LITMIR.BIZ

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      “You talk to them,” Skulduggery said. “A pretty girl is less scary than a walking skeleton.”

      Valkyrie stepped forward, moving slowly. “Hi,” she said when she was close enough.

      The sons were around ten or eleven, and they stood behind their father, a thin man with a hard face.

      “We don’t want any trouble,” he said.

      “That’s not why we’re here,” she told him. “The village up the road there – do you know what happened?”

      The farmer looked at her, looked at Skulduggery behind her, and nodded.

      “We’re not from the City,” she said. “We don’t work for Mevolent.”

      “We don’t want any trouble,” the farmer repeated.

      “Please, we need to get in touch with the Resistance.”

      The farmer shook his head. “Don’t know anything about them. Please leave.”

      “I understand that you’re scared...”

      “Can’t help you.”

      “Do you know anyone who could?”

      “No. No one. Don’t know anything.”

      “Sir, we don’t have a lot of time.”

      “Please go.”

      Skulduggery touched her elbow and she sighed. “OK. I’m sorry for disturbing you.” The farmer’s sons stepped out from behind their dad as Skulduggery and Valkyrie lifted into the air. She gave them a goodbye wave that they didn’t return.

      “That was horrible,” she said as they flew. “Did you see how scared those kids were?”

      “They can’t really be blamed,” Skulduggery responded. “They’ve just buried their mother.”

      Valkyrie frowned. “How do you know?”

      “There was a dress on the clothes line, but the father didn’t send the kids into the house so there’s no one in there to keep them safe. The cart had a blanket on it.”

      Valkyrie closed her eyes. “She’d been in the village. They used the cart to bring her body home. Oh, God, and then we fly in, the exact kind of people they don’t want anything to do with...”

      “This is some world you’ve found.”

      “Where are we going now? Off to find another family to traumatise?”

      “Actually, I’ve worked out where we are, and back in our reality, the nearest town is Ratoath. Hopefully, they have a corresponding town here.”

      “So we’re going to traumatise a whole town now? Oh, goody. They’re going to love us.”

      Ratoath turned out to be a fair-sized town, the buildings a little bigger and a little sturdier than the villages they’d passed over to get there. Some of the houses were even nice, with gardens in the back, and there was a market and a pleasing bustle to the people. They still wore the dull browns that identified them as lowly mortals, but their backs were straight and their heads were up. These people had a confidence that others lacked.

      They landed unseen behind a tavern. Valkyrie frowned, looked up at the building. That’s exactly what it was. It was a tavern. It was the twenty-first century in this reality, the same as it was in her own, but it wasn’t a pub they had landed behind, or a bar. No, it was a tavern. What an odd, backwards world this was.

      Skulduggery stopped at the corner, and nodded to the large building across the square. “If anyone knows anything, that’s where they’ll be,” he said.

      She nudged him, pointed to the building to their right. It was a church, its roof sunken, badly in need of repair. It had those familiar two circles carved above the door, and looked like a place that nobody visited.

      “Each settlement has to have one, more than likely,” Skulduggery said. “But while you can make a town build a church, you can’t make them worship.”

      “What do the circles mean?” she asked.

      “The big one represents the Faceless Ones. All-encompassing, all-knowing. The little one is us, floating around the edge, barely intersecting. It means we’re little more than fleas, unable to even begin to comprehend the full majesty of existence. It’s very patronising, as far as religious symbols go, and somewhat self-pitying.”

      “This reality’s version of Eliza Scorn goes around in chains.”

      “They used to do that in our dimension as well. There’d always be one fervent believer who took it upon themselves to suffer for our sins. It was meant to be altruistic and selfless, but I generally found those people to be nothing more than attention-seeking martyrs. Hmmm... that’s interesting.”

      “What?”

      “There seems to be a gentleman walking towards us with a shotgun.”

      Valkyrie peeked out. Sure enough, there he was, a mortal in his sixties, walking with a shotgun levelled at belly height.

      “Hello there,” said the mortal.

      Skulduggery paused for a moment, then stepped into view, and Valkyrie did the same.

      “Well now,” said the mortal, “a skeleton in a fancy suit. There’s something you don’t see every day.”

      “Speak for yourself,” said Valkyrie.

      The man smiled. “My name’s Healy. I’m what you might call the local constabulary for Ratoath.”

      Skulduggery nodded to him. “How do you do, Mr Healy?”

      “It talks,” Healy said with a smile. “Wonders will never cease, will they? I’m doing fine, sir, thank you for asking. I’m going to have to request that the pair of you raise your hands, though.”

      “We’re not looking for trouble,” Skulduggery said as they complied.

      “Only a madman would look for trouble in a town like Ratoath,” Healy responded. “We have strict rules, you see. As the duly appointed constable, I would not be the most popular person in these parts, seeing as how my duties include rounding up troublemakers for the Barge every few weeks. But arresting people like you would easily fill my quota.”

      “People like us?”

      “Sorcerers,” said Healy. “Resistance sorcerers.”

      “How do you know we’re Resistance?” Valkyrie asked. “We could have come straight from Mevolent himself.”

      Healy shook his head. “They don’t sneak in. When they arrive, they let you know about it so you can start shaking in your boots. No, you pair are Resistance, I can tell a mile off.”

      Skulduggery tilted his head. “You don’t sound very nervous, Mr Healy. If we are Resistance sorcerers, then we’re very dangerous people.”

      “The Resistance don’t hurt mortals. Everyone knows that.”

      “You seem awfully sure that you’re not in any danger.”

      “You pull a gun on a person, you’d be surprised how confident you get.”

      Skulduggery flicked his left hand and the air tore Healy’s shotgun from his grip. At the same time, Skulduggery’s revolver flew from his jacket into his right hand, and he thumbed back the hammer. “You know what?” he said. “You’re absolutely right. I am positively brimming with confidence.”

      Healy raised his hands slowly. “I didn’t shoot you,” he said, “and so I’d appreciate it if you returned the favour.”

      The shotgun drifted into Valkyrie’s hands, and she broke it open and took out the cartridges. “What if you’re wrong?” she asked. “What if we are from Mevolent?”

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