Dark Days

by Derek Landy

  Scapegrace nodded. Thrasher was a good name. Thrasher would be his right-hand man in the new zombie army he was building for his Master.

  “Come with me, Thrasher,” Scapegrace said, leading the way and liking the sound of it.

  He had done a lot more recruiting that afternoon. In Phoenix Park alone he recruited Slasher, Crasher, Dasher and Basher, then they all took Crasher’s van and he recruited Slicer, Dicer, Wrecker and Boiler. Boiler signified the end of Scapegrace’s new name strategy, and from then on he just called them Zombie One and Zombie Two, things like that. He had more on his mind than thinking up stupid names for his zombies.

  He had brought them back to his Master’s castle, and the first problem to arise was that none of the other zombies seemed to respect Thrasher’s authority. It was too late to demote him now though. Such an act would be seen as weak leadership. The recruits needed to see Scapegrace as infallible, much like a pope or a politician. Scapegrace couldn’t admit that appointing Thrasher as his second-in-command had been a mistake, and instead hoped that Thrasher’s head would fall off or something.

  The second problem was that Scapegrace was starting to smell, but he was confident that new plans he had set in motion would take care of it. There might even be a cream out there that would help. He had taken to wearing car fresheners around his neck, tucked beneath his shirt.

  Scapegrace walked the stone corridors, heading for the room which housed his new zombie army. He put on a fierce expression, opened the door and walked in.

  They were chatting among themselves, telling jokes and laughing. Thrasher was standing at the edge, trying to laugh along with them, but seemed unsettlingly happy to see Scapegrace when he walked in. He went up to him and stood to attention.

  “Good evening, sir!” he said. Idiot. “We’re all here, sir!”

  “Of course you’re all here,” Scapegrace responded, annoyed.

  “Sir, one of the men was asking about food, sir.”

  Scapegrace made a mental note not to refer to the zombies as an army again. Thrasher was letting it go to his head and it wasn’t very scary at all. Horde would be better. His zombie horde. Much better.

  “What about food?” Scapegrace grumbled.

  “He was wondering what it is we eat, sir.”

  “We don’t eat anything,” Scapegrace answered. “We’re sustained by magic. We don’t need food.”

  “I shall inform the men, sir!” Thrasher turned on his heel and faced the zombies. “May I have your attention!” he shouted.

  A zombie from the back said, “Go to hell, Gerald.”

  Thrasher looked like he was about to cry. Scapegrace was now seriously regretting his recruitment process.

  “We don’t eat anything,” Thrasher said, trying to keep a brave face while his lower lip quivered. The zombie horde stopped talking among themselves and looked at Scapegrace.

  “We don’t eat?” Slicer asked. “What, nothing?”

  “Not even brains?” Zombie Eleven asked.

  “Nothing!” Scapegrace told them. “Under no circumstances are you to eat! Not even one tiny little bite! Is that understood?”

  They nodded sullenly and Scapegrace turned to the door. Before he’d even reached it, they started bickering among themselves about what would taste better, brains or flesh. These were not the slavering, mindless creatures of the undead he had hoped for. These were not fearsome in the slightest. His zombies bickered. Scapegrace left the room quickly, closing the door lest the sound of bickering drift to his Master’s ears. He hurried back the way he had come, trying his best not to panic.

  He didn’t want to disappoint his Master. He had been so looking forward to presenting his zombie horde and getting the recognition he sought, the praise he longed for. Maybe even a hug. But it wasn’t going to happen. His Master would take one look at the horde and recognise instantly what a petty bunch of failures they were, and what a grotesque disappointment Scapegrace himself was.

  Scapegrace reached the small room that served as his personal quarters, hearing the low gentle hum. He opened the rotten door and quickly stepped in, closing it behind him. One advantage of the new recruits was that their credit cards could still be used, and Scapegrace had ordered Thrasher to buy him a place to rest.

  “Like a coffin?” Thrasher had asked, wide-eyed and stupid-looking. Scapegrace had hit him, told him not to ask insolent questions, to just do what he was told, and Thrasher had scurried off, nearly crying yet again. But now that Scapegrace thought of it, he quite liked the idea of having a coffin of sorts. He reckoned it was actually pretty nifty. He hadn’t told his Master about it, and he did feel terrible about that, but he needed this. He didn’t want his body to fall apart, and until he figured out a way to stop any decomposition, the giant freezer would just have to do.

  Scapegrace opened the lid and climbed in. He had to curl up to fit, but apart from that it was pretty comfortable. He closed the lid and darkness consumed him. Comforted by the darkness and the hum of power, he lay there and thought about all the ways he could kill the girl.

  21

  THE RAID

  “I’ve always thought,” Skulduggery said as he drove, “that Skulduggery would be an excellent name to give a baby.”

  “Well,” Valkyrie said, nodding slowly, “I’ll be sure to pass on the suggestion. But what if it’s a girl?”

  “Skulduggery,” Skulduggery said.

  “Boy or girl, the same name?”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t think my parents would go for the name Skulduggery, if I’m being honest. If it’s a girl, they might decide on Stephanie Number Two because they’ll probably never see me again.”

  “You’re such a pessimist.”

  “We’re about to walk into the Sanctuary, where they all want to arrest me.”

  “You did break the law.”

  “I was rescuing you.”

  He shrugged. “I was happy where I was.”

  “Don’t talk to me any more.”

  “I still haven’t thanked you properly for rescuing me, have I?”

  “Nope.”

  “I will,” he said and nodded.

  They parked at the rear of the Waxworks Museum and got out.

  “They’re not going to arrest you,” Skulduggery said as they walked through the door. “They might glare at you and say angry words, but they won’t arrest you. Well, they might arrest you. There’s a good chance they will. But the important thing is that I’ve done nothing wrong.”

  “For once.”

  Skulduggery led the way through the darkness and Valkyrie frowned. Her Necromancer ring was cold. Skulduggery murmured something and took out his gun. The Sanctuary door was open and the Phil Lynott figure was lying motionless on the ground. It didn’t look up as they crept by. Skulduggery headed down the stairs first, Valkyrie right behind him. There was blood smeared on the wall.

  They stepped out into the Foyer. Cleavers lay dead. Valkyrie couldn’t tell how many there were. They’d been torn to pieces.

  Skulduggery motioned to the open door ahead and they moved to it quietly. A sorcerer was crumpled in the corridor beyond, a gaping hole in his chest. They went through, sticking to the walls, not making a sound. The Sanctuary was eerily, unnaturally quiet.

  There was a dead vampire around the next corner. Its bone-white body had almost been cut in half by a Cleaver’s scythe. Valkyrie had never had the opportunity to study one of these animals close up before – not without fighting for her life at the same time. It was male, and bald, and its wide mouth was open, a red pointed tongue lolling out over its jagged teeth. Its black eyes stared sightlessly at the ceiling.

  They moved on and saw another vampire, its head cut off. Beside it lay a sorcerer Valkyrie had once chatted with. His face had been ripped apart by a swipe of the vampire’s claw. He was dead too.

  Skulduggery motioned to her then pointed down an adjoining corridor, towards the holding cells. She nodded and they changed course. Her mouth was dr
y. She realised she was terrified. Every new corridor held more dead bodies. An army of vampires had come through here – for all they knew, an army of vampires was still down here.

  They turned a corner and Davina Marr spun towards them, her eyes wild. Skulduggery waved and her gun flew from her hand. He pushed and she shot back off her feet and hit the wall. He kept his hand splayed, holding her there.

  “What happened?” he whispered.

  Marr opened her mouth to shout and Skulduggery whipped his hand to the side. Marr hit the opposite wall and fell to the ground, unconscious.

  Valkyrie resisted the urge to kick her as they passed, and they continued on to the holding cells. Skulduggery stood guard while Valkyrie released Ghastly and Tanith. Moving quietly, Tanith hugged Skulduggery and Ghastly shook his hand.

  “Welcome back,” Ghastly said, speaking softly. “Now what is going on?”

  “Vampires.”

  “What?”

  “We don’t know how many are still here, so move out and keep it quiet.”

  They moved quickly back the way they had come then broke right. Tanith picked up a Cleaver’s fallen scythe. They passed the open doors into the Repository, the closed door into the Gaol and turned left. In the corridor ahead of them, Thurid Guild was propped up against the wall. He was clutching his arm, which was obviously broken. Blood ran from a cut above his eye.

  He saw them and shook his head sharply. They froze. His eyes twitched left.

  A vampire padded into view, its mouth smeared with the blood of others. It approached Guild and he shrank back. It sniffed him and growled. Guild raised his hand to push the air and the vampire swiped, almost lazily, and the Grand Mage’s fingers fell to the floor. Guild screamed and the vampire moved in. Skulduggery whistled through his teeth.

  The vampire swivelled its head, its black eyes widening when it saw all the fresh meat on offer. It forgot about Guild and bounded towards them.

  Valkyrie, Skulduggery and Ghastly pressed against the air and the vampire hit an invisible wall. It snapped and clawed and roared, but there were no gaps to get through. Skulduggery held out his other hand and Valkyrie felt the air shift, as another invisible wall closed in on the vampire from behind. Skulduggery closed his hand gently, trapping the creature. The vampire lifted off the ground, squirming and flailing, but unable to free itself.

  “Stay here,” Skulduggery muttered, tossing his revolver to Ghastly before moving back to the holding cells, taking the vampire with him.

  They crossed to Guild and Tanith helped him to his feet. He was sweating and his teeth were chattering. Valkyrie knew well the signs of someone going into shock.

  “Get his fingers,” Tanith told her as she helped Guild hobble down the corridor, Ghastly leading the way.

  Valkyrie blanched. Doing her best not to gag, she picked up the three pale fingers and held them away from her as she followed the others. She dropped one and stepped on it.

  “Damn,” she said.

  “Why is she saying damn?” Guild muttered, too weak to look around. “What is she doing?”

  Tanith glanced back to see Valkyrie hopping on one foot, trying to work the finger out from the grooves on the bottom of her boot.

  “Nothing,” Tanith said, shooting her a glare before turning back.

  Once again holding all three fingers, Valkyrie hurried after them.

  The Cleavers were on their third sweep of the Sanctuary by the time Guild’s fingers were reattached. The final tally was fourteen dead vampires, plus one live vampire in a holding cell, and seventeen dead sorcerers. Nine Cleavers had died. The injured were brought in and quarantined as the Sanctuary doctors worked to rid their systems of the infections brought on by vampire bites. Three more died on the operating tables while Valkyrie was standing there.

  Against the doctor’s orders, Guild left the Medical Bay as soon as he was able. His broken arm was in a sling and his damaged hand was wrapped in a glove designed to speed up the healing process.

  “It was Dusk,” he told them as they walked the blood-splattered corridors. “We thought he was still imprisoned in Russia. They didn’t bother to tell us he’d escaped two weeks ago. Billy-Ray Sanguine burrowed into his cell apparently, and they fought their way out. The Russians didn’t bother to tell us that either.”

  “So Sanguine and Dusk are working together again,” Skulduggery said. “But why? What happened here?”

  “Dusk planted explosives on the door and led the way in. I’ve never seen so many vampires. They came like a wave, swarmed over everyone and just kept coming.”

  “Dusk hadn’t shed his skin?” Skulduggery asked.

  Guild shook his head. “He was still human. He let the vampires come at us, but he broke off to the north wing, to the Repository. I have people down there now, trying to ascertain what he was after.”

  There was a curse and they turned to see Davina Marr pointing her gun at them, fury in her eyes. “Step away from the Grand Mage,” she demanded.

  Guild shook his head. “Put down the gun, Detective.”

  “Sir, these people are fugitives! Pleasant and Cain were working with the vampires! They assaulted me!”

  “They were not working with the vampires,” Guild said, “and as much as it pains me to admit it, they saved my life. They’re free to go, Detective Marr. Put down the gun. That is an order.”

  Marr blinked and lowered the weapon. “The Desolation Engine,” she said dully.

  “What?”

  “Dusk took the Desolation Engine. We’re doing a visual search now, but it appears to be the only item that’s missing.”

  “What’s the Desolation Engine?” Valkyrie asked.

  “Essentially, it’s a bomb,” Ghastly said. “It obliterates everything within its radius, wipes it all out. These days it would be called a Weapon of Mass Destruction.”

  “It was only ever used once,” Tanith said. “Back in, when was it, 1498? A town outside of Naples. Every living thing, every building, tree and stone, was obliterated.”

  Valkyrie frowned. “Why is there a bomb in the Repository?”

  “That’s a very good question.”

  “It’s been made safe,” Guild said. “It can’t be activated. It was kept here because it’s the only one of its kind. The Engine is useless to whoever has it.”

  “You’re sure about that?” Skulduggery asked.

  “Positive. It’s a paperweight now.”

  “That may be so, but there’s a reason Dusk went after it.”

  “Then get it back,” Guild said. “Do what you need to do to find them and stop them. You will have access to every resource we have for the duration of the investigation.” He sighed. “Pleasant, I don’t like you and the idea that you were going to spend the rest of your existence on a world of Faceless Ones really warmed my heart these past few months. My wife was saying to me just the other day how she’s noticed a spring in my step lately. That was because I thought you were gone forever.”

  “I missed you too, Thurid.”

  “But it’s time to set my personal loathing of you to one side. We’ve just witnessed a massacre, and we need to catch those responsible and make them pay.”

  “You seek revenge,” said Skulduggery.

  “I seek retribution.”

  Skulduggery looked at him and nodded. Valkyrie and the others followed him as he walked away. Marr glared at them with fury in her eyes and they left her to whatever argument she was about to have with her boss.

  “I’m only going to be telling you the absolute minimum about what I’ve been doing these past eleven months,” Skulduggery said to Ghastly and Tanith as they reached the Foyer and climbed the stairs, “so don’t bother prying.”

  “Fine with me,” Ghastly said.

  “A little prying would have been nice,” Skulduggery mumbled. They passed through the Waxworks Museum and emerged into the chill night air to find Fletcher standing beside the Bentley. His arms were folded.

  “You abandoning me?” he as
ked crossly as they neared. “Is that what’s happening? I do what you need me to do and then you discard me, yeah?”

  “This really isn’t the time to be petty,” Valkyrie said, frowning at him.

  “On the contrary,” Skulduggery said, “this is an excellent time to be petty. Fletcher, we didn’t bring you with us because we didn’t want to risk you.”

  Fletcher narrowed his eyes. “So…I’m still on the team?”

  “Of course you are,” Skulduggery said happily. “Apart from anything else, you’re the only one who can guarantee that we escape any more vampires that we come across. You’re going to prolong all our lives, my boy.”

  “I am?”

  “You are. You, Fletcher Renn, are good for our health.”

  Fletcher beamed.

  “You’re like our own little vegetable,” Skulduggery continued and Fletcher’s smile disappeared.

  “I need my sword,” said Tanith.

  “I’ll take you to it,” Skulduggery said. “Valkyrie, take Fletcher and go and see China.”

  Fletcher frowned. “I’m not a bus.”

  Skulduggery ignored him. “If anyone has heard rumours abut Sanguine or Dusk, she has. The fact of the matter is that Sanguine doesn’t do anything for free, so if there is someone paying his bills, we need to find out who that is, and what he wants with both the Desolation Engine and the Soul Catcher.”

  “Or what she wants,” Valkyrie added.

  “That’s a good point,” Skulduggery said. “This might be the first move Darquesse makes on her road to destruction. If it is, then we’re in a lot of trouble.”

  “And if it isn’t?”

  “Let’s face it,” he admitted, “we’re probably still in a lot of trouble.”

  22

  THE MAN WHO KILLED ESRYN VANGUARD

  Valkyrie and Fletcher appeared in China’s library. It was late at night and there was nobody around. Fletcher didn’t say anything as they walked and she knew he was thinking about Skulduggery’s dismissive attitude towards him. Fletcher didn’t talk much about his parents. She knew his mother was dead, but he rarely mentioned his father. Was that why he could be so insecure and intimidated by Skulduggery? Was Fletcher harbouring a secret need for a father figure’s approval?