"My apologies," Craven said, bowing. "Our younger Necromancers are understandably nervous. They needed someone to rea.s.sure them that it was all going to be OK."

Tenebrae frowned. "And that someone was you, I take it?"

Craven smiled. "I go where I am needed."

"Take me to her," Tenebrae said, standing up.

Craven raised an eyebrow. "Your Eminence?"

"Take me to the Death Bringer, Cleric. It's time I spoke with her."

"Ah, unfortunately, I cannot. She is to remain undisturbed."

"I am the High Priest, Cleric Craven. You do not say no to me."

Something flickered in the Cleric's eyes, something Tenebrae had never seen in those eyes before, and then it was gone. "Of course. Once again, my deepest apologies. I will take you to her at once."

Tenebrae stalked out of the room. Craven followed him through the corridor, struggling to match Tenebrae's long stride. The satisfaction Tenebrae derived from robbing Craven of his newly acquired dignity was a petty kind of satisfaction, but it was satisfaction nonetheless, and it made the corners of his mouth want to lift in a smile.

Things got even better when they reached the bowels of the Temple. Tenebrae gestured to Craven to lead the way to whichever chamber held Melancholia, but if the Cleric thought this would mean that he could dictate the walking pace, he was sadly mistaken. Tenebrae walked so quickly that Craven had to virtually scamper ahead of him lest Tenebrae tread on the hem of his robe. More than once, Tenebrae managed to stand on the trailing material, and Craven's head would jerk back with a strangled gag.

Finally, they came to a door, and the childish fun and games were over. Craven opened the door wide and Tenebrae swept by him. Melancholia St Clair lay in a hole in the ground, filled to the brim with mud. Her robes lay beside her. Her eyes opened to watch the two men enter. If she was surprised, it didn't register on her face. She remained where she was.

"Melancholia," Cleric Craven admonished. "The High Priest has entered the room."

"I can see that," Melancholia said. "Surely you don't expect me to stand?"

"That will not be necessary," Tenebrae said.

"Valkyrie Cain is here, isn't she?" Melancholia asked. "And Skulduggery Pleasant."

"Yes," Tenebrae said. "How did you know?"

"I can feel them," she said. "I can feel their energy. They are not happy, are they? She is angry, and scared, and hurt."

"I would say that she is, yes."

Melancholia smiled. "Glorious."

"How are you feeling, my child?"

She looked at him. "I'm tired."

"Are you hurt? This is a healing mud you are in, is it not?"

"It's regenerative," Craven said quickly. "It fills her with energy and-"

"I know what regenerative means," Tenebrae interrupted. "And I was asking the girl."

Melancholia closed her eyes and let her head loll back gently. "The girl has a name."

Tenebrae paused. "What was that?"

Her eyes were still closed. "I said, the girl has a name. Melancholia. Death Bringer. You can use either one. But you can't call me 'the girl'."

"I am the High Priest of this Temple, young lady. I can call you whatever I choose."

One eye opened, and she squinted up at him.

"I asked if you were hurt," Tenebrae continued. "I expect an answer."

The girl sighed. "Sometimes I burn. It's not nice. It hurts. The mud makes it feel better."

"Burn? Why do you burn?"

"Because of my scars."

"Ah yes, the scars. I've been meaning to ask about those."

Craven stepped forward. "I can explain to you-"

"I want her to do it. Melancholia?"

"He carved symbols on to me," Melancholia said. "It took months. It was painful. But it needed to be done. I was the Death Bringer, and I needed my power. It's all worth it now. Every moment I spent screaming. It's worth it."

"Then it's true," Tenebrae said, turning to Craven. "You carved her up to loop the Surge, didn't you? That's why she needs to recharge constantly."

"I did what had to be done," Craven said primly.

Tenebrae grabbed him, shoved him back against the wall. "You arrogant fool. That level of power isn't natural for her. There's no telling what will happen."

A fit of anger overcame the Cleric, and he struggled to break Tenebrae's grasp. Were he so inclined, Tenebrae would have found such a display of impotent fury fascinating. As it was, all he felt was disgust. He released his hold, wiping his hands on his robe as Craven stumbled away from him.

"I did what had to be done!" Craven shouted. "I did what you didn't have the imagination to do!"

"She can't be relied upon," Tenebrae said. "There's no telling when she'll be back to full strength. There's no telling if she ever will. She is not the Death Bringer!"

Something came at him, something dark and terrible, and it hit him and Tenebrae spun head over heels through the air. He crunched into the wall and dropped to the stone floor. Agony raced from his shoulder across his chest. A collarbone was broken. Maybe a rib. Hissing in pain, he looked over at Melancholia, standing there, the mud dripping off her.

"I am the Death Bringer," she said calmly. "I'm the one you've all been waiting for."

His vision dimmed suddenly. "No," he whispered, and then his life was dragged from his body.

Chapter 31.

Fuel.

ison Dragonclaw laid out his torture instruments on the table. Knives, saws, pliers, hammers, neatly arranged one by one. Valkyrie watched him.

When he was done, he hauled Skulduggery to his feet and shoved him against the wall, then went over to Valkyrie, did the same to her.

"You're not so tough now, are you?" he asked, his smile revealing small teeth behind that wispy goatee. "I bet you're really regretting the way you treated me. Now it's my turn. Now I get to inflict some pain."

She didn't answer him. She barely heard him.

"We've not finished treating you badly," Skulduggery said. "The moment we escape from these shackles, we're going to do it all over again."

"Even if escape were possible," Dragonclaw replied, "you'd be too late. The Death Bringer is about to change the world."

"You hope."

"It is a scientific inevitability."

"There's no such thing."

Dragonclaw stopped what he was doing, and looked round. "There is no such thing as a scientific inevitability?"

"Nope."

"And what about, for instance, gravity? If I drop an apple, it will not fall?"

"Not necessarily."

"You are ridiculous."

"Just because an apple falls one hundred times out of a hundred does not mean it will fall on the one hundred and first."

"I thought you were supposed to be a rational man."

"I am a rational man, but haven't you heard? I'm also insane. It gives me a unique perspective on things."

"Here is what I am going to do," Dragonclaw said. "I'm going to pull you apart."

"Your High Priest doesn't want me harmed."

"He doesn't want you dead. He was quite agreeable to my harming you."

"If you separate my bones from each other, my consciousness could dissipate."

"Don't worry, I'll leave most of you intact. The torso and the head, probably. Maybe I'll remove the jawbone. It might stop you talking."

"I wouldn't like to bet on it."

"Once you are incapacitated, I will then take apart your young apprentice."

"I'm not his apprentice," Valkyrie muttered.

"She's my combat accessory," Skulduggery nodded. "But you won't get a chance to do any of that, I'm afraid. We're going to get free in the next few minutes and then you're really going to wish you had a few guards here for protection."

"I see," Dragonclaw said. "And do you mind telling me how you plan to get free?"

"I'm picking the lock on these shackles as we speak."

"Those locks can't be picked."

"So says the prevailing wisdom."

"And you know better, I suppose?"

"That is the usual state of things."

"And what are you picking the lock with, may I ask? A toothpick? A hairpin?"

"The top of your pen, actually."

Dragonclaw laughed. "I don't have a pen."

"Not any more, that's true. But you had one in the pocket of your robes, don't you remember?"

Dragonclaw's laugh faded. He searched his robes. "You're lying. I didn't have a pen."

"The metal clip on the lid is the perfect size," Skulduggery continued, clearly enjoying the look on Dragonclaw's face. Behind his back, his arms were moving ever so slightly. "I should be out of these in forty seconds or so, and then I'm going to hurt you."

"You're lying," Dragonclaw said. "Even if I did have a pen in my pocket, you couldn't have taken it from me."

"But that's not strictly true, is it? When you pushed me against this wall, you got a little too close."

"You couldn't have taken it. There's no way-"

"Could you stop talking for a moment? This is a tricky bit."

Skulduggery's head tilted. Valkyrie heard a faint tapping of metal against metal.

Dragonclaw grabbed a knife and strode over to Valkyrie. "Stop that," he ordered. "Stop it right now or she dies."

"You're not going to kill her," Skulduggery said. "If you kill her, in thirty seconds I will kill you. You don't want to die, not when you're this close to the Pa.s.sage."

Dragonclaw pressed the blade to Valkyrie's throat. It was cold against her skin. "Stop. Stop it."

"Twenty seconds, Dragonclaw. And what a ridiculous name that is. Almost as ridiculous as your beard."