by Derek Landy
Skulduggery considered it for a long moment. “Probably not,” he concluded.
“It would just be weird,” Ghastly explained. “I understand.”
“I’m okay with shaking your hand, though.”
“I’m not really comfortable with that.”
Ghastly shrugged. “I get it—you like your space.”
Valkyrie stared at them, unable to believe what she was witnessing, and then Ghastly’s grin broke out and she realized this was a guy thing. The two friends hugged, and she smiled happily.
Fletcher leaned over. “When is someone going to tell him that his head is all scarred?” he whispered, but she ignored him.
Bespoke Tailors squatted on the edge of the dirty street like a mangy dog too old and too dumb to move in out of the rain. The Purple Menace pulled up outside and Skulduggery and Ghastly got out, then pulled the seats forward to allow Valkyrie and Fletcher to climb out after them. Fletcher was doing a terrible job of trying not to stare at Ghastly’s scars, but his discomfort was amusing, so Valkyrie didn’t try to make him any more at ease.
Tanith rode up and parked beside them. The rain dripped off her leathers as she swung her leg off the motorbike and removed her helmet, and Fletcher finally had something new to stare at. Valkyrie rolled her eyes.
Ghastly nodded to a passing neighbor and got a quiet “Welcome back” in return. He opened the door of his shop and led them in. It was musty inside, but neat. Half-finished clothes hung on mannequins, and the walls were lined with shelves that held fabrics both familiar and exotic.
“Did you dream?” Tanith asked, like it had been a question that had been bugging her on the way over.
“I did not,” Ghastly said, going straight to the shelves, his hands running over the materials.
“Nothing at all? You just have a blank space in your head where the last two years should be?”
“The last memory I have is of fighting the White Cleaver. Then I opened my eyes and I was kneeling in the chamber. As for dreams, I didn’t have any that I can remember—but then I can never remember my dreams.”
“I had a dream last night,” Fletcher said, looking at Tanith. “I think you were in it.”
“You didn’t know me last night.”
“And that is a tragedy.”
“Okay!” Tanith said, forcing a smile onto her face. “I’m making myself a cup of tea. Anyone else want one?”
“I would love a cup of tea,” Ghastly said, sounding like he really, truly meant it.
Fletcher gave her a sleazy little smile. “I’ll have a whiskey.”
“You can have a cup of tea too,” Tanith said brusquely, and disappeared into the back room.
“Then I’ll help you make it,” said Fletcher, trailing after her.
Ghastly looked at Valkyrie. “I think you’ve outgrown that outfit.”
“I think I have,” she admitted.
“What do you think we should do for the new one? Black again, or do you want to mix it up a little?”
She hesitated. “I really like the black.”
“But with something else thrown in? I think we should throw in a little color. Maybe something in the lining.” Ghastly pulled down a roll of deep red material and held it to the light while he spoke to Skulduggery. “So Serpine’s dead. What about the White Cleaver?”
“We don’t know where he is,” Skulduggery told him. “He abandoned Serpine just when he was needed the most. That kind of worked out well for us.”
“And then Vengeous came back, but now he’s dead, and now the Diablerie have resurfaced and they’re going to bring the Faceless Ones back and we’re all going to die.”
“Yes.”
Ghastly put the red material on the table and went hunting for more. “And this Batu person?”
“Solomon Wreath believes that Batu is just a name Jaron Gallow has been using, but I’m not so sure. Whoever Batu is, he released Vengeous, set him up as the mastermind, and used him to do what needed to be done. Now that Vengeous is gone, he might be doing it again—setting Gallow up as the mastermind to throw us off the trail.”
“Keep us distracted long enough to bring the Faceless Ones back,” Ghastly said. “Well, that’s a particularly insidious plan, I have to say. It means our true enemy could be anyone. Have you spoken with China about this?”
“She doesn’t have any leads.”
“Please tell me you’re not trusting her these days.”
Skulduggery hesitated, and Ghastly sighed.
“The leader of the Diablerie, whether it’s Gallow or Batu or someone else entirely, has been planning this for years. If there is anyone we know who could use that time to manipulate everyone into thinking she is on the side of the angels, it’s China. Manipulating people is what she does.”
“I know what I’m doing.”
“When it comes to China Sorrows, you rarely know what you’re doing.” Ghastly laid out a black fabric on the table, nodded to himself, and looked up. “Valkyrie. Boots.”
“I need new ones.”
“You certainly do. Come this way.”
They left Skulduggery and went into a smaller room, where Ghastly’s old-fashioned shoemaking equipment lay. Different types of leathers hung from the walls, and there were trays of nails and glues and needles and threads.
“Everything a cordwainer needs,” he said when he saw Valkyrie examining her surroundings.
“I don’t know what that means.”
“Skulduggery’s not the only one who knows odd words.” He smiled. The scars, precisely spaced and covering his whole head, had once seemed ugly to her. But they weren’t ugly anymore. They were a symbol of what he had lived with, what he had lived through, and as such they had become something good, something noble.
His smile turned sad. “He’s been dragging you into quite a bit of trouble, from what I hear.”
She kept her voice neutral. “I’ve had this talk with Kenspeckle, so I’ll tell you what I told him. Skulduggery wouldn’t take me if I didn’t want to go.” She paused, let a moment go by. “Ghastly, why don’t you like me?”
His eyes widened slightly. “What?”
“I know you think I’m too young, but there are younger kids than me doing magic. They’re all over the place. And you’ve been doing magic since you were born.”
He went quiet, then turned to the sink and filled a basin with water. “Could you take off your boots and socks, please?”
She did as he asked, and he laid the basin on the ground and motioned for her to step into it. She hiked up her trousers and plunged her bare feet into the cold water.
“The first time we met,” Ghastly said, “I told you to forget about all this and go home. Remember?”
“Yes.”
He waved his hand, and the water in the basin started feeling thicker, heavier.
“I still believe that. You should be in school, Valkyrie; you should be living the life you were living before magic interrupted everything. You should go to college, get a job, fall in love, live happily ever after. If you don’t, you’re going to die.”
“Everyone dies,” she said, with an attempt at a casual shrug.
“But when you die, it’s going to be something awful.”
“You can try to scare me as much as you want, but it’s not going to work.”
“I’m not trying to scare you.” With a gesture, the water parted. “You can step out now.” She did so, and with another gesture, the water returned to the position it had held moments ago. Two perfect imprints of her feet remained in the basin. Ghastly put the basin on a small table and poured in a black powder, almost emptying the box it came in, then looked at her while she dried her feet with a towel and pulled on her socks. “Did Skulduggery ever tell you about my mother?”
“About her being a champion boxer?”
“She wasn’t just a boxer. She wasn’t just a wife, or just a mother, or just an anything. She was an exceptional woman. She was a Sensitive, did he tell you that?”
>
Valkyrie started putting on her boots. “Like a psychic? Like Finbar Wrong?”
“That’s right. My mother’s particular gift was as a Seer, but it was a gift she didn’t want. She didn’t cultivate it. She had no interest in learning what the future held for her, or for others. She preferred to find out when she got there. But sometimes she didn’t have a choice. She’d see a vision, or dream a dream, or hear a voice from a conversation that hadn’t yet taken place.”
Valkyrie stood, glancing into the basin. The black powder was swirling around in the impressions her feet had made—swirling and congealing.
“What does this have to do with me quitting?”
“She saw you,” Ghastly said. “That was one of the few visions she told me about. She told me that Skulduggery would take a partner sometime in the future, a girl with dark hair and dark eyes. I knew it was you when I met you, and I did my best to steer you away. You’re a stubborn girl—anyone ever tell you that?”
“What did she see?”
“She saw you die.”
Valkyrie stepped away from the basin. “Oh.”
“If you’re going to ask me for a time and a place, sorry. She was never that specific.”
“How … how do I die?”
“In pain,” he said. “Screaming.”
She ran her tongue over her new tooth and said nothing.
Ghastly waved his hand over the basin, and she heard the water slosh about as it returned to its normal state. He lifted out the black molds of her two feet and put them on the table. “She said there was an enemy you had to fight. A creature of darkness. She said Skulduggery fought by your side for some of it, but … She sensed things more than saw them, you know? She felt terror, and death, and futility. She felt the world on the edge of destruction, and she sensed evil. Unimaginable evil.”
Something caught in Valkyrie’s throat, and she forced it down. “Where did it come from, the creature?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, what was it? Was it a vampire or a Faceless One or …”
“I don’t know.”
“So the only thing you do know is that I’m going to die? Well, I’ve seen time-travel movies. I know that the future isn’t certain. I know that knowing what happens can change what happens. That’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to train harder, and when I meet this creature of darkness, I’ll kick it to a messy pulp, and put a leash around its neck and make it my pet.”
“I don’t think this can be changed.”
“Then you don’t know me very well.”
He looked at her for an age, then took a deep breath before letting it out in a long, resigned sigh.
“One other thing,” she said. “In case you didn’t notice, that was me making my decision on the whole quitting idea.”
He nodded. “I won’t bring it up again.”
“Good. And Ghastly, I really am glad you’re back.”
He smiled. “Thanks.”
Skulduggery stepped in. “We have to go.”
“But I’m waiting for my tea,” Ghastly said, dismayed.
“We don’t have time for tea. When we visited Aranmore Farm, I left my number with Paddy Hanratty in case he noticed any unusual activity on his land. Paddy just called. He said he saw a dark-haired man wandering around.”
“You think it was Jaron Gallow?” Valkyrie asked. “Or Batu?”
“I do. Paddy overheard him on his phone, saying something about preparing the site, and then he left without telling Paddy what he was doing there.”
“That’s not good,” Ghastly said, sounding a little grumpy.
“What’s wrong?” Valkyrie frowned.
Skulduggery looked at her. “It sounds like the Diablerie know precisely where the gate will open. If things were going our way, they’d have to spend a few hours roaming the farm to find the exact spot before trying to open it. Obviously, and in keeping with our lot in life, things are not going our way.”
“So if they already know where the gate will open,” Valkyrie said, “and if they somehow get their hands on Fletcher, they can get straight down to business.”
“Indeed they can.”
“What do we do?”
“The first thing we do is know what our enemy knows, so we find it ourselves. Or rather, Fletcher does.”
They walked into the main part of the shop, where Tanith was sitting upside down on the ceiling and looking annoyed. Fletcher was gazing up at her, love struck.
Skulduggery shook his head. “Oh, for God’s sake …”
Nineteen
THE MAN WHO WOULD BE KING
THE ROOM WAS just another room in the conference center. In the other rooms, businesspeople were showing flowcharts and diagrams to their clients, but there were no flowcharts in this room. In this room, nine people sat around a long table, and they were all looking at the bald man standing at the window.
Mr. Bliss looked out over Dublin. “What you’re talking about here is illegal,” he said.
“We have no choice,” a man with golden eyes responded. “We can see where Guild is taking us, and we have no wish to follow him down that road. The Sanctuary needs a new leader.”
“There are those who are more qualified than I.”
A woman in gray shook her head. “But they want the job too much.”
“Replacing Thurid Guild would provoke an international scramble for power.”
“Not if his replacement had international respect. Bliss, if we overthrow Guild and you become the Grand Mage, it will strengthen our standing. The Councils around the world know you. Many of them fear you.”
“I have no desire to lead.”
The man with the golden eyes spoke again. “Maybe it’s not your choice. Someone has to make a stand. Someone has to oppose these new laws Guild is intent on introducing. I am sorry, my friend, but you are the only one who can do this without starting a war.”
Bliss was silent. “If we do this, we do it my way.”
“Of course.”
“And we wait until this current crisis is over.”
“Agreed.”
Bliss turned to them and nodded. “Very well.”
Twenty
ARANMORE FARM
SKULDUGGERY DROVE Ghastly’s van, with Valkyrie in the passenger seat. Ghastly, Tanith, and Fletcher sat on the cushions in the rear. No matter how sharp the corner they turned or how deep the pothole they plunged into, Ghastly and Tanith remained perfectly still. Fletcher, on the other hand, was being thrown about like an old shoe in a washing machine, and he did not appreciate it.
They reached Aranmore and drove up to the farmhouse. By the looks of things it hadn’t rained much here. Valkyrie was getting tired of the rain.
The van stopped, and Skulduggery made sure his scarf and sunglasses were on securely. He pulled his hat down low and got out. Valkyrie scrambled out the other side as Paddy walked over to them, a shovel in his hand, face red from recent exertion.
“I called you because I said I would if I saw anything suspicious,” he said, sounding annoyed. “Not because I wanted you to come back.”
“We understand that,” said Skulduggery, “but we had little choice.”
“You don’t get it. I’m not going to sell this land, to you, or that other fella, or anyone.”
“We’re not trying to buy your home.”
“Good, because you won’t.”
Valkyrie stayed quiet. On the way over here they had discussed the best way to approach the old man. They needed him to leave before anything bad happened, but they had both agreed that he wasn’t the type to be scared off. So they’d decided to tell him the truth.
“Do you follow any particular faith?” Skulduggery asked.
Paddy raised his eyebrows. “You’re not trying to sell me a Bible, are you?”
“No.”
“Then you want to convert me? That’s very flattering, but look at me. Is it really worth your while?”
“We’re not here to conver
t you,” Skulduggery said, gentle amusement in his voice.
Paddy looked at them both. “Are you purposefully trying to baffle me?”
“Not at all. The bafflement is effortless.”
Paddy sighed. “Yes. I follow a particular faith. I would never say that I’m overly religious, but …”
“Then you’re willing to accept that there are aspects to this life that are beyond our current understanding?”
Paddy shrugged. “The older you get, the more you realize what you don’t know. So, yes, I accept that.”
“And what about magic?”
“Bunny-from-a-top-hat magic?”
“No.”
“You mean real magic? Do I believe real magic exists?”
“Do you?”
Paddy paused a moment. “Funny you should say that. My father, Pat Hanratty, he believed. At least I think he did. From little things he said when I was growing up, I got that impression. Why do you ask?”
Skulduggery looked at Valkyrie, and Valkyrie clicked her fingers and summoned a flame.
Paddy’s face cracked, and Valkyrie realized he was smiling. “Well, that is impressive, I have to say. How do you do it?”
“Magic,” Valkyrie said.
Paddy’s smile faded a little. “I’m … I’m not sure I understand….”
“Your father was right,” Skulduggery said. “Real magic exists. Real sorcerers exist. Paddy, there are bad people who want to change the world, and they need this land to do it.”
Paddy shook his head slowly. “I don’t know what you want….”
“This land is important,” Valkyrie said, extinguishing the flame. “This is where it will all happen.”
“Where what will happen?”
“A gateway will open,” Skulduggery told him, “between this world and another, and the Faceless Ones will come through.”
“Faceless … ?
“They’re the bad guys. We’re the good guys.”
“No offense,” Paddy said, “but I think you’re both a little insane.”
Skulduggery took off his sunglasses, and his scarf, and his hat, and Paddy stared at him.
“No,” the old man said. “Apparently, I’m the insane one.”