by Derek Landy
She grunted. “We’ve been busy.”
“Yes, we have.”
“And do you think I’ve become too … serious?”
“It’s a serious world.”
“That doesn’t answer the question.”
“You’re as serious as you need to be,” said Skulduggery. “And you’re as flippant as you need to be. It’s a balancing act. If you tip too far one way or the other, you fall off the wire. People like us, Valkyrie, it’s our purpose in life to walk that wire.”
She nodded, and looked out of the window. “I don’t think I’m as happy as I used to be.”
“It would astonish me if you were.”
“I’ve got issues. About everything that’s happened. I think I need to talk to someone.”
“You can talk to me.”
She smiled. “Thank you. But I think I have to talk to someone else. You’re … I don’t mean this in a bad way, but—”
“But I’m a part of the problem,” Skulduggery said.
“Yes. Sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’m a bad influence, and I always have been. You need a professional. China has a few on her staff at the High Sanctuary.”
Valkyrie looked at him. “I might make an appointment, so.”
He nodded. “That’s probably a good idea.”
“Would you ever consider it?”
He flicked the indicator and they overtook a slow-moving truck. “I’m too far gone, I’m afraid,” he said. “I have my demons, but they work to keep each other in check at all times. My mind is in a permanent state of finely tuned chaos that I would be loath to disrupt.”
“And you don’t think it’s too late for me?”
He angled his head towards her. “Your traumas have made you who you are, but they don’t define you. You can live with them, I have no doubt.”
Valkyrie nodded. She was satisfied with that. For the moment.
They got where they were going a little over an hour later. An operative from the American Sanctuary indicated the car on the other side of the street, the one Oberon Guile was sitting in. Valkyrie nodded her thanks to the operative, who ignored her, and drove off.
“I don’t think that guy appreciated handing this case over to us,” Valkyrie said as they parked. “Can we send him a muffin basket or something?”
“No.”
“Then can we get muffins?”
“Sure.”
They got out and Valkyrie crossed the road, approaching Oberon’s car with a bright smile on her face. She motioned for him to wind down the window, and as she reached the car Skulduggery slipped in the passenger side, gun levelled at Oberon’s midsection.
Valkyrie leaned in. “Hands on the dash, if you wouldn’t mind.”
“This is really not a good time,” Oberon said, complying. He was stubbly, and even better-looking in person, and he had a nice accent and a nice voice. It had an edge to it.
“Who are they?” Valkyrie asked. “The people in the house you’re watching?”
“I’m not watching anyone, Miss Cain,” Oberon said. “I’m just sitting here in my car.”
“You know who I am.”
“I may not be the most sociable of sorcerers,” said Oberon, “but I’ve heard of the Skeleton Detective and the girl who almost killed the world.”
“My nickname sucks.”
Oberon looked at Skulduggery. “You can put the gun away. I’m not your enemy.”
“I’ll decide what you are,” Skulduggery replied. “My partner asked you a question that you haven’t answered.”
Oberon drummed the dashboard with his fingertips. “The people in that house are of no concern to you. You want something – tell me what it is so I can get back to sitting here. But, Miss Cain, would you mind getting in the car? I’m trying not to draw attention to myself.”
Valkyrie got in the back, then scooted over so she could look at Oberon while they talked. His car was very clean.
“Bertram Wilkes,” Skulduggery said. “You were in his house last week.”
“So?”
“So why were you there?”
“Maybe I was his guest.”
“For you to be his guest, he would have to have invited you in. That would be rather hard to do, seeing as how he’s been missing for six months.”
“OK then, I broke in,” said Oberon. “He owes me money.”
“How much?”
“Few hundred.”
“Did you get it?”
“No.”
“When was the last time you spoke to him?”
“Well,” Oberon said, “how long did you say he’s been missing? Six months? So, let’s say that I haven’t spoken to him in six and a half.”
“Why are you lying to us?” Skulduggery asked.
“I don’t really see a reason why I should answer any questions at all, to be honest. I’m not part of your Sanctuary thing. You got no jurisdiction over me.”
“We can arrest you.”
“For what?”
“Obstructing an investigation. Wasting our time. Not being forthcoming.”
Oberon gave a little laugh. “That’s a crime now, is it?”
“We’re Arbiters,” Skulduggery said. “That means we can make up our own crimes.”
Oberon sighed and scratched his cheek.
“OK,” he said at last, “I’ll tell you the truth. But you gotta do something for me in return. You gotta help me raid that house.”
Valkyrie sat forward. “Who’s in there?”
“Bad guys,” he answered. “I think they might have my son. I haven’t been able to confirm that because there’s one of me and nine of them – but, with you two, I could probably make a go of it.”
“Why would they have your son?” Skulduggery asked.
“You know who Wilkes was, right? His job?”
“President Flanery’s personal aide.”
“My ex, Magenta, that’s Robbie’s mom, she’s a Sensitive, the kind that specialises in persuading people to do things, oftentimes against their own interests. That’s a very particular talent to have, and it’s one of the reasons we broke up. She’s not a bad person by any stretch, but I don’t think she could resist some small manipulations to get her way every now and then. That’s got nothing to do with anything, though.
“Four years ago, right after we split, she mentioned something about taking a job for a mortal politician – Flanery. It paid good money and it wasn’t overly time-consuming, so she could give Robbie the support and attention he needed. I wasn’t around much, so I got to see him at weekends and whenever I was back this way. It wasn’t perfect, but it worked.
“Magenta was used to convince senators to vote a certain way, to push judges to make favourable decisions, that kinda thing. She said Flanery had an advisor, a sorcerer.”
“Wilkes,” said Valkyrie.
“No,” said Oberon. “Wilkes came later. I don’t think Flanery knew that Wilkes was a mage. Or maybe he did, I don’t know – but his advisor was somebody else.”
“Where does your child come into all this?” Skulduggery asked.
A muscle flexed in Oberon’s jaw. “When Flanery started his bid for the presidency, he needed Magenta more and more. She resisted. She was talking about quitting. That’s when Robbie was taken.”
Valkyrie’s eyes widened. “Your son has been missing since before Flanery became president?”
“Three years now,” Oberon said. “Every two or three days, Magenta gets to spend a few hours with him. As I’m sure you know, I spent most of that time in a prison cell, so I didn’t know that Robbie had been snatched until I got out of Ironpoint and received a letter she’d left for me.”
“Why were you in Wilkes’s house?”
“I was trying to find what you detectives call a clue. Am I pronouncing that right? Clue?”
“Surely your wife could help you …?”
“I haven’t been able to speak to Magenta,” Oberon said. “I haven’t been able to get close.
She’s got the Seven-As-One guarding her.”
Skulduggery grunted, then turned to Valkyrie. “The Seven-As-One are—”
“Seven Sensitive siblings,” Valkyrie said, “who maintain a psychic link at all times. They’re used to guard people and places, making it almost impossible for anyone to sneak up on them without the alarm being raised.”
Skulduggery tilted his head. “How do you know all that?”
“I do get out every now and then,” she said, returning her attention to Oberon. “So you think your son is being held in the house across the road.”
“I don’t know,” Oberon said, deflating slightly. “I only know that the people over there are sorcerers, and they’re involved. Maybe they have Robbie in there, maybe they don’t. But they definitely know more about what’s going on here than I do, so, if you wanna know who’s behind all of this, I’d say that helping me bust in there is a great place to start. And I ain’t gonna give you much of a choice in the matter. I’m going in.”
He got out of the car and started striding across the road.
“Oh, I like him,” Valkyrie said.
“I thought you might,” said Skulduggery. “Go round the back, will you? Let’s at least pretend like we’re professionals.”
Valkyrie put her boot to the door and it burst open and in she went, shock sticks swinging, catching the first guy in the jaw and the second guy in the knee, the back, and then the face. They both fell and she moved out of the kitchen, down the short corridor. There were a lot of crashes coming from the front of the house. Lot of cries of pain.
A woman came hurtling out of a doorway, not even looking where she was going. Valkyrie jabbed her in her chest with both sticks and there was a flash and she went flying back.
“Clear,” she heard Skulduggery say.
“Clear,” she responded.
She put her sticks away, forming a cross on her back, and stepped into the living room. Five unconscious people in here – one still conscious, bleeding from a busted nose and sitting on a chair. Skulduggery and Oberon stood over him.
“What’s your name?” Skulduggery asked. The man twisted his lip as he was about to answer and Skulduggery hit him. “Rudeness will not be tolerated – let’s just make that clear right at the start. I’m Skulduggery, she’s Valkyrie, he’s Oberon. What’s your name?”
The man spat out a tooth. “Sleave,” he said.
“Where’s my son?” Oberon demanded.
Sleave frowned. “How the hell would I know? Who’s your son?”
“Robbie,” said Oberon. “His name’s Robbie.”
“Ah,” Sleave said, “you’re his dad, are you? Not much of a family resemblance, if I’m being honest.”
“Where is he?”
Sleave held up his hands. “I refer you to my earlier reply. To wit: how the hell would I know?”
“You move him around, don’t you?”
“I did,” said Sleave, “with the rest of these mooks. Every week, we’d take the kid somewhere new and guard him, feed him, put up with his nonsense and take him to see his mommy two or three times a week. But recently we were informed that our services were no longer required. Sadly, I have been made redundant.” His voice suddenly filled with hope. “I don’t suppose you have any other kids we could kidnap, do you?”
Oberon lunged and Skulduggery held him back, and Sleave laughed.
Valkyrie hunkered down in front of him. “How long were you on this particular job?” she asked.
Sleave shrugged. “Four months, maybe five.”
“So you’re not the first to keep him moving around.”
“And we’re not the last, either.”
“Who’s your boss?”
“We’re freelance. We don’t have a boss.”
“Then who hired you? Who gave you your instructions? Who did you report to?”
Sleave grinned. “The answer to all those questions is the same name, and I’ll tell you what it is – providing you let us go.”
“I’m afraid that’s not how it works.”
“Then you should probably change how it works, because you may have come in here and kicked all our asses, and some of them twice, but, from where I’m sitting, I’m the one in the position of power.”
“Careful now,” Valkyrie said. “We can always send a Sensitive into your head, and who knows what they might scramble while they’re in there.”
Sleave didn’t look too worried. “You don’t think I’ve got defences for that sorta thing? Sure, those defences don’t last forever, but I’d hold out for as long as I could, just out of spite. Let us go. All of us. Even the stupid ones. Then I’ll tell you the name of the man you’re looking for.”
With Oberon now at the other side of the room, Skulduggery straightened his tie. “We won’t do that,” he said. “But you tell us his name, and, when we’ve verified that you told us the truth, then we’ll let you go.”
“That’s more like it!” said Sleave. “See, girl, this is how you negotiate! May I stand?”
“By all means,” said Skulduggery.
Sleave stood. “I like your counter-offer, Mr Pleasant. It shows potential. But we’re not gonna be able to accept this whole being released afterwards thing. The problem is, yeah, we’re criminals, and so decidedly untrustworthy – but you’re Sanctuary folk, and so you’re absolutely untrustworthy.”
“You obviously haven’t heard,” said Valkyrie. “We’re Arbiters now. We don’t report to anyone.”
“Huh,” said Sleave. “I didn’t know the Arbiters were still a thing.”
“They weren’t,” Skulduggery said. “They are now.”
“But you’re still working with the Sanctuaries,” Sleave said, “which means you’re bound by their rules.”
“Not all of them.”
“Then you can let us go, and once you do that I’ll tell you his name. If I don’t, or if I lie, you feel free to hunt us down. Contrary to what you might be thinking, we’re really not that smart, so you won’t have too much trouble finding us.”
Skulduggery looked at Oberon, and then at Valkyrie. She shrugged.
“OK,” Skulduggery said. “We won’t arrest you.”
Another smile broke out across Sleave’s face. “Knew you were a man with an open mind. I could see it in your eye sockets.” He kicked one of his unconscious friends until they stirred. “Hey! Hey, get up. Wake the others or drag ’em out. You got two minutes.”
They stood silently while Sleave’s friends were either revived or hauled out through the back door. It took a lot longer than two minutes.
When they were gone, and only Sleave remained, he pulled on his jacket. “It was very nice to meet all of you,” he said. “Detective Pleasant, you’re a surprisingly reasonable fellow for a bunch of bones in a suit. Detective Cain, you’re a scary lady and that’s all I’ll say about that. Robbie’s dad, I don’t know anything else about you, so all I’ll say is that you just need to calm down in general and maybe people will like you more.”
Skulduggery took out his gun and aimed it at Sleave’s head. “The name.”
Sleave raised his hands slowly. “We only met him once,” he said. “He came to see us, told us what he expected, told us when and where to move, and explained how we’d be getting paid. We never saw him again, never saw anyone else working for him.”
“His name.”
“Crepuscular Vies.”
Skulduggery glanced at Valkyrie, then at Oberon.
“Never heard of him,” Oberon said.
“I’m not surprised,” said Sleave. “I didn’t have a clue who he was, either, and I still don’t. He’s tall, about the same height as you fellas, and wears a suit, bow tie and a hat. But I wouldn’t worry about what he’s wearing, because his face is … It’s just wrong. You’ll know it when you see it.”
“Nationality?” Valkyrie asked.
Sleave laughed. “Don’t you know? Irish, of course. The most evil people in the world are Irish.”
“What
do you think of him?” Valkyrie asked as they waited in the diner for Fletcher to come and pick them up.
One eyebrow rose on Skulduggery’s façade. “The waiter?”
“Oberon,” she said, and took a sip of coffee. It was not good.
“He seems capable,” Skulduggery said. He had a glass of water before him that he was never going to touch. “He threw around some of Sleave’s people without too much bother.”
“Do you believe him?”
“I have no reason not to. You?”
“Yeah, I believe him.”
“Well, OK then.”
It was pitch-black outside, and the diner was empty of customers apart from them and a drunk guy in the corner booth who kept getting up to play sad country songs on the jukebox.
Valkyrie took another sip of her coffee. It wasn’t getting any better. “Do you think he’ll be able to find out anything about this Crepuscular Vies?”
“Probably not,” Skulduggery said. “Oberon’s motivations may be pure, and he could have useful contacts in the criminal underworld that might provide a lead, but we’ll probably have to devote some time to it ourselves after our show of strength for Serafina tomorrow. Once all this is out of the way, I promise we’ll come up with a way to find Doctor Nye.”
Valkyrie nodded and took another sip, hoping he wouldn’t spot the look of guilt that flashed across her face.
Fletcher came in. Valkyrie scooched over so he could sit beside her. “Everything good? Everyone unharmed? Sorry I’m late. Had a bit of trouble finding the place. How’s the coffee?”
“Wonderful,” said Valkyrie. “You should get some.”
“Naw, caffeine makes me jumpy, and I’m going straight back to sleep after this.”
She winced. “We’re sorry for getting you out of bed. Aren’t we, Skulduggery?”