The Faceless Ones

by Derek Landy

  “You okay?” he asked gently.

  She punched him across the jaw and he went stumbling backward.

  “Why’d you do that?” he bellowed.

  She glared at him, the dizziness passing. “Shock mostly,” she said angrily. “You just can’t teleport people without asking them! What if something had gone wrong? What if you’d only teleported half of me?”

  “That’d never happen.”

  “Or you let go of my arm halfway through?”

  “It can’t be done.”

  “Or we reappeared in a wall or something?”

  He hesitated. “Okay, now that was a danger…. But as long as I’ve been somewhere before, and I can picture it in my head, that’s all I need. I thought you’d like it, to be honest.”

  Her phone rang. It was Skulduggery. Valkyrie assured him she was okay and waiting for him at Ghastly’s. She hung up.

  “He said he’s going to kill you,” she told Fletcher, who shrugged.

  “He’s always saying that.”

  “But this time he means it.”

  “What does it matter? If he hands me over to those lunatics, I’m dead anyway, right?”

  Valkyrie didn’t say anything. Fletcher looked at the city around them.

  “It’s quite pretty up here,” he continued. “All the streetlights. The rain makes everything kind of glitter, doesn’t it? It’s like this in London, too. You can sometimes forget how dirty everything is.” His eyes found her. “What’ll happen to that Guild guy? Do you think they’ll kill him?”

  Valkyrie hesitated. “I don’t know.”

  “Do you care?”

  “What? Of course.”

  “You don’t like him.”

  “I still don’t want him killed.”

  Fletcher didn’t say anything for a bit. “Does Tanith have a boyfriend?”

  Valkyrie looked at him in disbelief, amazed by the radical change of topic. “You don’t have a chance.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Give me three good reasons.”

  “I only need two. The first one is that she is way too old for you, and the second one is that you are really annoying.”

  “Hey, just because you’re too young to appreciate my charms doesn’t mean I don’t have them. I’m a catch.”

  “Is that what your mummy says?” Valkyrie grinned.

  “Not really. My mum’s dead.”

  The grin faded. “Oh.”

  “What about your family? What do they think about all these magical adventure crime-solving things you do?”

  “They don’t know about any of it. At home I have this mirror, and all I have to do is touch it and my reflection steps out and does all the boring stuff like go to school and do homework and be nice to people.”

  “Your reflection comes to life?” Fletcher said, eyes wide.

  “Yep.”

  “You’re serious? That is so cool! So everyone thinks you’re just this normal girl?”

  “They think I’m a tad weird, but yes, basically.”

  “That is amazing. So there are two of you?”

  “Kind of, yes.”

  He went quiet, and after a few moments she began to wonder what he was thinking about.

  “Cool,” he said at last. “So could I get one of these mirrors? Maybe we could trade my reflection for this Guild guy. Unless the reflection would have the same abilities as me, which’d kind of defeat the purpose.”

  “No, they can’t do magic, but it wouldn’t work. Sorcerers can generally spot a reflection a mile off.”

  Fletcher shrugged. “Worth a shot. I tell you, it’ll sure be nice when all this is over and I can get back to my life.”

  “What was your life? What did you do all day?”

  “Whatever I wanted. I have this power and I didn’t train for it, I wasn’t told about it, it just happened. I’m a natural. And it means I can go anywhere and do anything. And that’s what I do all day—whatever I want.”

  “You should get someone to train you.”

  “Who? Every other Teleporter is dead.”

  “As Skulduggery keeps telling me, magic is magic. The basic underlying principles are the same no matter what your power is.”

  Fletcher made a face. “Sounds a lot like school.”

  “It’s generally more fun.” She smiled. “You may be a natural at this, but you’re never going to be as good as you can be if you don’t train.”

  He vanished, then said from behind her, “I’m good enough already.”

  She sighed and turned, but he was already gone. “Okay,” she said, “this is mature.”

  He tapped her on the shoulder, and she laughed and swiped for him, but he appeared in front of her, flashing that cocky grin.

  They waited on the roof for another ten minutes, and Valkyrie did her best not to smile at his annoying remarks. Despite her good intentions, however, she found herself being amused by him. When the headlights of the Purple Menace and Ghastly’s van approached, Fletcher extended his arm, and she took it. Once again it was like she blinked, and was swept away, and then they were on the sidewalk. Valkyrie held on to him while the dizziness passed.

  They parted as Skulduggery strode up. He towered over Fletcher, who was looking quite nervous. Ghastly and Tanith hurried to join them.

  “Never,” Skulduggery said, “do that again.”

  Fletcher nodded.

  “Someone’s in the shop,” Ghastly said quietly. They followed his gaze to the door, which stood open slightly. Inside was darkness.

  Skulduggery took out his gun and glanced at Fletcher. “Forget what I just said and teleport somewhere. Valkyrie, go with him.”

  She took Fletcher’s arm and motioned upward. He nodded and they reappeared on the roof. The dizziness was fleeting this time, and she moved quietly, leading the way to the skylight. They crouched and peered through the glass.

  The light from the streetlamps pierced the gloom as the door opened fully. Valkyrie couldn’t see them, but she imagined Skulduggery and the others swarming in, checking the corners, moving with silent purpose. A few seconds later, she heard voices—not raised in alarm, but in conversation.

  Someone turned the light on.

  Skulduggery was putting his gun away, and Tanith was sheathing her sword. Ghastly walked back from the light switch to join them as they stood facing Solomon Wreath and two other Necromancers.

  “It’s safe,” Valkyrie told Fletcher. “Let’s go.”

  They stood and he held her hand. She blinked; then they were in the shop, people’s heads turning at their sudden arrival. Wreath nodded her a greeting before resuming talking.

  “What you see before you is the full extent of the Necromancer contingent. The opinion held by the majority is that we should leave you to fight your battles alone.”

  “But you don’t agree with that?” Skulduggery asked.

  “I think it is a foolish approach to take, and my colleagues agree with me.”

  His colleagues wore black. The woman had a cloak thrown back over her shoulders, the ends of which seemed to writhe in the shadows. The man had an old flintlock pistol in a holster on his leg. Neither of them looked remotely friendly.

  “Three Necromancers isn’t much of a contingent,” Ghastly said, clearly unimpressed.

  “Four, actually,” Wreath said, and tapped his cane on the ground.

  A figure walked in from the back room. Immediately, Skulduggery’s gun was out, and Tanith’s sword was flashing, and Ghastly had fire in his hands.

  The White Cleaver took his place beside Wreath.

  Skulduggery thumbed back the hammer of his gun. “Explain yourself, Wreath. This man has been on the Sanctuary’s wanted list for two years.”

  Wreath smiled innocently. “I assure you, Skulduggery, my colleague was not responsible for his actions.”

  “He almost killed me!” Tanith snarled.

  “Under orders from Nefarian Serpine,” Wreath pointed
out. “His will was most certainly not his own.”

  The White Cleaver just stood there, perfectly still. The scythe that had pierced Tanith was strapped to his back.

  “How did he end up with you?” Skulduggery asked.

  Wreath shrugged. “It was our technique Serpine used to bring him back from the dead. Once we realized what he had done, we managed to break the hold he had over the Cleaver, and the Cleaver came to us.”

  “So that was you, when he ignored Serpine’s orders in the Sanctuary?”

  “That was us. If only we could have severed Serpine’s influence earlier, Miss Low would not have been injured, and Mr. Bespoke would not have had to turn himself into a garden ornament.”

  Ghastly lunged, and Skulduggery had to hold him back.

  Tanith walked up to the White Cleaver, who looked down at her, his visor reflecting her face.

  “Does he have Necromancer powers?” she asked, directing the question at Wreath but not taking her eyes off the Cleaver.

  “No. He is merely a Cleaver, albeit one of the best. He is also dead, self-repairing, and somewhat unstoppable. He is the result of one of our techniques, and so, being a soldier, his natural instinct is to take our orders and stand at our side. In this case, our side is, happily, also your side.”

  Tanith turned and walked away. “He doesn’t stand at my side.”

  “Mine neither,” Ghastly growled.

  “Nevertheless,” Wreath said, “he is part of the Necromancer contingent you have requested. The three of us and the White Cleaver. Unless, of course, you think you can stop the Diablerie without us.”

  Skulduggery put his gun away. “If any of us survive this, Wreath, you and I are going to have a conversation.”

  Twenty-eight

  SAYING GOOD-BYE

  ON SATURDAY morning, Valkyrie climbed through her bedroom window just as her reflection was waking up.

  “You look dreadful,” it remarked, sitting up and looking at her.

  “Cheers,” Valkyrie responded, throwing her coat into the wardrobe. She’d had two hours of sleep on Ghastly’s couch and was feeling drained. She sat down and pulled off her boots.

  “Your parents are leaving for Paris in half an hour,” the reflection said. “Are you here to say good-bye?”

  “That’s the plan.”

  “Do you want me to return to the mirror?”

  Valkyrie undressed and kicked her black clothes into the corner, then wrapped herself in her bathrobe. “I won’t be staying long,” she said. “I’m going to have a shower, kiss my folks good-bye, and then I’m gone again.”

  “So shall I stay here?”

  “Hide under the bed, just in case Mum walks in.” The reflection did as it was told, and Valkyrie watched as it tucked a bare foot undercover. “You okay down there?”

  “I am,” came the reply. “I have also found some of your missing underwear.”

  “Good news all round then. Don’t make a sound.”

  Valkyrie padded to the bathroom, locked the door, and turned on the shower. She stepped in and sighed as the hot water hit her. Her head drooped and her eyes closed, and within seconds her hair was plastered to her scalp. She could feel the dirt and the grime and the sweat being washed away, and it felt good. She ran her tongue over her teeth again, testing the new one. It still felt too big, and Valkyrie was afraid of probing too hard in case she pushed it out of place.

  She washed her hair. Her muscles were loosening. She was starting to relax. She hadn’t realized how tense she had been, but she figured she could really do with a massage right about now. China would probably know who to call about that.

  Valkyrie tried to think about what she was going to say to her parents, and butterflies swarmed in her belly. She’d had to say what could have potentially been a final good-bye to them too many times over the past two years, and it wasn’t getting any easier.

  Once she was finished, she stepped out of the shower and toweled herself dry. She heard footsteps pass the door.

  “Morning, sweetie,” her mother called.

  “Morning!”

  Valkyrie cleared the condensation from the mirror and looked at herself. Her face was unmarked. No cuts, no bruises. The shower had revived her, and she wasn’t looking so tired anymore. She was confident there was absolutely nothing about her appearance that would cause her parents to worry. They’d be able to leave without even a hint of anxiety.

  Provided, of course, that Valkyrie could say good-bye without acting like it was the last time she’d ever see them.

  She took a deep breath, pulled on her robe, and went back to her room. She dressed in jeans, T-shirt, and a zip-up top, then pulled on a pair of running shoes. She tried a few practice smiles, and when she was sure they’d be convincing, she clumped down the stairs with a scowl on her face.

  “Someone’s grumpy,” her dad said as she entered the kitchen.

  “Why can’t I go with you?” she whined. “Why do I have to stay with Beryl?”

  “Because it’s a romantic weekend,” he told her. “It wouldn’t be very romantic with you tagging along, now would it?”

  Valkyrie collapsed into a chair. “Why do you need romance in your life? You’re already married. Romance should be saved for people like me.”

  Her dad frowned. “You’re not looking for romance, are you? You’re only fourteen. You should be thinking about other things. Like dolls.”

  “When was the last time you saw me with a doll, Dad?”

  “I know we got you one when you were a baby, but I’m pretty sure you laughed at it and beat it up.”

  “I was a cool baby.”

  Her mother walked in. “Des, where’s your passport?”

  “Do I need it?”

  “We’re getting on a plane. Yes, you need it. Where is it?”

  “Uh, where is it usually?”

  “You said you had it. Last night I asked you, and you assured me you had it.”

  Valkyrie’s dad nodded thoughtfully. “I do remember that. However, I may have been lying.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake, Edgley …”

  Her mother only ever called him by his last name when she was getting mad at him.

  “It’s around here somewhere.” He laughed. “You just go on with your packing, and I’ll have found it by the time we have to go.”

  “We’re going in seven minutes.”

  He swallowed. “That’s no problem.”

  Valkyrie’s mother sighed and walked out. Valkyrie called after her. “Mum, what age were you when you had your first boyfriend?”

  “My first proper boyfriend?”

  “Yeah.”

  Her dad frowned. “Define proper.”

  “Thirteen,” she heard her mother say. “Des, find that passport.”

  “What do you mean by proper?” he called, but she didn’t answer. He turned to Valkyrie. “Things were different when your mother and I were kids. It was a more innocent time. We had to wait eighteen months to even hold hands. That was the law, and we were happy.”

  “I think you’re making that bit up, Dad.”

  “Boys are horrible,” he said. “I should know—I was one.”

  Someone rang the doorbell. While her father looked for his passport and her mother finished the packing, Valkyrie went to open the front door.

  “Hello, Stephanie,” said Remus Crux.

  She froze. He was wearing his usual slacks and blazer, but today he had finished off his outfit with a sickly little smile.

  Her mouth went dry. She kept her voice low. “What are you doing here? You can’t be here.”

  “I have a warrant for your arrest,” said Crux sweetly. “What, you didn’t think I’d be able to work out who you were and where you lived? If your quite obvious connection to the late Gordon Edgley wasn’t enough of a giveaway, there were a dozen vampires chasing you through the streets of this lovely little town last summer. I am a detective, Miss Cain. Working things out is what I do, and this particular mystery wasn’t
exactly taxing.”

  “My parents are here. You can’t do this.”

  “You have a choice. Either I arrest you now, or you tell me where the skeleton is, and where he is keeping the Grand Mage.”

  “The Diablerie have Guild. Batu has Guild.”

  “From what I’ve heard over the course of my investigations, there is no Batu. Valkyrie, no one is blaming you. You understand me, don’t you? Skulduggery led you astray. It happens all the time. None of this is your fault. But now you have to do the right thing.”

  She glared at him. “You can’t come to my house and threaten me.”

  “Are you going to tell me where he is?”

  “No, I am not.”

  “In that case, you are under arrest.” Valkyrie tried to close the door, but Crux caught it, held it open.

  “Get away from here,” she said, her rage cracking her voice. “There are rules. You can’t demonstrate a power in front of civilians. My parents are civilians. If you take me away, you will be exposing all of us.”

  He pressed his face through the gap. “You’re under arrest.”

  She glanced around when she heard her mother approach, wheeling her suitcase after her, and when Valkyrie looked back, Crux was gone.

  “Who was that?” her mother asked.

  “No one,” Valkyrie answered quickly. “Wrong house.”

  Her mother nodded, then saw a passport on the table beside her. She shouted up the stairs. “Desmond, I found your passport. Time to go.”

  Valkyrie opened the door wide, like she was making room for her mother’s suitcase. She stepped out of the house and looked around, making sure Crux couldn’t be seen.

  Her dad came down the stairs, picked up the passport, and opened it. “This isn’t mine,” he said. “This belongs to an ugly man wearing a stupid expression.”

  Valkyrie’s mother sighed. “Get in the car.”

  “This is my anniversary gift to you,” he protested. “And that means I’m in charge.”

  “Get in the car.”

  “Yes, dear,” he mumbled, picking up his bag and shuffling out the door. He stopped to give Valkyrie a hug and winked at her. “You behave, okay? And be nice to your cousins. God knows someone has to be.”