by Derek Landy
“The other Sanctuaries around the world have always looked at Ireland with envy,” Scarab took over. “They’d like nothing better than to come in here and take over, ransack everything magical from this little pipsqueak of a country and take it all back home with them. We’re going to make sure they get their wish, and we’re going to kill a few of our most annoying enemies right along with it.”
“They’ve dismissed us in the past,” Billy-Ray said. “They don’t rate us – not compared to Vengeous or the Diablerie, any of those guys. We’re the hired help. But we’re goin’ to show ‘em. We’re going to show ‘em that they should’ve been scared of us all along.”
“They think they know what’s coming?” Scarab asked. “They think they know what to expect? They have no idea.”
6
INTO THE SANCTUARY
Skulduggery had once told Valkyrie that the best plans are the simple ones. Her plan was not a simple plan, but it was the only one they had, so they were stuck with it.
“Here’s what we do,” Valkyrie said as she paced the floor of Ghastly’s shop. “We go to the Sanctuary and ask to see Guild. Guild will keep us waiting, as he always does, because he won’t want anything to appear different until he knows for sure that we know he has the skull.”
Tanith, Ghastly and Fletcher looked at her and nodded.
“However,” she continued, “he’ll also be assuming that we do know, so he’ll be waiting for us to make a move. Fletcher won’t be with us, which will make Guild suspect that he’s already teleported in.”
“And where will I be?” Fletcher asked excitedly.
“I don’t know, fixing your hair or something. The point is his attention will be in two places – where we are and where the skull is.”
“And how do we find out where the skull is?” Tanith asked.
“The reasonable place to put it would be the Repository,” Ghastly said. “Put it with all the other artefacts and magical objects and keep it there. But he’s not going to do that.”
“It’s too obvious,” agreed Valkyrie. “That’s the first place we’d look. It’s also the first place we’re going to look.”
Fletcher frowned. “But it’s not going to be there.”
“No, but the cloaking sphere is.”
“The invisibility ball?” said Fletcher.
“Cloaking sphere,” insisted Valkyrie.
“Invisibility ball sounds better.”
“Invisibility ball sounds stupid.” She turned to the others. “Once we get it, we call Fletcher. He arrives, we let them close in on us and then we use the sphere.”
“And they think we’ve teleported out,” Tanith finished, smiling.
Valkyrie nodded. “And then, hopefully, Guild sends someone to check on the skull. We follow, grab it and then we teleport out. If it doesn’t pan out like that, we can at least search for it without being seen.”
“China will have to be ready,” said Ghastly. “Once they realise what’s happened, Davina Marr and the Cleavers will come after all of us.”
“Can I just point something out?” Fletcher asked. “That is an awful plan. On a scale of one to ten – the Trojan Horse being a ten and General Custer versus all those Indians being a one – your plan is a zero. I don’t think it’s a plan at all. I think it’s just a series of happenings that are, to be honest, unlikely to follow on from each other in the way in which everyone’s probably hoping.”
“Do you have a better plan?” Valkyrie asked.
“Of course not. I’m a man of action, not thought.”
Valkyrie nodded. “You’re definitely not a man of thought.”
“Why are you in charge anyway? What do you know about organising something like this?”
“I have faith,” Tanith said.
“As do I,” said Ghastly.
Valkyrie smiled at them gratefully. “So you think the plan will work?”
“God, no,” said Ghastly.
“Sorry, Val,” said Tanith.
Valkyrie stood with Tanith outside the old Waxworks Museum, letting the rain drench her hair. The windows were boarded up and there was a rusted gate pulled across the door. Even before the museum had closed down, it had never been impressive. She remembered school visits, trudging through dark corridors, gazing blankly at wax statues of boring politicians. She often wondered how things would be now if, as a little girl, she had wandered away from the tour group and found the hidden door.
If she had entered the Sanctuary then, would she have been taken under Skulduggery’s wing that much earlier? Or would the Cleavers merely have chopped her head off the moment they saw her? Probably the latter.
At least, back then, Eachan Meritorious had been Grand Mage of the Council of Elders. These days they didn’t even have a Council, only the Grand Mage, Thurid Guild, whom Skulduggery had once suspected of treason. Even now that Valkyrie knew he wasn’t guilty of that charge, she still viewed him as a dangerous individual with his own agenda.
And Guild had the skull.
Needing a replacement for Remus Crux, Guild had poached Davina Marr and her subordinate, Pennant, from one of the American Sanctuaries, and provided them with whatever they needed to do their job. Guild’s first decree had been that the portal never be opened again, lest more Faceless Ones come through. He had known Valkyrie and the others were hunting for the skull, and until today they had managed to stay one step ahead of him. But now, it seemed, Guild had overtaken them at the last hurdle.
The wind took the rain in at an angle and Valkyrie pulled her collar tight. She had called China, who had listened to the plan, such as it was, and assured her that if it did in fact work, then she would be available to help. She also said that there were two Sanctuary agents watching her at all times, and another two at Aranmore Farm. She had barely been able to send out her students to set up that perimeter around Haggard without the agents noticing. Valkyrie didn’t care. Only one thing mattered.
A bald man in a nice coat smiled as he passed them. Tanith ignored him, but Valkyrie returned the smile politely. There was something very familiar about him. He walked on and she looked around, wary of anyone trying to sneak up behind them.
“Ladies.”
She looked back. Ghastly stood where the bald man had been a second ago. Valkyrie was about to ask him what was going on, but Tanith figured it out before she spoke. “The façade tattoo,” she said, astonished. “It works!”
Ghastly smiled. “No more hat and scarf disguises for me, thank you very much. I can only use it for half an hour each day, but China’s working on a way to extend that.”
“Show me!” Valkyrie demanded, unable to stop her own smile from spreading.
Ghastly pulled apart the collar of his shirt and she saw the small tattoos, freshly burned into either side of his neck. He touched them and unblemished skin flowed upwards, rippling over his scars until it covered his whole head.
“Oh my God,” she said.
Ghastly smiled. “What do you think?”
“Oh my God,” she said again.
His features were strong, his jaw square and his skin, though slightly waxy, was clear and unscarred.
“China wanted to give me hair, but I thought that would be just a little too much, you know?”
“Oh my God.”
“You keep saying that. Tanith, what do you think?”
“I like it,” Tanith said. “But I dig scars too.”
He smiled, and touched the tattoos, and the perfect skin melted back into them, revealing the scars once again.
“Are we ready?” he asked, looking at the Waxworks Museum.
“I don’t like going anywhere without my sword,” Tanith grumbled. “You do realise that if the Cleavers come for us, they won’t care that we’re on the same side. They’ll cut us into ittybitty pieces just because they can.”
“If that happens,” Ghastly said, “you’ll at least die comforted by the fact that you had the moral high ground.”
“Well, that’l
l be nice,” she muttered.
They went around the back of the Waxworks Museum and entered through the open door. It was dark and the corridor they walked along was narrow. They passed three wax statues. Valkyrie wasn’t surprised they’d been left here when the museum closed down. They weren’t very good and only one of them had a head.
They finally came to a wax statue that looked like the person it was supposed to be – Phil Lynott from the band Thin Lizzy. It turned its head as they approached.
“Hello,” it said.
“Hi, Phil,” replied Valkyrie.
Tanith, who had actually known the real Phil Lynott when he was alive, found the figure too unnerving, so she stayed at the back and didn’t look at it.
“We request an audience with the Grand Mage,” Ghastly said.
“Do you have an appointment?” the figure said, looking down at a page it had stuck to the back of its guitar. “You’re not on the list.”
“We don’t have an appointment, but we request to be seen.”
The wax head of Phil Lynott frowned. It didn’t like its new role. It was originally supposed to only open and close the door, but now that the Sanctuary didn’t have an Administrator, its job description had expanded.
“I’ll tell him you’re here,” it said and closed its eyes.
While they waited, Valkyrie became aware of how fast her heart was beating. If this didn’t work, they could all be arrested and it would be her fault. Worse, their one opportunity to get Skulduggery back would pass, and she’d never see him again.
The wax figure opened one of its eyes. “Any of you going to the final?” it asked.
Valkyrie took a moment. “I’m sorry?”
“The All-Ireland,” the figure said. “Dublin versus Kerry. Going to be a good one. I asked if I could go. I’ve never been to Croke Park. The Grand Mage said no. He said it would raise some questions if I’m recognised.”
“He’s probably right,” said Valkyrie slowly.
The figure opened both eyes. “The Grand Mage has been informed,” it said. “He has instructed a guide to take you to the Greeting Room, and he will be with you as soon as his schedule allows.”
“Thank you,” Valkyrie said, and the wall beside them rumbled and parted, and they went through.
They got to the bottom of the stone stairs and a sour-looking man beckoned to them impatiently. Valkyrie glanced at the greyclad Cleavers as she passed them, their faces hidden behind visored helmets. She used to find them threatening, but compared to the White Cleaver who stood with the Necromancers, they were positively cuddly.
The impatient sorcerer herded them quickly through the corridors.
“I don’t have time to be doing this,” he griped. “I’ve got work to do, for God’s sake. Don’t they know I have work to do? Showing you people where to go is an Administrator’s job. Do I look like an Administrator to you?”
“No,” Tanith said. “You look like a remarkably grumpy man.”
He glared at her and she narrowed her eyes. He looked away.
“In there,” he said, pointing to a room. “The Grand Mage will be with you when he’s with you. If you want anything, tea or coffee, get it yourself and don’t bother me any more.”
He stalked off and they looked at each other.
“Guild wants us left alone so that we’ll go after the skull,” Ghastly said quietly. “He wants us arrested and thrown in the cells. He’s just waiting for us to make a wrong move.”
“Let’s not disappoint him then,” Tanith responded. They ignored the Greeting Room and took the first corridor to their right. The people they passed didn’t even glance at them.
They passed the Gaol, where the sickest, most evil sorcerers in the country were kept in cages hanging off the ground. An average criminal would be sent to one of the maximum security prisons, but the Gaol was reserved for the worst of the worst.
Beyond the Gaol was the Repository. Making sure no one was watching, Tanith pushed open the double doors and they crept inside. Ghastly held up his hand and read the air, feeling any disturbances.
“We’re alone,” he announced and all three of them immediately strode among the dimly-lit shelves, looking for a wooden sphere about twice the size of a tennis ball.
Valkyrie hurried to the place where the cloaking sphere had been kept the last time she was here, but the space was empty. She quickly checked the rest of the shelf, her eyes skimming over the arcane objects. The collection of magical artefacts in this room was enough to make collectors like China Sorrows envious.
They searched for five or six minutes and came up with nothing.
“This isn’t good,” Ghastly muttered when Valkyrie passed him.
She clicked her fingers to summon a flame into her hand and searched the darker recesses of the room. This wasn’t good at all.
“Do we have a Plan B?” Tanith called out from behind a stack of scrolls.
“We barely have a Plan A,” Valkyrie muttered.
Ghastly had his ear to the door and he stepped away. “They’re coming,” he said.
Furious, Valkyrie whipped out her phone and called Fletcher. Her plan hadn’t worked. The only thing they could do now was get out before they were caught.
“The Repository,” she said into the phone and Fletcher appeared behind her. Symbols flashed on the walls and blue lightning darted to where he was standing. He screamed as the lightning danced through him. When the symbols faded, he collapsed with a moan.
It was a trap and, right on cue, the double doors swung open and a dark-haired woman walked in, a squad of Cleavers behind her.
Ghastly and Tanith converged on Valkyrie as she knelt by Fletcher.
“Get us out of here,” she ordered, but tremors coursed through Fletcher’s body.
“Can’t,” he mumbled.
Davina Marr looked at them and smiled. “Welcome to the Sanctuary. You are all under arrest.”
7
BACK TO ARANMORE
The Interrogation Room was bound. Valkyrie could feel the low ebb of her magic, just out of reach. She didn’t like that feeling. It added to her uneasiness.
She sat across from Marr and did her best to ignore Pennant, standing beside the door. Having the door in front of her was their mistake. Anytime Skulduggery had used this interview room, he’d positioned the suspects with their backs to it. It meant they had to crane their necks to see whoever walked in. The way Marr had arranged it, it was almost like this was Valkyrie’s office and she was sitting at her own desk.
Valkyrie worked at looking calm and hiding the panic she was feeling. This had been their one chance to get Skulduggery back. If Guild hid the skull or worse, destroyed it, their one chance would disappear. She went cold inside thinking about it.
“Valkyrie,” Marr said eventually, raising her different coloured eyes from whatever it was she was reading. Valkyrie doubted the file had anything to do with her. It was probably just some random collection of pages Marr thought might intimidate her. “You’re in quite a lot of trouble.”
Valkyrie said nothing and rubbed the fingers of her right hand against each other. Her Necromancer ring had been taken. She missed it.
Marr had dark hair, cut short at the neck. She was pretty, in an unremarkable way. “You were caught trying to steal Sanctuary property. Do you know how serious that is? Do you know how long you could be put in prison for?” Marr sighed as if disappointed. “This isn’t a game, Valkyrie. You’re part of something that is turning out to be very dangerous. Ghastly Bespoke and Tanith Low are looking at twenty years in prison at the very least. Twenty years, Valkyrie. What is it you were trying to steal anyway?”
Valkyrie fixed her eyes on a speck of lint on Marr’s collar and didn’t answer.
“We have Skulduggery Pleasant’s head. I know you’re here to steal it, and let me assure you, we do understand. Skulduggery was a friend of yours.”
“Is a friend,” corrected Valkyrie.
“Was I referring to him in the p
ast tense?” Marr asked, looking ashamed. “Oh dear, I’m very sorry. Yes, he is a friend of yours and I’m sure you consider him a very good friend. We all have good friends and we would do a lot for those friends – within reason, naturally. But this crusade of yours, to open up the portal, it’s…quite frankly, it is not within reason.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Valkyrie said.
Marr’s smile was becoming as irritating as her manner. “Of course you don’t,” she whispered conspiratorially. “But let’s pretend you did. Let’s pretend, and this is without incriminating yourself – that means to get yourself into trouble – that you did want to open the portal to try and bring your friend back. It would mean that you’d also be opening the portal for the Faceless Ones. Do you see that? Do you understand?”
Valkyrie was becoming fixated on Marr’s little nose. It was like a target, begging to have a chair smashed into it.
“The only reason they came through the last time was because they had been signalled,” Valkyrie said. “Hypothetically speaking, if we were to open that portal now, they wouldn’t be waiting. But Skulduggery would.”
“The Grand Mage has expressly forbidden that portal to ever be opened again. I’m sorry.”
“I don’t work for the Grand Mage.”
“The Sanctuary polices the entire magical community in Ireland – not just the people who work there. Valkyrie, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but your friend is most likely dead.”
“Of course he’s dead. He’s a skeleton.”
“For almost a year he’s been trapped on a world with the Faceless Ones. We can only imagine the horror and the agony he must have been put through before they finally decided to end his existence. We can only imagine what they reduced him to – the screaming, the crying, the begging. Sweetheart, in a way you’re lucky he’s gone. If he ever did return, I’m sure you’d find him a little…pathetic.”
“Don’t call me sweetheart.”
Marr blinked, surprised. “Oh. OK.”
“And never call him pathetic.”