"If you call the Guards, they'll arrest him, put him on trial, throw him in jail. And what are you going to do when he gets out again? He'll come back, you know he will, and you're not going to be here."

"No," Valkyrie said, "but you are. And you're going to protect my family."

The reflection looked down at Moore. "If he comes back," it said, "I'm going to kill him."

Valkyrie kept her eyes on the reflection, and didn't say anything. That sounded fair to her.

Chapter 42.

A New Mission

capegrace threw open the doors to the pub, and n.o.body came in. The people of Roarhaven wrinkled their noses at his disfigured appearance as they pa.s.sed. Not one of them said h.e.l.lo. Not one of them stepped inside. He turned, went back into the cool interior, away from the glare of the sun and the glares of the people.

Years ago, when he had first run the place, the bar had been split into two. There was a section for the regular people, and a section for the special guests, the VIPs. Now there weren't any VIPs, but neither were there regular people. There was just Scapegrace, the owner and bartender, and Thrasher, the idiot who wiped the tables.

"Stop wiping the tables," Scapegrace said. "There's no one here. You keep wiping the d.a.m.n tables. You do a loop of the room, humming away to yourself, wiping the tables one after another... It's insane. You look like an insane person doing that."

"Sorry," Thrasher said, his head drooping.

"Go clean the toilets."

"But they're disgusting."

"So are you. Clean them."

Thrasher's head dipped even lower, and he trudged away to do his duty.

Sometime around mid-afternoon, two men walked in. They wore black, and Scapegrace had never seen them before. They certainly weren't Roarhaven natives. One of them held the door open and two more men walked in. The first was dressed in a black robe, and the second was dressed all in white. Scapegrace's eyes would have widened if they'd been able, but having half his face burned off severely limited his expressions of surprise. He stared at the White Cleaver until the man in the black robe cleared his throat.

"You're a zombie," said the man.

Scapegrace nodded. No point in denying it.

"Do you know what that means?" the man continued. "It means that you, like the White Cleaver here, are a product of Necromancer magic. As such, you are bound to Necromancer will."

"I am?" asked Scapegrace. It was news to him, and yet he did feel an odd urge to bow.

"Oh, you are," said the man. "And that means you are bound to my will. I am High Priest Vandameer Craven. I am your master."

Thrasher popped his head out of the toilets. "Are you my master too?"

High Priest Craven glanced at him distastefully, then looked back at Scapegrace. "This is one you turned? Why is it still with you?"

"I've tried getting rid of him," Scapegrace offered. "But he keeps coming back."

High Priest Craven sighed. "No matter. I have a task for you, zombie. You will obey without question."

Scapegrace nodded eagerly. He had only just met his Master, but already he could tell that the Necromancer was a very important man.

Thrasher hurried forward. "Can I obey too?" he begged. "All I do here is clean the toilets. I long to serve!"

The Master's lip curled. "If you shut up and move away from me, yes, you can obey."

Thrasher squealed with delight and ran back beside Scapegrace.

"I need you to steal something for me," the Master said. "It looks exactly like this." He showed them a gold disc, the size of his palm. "There is undoubtedly one to be found in the offices of the Elder Mages. All I need is one. When you have located said disc, subst.i.tute it with this forgery." The Master threw the disc to Scapegrace. He s.n.a.t.c.hed it from the air and held it close to his heart. "Do not, under any circ.u.mstances, arouse suspicion. It is to be a straight swap. Do you understand?"

"Yes Master," Scapegrace said.

"Yes Master," Thrasher said, and started bowing like the pitiful fool he was. It was an utterly pathetic display. Scapegrace got to his knees, showing everyone what real bowing was.

The Master looked at them both, and then shifted his eyes to the man who had held the door open. "These are the only zombies in town? We're absolutely sure there are no others?"

The man shook his head sadly.

The Master looked annoyed. "Very well," he said. "They'll have to do."

Scapegrace was so happy he could have cried, had his tear ducts not long since dried up.

Chapter 43.

A & E.

lice's eyes were wide open, watching the activity in the Accident and Emergency Room with interest as Valkyrie rocked her with her free hand. Her other arm was flat on the table as a cute doctor st.i.tched her up.

"You sure you're OK?" he asked again.

"I'm grand," she said. The leaves she'd chewed while she waited for the cops to show up were still working to dull the pain. She winced every time the needle went through her skin, but that was more for show than anything else. He'd already st.i.tched the cut on her hip, a.s.suring her as he did so that there probably wouldn't be a scar. She'd shrugged. A scar on her hip was the least of her worries.

She heard her mother's voice, looked over as a nurse led her parents into the A&E.

"There," the doctor said. "Finished. I'll have a nurse bandage this up. I swear, I wish all my patients were as calm as you, you know that?"

"Thanks. I wish all my doctors were as hot as you."

He laughed, then stood aside as Valkyrie's mum barged through, arms out to hug. She stopped abruptly, backed off, looked at the doctor.

"Is it OK to hug her?" she asked.

"We actually encourage it," he said, smiling, and walked off as the hug came on.

"My baby," her mum said. "My poor baby."

"I'm fine," Valkyrie said, her voice m.u.f.fled. Her eyes flickered to her dad, who was checking on Alice. He looked grim. She wasn't used to him looking grim. Her mum started crying. Automatically, Valkyrie stiffened, blinking back the tears that had sprung up without warning and now threatened to spill over.

"Mum," she said, laughing as she pulled away. "Mum, I'm grand. Look. Not a bother on me."

"Your face," her mother said.

"Cuts and bruises, already fading."

"Your poor arm."

"St.i.tched up and healing. Honestly, I'm fine."

"He beat himself up in his cell," her dad said. He was still looking at Alice. "That's why they let him out. They should have been outside. The moment they let that sc.u.mbag walk free, they should have parked a squad car outside the house."

"Dad, they didn't know he knew where we lived, and they certainly didn't know he'd want some kind of stupid revenge for getting thrown in jail in the first place. You can't blame them."

"They let him go."

"This isn't their fault."

He looked at her for the first time. "He could have..."

"Des, don't," her mum said, her hand covering her mouth. "Please. Don't say it."

Valkyrie made herself smile. "Hey, the pair of you, snap out of it. Alice slept through the whole thing and I'm fine."

A nurse came over. "Excuse me? I just have to bandage up your arm."

"Bandage away," Valkyrie said.

The nurse smiled, started working. "I heard what happened," she said. "They're all talking about it. I thought you might like to know that the man who attacked you is being treated in a secure room, surrounded by three very angry-looking Guards. You broke four of his ribs, his nose, his jaw, cracked three fingers, knocked out three teeth, and gave him a concussion. He was seeing two of you, do you know that?"

Valkyrie's mother blinked. "Stephanie did all that?"

"She sure did," said the nurse. She secured the bandage in place. "I'll be right back with the paperwork."

The nurse walked off. Valkyrie's parents stared at her.

"What?" Valkyrie asked as innocently as she could. "I've been taking self-defence lessons at the gym. Hard Target Krav Maga type stuff. Combatives, things like that. It's really not a big deal."

"But he was a grown man," her mother said.

"There's not really a lot of point to self-defence if you can't use it against just that type of person. Oh, Mum, your vase got broken. The one in the hall. Sorry."

Her mum blinked. "That's... quite all right. It was an ugly vase and I never liked it anyway."

"See?" Valkyrie beamed. "It's worked out well for everybody."

"Are you sure you're not in shock?"

"Honestly, I'm good. I'm just glad Dad wasn't there or he'd have thrown him through another window."

Her mum smiled, and hugged her husband. "I have a family of fighters," she said. "Alice, it looks like it's up to you and me to be the reasonable ones."

Alice gurgled.

Her parents drove her home. It was weird, sitting in the back seat of a car. She almost felt like a kid. Music was playing and she started singing softly to Alison. Alison smiled, and Valkyrie laughed.

They got home and spent the evening cleaning up the mess. There was a knock on the door and her dad went to answer it. He came back in, paused, then spoke. "Fletcher's here," he said. "I told him if he's here to argue with you, he should just walk away. But he said he's not. Maybe you should talk to him."

Her mum nodded. "He's a nice boy. He deserves it."

"Yeah," Valkyrie said. "I know." She took a breath, then walked into the hall. Fletcher stood in the doorway. She stuffed her hands in her jeans. "Hi," she said.

He looked at her. "Go for a walk?"

"Sure."

He turned, started walking down the path. She followed him out, closing the door behind her. They walked towards the park.

"Are you talking to me again?" she asked.

"I suppose I am," he said. "You look like you've been in the wars."

"You know me, always running into trouble."

"And coming out the other side. That's the important bit." He kicked a pebble and it skittered away. "I don't forgive you," he said. "I'd like to. I'd like it if we could just forget about it all, get back together, carry on like before. But that's not going to happen."

"I know," said Valkyrie quietly. "But I don't want you to hate me, Fletch."

"That's a little out of your hands, though, isn't it?"