Valkyrie backed away. She could see the shadow on the wall outside her open door, getting closer. Her legs were unsteady and her arm still hurt. Fear coiled and thrashed in her belly. She felt the wall behind her and pressed herself to it. The darkness of the room didn’t seem dark enough. It would see her. No, it didn’t need to see her. It had no eyes.
And then it was too late to run, because the Grotesquery was passing the doorway, water running down its body. She could smell it now – it smelled of formaldehyde and mould. She held her breath and didn’t move.
The Grotesquery stopped. Valkyrie readied herself. If it turned to her she’d launch herself forward, hit it with everything she had, hurl enough fireballs to send those bandages up in flames. Like that would be enough to stop it. Like that would be enough to save her.
Its head turned slightly, but not in her direction, as if the Grotesquery was listening for something, beyond the alarm. She suddenly thought of a radar that it could use to sense her, but a radar that had been unused for so long it wasn’t as sharp as it could be.
She felt her muscles weaken and a coldness swept into her mind. Terror was robbing her of her strength. The thought that she’d be unable to move seeped in, grew and festered. The things she had learned meant nothing. The skills, the powers, the magic – to the Grotesquery she’d be even more ineffectual than the Cleavers it had just killed. Something less than a threat. Something less than an insect.
But it moved. It took another step, and another, and soon it was out of sight, moving on down the corridor. Valkyrie felt tears mix with the water that was running down her face. She blinked them back. She wasn’t going to die. Not today.
She pushed away from the wall, balanced herself on shaky legs. She waited a few moments, then made her way to the door, her feet splashing slightly as she moved. She got to the door and peeked out, and fingers closed around her throat. She was yanked out into the corridor, her feet off the ground, gagging and spitting and trying to breathe.
The Grotesquery had its head raised, looking up at her with no eyes, examining her. Her hands were at its massive wrist, at those fingers, trying to pry them loose.
Something less than an insect.
She kicked, her boots slamming into the thing. She pelted her fists down on its forearm. It didn’t make one bit of difference. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears. Darkness crept into her vision. She couldn’t breathe. She needed to breathe. She was going to die.
She clicked her fingers, managed to summon a flame then pressed her hand to the Grotesquery’s bandages. The bandages instantly caught fire and then instantly snuffed out. No more tricks. She was done.
Then there was movement behind the Grotesquery – Skulduggery and Tanith, sprinting. The Grotesquery didn’t need to turn. When they were right behind, it swung its left fist back. Skulduggery dodged under it and Tanith leaped to the ceiling, her sword flashing and now Valkyrie was dropping. Skulduggery swooped in, snatched her up and kept running, Tanith beside them.
The Grotesquery regarded its injured hand with something approaching curiosity. They stopped and looked back, as the flesh closed over and healed.
There was movement at the doorway beside them and Kenspeckle limped into the corridor.
“Stay behind us,” Skulduggery ordered.
Kenspeckle grunted. “I plan to.”
They felt the air pressure change and Valkyrie’s ears popped. “What’s happening?” she called out over the alarm.
“Its power is returning,” Kenspeckle said grimly.
Skulduggery took his gun from his jacket. “This is our only chance to stop it before it becomes too strong.”
He walked up to the Grotesquery, firing six times as he went, and six small explosions of black blood erupted against the Grotesquery’s chest, barely making it stagger. Skulduggery put the gun away, clicked his fingers and unleashed two continuous streams of fire, turning the space between them to steam. The flames hit the Grotesquery but didn’t catch.
Skulduggery pushed at the air with both hands and the air rippled. The Grotesquery was forced backwards. Skulduggery did it again and the Grotesquery fought to resist. Skulduggery went to do it a third time, and the Grotesquery reached out with its huge right arm and the arm unravelled. Long strips of flesh, each tipped with a talon, lacerated the air around Skulduggery. He cried out and fell back and the strips returned, wrapped around each other and reformed the arm. The Grotesquery smacked Skulduggery and he hurtled backwards through the air.
Tanith ran up, her hair plastered to her scalp and her sword darting out. The Grotesquery tried grabbing her, but she was too fast. She rolled and cut its leg then leaped up and slashed its arm. Both wounds closed over.
Its right arm unravelled again and she ducked and dodged, then jumped and flipped, and now she was upside down on the ceiling. She advanced, but the Grotesquery kept its distance. It raised its left arm.
Kenspeckle shouted a warning, but the fire alarm drowned him out. The growth on top of the Grotesquery’s left wrist, what Valkyrie had thought was a massive boil, suddenly contracted and a yellow liquid shot out. Tanith had to fling herself sideways to avoid it and she crashed to the ground. The liquid hit the ceiling and ate through it in an instant, leaving a gaping hole.
Skulduggery ran to join her and Tanith got to her feet, and even though the boil was now empty, the Grotesquery was still holding out its left arm. Skulduggery reached for Tanith, but he was a second too late.
A thin spike emerged from the ridge on the underside of the Grotesquery’s wrist and jabbed into Tanith’s side. She cried out and the spike retracted, returning to its sheath. Skulduggery caught Tanith as she collapsed. He backed away.
The Grotesquery looked at its hands and flexed its fingers, as if it was discovering what it could do with each passing moment.
Valkyrie and Kenspeckle ran up. Tanith was unconscious. Her veins were visible through her skin and they were a sickly green colour.
“She’s been infected,” Kenspeckle said. “Helaquin poison. She has maybe twenty minutes before she dies.”
“How do we cure it?” Skulduggery asked.
The alarm whined and went silent, and the sprinklers cut off.
“I haven’t seen this poison for fifty years,” Kenspeckle said. “I don’t have an antidote here. There is some at the Sanctuary if we can get there in time.”
“I’ll lead the Grotesquery away,” Valkyrie said. “Meet you at the car.”
Skulduggery looked up sharply. “What? No! You take Tanith—”
“Don’t tell her this,” Valkyrie said, “but she’s too heavy for me to carry.” And she ran before Skulduggery could stop her.
“Valkyrie!” he roared.
Her boots splashed as she sprinted. The Grotesquery held its arms wide, welcoming her. There was no way past it on either side and she didn’t have Tanith’s ceiling-running skills, so when the Grotesquery reached for her, Valkyrie dropped, sliding on the wet floor, between its legs. Once she was clear she scrambled up and ran on. She glanced back. The Grotesquery was turning, following her.
So that worked, Valkyrie thought to herself. Now what the hell am I going to do?
Just as she turned the corner, Skulduggery shouted something, something like the vanity light. She kept running. She passed the elevators, shut down because of the fire alert, and headed for the back stairs. The Grotesquery hadn’t even reached the corner yet. She slowed, catching her breath, keeping her eyes on the corner. The vanity light. What had Skulduggery meant?
The Grotesquery came around the corner. The back stairs, the ones that joined up with the main stairs behind the screen, were right behind her and she readied herself to sprint if the patchwork monstrosity came up with any more surprises.