The Maleficent Seven: From the World of Skulduggery Pleasant Page 6

  “What? What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” she said. “Just... A man out there. I know him from somewhere.”

  Sanguine’s face darkened. “We’re calling this off.”

  “No, we’re not. I’ve got a forged dagger that will only fool people for the next ninety hours. It’s too late to back out now.”

  “Tanith, this whole plan of yours relies on one simple thing – that nobody here has ever met you. Seeing as how most of the guests are high-up German sorcerers who never venture beyond their own little compounds, that was a fair assumption to make. But if someone here knows you—”

  “I might be wrong,” she said quickly.

  “You said you know him.”

  “Maybe I’ve seen him, but that doesn’t mean he’s seen me. Even if he has met me, he wouldn’t recognise me. That’s the advantage of being a blonde who always wears brown leather – when you step out as a brunette in a knock-’em-dead red dress, you’re a completely different person.”

  Sanguine shook his head. “We should either make a strategic retreat or find a way to isolate him. We kill him, you get the dagger, we get the hell outta Dodge.”

  She put her hand on his arm. “No. Leave him alone. I’m not even one hundred per cent sure I recognise him.”

  “You may have dated him at some point.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Wouldn’t be surprised. You seem to have dated most everyone else.”

  “Now is definitely not the time for this. I’ll say this once more – I don’t know who he is.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll ask him his name as he’s dying.”

  “Billy-Ray. Be nice.”

  “What do you care? You no longer have a conscience. I could slaughter everyone in this place and you’d only be mad because I didn’t leave any for you.”

  Tanith shrugged. “Just because we can kill doesn’t mean we have to. I don’t derive any pleasure from killing people.”

  Sanguine looked at her oddly. “You don’t? Not even a little?”

  “Well,” Tanith said, “maybe a little.” She turned. “OK. I’m trying again.”

  “This is stupid. What if he does know who you are? You got no back-up here.”

  “Would you please trust me? Go on, go. I’ll be fine.”

  Sanguine seemed on the verge of saying something else, but Tanith walked away before he had a chance. She stepped out, smiling again. The man with the dark hair wasn’t standing there any more.

  Expecting a pack of Rippers to descend on her at any moment, she followed the sounds of the party and found herself in a large gallery where everyone had congregated. Starke, she knew, was something of a collector. In the past, his collection would have paled in comparison to China Sorrows’, but ever since her library blew up, Starke’s was possibly the most impressive in Europe.

  Starke himself was a narrow man with grey-flecked hair. His beard and moustache were intricately styled – the sign of a man who spends far too much time admiring his own jawline. Well-dressed, though, Tanith had to give him that. And he had that aura of power that all people in positions of authority seemed to possess. He saw her watching him and she looked away, walked to examine the next item in his collection, adding a little sway to her hips.

  A moment later he was standing beside her.

  “This is a wonderful piece,” she said.

  “And you have an eye for quality,” he responded. He held out his hand. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

  She put her hand in his and he raised it to his lips, kissed the back of it. Tanith smiled. “My name is Tabitha. Is this your house? It really is wonderful.”

  “Why thank you, Tabitha. Whereabouts in France are you from?”

  Tanith laughed. “Toulouse,” she said. “But I’m surprised you noticed. I thought I had lost my accent long ago. I suppose it just goes to show, you cannot hide where you are from.”

  “And why would you want to?” Johann asked. “Toulouse is a beautiful part of the world. Some of the most beautiful women are from there, you know.”

  “Is that so?”

  “That’s what I’ve heard.”

  “Mr Starke, I do believe you are flirting with me.”

  Now it was Johann’s turn to laugh. “It is only flirting if you’re flattered.”

  “Then it is flirting,” Tanith said.

  “Tell me, Tabitha, who are you here with?”

  Tanith turned her head a fraction. “My friends are over there. Forgive me, Mr Starke, I have gatecrashed. They assured me you would not mind but, well... my friends are notorious liars. But even if you kick me out this very minute, this night will still have been worth it.”

  “I think I can forgive you, Tabitha, but only on condition that you call me Johann.”

  “Then we have a deal, Johann. Tell me, what does a girl have to do to get a tour of this wonderful house?”

  They left the crowd and walked to the furthest wings. The corridors were darker there. They came to a large circular room with glass walls looking out at the dark lake that cut through the forest around them. In this room there were more exhibits.

  “Don’t the other guests get to see these?” Tanith asked, walking from one to the next.

  Johann smiled. “I’m afraid not. Only very special people get to visit this room.”

  “I’m a very special person, am I?”

  “From what I can see, yes.”

  She smiled. “Are these valuable, then? Worth a lot of money?”

  “There comes a point where it stops being about money,” Johann said. “These items are priceless for a variety of reasons.”

  “What about this one?” asked Tanith, moving to the central exhibit encased in glass. “This knife?”

  “That is a dagger,” said Johann. “And I could tell you had an eye for quality. Have you ever heard of a God-Killer?”

  “Should I have?”

  “Perhaps not. Eons ago, when the Ancients rose up against the Faceless Ones, they had an assortment of weapons that could hurt them.”

  “Oh, I know this,” said Tanith. “My mother used to read me these stories. The Sceptre, wasn’t it?”

  “The Sceptre was the ultimate God-Killer, yes, but there were others, too. In particular a sword, a bow, a spear and a dagger.”

  She frowned. “Are you saying that this is the dagger? But Johann, those stories are fairy tales. The Faceless Ones never really existed. There weren’t really terrible old gods who used to rule the world.”

  Johann smiled. “For people like me, who work in the Sanctuary, such fairy tales have proven to be true more often than not.”

  She looked back at the dagger. “It’s beautiful,” she said.

  “Its beauty pales in comparison to you.”

  Tanith bit her lower lip. “Could I... could I hold it?”

  Johann smiled. “I would love to allow that, but I have strict security protocols in place. There are other items in my collection that I’m not quite so paranoid about.” He shrugged and laughed, and Tanith looked disappointed.

  “Oh,” she said. “It’s just... It’s proof, you know? If those fairy tales are true, then this is... this is part of history. More than that. It’s part of myth.”

  He looked at her, then at the dagger. “You know what? I think tonight was meant to happen. We were destined to meet, Tabitha. And who am I to argue with destiny?”

  He waved his hand in front of the case and Tanith heard a click as the glass cover popped slightly. Johann tilted it back on its hinge.

  “Be careful you don’t nick yourself,” he said. “One cut from this will kill. And that is no myth and no fairy tale. I have seen it myself.”

  Her eyes adequately bright yet cautious, she reached in and took the dagger from its stand. She turned it in her hand, admiring the weight, the balance, the way the light caught the delicate blade.

  She moved her body to obscure her handbag and, with her free hand, she opened it. The fake dagger wasn’t as finely balan
ced, but it was roughly the same weight. She took hold of it. It would do. She hoped.

  “Magnificent, is it not?” Johann asked.

  “I’m holding history,” she breathed. “This is... this is most... thrilling.” She looked over at the Ripper by the door, standing with his back to them. “Does he go everywhere with you?”

  Johann glanced over his shoulder, and Tanith switched the daggers.

  “Not everywhere,” Johann said, looking back at her, and Tanith smiled as she put the forgery into the glass case. Johann secured the lid and waved his hand, and there was another click. No alarm sounded. The forgery hadn’t been detected. Tanith relaxed. “We could go somewhere more private if you like,” Johann suggested.

  “It’s a warm night,” she said. “I’d love a moonlit stroll.”

  “Your wish is my command.” He led her to the glass door and they stepped outside. They walked to the strip of stony beach. There was a small dock set up, but no boat in its moorings. Johann talked more about his collection and Tanith said all the right things at all the right times. Then she looked into his eyes.

  “What time do the guests leave?” she asked.

  “Whenever I tell them to.”

  “It’s getting late, don’t you think? Some of them might have to make a long journey home.”

  He smiled. “I’d better thank them for coming.”

  “I’ll stay here, if it’s all the same to you.”

  “Please do. I’ll be back in mere minutes.”

  Tanith secured the handbag strap around her shoulder as she watched him go, then kicked off her shoes and walked quickly to the dock. Her fingers dug into the material of her dress and she pulled it apart, the dress splitting right down the middle. She let it fall around her feet, reached the dock in the swimsuit she’d been wearing under it, and in one fluid motion she dived into the warm water. She sliced up towards the surface and swam on, barely making a sound.

  The boat was waiting for her. Jack straddled the side, a fishing pole in his hand. He watched her approach.

  “I was wonderin’ what was scarin’ the fish,” he said, as Sanguine appeared beside him and helped Tanith up.

  “Did you get it?” Sabine asked.

  “Would I be looking so pleased with myself if I hadn’t?” Tanith responded, passing her the handbag. Sabine took out the dagger and examined it.

  “The fake was excellent,” she said. “It looks exactly like the real thing.”

  “And what about Starke?” said Jack. “Did he suspect you were a master thief, or were the smile and the dress all he was seein’?”

  “He didn’t suspect a thing,” Tanith said, using a towel to dry herself off. “But we should probably get going before he starts looking for me.”

  Sanguine started up the boat and they moved off, sticking close to the small islands. Tanith secured the dagger in the lockbox, then heard something in the trees as they passed. She looked up and a Ripper dropped from the overhanging branch, sent Tanith into Sanguine, their heads cracking together. Tanith stumbled, dimly aware of the Ripper shoving Sabine into the water as the boat stalled. Jack flung himself at their attacker, his nails dragging uselessly across the Ripper’s coat. He got a headbutt as a reward, and a kick to the shin, and then the Ripper was wrapping an arm round his throat.

  Her good mood evaporating, Tanith fought through the pain in her head and pushed herself up, swayed a little, and went straight for the Ripper. She yanked him away from Jack who went to his knees, gasping for air. The Ripper’s elbow collided with the side of Tanith’s face. He followed with a punch that she dodged, but her bare feet slipped on the wet surface and she went down. She crossed her arms, blocking his kick, catching the glint of the sickle blade a moment before it slashed at her.

  She threw herself back, head over heels, coming up to a crouch in time to see the sickle arcing in to take her head. She was up, both hands blocking the sickle hand, her fingers wrapping round his wrist, and she was jumping, her strong legs folding beneath her as she used his wrist as a fulcrum on which her whole body spun. Her shins smashed into his jaw. He bent over backwards, all strength leaving him even as she was landing. Her feet touched down, but she slipped again and fell into Sanguine’s arms.

  “Don’t worry,” he said, “I’m here to save you.”

  “I’m so lucky I have you,” she replied, disentangling herself from his hands. “Jack, you OK?”

  Jack spat over the side of the boat. “Nearly choked the life out of me, the git. And me with so much to live for.” He stood up, and looked around. “Where’s Sabine?”

  Sabine pulled herself out of the water behind him, and glared up as she hung there. “You spat on me.”

  “Oh,” Jack said. “Sorry.” He held out a hand. Sabine hesitated, regarding the gnarled fingers and long nails warily, and then allowed him to help her up.

  “What are we going to do with him?” she asked, looking at the unconscious Ripper. “If we let him go, he’ll tell Starke we stole the dagger, but if we keep him prisoner, we’ll have to take him everywhere with us.”

  Tanith pretended to mull it over. “That’s a good question, Sabine. Whatever shall we do with this most unexpected of guests? Billy-Ray, do you have any ideas?”

  “I may have one,” Sanguine said, taking out his straight razor and cutting the Ripper’s throat.

  Sabine stumbled back. “What are you doing?” she cried. “You can’t just murder people! What the hell are you doing?”

  “Murdering people,” Sanguine answered.

  Sabine took two steps and shoved Sanguine. “He was unconscious! He was unconscious and defenceless and you murdered him!”

  Sanguine grinned as Sabine shoved him again.

  “Sabine,” Tanith said, “Sanguine did what had to be done. We can’t leave witnesses. You said it yourself − we couldn’t release him or take him with us.”

  “I’m out,” Sabine said. “I didn’t agree to this. I steal things and I cheat people, but I don’t kill anyone.”

  “No one’s asking you to,” said Tanith gently. “And it’s because we have you on the team that we can do this with as few deaths as possible. If we didn’t have you, we’d be going in guns blazing, killing whoever got in our way. Sabine, you’re what some people call a godsend. You’re a good influence on the rest of us. We can’t afford to lose you.”

  “Then you promise me, right here, that there won’t be any more killing from now on.”

  Tanith’s face took on a pained expression. “I can’t do that, Sabine.”

  “Then I’m out.”

  “Sabine,” Tanith said, “please.”

  “Yeah,” said Jack. “Don’t go. We’re a good team, you and me.”

  Sabine frowned. “Us two? We’re not a team.”

  “Ain’t we?” asked Jack, actually sounding surprised. He looked at Tanith. “Ain’t we?”

  She ignored him. “Sabine, I can make you a promise, but it’s not the one you want. I can promise you that we will only kill to defend ourselves. That’s fair, isn’t it? That’s reasonable?”

  Sabine pushed her wet hair back off her face. She chewed her lip. “No more killing unconscious people,” she said.

  Tanith nodded. “Agreed. Billy-Ray?”

  Sanguine held up three fingers. “Scout’s honour.”

  “And no killing innocent people,” said Sabine.

  “I agree to that in principle,” said Tanith, “providing you understand that some people just have it coming.”

  Jack nodded. “Innocent is a murky area where killin’ is concerned.”

  Tanith stepped forward, took Sabine’s hands in hers and looked into her eyes. “Sabine, are you with us? We need you with us. I can’t do this without you.”

  Sabine didn’t answer for a while, but it didn’t matter. Tanith knew she had her.

  “I’m with you,” Sabine said eventually, and Tanith hugged her.

  “Thank you,” Tanith whispered. She broke off, found a towel and handed it to Sab
ine. “OK, now we’ve got to concentrate on finding a place to dump the body. Until it’s recovered, Johann will hopefully think that I eloped with his bodyguard. It should give us plenty of time to get the other three weapons.”

  “Which one are we going after next?” asked Sabine, sitting on the edge of the boat as it started up.

  “The bow,” Tanith told her. “It’s in the possession of some rather unscrupulous people.”

  “There might be some violence,” Sanguine said over his shoulder as he steered. “There might be some blood needs spilling.”

  “Criminal blood,” Tanith said quickly. “Bad guy blood. Not innocent blood.”

  “And you have my solemn oath,” Jack said, patting Sabine’s shoulder, “that I will only kill those what are awake, and if they ain’t awake, I swear to you that I’ll wake ’em up and then kill ’em, or kill ’em as they’re wakin’, dependin’ on the situation and what course is called for. But they will be awake, on that you have my word.”

  Sabine sighed.

  ravity is a fickle mistress,” Quoneel said. “With the right wink and the right smile, small pockets of it can be persuaded to shift to altogether new positions. Wall-Walking is not about sticking to walls or ceilings. It is simply about not falling from them.”

  The girl raised her foot, placed it flat on the wall in front of her. She focused on the weight of her supporting leg.

  “But this is not an easy discipline to master,” Quoneel continued, walking behind her. “Are you sure it’s the one for you?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “There is no need to be hasty. Did I ever tell you about Vindick Leather?”

  “Who?”

  “He’s a sorcerer I know of,” said Quoneel. “He worships the Faceless Ones, but was born too late to fight in the war. All he ever talks about, though, is the next war, when Nefarian Serpine leads the faithful to victory. Before his surge, he reasoned that the most common discipline of magic being practised was Elemental, and he decided the most damaging aspect of Elemental magic was fire. So he ensured that fire would never harm him.