#phase three

Dose.ca Plastic Beach tour contest webpage (2010)

Not death. Not sulphur. Not even the usual lingering scent of overly expensive aftershave that Skulduggery insisted wasn’t actually aftershave. Because, honestly, what did he even have to shave?

This was milk? And something warm? And faintly of litter?

Valkyrie stepped into the house, nose wrinkled. “I swear to god, if you’ve started baking, I’m staging an intervention.”

No response. Which was never a good sign.

She stalked through the foyer, ready for some dramatic reveal, maybe a demon head in the sink or a dismembered sorcerer in the bath. But when she got to the sitting room, she stopped cold.

There he was. Skulduggery Pleasant. Detective. Killer. War Veteran. Bane of Everyone’s Existence.

Kneeling on the floor. Playing with two tiny kittens.

He froze when he saw her. One tucked into his arm like a football, another sitting in a shoebox wearing a napkin like a ceremonial robe.

“I can explain,” he said.

Her voice was calm. “Are those... kittens?” Her head tilted.

“No.” Skulduggery deadpanned.

“Oh my God.” She said, trying to stifle a grin.

“Help. They’re attacking me.”

“Kittens!” She exclaimed.

“Valkyrie, I swear, I’ve never seen these creatures before in my life.”

“You said you were dealing with a necromancer blood cult!”

“I was,” he said defensively, rising to his feet. The kitten under his arm climbed on his sleeve and dangled there. “They used the kittens in a summoning. The ritual failed, and the poor things were left behind. I couldn’t just leave them.”

“So, you kidnapped them?" She questioned, her hands on her hips.

“I rescued them.”

She stared. “Oh my god. You bonded with them.”

He turned away dramatically. “I am maintaining a professional distance.”

The kitten on his sleeve climbed up his back and perched like a tiny furry gargoyle on his shoulder. Skulduggery didn’t react. Valkyrie raised an eyebrow, then laughed.

“You have pets!” She gleefully exclaimed.

“They’re not pets,” he sagged. “They’re colleagues.”

“They’re licking their own butts!” she crowed. “And you bought them a banana bed! You absolute marshmallow!”

“I don’t police how my colleagues groom themselves.” Skulduggery said as Valkyrie gently plucked the kitten from his shoulder, holding it up like an offering.

“Her name is kitten one,” he said softly.

“Of course it is.” She grinned.

“She’s a warrior.”

“You gave it a sword.”

“It’s a toothpick,” he snapped. “She asked for it.”

“Right. And that one,” she paused, pointing to the kitten now trying to eat the napkin, “is named?”

“Kitten two.”

“Of course.”

They both stood in silence as kitten two tried to jump out of the shoebox but fell over the edge, then tried to waddle away but fell over it's own paws.

Valkyrie sighed. “We’re never getting rid of them, are we?”

“I’ve tried,” he said. “Three times. I even left the front door open. Kitten one locked it behind me.”

She looked at him. The skeleton who had once torn open dimensions and stared down death.

And now?

He looked absolutely owned.

“You’re ridiculous,” she said, sitting down next to him.

“I know.”

Kitten two jumped into Valkyrie’s lap, curled into a perfect little ball, and started purring like a jet engine.

She sighed again. “I guess I’m ridiculous too.”

Skulduggery passed her kitten one. “Welcome to the resistance.”

Valkyrie laughed, half-horrified, half-impressed. “You’re absolutely the weirdest creature I’ve ever met.”

“And yet,” Skulduggery replied, solemn as ever, “you keep showing up.”