Dark Days Page 8

  It wasn’t without its flaws of course – among them Vaurien Scapegrace who, as far as Sanguine could tell, was not the Killer Supreme he’d said he was. This, however, was Sanguine’s fault – he’d recruited him after all – and so it was his responsibility to take care of it.

  But the plan was, essentially, a good plan and a solid one. However, the moment he saw his chance, he was taking it. He didn’t care if it ruined the plan, or got everyone else arrested or killed.

  One way or another, Sanguine had decided, Valkyrie Cain was going to die – and he was determined to be the one to kill her.

  15

  BACK ON CEMETERY ROAD

  Skulduggery’s house was cold and the air was stale. Valkyrie checked the messages on her phone while Skulduggery took the head that Fletcher had given him and went to the large room where he kept all his best clothes. Fletcher tried to turn on the TV, but the power had been cut off. Suddenly they heard a sharp howl of pain, and Valkyrie spun in alarm.

  “Skulduggery?” she called as she ran from the room. “Are you OK? Skulduggery?”

  She hurried through the house, flinging open doors as she passed them. She reached the last room and just as she was about to barge in – “That hurt,” Skulduggery said from inside.

  Valkyrie frowned at the closed door. “What happened?”

  “I was changing my head. It feels good to have the old one back on. And now I have a spare, which is nice.”

  Valkyrie stepped back as the door opened and Skulduggery emerged. His suit and tie were navy blue and his shirt was crisp and white. He tilted his chin. “What do you think of the head?”

  “Uh, it’s…it’s really nice. Looks a lot like the other one.”

  “What are you talking about? It’s completely different. The cheekbones are higher.”

  “Are they?”

  “Aren’t they?”

  “I suppose they…might be. Is it comfortable?”

  “Very.” He walked past her into the room where he kept his hats. “Where’s Ghastly? Have you told him I’m back?”

  “Uh, no…”

  “He mightn’t believe you. He might think I’m still hallucinating. You’d better tell him I’m not. I think he’d want to know that he’s not a figment of my imagination. I know I’d want to.” Skulduggery put on a hat that matched his suit, cocked it low over his eye sockets and admired himself in the mirror. “I have missed this,” he murmured.

  “Ghastly was arrested,” Valkyrie said, trying to get him to focus. “Him and Tanith. They’re being held at the Sanctuary.”

  “What for?”

  “For helping me get you back. Guild made it clear that we were not to open that portal again. He said we couldn’t risk something escaping through.”

  “Hmm. That was very wise of him.”

  She glowered. “That’s not helping me in the slightest.”

  “Now, Valkyrie, opening that portal was very dangerous. Sometimes you’ve got to admit it when you’re wrong.”

  “You never admit it when you’re wrong.”

  “But I’m rarely wrong, you see. You, on the other hand, are wrong a bizarrely large amount of the time. Statistically, it’s quite amazing.”

  He opened a wooden box and slowly reached his gloved hand in. His revolver gleamed when he withdrew it. “Smith & Wesson,” he said lovingly. “You had it cleaned?”

  “Last week,” she said and found herself smiling. “Thought you might want it.”

  He opened the cylinder, took six bullets from the box and slid them into the chambers then clicked it shut and thumbed on the safety. He tucked the gun into the holster under his jacket.

  “There,” he said. “I feel complete again.”

  Fletcher walked in. “Hey,” he said.

  “Fletcher,” Skulduggery nodded. “Did I thank you for opening the portal and getting me home?”

  “You didn’t,” Fletcher said. “But you’re welcome.”

  “You could have been responsible for the end of the human race,” Skulduggery continued happily, “but I for one am not going to hold it against you. You may leave us now.”

  “I may what?”

  Skulduggery hesitated for just a moment. “Your hair. It’s distracting. I’m sorry, I thought someone ought to tell you.”

  “You want me to go because of my hair?”

  “There’s just so much of it, to tell you the truth.”

  “Are you being serious?”

  “Can’t you tell?”

  “Not really.”

  “Well, for future reference, this is my serious face.”

  Fletcher looked at Valkyrie and she shrugged. “We’ll call you when some of us are feeling a little more…sensible,” she said.

  “OK,” he said. “Then I’ll…I’ll go then.”

  He vanished and Skulduggery turned to her. “Now,” he said. “Where is she?”

  They went outside and Valkyrie opened the garage. She grabbed the tarp and pulled it off the car, a 1954 Bentley R-Type Continental, one of only 208 ever made, retrofitted with modern luxuries and the apple of Skulduggery’s eye. If he’d had an eye. Skulduggery ran his hand over the bodywork.

  “Do you even need a car these days?” asked Valkyrie. “Aren’t you going to just fly everywhere from now on?”

  “Flying takes a lot out of you,” he said, “and it’s not the most inconspicuous mode of transport.”

  “But the Bentley is?”

  She heard a sound that may have been a laugh and they got in. The Bentley tore out of the garage and raced to the top of the road, taking the turn at a speed that would have terrified Valkyrie were it not Skulduggery behind the wheel.

  “Intriguing,” Skulduggery murmured and the Bentley abruptly slowed.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “We’re being followed,” he said. “And not very well.”

  He took a lazy left on to an empty side street then gunned the engine. Valkyrie was pressed back into her seat. He turned into the next left and stopped in the middle of the road. He made sure his scarf was securely wrapped around his face and got out, gun in his hand.

  A blue Volvo roared around the corner and brakes squealed as it swerved to avoid the Bentley. It hit the wall and the engine cut out. Skulduggery crossed to it and smashed the window with the butt of his revolver, then dragged the red-headed driver out and dumped him on the road.

  “I don’t appreciate being followed,” Skulduggery said, an edge to his voice.

  “Don’t shoot me!” the driver yelled.

  “I’ve had enough of being followed,” Skulduggery continued, like he hadn’t heard him. “I’m not in the mood for it any more.”

  Valkyrie recognised the cowering young man on the ground. His name was Staven Weeper. She’d seen him in the Sanctuary a few times. His eyes were fixed on the gun at Skulduggery’s side.

  “I usually kill people who follow me,” Skulduggery murmured, almost to himself.

  Valkyrie frowned. “Skulduggery?”

  “That’s what happens,” he continued softly. “They hunt me, they die. Simple. I like to keep it simple. Keep it clean.”

  He raised the gun and Valkyrie darted forward. She grabbed his wrist. “What are you doing?”

  He looked at her and cocked his head. “Valkyrie. What are you doing here?”

  He didn’t move for a moment then shook his head and put the gun back in its holster. He walked over to the Bentley and stood beside it, looking up at the sky. Weeper was staring at him in terrified bewilderment and Valkyrie stepped up to block his view.

  “What do you want?” she demanded.

  He raised his eyes to her. “I’m here to arrest you.”

  “What for?”

  “You assaulted Detective Marr and you have obviously opened the portal, against the Grand Mage’s explicit orders.”

  “I’m sorry, but I’m finding it hard to believe that they sent you to arrest us.”

  “Well, originally, I was just supposed to watch
Skulduggery Pleasant’s house,” Weeper admitted. “The other Detectives are busy.”

  “With what?”

  “They wouldn’t tell me. I heard one of the Sensitives had a vision that they were getting worried about…The Detectives don’t really tell me this stuff. I’m not exactly high on the, you know, the totem pole.”

  Skulduggery wandered over, hands in his pockets, seemingly back to his old self. “You’re not here to arrest me, are you?”

  Weeper shrank away. “I…I don’t know.”

  “Because technically, I have broken no laws recently. I didn’t rescue myself, now did I?”

  “I suppose not…”

  “So it’s Valkyrie you’re after, is that right?”

  “Uh, yes.”

  “Excellent.”

  “Although…” said Weeper hesitantly.

  “Although?”

  “Technically, you’ve just assaulted me and I’m a Sanctuary agent.”

  “Well, yes,” Skulduggery said, “but you’re not a very good one, are you? I mean, they told you to watch my house. That’s not exactly a high-profile case you’re running. How long have you been watching my house?”

  “Uh, three…three months.”

  “Three months. And what is the result of your investigation? Has my house been involved in any illegal activities? Has it robbed a bank? Has it mugged anyone?”

  “No…”

  “Has it moved, even a little?”

  “I don’t…think so…”

  “Made a prank phone call?”

  “No.”

  “I see. And just now, did I run you off the road? Or did you crash, all by yourself?”

  “I suppose I, uh, crashed.”

  “And I pulled you from the wreckage, did I not? That car could have exploded for all you know. I saved your life and now you want to arrest me for it?”

  “Well, not any more…”

  “I’m glad to hear it. Do you want to stand up?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Stand.”

  Weeper stood.

  “My friends have been taken into custody,” Skulduggery said. “Ghastly Bespoke and Tanith Low. What do you know about it?”

  “Just what I heard on the updates. They broke into the Sanctuary and one of them assaulted Detective Marr.”

  “Marr,” Skulduggery murmured. “Davina Marr? American?”

  “That’s her,” Valkyrie said.

  “Oh, she hates me,” said Skulduggery. “For no reason, I might add. At least no reason that I care about. Snivelling boy, will you tell the Grand Mage that I have returned, and from what you have seen, I have been slightly unhinged by my dreadful experiences in an alternate dimension? Could you also tell him that I would appreciate it if he released my friends at his earliest convenience?”

  “Yes. OK. Sure.”

  “And then threaten to shoot him.”

  “Uh…I don’t know if that’s wise…”

  “Nonsense,” Skulduggery said, patting him on the shoulder. “The Grand Mage hates getting shot. It’s quite funny. You’ll be fine. Run along now.”

  “Can I…can I get back in my car?”

  Skulduggery pondered the question and shook his head. “No.”

  Weeper sagged.

  16

  THE TEMPLE

  “You’re quiet,” Skulduggery said when they were back on the road.

  “I am,” Valkyrie agreed.

  “Are you in awe of me?”

  “Something like that.”

  Skulduggery nodded. “You’re in awe of me.”

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Splendid,” he replied.

  “You sure frightened him,” Valkyrie said.

  “Who, the boy? Did I?”

  “For a moment it looked like you were going to kill him.”

  “It did?”

  “It did.”

  “Fancy that,” he said.

  “You said you were unhinged.”

  “Hmm? Oh, yes, I did. Quite clever, yes? You see, if they think I have been driven mad, they will struggle to predict my actions. I become very, very dangerous to them, and hopefully, that will make Guild do what we want.”

  “And you’re not, right?” Valkyrie said cautiously. “You’re not unhinged?”

  “Oh, God, no,” he laughed. “No, I’m perfectly sane. Now then, do you want to tell me about that ring you’re wearing?”

  “Oh,” she said. “That.”

  “Solomon Wreath is teaching you Necromancy, isn’t he?”

  “I needed the extra strength to get you back,” she explained. “I’m only a trainee Elemental – I need all the help I can get, you know?”

  “And now that I’m back?”

  “Sorry?”

  “You said you needed that ring to get me back. So now that I’m here, is that it? Are you going to throw it away?”

  Valkyrie felt the cold metal around her finger and how comforting it had become lately. “If you want me to,” she said slowly.

  “What do you want to do?”

  “I don’t know.” Skulduggery didn’t say anything so she had to continue. “I suppose throwing away another set of powers, I mean, it doesn’t really make sense. It’s a weapon I need to get the job done.”

  “And being an Elemental isn’t enough to do that?”

  “When I’m powerful enough, sure, and especially with all those new things you can do, but I’m still learning. And I’ve got another few years before my magic settles, right?”

  “That’s true,” Skulduggery nodded. “You’ll probably be twenty, maybe twenty-one, before you have to choose one style over all the rest.”

  “And after that, I can’t switch?”

  He hesitated. “It’s not impossible. But it is rare.”

  “But I can keep using the ring until I’m about to settle, can’t I, and then give it back?”

  “As easy as that?”

  “Why wouldn’t it be?”

  “Strength is addictive.”

  “I can handle it.”

  “Solomon Wreath is not to be trusted.”

  “He saved my life last night.”

  Skulduggery snapped his head to her. “What happened?”

  “Uh, Crux got into my house and tried to kill me. I could have handled it. I don’t mean Wreath saved my life, but he, you know, he helped. China’s people set up a perimeter around Haggard though, so nobody magical can get in without being noticed. Except me of course.”

  “Right,” Skulduggery said, yanking the wheel sharply. “I need to have a word with Wreath.”

  Valkyrie had been to the Necromancer Temple only once before, to see her ring being forged in the shadow furnace. She had imagined, when told of the Temple, a vast building with spires and long narrow windows, of huge doors and possibly some dark and terrible towers. Her expectations were dashed when Solomon Wreath had led her through an old graveyard, to a crypt with rusted iron gates, overgrown with weeds and ivy. Beneath that crypt, however, the Temple lay – a cold and forbidding labyrinth, drenched in darkness.

  It was at this rusted gate she found herself again, standing at Skulduggery’s side. Her heart beat fast. Not from nerves, or excitement, but simply because she was in a graveyard. She could feel the tendrils of death being drawn into the ring on her finger and soaking through into her body. The thought of it made her queasy, but the sensation was…electric.

  The crypt door opened heavily and Solomon Wreath smiled at them, and said, “Suddenly there came a tapping, as of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.”

  “How unique,” Skulduggery said without enthusiasm, “a Necromancer quoting Poe.”

  Wreath’s smile grew wider. “By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes.”

  “Shakespeare is the happy hunting ground of all minds that have lost their balance,” Skulduggery responded. “Are we going to boast about how well-read we are all day or are we going to talk?”

  “About?” />
  “Valkyrie.”

  “I see. In that case, please come in.” The gate creaked open for him and they passed through. “How are you by the way? I hope that alternate dimension wasn’t too uncomfortable for you.”

  “It wasn’t all bad,” Skulduggery responded. “It gave me time to catch up on some screaming.”

  They followed Wreath down the stone steps, into the darkness.

  “I believe I have you to thank for suggesting my own skull as an Isthmus Anchor,” Skulduggery continued. “If it wasn’t for you, I’d still be over there.”

  “Think nothing of it.”

  “Very well.”

  Wreath laughed.

  Now they were in the dark labyrinth, passing the chambers that were carved into the walls. In some of these rooms people in black robes raised their heads, lamplight catching flashes of skin against shadow. In others the dark-robed figures were too busy with whatever they were doing to bother looking up. Up ahead, people moved quickly.

  “There seems to be a disturbance,” Skulduggery noted.

  “Nothing to concern you,” Wreath said. “One of our trinkets has gone missing. We’re trying to find it. But enough of the everyday humdrum of Temple life. You are here to talk, are you not?”

  “Valkyrie tells me she’s been taking lessons with you,” Skulduggery said, his voice loud in the cold silence.

  “Indeed she has,” Wreath responded. “Would this be a problem for you?”

  “Necromancy is a dangerous discipline. Not everyone is suited to it.”

  “Well, now,” Wreath said, smiling, “could it be that I have more faith in Valkyrie’s abilities than you do?”

  “This isn’t about ability,” Skulduggery said curtly. “This is about aptitude.”

  “What do you mean?” Valkyrie asked.

  “In order for you to make an informed decision, can I assume Solomon here has told you about the Necromancer beliefs?”

  Suddenly Wreath did not look happy. “Our beliefs are private. They are not discussed with…”