. “It’s just you’re not exactly dressed for a jog, are you?”
“It was a spontaneous decision. Didn’t really think it through.”
“That’s what I said about marrying Annie,” he nodded.
“Everything’s OK, is it?”
“It seems to be,” she said. “Your folks away for the weekend?”
“They just left.”
“And you’re in trouble already?”
“What’s new there?”
“You got me. You’re sure everything’s OK?”
“Apart from the fact that I’m staying with Beryl for the weekend,” Valkyrie said, “yes, everything’s fine. You headed home? Give me a lift as far as Main Street?”
“What about your run?”
“Running’s overrated.”
“Climb aboard,” he said and the grin was just spreading across Valkyrie’s face when she heard the black van behind her. She went cold as it stopped and Crux got out.
Alan looked at him, at the muck on his clothes and the anger in his eyes, and then stepped in front of Valkyrie.
“Can I help you?” he asked.
“You can get out of my way,” Crux snarled.
“Your van can get past my tractor. The road’s not that narrow.”
“Your tractor’s not in my way, simpleton, you are.”
Valkyrie couldn’t believe this was happening. This was against every rule she had been taught.
Alan looked at Valkyrie. “This guy the reason you decided on that run, Steph?”
“I don’t know him,” she lied. “Never seen him before.”
“Would you do me a favour, Steph? Would you call the police?”
“I’m a detective,” Crux snapped, stepping forward, and Alan hit him – slugged him right across the jaw.
“You stay away from the girl,” Alan said evenly as Crux retreated, his eyes blazing.
Valkyrie grabbed Alan’s arm, holding him back. “It’s OK,” she said quickly. “We should just go. Can we go? Please, I just want to go.”
“If I were you,” Alan said to Crux, “I’d get out of town now. I don’t ever want to see you back here. Do you understand me?”
Crux glared at him. As Alan turned away, Crux snapped his hand against the air. Alan slammed into the side of the tractor and collapsed on the road. Valkyrie screamed and darted to him, but there was a flash of grey and her arm was twisted behind her. She fell to her knees even as the shackles closed around her wrist, and before she could react, both hands were cuffed.