The Dying of the Light by Derek Landy

Tanith. “I’m happy being me.”
    “No you’re not.”
    Tanith laughed, put the coffee down. “Oh, really? You’re the expert on how I feel and what I think, are you?”
    “I saw you working alongside Valkyrie and the Monster Hunters and the Dead Men. You were having fun, sure, but it was more than that. You were where you belonged.”
    “Why don’t you just admit it? You don’t want Darquesse to destroy the world, do you?”
    Now it was Sanguine’s turn to laugh. “Of course I don’t.”
    “Then why are you helping us?”
    “Because I love you and I wanna be there when you realise you’re wrong, because on that day you’ll need someone to have your back.”
    “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”
    “Love makes a fool of us all.”
    “Will you please stop saying that word?”
    “Why? It making you uncomfortable? Maybe the more you hear it, the more you’ll remember it. Maybe that’s the problem here.”
    “There is no problem,” said Tanith. “I just want Darquesse to hurry up and kill everything.”
    “You want the world to end now because the longer it takes, the more time you have to think, and doubt, and question yourself. See, you’re coming off a wonderful certainty, where you knew for sure that you wanted the world to end. But you don’t have that certainty any more, and that scares you.”
    Tanith shot him a glare, and walked to the window. Right before she climbed out she looked back and said, “You don’t know me half as well as you think you do.”
    “That’s right,” said Sanguine, “I don’t. But hell, Tanith, you don’t know yourself, either.”

9
SIGNATE
    ack to Roarhaven, and not a word spoken in the car. Stephanie replayed the vision over and over in her head. Details changed, but the facts remained the same. Stephanie, standing there with a tattoo and that gauntlet. Darquesse, murdering her family. Skulduggery’s skull plucked from his spine. That smile. Those things didn’t change. Those things wouldn’t change.
    They drove by the elderly sorcerer whose job it was to turn back any mortal who strayed too close. He nodded to them, and a few moments later the road narrowed and they passed through the illusion of emptiness that protected Roarhaven from mortal eyes. The city loomed, its huge gates open. The Bentley slid through the streets, parked below ground. Stephanie followed Skulduggery into the Sanctuary corridors and they went deeper. They walked without speaking. Stephanie wondered if Skulduggery even remembered she was there.
    They got to the cells. Skulduggery spoke with the man in charge, told him what he needed. Moments later, they were in the interview room. Skulduggery sat at the table. Stephanie walked slowly from one wall to the other and back again, her hands in her pockets. She looked round when the door opened, and a small, neat man stepped in. Creyfon Signate was dressed in an orange prison jumpsuit, and his hands were shackled before him.
    “Finally!” he said, once he saw who had summoned him. He walked forward, dropping into the empty chair.
    Skulduggery tilted his head. “I’m sorry?”
    “I’ve been asking to speak to someone in charge ever since I was arrested,” said Signate. “I’ve been locked up here for
weeks
!”
    “Erskine Ravel orchestrated a war in which hundreds of sorcerers were killed,” said Stephanie, “and you played a huge part in that. Of course you were locked up. You’re lucky we kept you here instead of shipping you out to an actual gaol.”
    Signate shook his head. “I had nothing whatsoever to do with the war. I was brought in to do a job, to oversee the construction of a city in a hospitable dimension and then to shunt the people and the city itself back to this one. The city we built had to overlay the town of Roarhaven exactly. It took pinpoint planning, an absurd attention to detail, and it required my full attention. Do you really think I had time to plot and conspire with Ravel and the