by Derek Landy
14
DEAD MEN
It always surprised Valkyrie whenever she realised just how close the weird and the wonderful, and the fierce and the frightening, lived to the rest of the non-magical, mortal world. She’d visited Dublin streets where every house held a sorcerer. She’d been thrown from the balcony of a block of flats that was home to a dozen vampires. She’d had tea with a psychic in a tattoo parlour, fought a blade-wielding assassin beneath the Waxworks Museum, and she’d dodged bullets at a football stadium. And the latest example of how close her two lives ran came in the form of an address for a banshee who, apparently, lived within a half-hour’s drive of Dublin.
Valkyrie had decided that she was going to take a taxi to see her – so all she had to do was make her excuses to Skulduggery and leave. It would have been simple if, when she followed Tanith into Ghastly’s shop, Erskine Ravel hadn’t been there to greet them.
“I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure,” Ravel said when he set eyes on Tanith.
“I think I would have remembered,” she replied, smiling as they shook hands. “I’m Tanith Low. You must be the notorious Erskine Ravel. I’ve heard stories about you.”
“Did any of them paint me in a flattering light? Because if they did, they are probably lies.”
“Just the usual Dead Men tales.”
Despite her pressing need to be elsewhere, Valkyrie frowned. “Dead Men?”
“That’s what they called us during the war,” Ghastly said, carrying a broken mannequin into the backroom. His shirtsleeves were rolled back off his thick forearms. His muscles, added to the ridges of scars that ran vertically down his entire head, plus the glare he sent Ravel’s way, would have been enough to make practically any man back away from Tanith. But it only made Ravel’s smile widen.
“They were legends,” Tanith told her, missing the glare completely. “Skulduggery, Mr Ravel here, Shudder, Dexter Vex. And Ghastly of course. They called them the Dead Men because they went on suicide missions and always came back alive.”
“Not all of us,” Skulduggery reminded her as he came in behind them. “Erskine, so good to see you again after so short a time.”
“I was in the neighbourhood,” Ravel shrugged. “I thought I’d drop in and say hi to Ghastly. I kind of hoped you’d stop by, actually. Has it sunk in yet?”
“Has what sunk in?” Skulduggery asked. “The insanity of what Corrival asked, or the stupidity?”
Ravel shook his head. “It’s ridiculous, isn’t it? I was just thinking that and… It is ridiculous. The two of us, on the Council of Elders? Do you realise how boring that job would get? We’re not used to jobs that… peaceful.”
“I hear Elders don’t even get to punch anyone,” Skulduggery said miserably. “Apparently, we’d have people to do that for us.”
“We’re just not suited to it. We’ve commanded people on the battlefield, we’ve issued orders during investigations… I mean, being a leader is one thing, but…”
“But being mature is something else entirely,” Skulduggery nodded. “I agree completely.”
“So you’re not going to do it?” Tanith asked. “Really? You’re both going to turn this down?”
“What would we be turning down?” Skulduggery asked. “It’s only a nomination. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“What about Corrival?” Valkyrie asked. “If he’d said no to the Grand Mage position, would you have accepted that?”
At that, both men hesitated. Finally, Ravel shrugged.
“I don’t know. The chance to make a difference? To make some real and lasting changes? He’s perfect for the job.”
“And it’s going to be really nice to have someone in the Sanctuary we can trust,” Skulduggery said. “If he said no, I wouldn’t have stopped until I’d convinced him to change his mind.”
“So you’re saying that you wouldn’t have allowed Corrival Deuce to turn down this opportunity,” Tanith said, “but the pair of you are just too cool to say yes?”
“Well, we’re rogues,” Ravel informed her.
“Mavericks, one might say,” Skulduggery added. “Also, we don’t appreciate our own arguments being used against us. It’s self-defeating in the worst possible way.”
Tanith raised an eyebrow. “And also tremendously hypocritical?”
“If I’m a hypocrite,” Ravel announced, “I haven’t noticed. I’ve never cared much for introspection. I’ve done my best to leave that for the bleakest of poets and the most self-pitying of vampires.”
Valkyrie was going to point out that not all vampires were self-pitying, but she didn’t feel like getting a glare from Tanith. Also, she wasn’t entirely sure she believed it.
Ghastly came out of the backroom. “When are you going to tell him you’re saying no?”
“I’m planning on delaying it,” Skulduggery said. “The longer it goes on, the more ridiculous it will seem, and the more people will complain about it. They’ll do my job for me. Erskine, of course, doesn’t have that luxury.”
Ravel looked at him. “What? Why don’t I?”
“Because not enough people dislike you. And Corrival trusts you implicitly – he always has. Erskine, to be brutally honest, it doesn’t sound like a completely stupid idea to have you as an Elder.”
“Take that back,” said Ravel.
“He’s going to need your help. As he goes on, he’s going to make a lot of enemies. He’s prided himself on being a man of the people, for the people. His greatest priority has always been the safety and protection of the mortals. I can see him restricting sorcerer activity even more than it already has been. That’s probably a wise move, too. The way things have been going, it’s only a matter of time before one of our secret little battles explodes across the mainstream media, and then not even Scrutinous and Random will be able to smooth things over.”
Ravel shook his head. “Not everyone is going to be as understanding as you, Skulduggery. I’ve been by his side for the last hundred years, and even I’m going to have trouble with some of the things he’ll introduce. He has this glorious vision of sorcerers as humanity’s guardian angels – silent, invisible…”
“Exactly what they need.”
Ravel laughed. “I suppose you’re right.”
“The new Council needs to be strong,” Ghastly said. “Without a strong leadership with a clear purpose, I have a feeling that our friends around the globe won’t be content to just sit back and watch.”
“They’d try to take over,” Skulduggery said.
“Could they?” Valkyrie asked. “I mean, would they be allowed?”
“Who’d stop them? The fact is, they don’t trust us to take care of our own problems. They’re not our enemies. If the Americans were involved in the destruction of the Sanctuary, it’s not because they want to destroy us – it’s just because they think that things would be better if they were in charge.”
“So… they’d invade?”
“It would be quiet, vicious, and sudden.”
“You two would probably be the first to be killed,” Ravel said.
Valkyrie stared. “What?”
“Sorry, but it’s true. The amount of damage the pair of you have inflicted on anyone who’s crossed you over the past few years? They’re not going to take a chance on leaving you alive.”
“He’s right,” Skulduggery said. “We’re just too good at our job.”
“Damn it,” Valkyrie scowled. “I hate being too good at our job.”
The conversation drifted. Ravel was charming and funny, and he certainly amused Tanith, even if Valkyrie sensed a hesitancy in her laugh whenever Ghastly walked by. Valkyrie checked the time, and the butterflies began fluttering in her belly. She’d have to leave soon. Her phone rang.
“Marr will be ready to be moved in the morning,” Kenspeckle told her.
“Is she conscious?”
“She regained consciousness and I sedated her. I have no intention of talking with that woman. Tell the detective he can c
ollect her first thing. I don’t want her here one second longer than she has to be.”
“Is everything OK?” Skulduggery asked when she’d hung up.
She nodded. “Kenspeckle says we’re to pick up Marr in the morning.”
Ravel looked surprised. “What? What’s this? You know where Marr is?”
Valkyrie closed her eyes and groaned.
“Ah,” Skulduggery said. “Yes. That was supposed to be a secret, Valkyrie.”
“I know,” she said miserably. “I’m sorry.”
“You have Marr?” Ravel said. “She’s in custody? Why is it a secret? This is great news!”
“We’re not telling anyone until we’ve had a chance to question her,” Skulduggery said. “Or that was the plan, at least.”
“I said I’m sorry,” Valkyrie muttered.
“Well let’s go,” Ravel said. “She’s with Kenspeckle Grouse? Let’s go question her.”
“Professor Grouse has made it clear,” Skulduggery said, “that he’s quite happy to help us and heal us, but he doesn’t want his facility used as a headquarters. No, tomorrow we’ll take her somewhere else. We’re going to need somewhere secure.”
“How about your house?” Tanith said.
Skulduggery tilted his head. “That’s not a bad suggestion, actually.” He looked at Ravel. “Erskine, seeing as how you are now part of this incredibly well-kept secret, do you want to tag along?”
Ravel glanced at Tanith, and smiled. “Sounds like fun. Ghastly? You in?”
“I’m busy,” Ghastly said, a little gruffly. “These dresses aren’t going to make themselves, you know.”
“Well, all right then,” Skulduggery said. “Tomorrow morning, we get the answers we’ve been looking for.”
Valkyrie managed to keep her mouth shut until they were outside, and walking for the Bentley. Tanith was heading for her bike, and Ravel had fallen a little behind.
“I have to go,” she blurted.
Skulduggery turned his head to her. “Sorry?”
She smiled, hoping he wouldn’t see the nervousness in her eyes. “I have to go. Sorry. I should have told you. I’ve got something else on. Other stuff. Personal business stuff.”
“I see. Is everything all right?”
“Yes,” she laughed. “Everything’s fine. I just should have told you.”
He shook his head. “No, nonsense, you don’t need to explain. Will this business be finished by tomorrow?”
“Oh yes, God yes. Absolutely. I really don’t want to miss out on interrogating Davina Marr if I can help it. I kind of owe her for when she interrogated me.”
Skulduggery nodded. She had the feeling he was waiting for her to tell him where she was going. When she didn’t, he nodded again and picked a loose thread off his sleeve. “You’re OK for a lift?”
“I have Fletcher.”
“Of course you do. Well, I’ll see you later, then.”
She gave him a little wave, and walked away, a hollow feeling growing in her gut. She didn’t keep much from Skulduggery. Up until five months ago, Gordon’s Echo Stone was the only significant truth she’d kept from him, and that wasn’t even her choice. But this was different. She had an urge to run back to him, tell him everything, tell him that she was Darquesse, that she was on her way to talk to a banshee, and she was sure he’d understand, sure he’d help her, make things easier on her…
But Valkyrie didn’t run back to him. She just kept on walking.
15
THE BANSHEE
Down by the river, sheltered from the wind by the ancient trees that grew unhindered by city or road, the cottage sat in its patch of darkness and shadow. The river, no more then a stream really, flowed down from the hills and bisected the fields and meadows, and even from her vantage point Valkyrie could hear the gentle rush of water.
She didn’t like doing things like this without Skulduggery, but she couldn’t see that she had a choice. She stuffed Gordon’s notebook into her jacket and started down the hill slowly, trying her best not to slip on the grass.
And then she heard the scream.
Valkyrie looked up, eyes wide. There was another scream and she took off running, sprinting down to the river and splashing through it, soaking her clothes in the freezing water. She emerged from the other side and saw a narrow road ahead, and a woman stumbling to her knees.
Valkyrie called out and the woman glanced back. Relief washed over her face, and that’s when Valkyrie heard the thunder of many hooves, and a creaking and a trundle. She looked around. They were alone out here, but the sounds were getting louder…
And then it materialised in front of her, a great black coach driven by four headless horses, the colour of night. Valkyrie leaped out of the way as it hurtled by. It vanished from sight, but she could still hear it, and now the woman was screaming again. Valkyrie scrambled to her feet and sprinted.
The woman tried to run, but was sent sprawling as if hit from behind. Valkyrie ran closer and the carriage appeared, as the headless horses drew to a stop. The driver climbed down. He was dressed in traditional coachman’s attire, though he, like his horses, had no head. He didn’t seem quite so ridiculous now.
“Leave her alone!” Valkyrie yelled, running up to him.
He turned to her as she summoned fire and threw it, the ball of flame exploding against his chest, but dying away instantly. She ran right into him, charging him with her shoulder and he stepped back under the collision, but gave no more ground. She felt a cold hand around her neck and she was flung into the air, and she hit the ground hard.
“Help me!” the woman cried as the driver, the Dullahan, strode towards her. He took hold of her arm and pulled her back to the carriage as she begged and screamed.
Valkyrie launched herself at the Dullahan, pushing outwards at the air and making him stagger and then driving a kick into him. He swiped at her with his free hand, but she ducked under it and punched, and her fist met his side and it was like punching a wall. The back of his hand caught her and she spun like a top and dropped to one knee. The Dullahan carried on towards the carriage.
She could only watch as the Dullahan shoved the woman up against the carriage, the door of which opened silently behind her. The woman kept her eyes on the headless driver, tears running down her face, and then a dozen pale hands grabbed her and pulled her, screaming, into the carriage. The door swung gently closed and the Dullahan climbed back to his seat. Ignoring Valkyrie completely, he flicked the reins and the headless horses took off at a trot, the Coach-a-Bowers trundling behind them. It vanished from sight, though Valkyrie could still hear the hooves, fading into the distance.
She stood up, still a little dizzy from when he had struck her.
“You can’t defeat the Dullahan,” said a voice from behind her.
She turned. A woman walked up, her black hair hanging over her lined face, her ragged dress trailing on the grass behind her. Her feet were dirty and bare and her hands were thin.
“He is not a man,” the woman continued, “he is not a beast, he just is. You cannot defeat what just is.”
“Who was she?” Valkyrie asked, forcing herself not to be intimidated. “The woman he took.”
The answer came in a voice that was almost fond. “Her name was Margaret. She was the last of her family. She heard my cry and now that family is no more, wiped from the world like a stray tear.”
“Why?”
“Because it was her time.”
“Who are you to decide?”
The old woman looked up and her hair parted, showing more of her face. All Valkyrie could make out were wrinkles and lines and one hazel flecked eye, blinking at her. “I’m not the one who decides,” she said. “Now then, who are you, and why have you sought me out?”
Valkyrie looked down at her, her anger bubbling right beside her needs. She made herself calm down. “My name’s Valkyrie Cain. I was told you could help me.”
“Who told you this?”
“My uncle. Gordon Edg
ley.”
“Gordon,” the banshee said, smiling. “I haven’t heard from him in years. How is he?”
“Dead.”
“Give him my best, won’t you?”
“I need to seal my name. He said you might know someone who could do something like that.”
“You know it, then? Your true name?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Impressive. And Gordon was right – I know of one who could do what needs to be done. Its name is Nye – a doctor, and quite a curious creature. I wouldn’t trust it, but then, I don’t have to. Of course, there is no guarantee that Nye will agree to help. Its time is taken up with experiments and… procedures. It depends how busy the good doctor is, if it can fit you in, and if you make it curious. Luckily for you, I do think you will make it curious. Tell me, my dear, do you know what the sealing of your name would entail?”
“I only know that it’s dangerous.”
“Oh, it is. You’re absolutely sure you want me to arrange it?”
Valkyrie thought of her mother, her father, the baby on the way. She thought of what she’d seen and the screams she’d heard. “Yes,” she said.
The old woman turned to go. “Then I will be in touch shortly.”
“Wait,” said Valkyrie. “What will it entail? Do you know?”
The banshee smiled. “I only know that the first thing you will have to do is die. Once you’ve done that, Nye’s work will begin.”
16
THE INTERROGATION OF DAVINA MARR
Her teeth gritted against the cold of the morning, Tanith followed Skulduggery and Ravel into the Hibernian, fantasising about what it would be like if her clothing of choice was waterproof fleece instead of tight leather. She wouldn’t cut such a striking figure, it’s true, but the comfort and warmth and sheer cosiness would more than make up for it. The door unlocked for them and they passed through, into the relative warmth of the dark and musty cinema.
Skulduggery had let Ravel do all the talking on the drive over, while he’d stayed quiet. She knew he was wondering about the personal business that had delayed Valkyrie. She’d never chosen personal business over the job before, at least not that Tanith was aware, and it was an unsettling development. Back when Skulduggery was trapped in a world overrun by Faceless Ones, Valkyrie was single-minded in her dedication to rescuing him. But since then, it seemed, she’d been distracted. There was always something going on, something she didn’t want to talk about.