Skulduggery Pleasant: Kingdom of the Wicked

by Derek Landy

  Scorn sat in a straight-backed chair in the middle of the cellar and glared at him. “May the crows peck out your eyes,” she said.

  “Charming.”

  Were this cellar in any other part of the country, it would be dark and cold and lit with candles. But here, in the City, it was bright and warm and clean. It was also empty.

  “Is that why we’re here?” Skulduggery asked. “We’re going to sneak in through a secret tunnel? Then why aren’t we sneaking, Nefarian?”

  “Because I don’t know where the tunnel is, Skulduggery. And judging by the shackles around her wrists and ankles, I doubt Eliza will tell us, no matter how much pain we visit upon her. Martyrs are the most annoying of captives. Ah, how different things might be if I had this glove off...”

  Skulduggery threw the pain regulator’s black slate to Valkyrie. “Here. Use this if he takes longer than five seconds to answer a question.”

  Serpine held up his hands. “Ah-ah, don’t be so hasty! We’re waiting for Vengeous to get back. He never takes the surface route – it’s much too long. He always comes via his little secret passageway, which opens up somewhere in this cellar.”

  “We don’t have time to waste,” Skulduggery said. “We could shunt back at any moment. Where I’m from, we have a device we use for detecting tunnels.” He took out his phone, activated the screen, and started taking slow steps around the cellar with the screen held towards the floor. Valkyrie didn’t have a clue what he was doing, but she stayed quiet.

  Scorn glared at Skulduggery, then at Serpine. “The Faceless Ones will burn your soul for this.”

  Serpine gave a shrug. “Better a burnt soul than a fried mind.”

  “How dare you!” she screeched. “The Dark Gods opened my mind! They gifted me with enlightenment!”

  Valkyrie put a hand on Scorn’s shoulder, keeping her in her chair. “Keep calm, please. Serpine, don’t annoy her.”

  “I’m just talking,” Serpine said, his green eyes innocent. “It was one of Mevolent’s grand plans, opening a door for the Faceless Ones. A half-baked ritual he found in some obscure book of old magic. But the thing is, it worked. The door opened. The problem was that it didn’t stay open for more than a few seconds. It worked once, and never worked again. But in those few seconds, Eliza caught sight of something... and something caught sight of her.”

  “I looked into the face of a god,” she whispered, her eyes following Skulduggery.

  “And we all know what that does to you,” said Serpine. “When she stopped screaming, a few years later, she cut all her hair off and started walking around in chains. And by complete coincidence, that was exactly what Baron Vengeous was looking for in a woman.”

  “Be silent,” said Scorn.

  “The old ball and chain became the old bald-in-chains, and he’s never been happier.”

  Scorn flew at Serpine and he jumped back, laughing as she tripped over her own shackles and sprawled on the floor.

  Valkyrie tried helping her up. “Eliza, stop. He’s just trying to provoke you.”

  “Unhand me, filthy creature!”

  “Me? I’m just trying to be nice.”

  “Stop the filthy creature from speaking to me!”

  “Oh, for God’s sake...”

  Scorn pushed her away. “God? God? You know not what a true god looks like! You are a blasphemer! You may not gaze upon me!”

  “I know not? ” Valkyrie said. “Why do religious freaks talk like this? It’s always religious freaks and villains.” She frowned over at Serpine. “And how come she’ll let you gaze upon her but not me?”

  “Because I’m not a blasphemer,” Serpine replied, as Scorn rose to her knees and clasped her hands in muttered prayer.

  “Wait a minute,” Valkyrie said. “You still worship the Faceless Ones? Then why did you turn against Mevolent?”

  “Because he’s insane,” Serpine answered, “and ridiculous, and I thought I’d win. Why does anyone do anything?”

  Valkyrie blinked. “So you haven’t reformed?”

  “Why should I reform? You people are the ones in the wrong here.”

  Scorn nodded. “Filthy blaspheming creatures, that’s what they are. Their souls will be burned.”

  “Oh, shut up,” Valkyrie said.

  “Found it,” Skulduggery said. They all turned. He pointed at the wall next to him. “The tunnel starts here.”

  “Heathen!” Scorn screamed. She jumped up, ran forward and fell over, as expected. Skulduggery ignored her.

  “Despite all the distractions she barely took her eyes off me,” he said, “and every time I passed this area her mouth tightened. This is where she didn’t want me looking.”

  “So that device isn’t for detecting tunnels?” Serpine asked.

  Skulduggery returned his phone to his pocket. “No, it’s not. It’s for making calls and playing Angry Birds.”

  Scorn tried to get up off the floor but Valkyrie put a foot on her back. “Blasphemers! You’ll never find the lever!”

  “We don’t need it,” Skulduggery said. He placed his gloved hands on the wall and focused. After a few seconds, the whole thing started to tremble. Bricks cracked, crumbled, moved aside and fell, and the tunnel was revealed. He looked back at them. “Eliza, you’ve been a big help, but we can take it from here.”

  She screamed at them.

  he bodies were here. If Scapegrace had a belly, it would be filled with butterflies. Thrasher held him and shifted his weight from one foot to the other as they waited for Nye to arrive.

  “Stop,” said Scapegrace, sloshing about in his jar. “Stop doing that.”

  “Oh, sorry, Master,” said Thrasher. He waited until the liquid had settled before speaking again. “You know what I feel like, Master? A child on Christmas morning.”

  “Well, you can’t have one,” Scapegrace said, and chortled.

  “I, uh, I don’t get it, sir.”

  “Of course you don’t,” Scapegrace snapped. “That’s because it’s sophisticated humour for sophisticated people. And what are you not, Thrasher?”

  “I’m not a sophisticated person,” Thrasher said meekly.

  Doctor Nye swooped its head down to get in through the door. It didn’t apologise for being late, it didn’t apologise for making them wait. Of course it didn’t. It was a creature. It was a thing. It didn’t understand what it was like to be human.

  But Scapegrace did. He once was human... and he would be so again.

  Nye unlocked the Mortuary, and led them in. “Here are your choices,” it said.

  Three bodies lay on slabs, covered in blue sheets. Nye uncovered the first body. It was a short man, elderly, with white tufts of hair sprouting out over his ears but none on the top of his head. Scapegrace glared. “You call this an option? Look at him! Why would I want to be him? When I said I wanted a new body, I meant young, six feet tall or above, a full head of hair, in good shape, must have a—”

  “You did not furnish me with such specific requirements,” said Nye.

  “I thought it was pretty obvious that I’d be wanting something top of the range.”

  “Not to me. Besides, the range we have available to us is... limited.”

  “If they’re all like this, I’ll wait for the next batch, thank you very much.”

  “No waiting for you, zombie-head. You’re going to break up in that solution any day now. These are your only options.”

  Scapegrace spoke through gritted teeth. “The others better be an improvement. Show me.”

  Thrasher brought him to the second slab as Nye pulled the sheet away.

  “Is this more to your liking?” it asked.

  Scapegrace glowered. “Do you think this is funny?”

  “I confess,” the doctor replied, “I do not know. You human creatures are somewhat of a mystery to me. This body, however, fulfils your requirements. Early twenties. Six feet tall. A full head of hair. In excellent physical condition.”

  “Also a woman,” said Scapegrace.
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  “This is a problem for you?”

  “It may have escaped your notice, Doctor, but I am a man.”

  “No, Mr Scapegrace, you’re a head in a jar. You don’t even have an Adam’s apple any more. But I will show you the final body and you can make your selection.”

  Scapegrace’s hopes were fading fast as Thrasher carried him to the third slab. And then the sheet was pulled off.

  “Oh, my,” said Thrasher.

  Scapegrace smiled. Scapegrace grinned. This one was perfect. Tall, broad-shouldered, a strong jaw, cheekbones as sharp as glass. Sandy hair. Muscles. A six-pack. Male. Everything... everything was perfect.

  “Doctor Nye,” Scapegrace said, “you have outdone yourself.”

  “Oh, Master,” Thrasher said, reaching out to prod the body’s arm, “this one is magnificent.”

  “Stop!” Scapegrace ordered. “Stop touching it! Hands to yourself!”

  Thrasher obeyed, and hung his head.

  Scapegrace peered up at Nye. “When can we begin?”

  “Immediately,” said Nye.

  he man with the golden eyes sat opposite the boy, and smiled at him.

  “Hello, Sean,” he said.

  “Please,” said the boy. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I did the things I did. But I didn’t kill anyone. The others did but I didn’t. I’m really sorry. I just want to go home.”

  “It’s a bit late for that, isn’t it?”

  “Please.”

  “Do you know the problem with mortals, Sean?” asked the man with the golden eyes. “And by mortals I mean all those people walking around without access to magic. I mean you, two weeks ago. The problem with mortals is that there are just so many of them. Things would be simpler if sorcerers were the dominant species on the planet. Then we wouldn’t have to hide. We wouldn’t have to slink around in the shadows.

  “There are other problems with mortals, of course. They’re dull. They plod through their little lives, oblivious to the wonders around them. They’re mean and spiteful and petty. There are those of us who would love to do what you and your friends have done, to announce to the world that magic exists and that we’re taking over. But... we have rules. And where there are rules, there are people to enforce those rules. So we have to be a little sneakier.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Now there’s the question I’ve been waiting for.” The man with the golden eyes stood up, and walked to the door. “I’m going to let you walk out of here, Sean. There are associates of mine waiting to escort you through one of the many secret tunnels to freedom, where you can join up with your friends and continue your reign of terror.”

  “I won’t, I swear.”

  “No, Sean. This isn’t a trick. I want you to continue. We all do. We’re big supporters of what Argeddion is doing. Bringing magic to the masses? It’s a wonderful idea. If everyone is magic, after all, there’ll be no need to hide, will there? The secret will be out.”

  The boy nodded. “OK.”

  “And we’ll help you as much as we can. If you get caught again, just stay quiet, don’t mention you ever saw me, and you’ll be free within hours. You have supporters, Sean. The entire town of Roarhaven is cheering you on. You’re a hero here.”

  The boy nodded quickly.

  The man with the golden eyes opened the door. Outside were two sorcerers. He looked back at the boy. “You’d better hurry. I’m sure your friends are worried about you.”

  The boy hesitated, then bolted out of his chair. The man with the golden eyes watched him run, flanked by the sorcerers.

  “Did it work?”

  He turned as Madame Mist glided to his side.

  “I think so,” he said. “The boy is scared, but when he rejoins his friends, this escape should bolster their confidence. If they think they have us on their side, their attacks will grow bolder.”

  “Your plan is dangerous,” she said. “We cannot control these children. We don’t know how to kill them once they’ve served their purpose.”

  He shrugged. “By then the world will know magic exists. Every Sanctuary of every country will be coming together to defeat them. I’m not worried. You shouldn’t be, either.”

  “I preferred the old plan,” said Madame Mist.

  “We can still go back to it if this doesn’t work out. But if it does work out, think of all the time and effort we’ll have saved. And we won’t even have had to involve the Warlocks.”

  “And the assassins? Will we need them?”

  “They owe us a favour, don’t they? They may as well pay it back.”

  “Have you decided on a target?”

  “Oh, yes,” said the man with the golden eyes, smiling.

  hey moved quickly under the City, reaching the first junction in just over twenty minutes. Serpine guided them left, and after another ten minutes of walking they came to a ladder.

  “Here we are,” he said, “just like I promised. This is where we part ways, yes?”

  “No,” Skulduggery said, “actually, it’s not.”

  “Then the least you can do is take this glove off,” Serpine said, holding out his right hand. “If we’re discovered, I need to be able to defend myself.”

  “You have us,” Skulduggery said. “You don’t need anything else.”

  Serpine glared at him but said nothing, and Skulduggery motioned to the ladder. Muttering, Serpine went first, pushing aside the covering at the top. Valkyrie came up last, emerging into darkness. Serpine was close by, searching for a switch.

  “Be ready,” he whispered. “It’s around here... aha.”

  There was a soft, almost inaudible click, and a crack of light spilled into the black. Skulduggery moved straight to it, opening the door further. Standing in the corridor with his back to them was a Redhood, scythe held by his side. Skulduggery swung both hands towards the Redhood’s head. He didn’t make contact but the air rippled and the Redhood stumbled. Valkyrie gestured and the scythe flew backwards into her hands as the Redhood fell into Skulduggery’s. She’d seen him use that trick before, delivering an instant concussion that knocked the target out cold. Quiet and immediate and very effective. Skulduggery dragged the Redhood’s sleeping form into the darkness and they left him there, then stepped out into the corridor, Serpine giving directions as they went.

  They passed a corner, approached another and slowed at Skulduggery’s hand signal.

  Footsteps.

  She watched Skulduggery standing there with his back against the wall, his body completely relaxed as the footsteps got louder. Then a door opened somewhere behind Valkyrie. Her eyes widened. Another set of footsteps now, from the opposite direction. Serpine, in between them, grinned like he was enjoying the dilemma. Valkyrie crept to the corner. The footsteps of Skulduggery’s target grew even louder. Valkyrie’s target was almost upon her.

  She didn’t look round as Skulduggery pounced. Whoever had emerged from that corridor didn’t even get a chance to cry out. She heard scuffling, and a gasp. Skulduggery had him in a choke of some kind. Valkyrie hadn’t the first idea how she was going to subdue her target.

  A sorcerer rounded the corner and Valkyrie hit him, a punch to the face that rattled her arm and twisted her wrist. The sorcerer fell back, mouth opening to shout and she pushed at the air. His head cracked against the wall and he dropped, and she kicked him in the jaw on the way down.

  “Stealthy,” said Serpine as he passed her. He took hold of the sorcerer’s ankles and dragged him from the corridor.

  Valkyrie glared at him. Her wrist was hurting but she didn’t rub it. She didn’t want to give him another reason to gloat.

  They passed a door she recognised, a door that led to the dungeons. Her reflection was down there. She bit her lip, forcing herself to continue past it. First the Sceptre, then the reflection. They moved slower now, more deliberately, taking extra care not to make a sound.

  “We’re here,” Serpine whispered.

  Skulduggery and Valkyrie took a peek. The throne ro
om lay beyond a grand doorway, and two Redhoods stood guard. By Mevolent’s throne there was a small table, and upon that table a cup or a chalice of some kind. It was all very medieval. The glass case containing the Sceptre stood exactly as she had remembered – not that she’d expected it to have moved. But with their luck lately...

  Serpine turned to them. “All right,” he whispered. “I got you to the Sceptre. I fulfilled my end of the bargain. Now you fulfil yours.”

  Skulduggery shook his head. “We’re not letting you go until we’re out of here.”

  “That wasn’t the deal. You promised me freedom.”

  “And what’s to stop you from alerting Mevolent to our presence? I’m sure it’d do a lot to repair your special friendship.”

  Serpine’s eyes were narrow. “Fine,” he said. “But this regulator. Remove it.”

  “After.”

  “No. Not after. Now. You don’t trust me? I don’t trust you. I killed your wife and child. They may not have been the wife and child you knew, but they’re close enough. What’s to stop you from leaving me here, twisting on the ground in pain? I’m sure you’d be able to make a clean getaway if everyone was distracted by my screams.”

  Skulduggery looked at him for a moment. “Fair enough,” he said.

  Serpine parted his shirt, and Valkyrie used the black slate to detach the disc. She put both in her pocket as Serpine rebuttoned. “Thank you,” he said. “I feel so much better.”

  “Both of you stay here,” Skulduggery said, and crept to the doorway. He gently nudged the air, and the cup across the room toppled off the table. The Redhoods turned at the noise so Skulduggery stepped through the doorway and immediately rose silently into the air until Valkyrie couldn’t see him any more. One of the Redhoods started walking over to the table while the other resumed his normal stance. Valkyrie kept out of sight for the next minute, then risked another peek. Satisfied that there was nothing suspicious going on, the Redhood had rejoined his colleague. They stood within arm’s length of each other, scythes in hand and held upright.

  Another minute passed, and just as Valkyrie was beginning to wonder if Skulduggery had got himself stuck in a chandelier or something, he came swooping down behind them, legs swinging, and caught both Redhoods in the back of the head. He continued the move into a flip as they sprawled, scythes clattering to the floor. They didn’t get up. Valkyrie and Serpine hurried in.