Skulduggery Pleasant: Kingdom of the Wicked (16 page)

“Me neither. His son, on the other hand...”

“Hansard? Would he be able to help us?”

“He’s in the family business. He’d have access to his father’s files. And you two seemed to really hit it off at the Requiem Ball.”

“He
was
very hot,” Valkyrie murmured. “But why would he help us?”

“Hansard Kray is twenty-two years old. He wasn’t around for the war, and he’s been brought up in a very pro-Faceless Ones environment. Do you know what happens to people like that? They tend to rebel against their parents’ beliefs. Besides, he seems to have a good head on his shoulders, and if you ask him really nicely, how could he refuse you?”

“I
am
very hot,” Valkyrie murmured.

“We just have to get you close to him without his father finding out. I made a few calls, asked a few people, and it seems that Hansard will be personally overseeing the transport of a large cargo on the invisible railroad tomorrow morning.”

“The invisible railroad?”

“I never told you about the invisible railroad?” Skulduggery asked, walking to the Bentley. “Then you’re in for a treat. So long as you like trains. And invisible things.”

“I love invisible things.”

“What are your feelings towards trains?”

“Meh.”

“That’s good enough for me.”

espite all the setbacks and hardships and obstacles in its path, the Church of the Faceless was growing.

It was a small growth, but a steady one, and it made the Church stronger with every passing month. For Eliza Scorn it was a point of pride to be now in a position of some influence. Certainly, from the moment she had taken control from the weak-willed and ineffectual Jajo Prave the Church’s fortunes had started to lift, so much so that now representatives of Nocturnal’s church were calling her, pleading with her, begging her to help them. And of course she felt compelled to do so. Were they not all followers of the Faceless Ones, after all? Were they not all brothers and sisters? Granted, Nocturnal’s people were a notoriously conservative bunch of prim and proper puritans who sought to drain the fun out of living, but their hearts were in the right place, all things considered.

She heard Prave’s voice on the other side of the door, insisting quite strenuously that Miss Scorn must remain undisturbed. Unsurprisingly, he was completely ignored, and Tanith Low and Billy-Ray Sanguine walked into her office like they owned the place. Prave trailed behind them.

“Some people here to see you,” he whined.

“Tanith,” said Scorn, rising from her desk, “Billy-Ray. So good to see you. Would you like some tea?”

“Thank you, no,” Tanith said. “We don’t do time-wasting, Miss Scorn. We are a busy, upwardly mobile kind of couple. Things to do, people to kill, that sort of thing.”

“Of course, of course. Prave, you may leave us.”

He wanted to stay. Of course he wanted to stay. But he backed out of the room and closed the doors after him, because of course he would do as he was told.

“Mission accomplished,” said Tanith. “Valkyrie Cain saved, would-be assassin eliminated. A good day, all in all. And now comes the bit where you hand over our reward.”

Scorn sat. “I’m afraid I don’t have it.”

Tanith fell silent. She looked at Sanguine, who took out his straight razor.

Scorn smiled, and held up her hands. “Now, now, before we say some things or kill some people that we might regret, I don’t have the information you’re looking for but I do know someone who does.”

“That,” said Sanguine, “reeks to me a little of time-wastin’.”

Tanith nodded. “Indeed it does, honey-bunny. Miss Scorn, I am prepared to cut you a little slack, seeing as how you beat the hell out of China Sorrows and blew up her library. When I heard that, I have to admit, I laughed. But that is the only thing preventing Billy-Ray from sliding his razor across your pale little throat.”

“Your understanding is appreciated,” said Scorn. “But our initial arrangement was not that I hand over the information you were after, only that I find it. And I did find it. I just don’t have it.”

“Semantics,” Tanith said, unimpressed. “How I love semantics. OK then, Miss Scorn, you tell us who does know where the dagger is and we’ll leave you with all your blood on the inside.”

Scorn smiled. “Christophe Nocturnal.”

Sanguine took off his sunglasses to wipe them. The holes where his eyes used to be seemed to drag in the darkness of the room. “The same Christophe Nocturnal who is now in Sanctuary custody?”

“The very same.”

“You’ve made things awkward for us,” Tanith said. “I don’t like awkward.”

“It was necessary, I’m afraid,” Scorn told her. “Nocturnal is the head of a very large church in America, a church that I want absorbed into mine. And now that he’s in shackles, his congregation is worried he might start naming names. So all of their money, and all of their power, and all of their influence, might all be snatched away from them, along with all of their freedom.”

Tanith folded her arms. “So they’ve gone running to you,” she said, “begging you to silence Nocturnal before he has a chance to rat them out. In return, I expect they’ve agreed to join the Church of the Faceless?”

“Indeed they have.”

“And you want us to break into the Sanctuary and, when Nocturnal has told us where the dagger is, you want us to kill him.”

“Naturally,” Scorn said, nodding. “Of course, you’d be doing this job for free.”

Sanguine laughed. “Now why in tarnation would you think that?”

“Because once he told you where the dagger was, you’d be killing him anyway, wouldn’t you? To stop him from telling Skulduggery Pleasant or some other investigator what you were looking for?”

Sanguine’s laugh died on his lips. “Dammit,” he muttered.

“You,” said Tanith, “are a very cunning woman. Even more cunning than China Sorrows, I’d say.”

“Oh, you flatter me.”

“And just for that, I don’t think we’ll kill you.”

“Thank you very much,” said Scorn. “Now, without wanting to be rude, I have a lot of work to do. By the end of the week my Church will be one of the most powerful and well-funded organisations on earth, and I have arrangements to make.”

t was a little past nine on Monday morning. The Bentley was parked in a field, and Skulduggery and Valkyrie were standing in long grass.

“Welcome,” Skulduggery said, “to the invisible railroad.”

Valkyrie looked down at the rusted old railway tracks. “Two things,” she said. “First, it’s not invisible. Second, it’s still not invisible. That’s two things immediately wrong with something called the invisible railroad. I could go on.”

Skulduggery dipped his hat lower so that the sun wouldn’t get into his eyes. She didn’t know why he did that. Force of habit, probably. “The invisible railroad was used a lot during the war,” he said. “It’d ship people and supplies all over the country, then link up with other railroads around the world. Some of these tracks go underwater – and I don’t mean in a tunnel, either. The trains run along on land and then they get to the shoreline and they go down and continue along the seabed.”

“You promised me invisible things.”

“Did you hear what I just said?”

“Trains that travel underwater. Brilliant. You promised me invisible things.”

He checked his pocket watch. “And I keep my promises,” he said. “It should be along any moment now. We should step back.”

They walked away a little, and Valkyrie looked up the tracks. “Are we waiting for an invisible train?”

“Yes, we are.”

“How do we know when it’s here?”

“We’ll know. The train isn’t invisible itself, but rather it’s encased in a series of bubbles.”

“Cloaking spheres?”

“Exactly.”

“And where does the train stop?”

“Pardon me?”

“The train station, where is it?”

Skulduggery laughed. “There isn’t one, Valkyrie. It’s an express service.”

“So what are we supposed to do? Hop on a moving invisible train?”

He looked at her. “Of course. What did you think we were going to do?”

She felt the air shift, pressing against her cheek. To her eye, though, the track was still empty. “It’s coming,” she said.

“Yes, it is,” Skulduggery responded, wrapping his arm round her. They lifted off the ground, moved over the tracks, and started picking up speed. Below them, the long grasses were suddenly blown back by something huge, travelling fast.

They dipped lower, passing through the bubble, and suddenly the train was right there below them and the noise was deafening. They landed on the roof of the last carriage, Skulduggery diverting the rushing air around them.

“I should go in alone,” Valkyrie said, speaking loudly to be heard. “If we both go in, it’ll look too official.”

“So I’ll just stay out here?” Skulduggery asked. “But what’ll I do? There’s no one to talk to. It’s boring.”

“You’re standing on the roof of a speeding train,” Valkyrie pointed out. “If you find this boring, you really need your head examined. Just wait here. I’ll do what has to be done and I’ll be right out.”

“Fine,” he said, sounding grumpy. “Don’t be long.”

She grinned and stepped away from him, bringing up her hand to deflect the air. Her movements were too casual, however, and the sheer force of the rushing wind took her by surprise. It hit her like a truck and she cried out as she was taken off her feet. Skulduggery reached for her but she was already tumbling backwards, the train whipping beneath her. She threw out a hand, grabbed a ladder rung, almost yanking her shoulder from its socket as her legs dangled over the blurring track. She got her other hand on to the ladder, and her feet, and clung on to the rear of the train, her entire body trembling.

She looked up and saw Skulduggery standing there, perfectly straight without even his tie being upset by the wind. He shook his head and she managed a shaky smile to reassure him she was OK.
Here lies Valkyrie Cain, who died heroically after falling off a train.
At least it rhymed.

She climbed down the ladder, kept a tight hold of it as she slid open the rear door of the carriage. She lunged in, slid it closed behind her, shutting out the noise and the wind. She took a moment to fix her hair and calm down. Oh, that was stupid. Skulduggery wasn’t going to let her forget that one in a hurry.