Skulduggery Pleasant: Kingdom of the Wicked (15 page)

“You’re not—”

“Never mind, I don’t really care. Move aside.”

Grim puffed out his chest. “By order of the Supreme Council, no one gets by here without—”

“The Supreme Council has no jurisdiction in this country.”

“You’ll have to take that up with them. I just do what I’m told.”

“Oh, good,” Skulduggery said, “that’ll make this much easier. Move aside.”

He went to walk past and Grim moved directly into his path. “You’re not getting through.”

“I actually think we are.”

“I’m giving you this one and only warning.”

“How nice of you,” said Skulduggery. “By the way, the sparrow flies south for winter.”

Grim frowned, opened his mouth to form a question and Skulduggery swung his hand up, catching him in the side of the jaw with his palm. Grim went down like a sack of rocks.

“Do you think we’ll get into trouble for that?” Valkyrie asked.

“I might,” Skulduggery said, walking on. “You probably won’t, unless there’s a new accessory-to-slapping law that I don’t know about.”

“What are they doing acting as security men?”

“I don’t know, but I doubt Ravel approved this.”

There was a man talking to Tipstaff as they approached, and when he caught sight of them, he shook Tipstaff’s hand and walked over. Tipstaff, for his part, looked unimpressed.

“Mr Pleasant,” the man said in an American accent, hurrying over to shake Skulduggery’s hand. “I am such a huge – forgive me for saying this – a huge, huge admirer of yours. I’ve followed all of your cases, scoured the archives. Huge, huge admirer. Oh, heavens, sorry, my name. I’m Bernard Sult. I’m one of the Junior Administrators at the American Sanctuary. And Miss Cain, very lovely to meet you. We all owe you a gigantic debt of gratitude for the service you’ve done in a few short years. Thank you, Miss Cain. Thank you.”

Valkyrie shook his hand. “Sure,” she said. “No problem.”

“No problem!” Sult repeated, almost spluttering the words as he laughed. “No problem, she says! Defeating Serpine and Vengeous and the Diablerie, defeating gods, recapturing the Remnants...! No problem to Valkyrie Cain, maybe, but for the rest of us, it would have been a great big problem indeed!”

He laughed again, had to wipe his eyes he was laughing so hard. Valkyrie glanced at Skulduggery and he shrugged.

“You’re here with the Supreme Council, then,” Skulduggery said, walking on. Sult kept up with them. “We met one of your friends back there. He didn’t want to let us by.”

Sult looked horrified. “He tried to stop you?”

“He definitely tried. You might want to check on him when you have a spare minute.”

“Well,” said Sult, “I must apologise most profusely if he offended you in any way. Some of our people, they’re so eager to make a good impression that, well, sometimes they’re a little too stringent with the rules.”

“And what rules would they be, Bernard? As far as I’m aware, you and your associates have no duties whatsoever in this Sanctuary.”

“You’re absolutely right,” Sult said, nodding. “But we were just talking with your Cleaver commander about lending a hand if a hand was needed, all in a very unofficial capacity, you understand. Could I ask, was the gentleman who interrupted you from the English Sanctuary?”

“Indeed he was. A Mr Grim.”

“Ah, the bodyguard. That explains it. We had different briefings. I can assure you that such a misunderstanding will not happen again. You have my word. It’s all very embarrassing.”

Now that Sult was focusing on Skulduggery, Valkyrie gave him a quick once-over. Looked to be in his thirties. Dark hair, cut short and neat. Nice suit, tasteful tie. Shiny shoes. Gold wedding ring. Apart from that, there was nothing distinctive about him at all.

“Do you work closely with Bisahalani?” Skulduggery asked.

“With Grand Mage Bisahalani, indeed I do,” Sult said, nodding again. “Well, I say closely, but really I’m just one of his many aides. Still, I’m honoured that he chose me to represent him here.”

“I would say so. The Supreme Council and all that. It all sounds so very important.”

Sult laughed again. “It does, doesn’t it? To be honest, I wish they’d have chosen a less grand name but, well... what sorcerer doesn’t love a grand name, eh?”

“Very true,” chuckled Skulduggery. “I suppose that’s one crime we’re all guilty of. At least the Supreme Council is upfront about its intentions. It’d be so much worse to be stabbed in the back by something called the Nice and Friendly Council, wouldn’t it?”

“Stabbed in the back?” Sult laughed. “I’m afraid I don’t get it.”

Skulduggery and Valkyrie stopped walking. “Oh, come now, Bernard. The Supreme Council want nothing more than an excuse to come in here and take over, isn’t that right? What are they looking for? What excuse do they need before they’ll be happy?”

Sult’s smile wavered. “I... I don’t know what you—”

“A huge admirer, are you?” Skulduggery said, talking over him. “Is that why your mouth keeps turning down in contempt? Is that why you practically sneered when you said Valkyrie’s name?”

Sult stepped back. “I assure you, you’re mistaken. I’m—”

“Just because I don’t have a face to call my own does not mean I can’t read other people’s,” said Skulduggery. “You don’t like us, Bernard. In fact, you hate us. You despise us. You’re here to take this Sanctuary down. And as for this administrator thing, this unimportant aide to Grand Mage Bisahalani story, well, I think we can both agree that that’s not entirely true, can’t we? Who are you? You’re not one of his detectives – I’d know you. You don’t step into the light much. You prefer working in the shadows. Is that who you are, Bernard? Bisahalani’s invisible enforcer?”

Sult smiled, and for the first time Valkyrie believed the smile was genuine. Cold, unfriendly, but genuine.

“We’re not here to take over,” Sult said. “We’re just here to help. And I don’t dislike you, Detective. You’ve saved the world. Both of you have. The problem is, you’ve mainly saved the world from your own mistakes. Time and again, this Sanctuary and its Council of Elders have endangered the lives of the people it is supposed to protect. And in doing so, it endangers the lives of everyone else on the planet. And speaking for everyone else on the planet, that isn’t exactly fair.”

“And yet,” Skulduggery said, “by interfering, you’re breaking the international Sanctuary code. What’s next? We don’t solve the latest crisis in six days, and you take the decision out of our hands entirely? Purely for our own good, of course.”

“If we have to,” Sult said. “And it’s five days.”

“That’s what I thought,” said Skulduggery. He went to move off but Sult put a hand on his arm.

“Don’t act like we’re the villains,” he said. “We have been forced to step in because this Sanctuary is incapable of handling its own affairs. This isn’t our doing. It’s yours. And you know it.”

Skulduggery didn’t say anything, he just waited until Sult removed his hand, and then he walked away.

He gave Valkyrie an armful of files and told her to go through them while he went off to find Ghastly. She wanted to be there as they discussed what had just transpired, but reluctantly accepted that she’d probably be able to offer very little insight into what their next move might be. So she found an empty room and settled down and started reading.

It took twenty minutes before she threw the first file back on to the desk in disgust. Nothing was going in. She’d read the words and seen the words but there was a room full of blood and a middle-aged woman with a poisoned ring to keep the words from sinking in. And if that wasn’t enough, there was also the man who’d tried to stop them coming down here and there was Sult, impossibly smug Sult and his stupid face. And her arm still throbbed. She didn’t know what Nadir had done to her, but whatever it was, it was irritating.

She put her feet on the desk, pushed the chair back on to two legs and stared up at the ceiling. She thought about poor Ed Stynes the werewolf man and poor Jerry Houlihan the butterfly man, and how they were both downstairs, sedated, being poked and prodded by the Sanctuary medical staff. How many were down there now? Forty-three? Forty-three mortals lying in beds, bubbling over with magic they didn’t understand and couldn’t control. Sooner or later, one of these outbreaks was going to take place right in the public eye where there’d be no denying what had happened, and then what? Then everything would change.

She went for a walk. She passed sorcerers and Cleavers and didn’t speak to any of them. There were a group of American mages who quietened down when she walked by. Things were tense enough as it was without the Supreme Council and their little army wandering around whispering to each other.

She went outside, looked out over the dark stagnant lake to the wasteland beyond, to where dead trees clawed at the sky like the land itself was screaming. Valkyrie wondered if the whole world would end up looking like that when she was through with it. Would there even be dead trees? Would she leave any sign of life, even as a memento? She didn’t think so. If and when she ever did give in and allow Darquesse to take over completely, she imagined that she’d just burn the planet to a crisp. Do the job and do it properly, sort it out and put it away, then move on to the next thing. Whatever the next thing was. Maybe hunt down the Faceless Ones.

She smiled. She liked that idea. After she killed everyone here, hunting down the Faceless Ones would be the logical progression.

Her smile faded.

There was a shout and she turned. A mage was on his back next to a Cleaver van, and a man was running into the streets of Roarhaven, his hands shackled. Valkyrie recognised him as Christophe Nocturnal, the man who’d tried to have her killed. A Cleaver walked after him, not in any hurry.

Nocturnal grabbed a woman, spun her around, started shouting threats, issuing demands. The woman he’d grabbed was unimpressed, and Nocturnal didn’t notice that the street behind him was beginning to fill with Roarhaven citizens.

The woman waved her hand casually and the air rippled, flinging Nocturnal backwards. He scrambled up and a man stepped out of the crowd, laid a hand on Nocturnal’s shoulder and made him scream in absolute agony.

An old lady shuffled by, took hold of him and hurled him to the ground with astonishing strength. Valkyrie couldn’t hear his words as Nocturnal crawled back to the waiting Cleaver, but she imagined he was doing a lot of apologising.

Roarhaven was not a town to make trouble in.

She stayed out of sight as Nocturnal was hauled to the Sanctuary. She just wasn’t in the mood for yet another confrontation, not with the day she was having. Even so, she was pleased to see him in shackles.

Just as the Cleaver and Nocturnal reached the main doors, Skulduggery emerged. Nocturnal turned to glare but Skulduggery completely ignored him, and strode up to Valkyrie.

“Did you talk to Ghastly?” she asked.

He waved the question away. “Forget Ghastly. Forget Sult. Forget all that. I’ve just figured it out.”

“Figured what out?”

“They’re not
dead
.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Who aren’t dead?”

“Lament and his missing sorcerers. They’re not dead, Valkyrie. Neither is Argeddion. Maybe they couldn’t find a way to kill him, maybe for some reason they didn’t want to, but they knew how to imprison him. That’s where they are. They’re guarding him.”

Valkyrie didn’t say anything, and he continued.

“Tyren Lament was, above all else, a scientist. Some of his research remains in the archives, enough to tell me that he had been working on a containment system. From the levels recorded, his theory was that it could contain something – or someone – of immense power. I think he was designing a prison for Argeddion. A prison capable of holding a sorcerer who knows their own true name.”

“But you said that wasn’t possible.”

“Lament found a way, I’m sure of it.”

“Then this is it,” she said, excited and nervous at the same time. “This is what we need to hold Darquesse. We could build one for me.”

Skulduggery looked at her. “Exactly. It’s for
you
, Valkyrie. Don’t forget we’re talking about building a prison to contain
you
.”

She swallowed. “But what choice do I have? Go to a prison cell until I learn how to control myself, or kill my own parents and probably my little baby sister? Not to mention the rest of the world? I think I’ll choose the prison cell, thank you very much. Are you sure about this?”

“It’s the only thing that answers all the questions. Why were their files destroyed? Why weren’t their disappearances mentioned in the Journals? Meritorious was doing his best to hide Argeddion’s existence from anyone who might go looking.”

“So where are they?”

“I don’t know yet, but it would be somewhere out of the way. Isolated. Somewhere without a magical presence.”

“Do we have any leads?” she asked.

“Just one. A freight company that Lament used was mentioned in the notes. There are companies all around the world, either run by or owned by sorcerers, that operate for both the mortals and the magical. Their dealings with other sorcerers are, as you can imagine, completely under the radar. Dagan Logistics is one such company.”

“So we just talk to them about their dealings with him, where they shipped whatever supplies he needed, and we have where he’s keeping Argeddion. Right?”

“Right.”

“Right. So why aren’t you looking pleased?”

He tilted his head. “How do you know I’m not?”

“I just know. What’s the catch?”

Skulduggery sighed. “Dagan Logistics is not the most reputable of companies, or the most co-operative. I’d imagine that’s the reason Lament used them – they’re used to keeping certain dealings secret. It’s owned by one of Mevolent’s old supporters. Arthur Dagan.”

“Oh,” Valkyrie said. “
Him
. He doesn’t like me.”

“He’s not too fond of me, either. He didn’t fight in the war, he was always far too timid for that kind of thing, but he worshipped the Faceless Ones as fervently as any fanatic, and he aided Mevolent whenever he could.”

“I can’t really see him helping us.”