Skulduggery Pleasant: Last Stand of Dead Men (10 page)

“You fake your own death.”

“No,” Valkyrie said. “No way, I’m not doing that to them.”

“You don’t have to do it today, Valkyrie. But you will have to do it.”

“What’s wrong with telling them? I’d make them understand and they’d keep the secret.”

“Is that why you’re really here? You’re trying this out on me first before mentioning it to Skulduggery? He’ll react the same way. If you tell your family the truth, you’ll torture them. Their mortal lives will be shattered. They’ll jump at every shadow. They’ll grasp at religion or superstition to fill the sudden void they’ll create for themselves. I’ve seen it happen. You will change who they are because you’re too selfish to live without them.”

“Not if I do it right.”

“And that’s not even taking into account how worried they’ll be about you,” China continued. “Every hour that passes when they don’t hear from you is another possible death. You fight monsters, Valkyrie. Some in human form, and some not. Are you going to tell them about vampires? Are you? Will you tell them about Caelan? Will you tell them about the things you’ve done?”

Valkyrie’s phone beeped. Grateful for the interruption, she took it out, read from the screen, and frowned.

“Something wrong?” China asked.

“Bernard Sult’s been arrested at Roarhaven,” Valkyrie said.

“The Supreme Council will not be pleased.”

Valkyrie stood. “I have to go.”

“Of course. Duty calls.” China walked her to the door. “I’m sorry I couldn’t give you the answers you were hoping for.”

“There’s still a way to do it right,” Valkyrie said. “I just have to figure it out.”

“Many have tried. Practically every sorcerer alive has been in your shoes.”

“What about you?”

China smiled. “You forget. I was born into a family that worshipped the Faceless Ones. I hated mortals before I’d even taken my first breath. Sometimes that kind of dysfunction can work in your favour. Drive safely, Valkyrie. And happy birthday.”

t took Valkyrie a little over two hours to get to Roarhaven. Knowing the route from the passenger seat was one thing – being able to remember every turn from behind the wheel was quite another. Added to that, there were no signs for the town, and the road that led to it was hidden from the prying eyes of the public. Aside from people who knew the way, only the very determined or the very lost could ever hope to stumble upon it. In the end, Valkyrie gave in to how lost she was, and fifteen minutes later she was pulling up outside the Sanctuary.

There were Cleavers in the streets, which was a rare sight to see. The townspeople stayed away from all the fuss, scowling at Sanctuary personnel from their doorways and behind their curtains. Valkyrie was let through without being searched, and she found Ieni, a young mage from Cork, arguing with an older sorcerer. He was called away and Ieni turned to Valkyrie as she approached.

“You all right?” Valkyrie asked.

“They’re saying this is my fault,” Ieni said, her eyes glistening. “I was at my post and someone came up behind me and … They’re saying it’s my fault Sult got in. But I’m not the only one they got.”

“You’ll be fine,” Valkyrie said. “Everyone’s just confused right now. What was Sult trying to do?”

“They set off explosives on the Accelerator. It wasn’t damaged, though. Elder Bespoke took them down.”

“Right,” the older sorcerer said, striding back to Ieni, “you can consider yourself under investigation, you hear me? I can’t believe anyone could be as incompetent as you claim to be, which leads me to believe that you were working with the enemy.”

“No,” Ieni said, her eyes widening, “I swear I wasn’t.”

Valkyrie was about to interject when a man in a good suit stepped out of the room beside them.

“Leave the girl alone,” he said, making the order sound like a suggestion. He wasn’t quite as tall as Valkyrie and he was carrying a few extra pounds around the midsection, but his smile was easy and his vibe was laid-back. “She got taken unawares by professionals. It happens to the best of us.”

The mage glared. “I don’t know who you are, but I’m fairly certain that this is none of your business.”

“You don’t know who I am?” the man said. “Really? I know who you are, Mr Dacanay. Newly-appointed sheriff of Roarhaven, am I right? You even have a little badge and ID card that you’re suddenly embarrassed about, tucked away in your pocket there.”

Dacanay loomed over him. “I don’t like psychics picking through my head.”

“Good thing I’m not a psychic, then. My name is Saracen Rue. I know things.” At the mention of Saracen’s name, Dacanay backed down considerably. “I know, for example, that you’re going to walk away from this conversation within the next five seconds. Four … three … two …”

Dacanay scowled, turned to Ieni. “I’ll be watching you.”

As he stormed off, Saracen leaned in. “He might be the law in Roarhaven, but not in the Sanctuary. You don’t have to worry about him.”

“Thank you,” Ieni said.

“Did you have a doctor look you over? That probably wouldn’t be a bad idea.”

Ieni nodded and hurried away, and Saracen turned to Valkyrie, stepped back to look her up and down, and smiled. “Valkyrie Cain. You are exactly what I expected.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Is that good or bad?”

“Good,” he said, shaking her hand. “It’s great to finally meet you. Come on, everyone’s meeting in the conference room.”

“Is Ghastly OK?” she asked as they started walking.

“He’s fine,” said Saracen. “A headache and a few mild burns. Hey, well done on saving the world that time.”

“Which time was that?”

Saracen laughed. “Take your pick. I haven’t been home in years – this morning was the first time I’d set foot on Irish soil in the last decade – but I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Likewise,” Valkyrie said. “Although Skulduggery never mentioned what discipline you studied.”

Saracen’s smile turned to a grin. “I know things.”

“But you said you’re not a psychic.”

“You don’t have to be a Sensitive to know things.”

“So … that’s your magic? Knowing things is your power?”

“Knowing things is a
result
of my power.”

“OK. No offence, but that vagueness is really annoying.”

“I know. Dexter has been trying to figure out what I can do for over three hundred and fifty years. Seeing the annoyance in his eyes is just about the most hilarious thing I’ve ever experienced.”

“Does
anyone
know what your power is?”

“Erskine,” said Saracen. “About twenty years before the war with Mevolent ended, I was poisoned. I was dying. I was on my sickbed and Erskine was the only friend I had in the place, and in a moment of weakness I told him what I could do.”

“But you survived.”

“The next morning I started to recover. Dexter likes to say that it was the burden of this secret that was killing me, and only when I told someone was that burden lifted. I think that’s the reason we’re still friends. He wants to be around if I ever get sick again.”

“And do you know … everything?”

“Not even close,” Saracen said. “After you.”

The Cleavers opened the doors for them and they joined Skulduggery and the Elders just as Tipstaff was handing Ravel a note. Valkyrie looked at Ghastly. He caught her eye and winked, and she smiled.

Ravel took a moment to read the note, then looked up. “All right, then,” he said, “before we get on to Bernard Sult and what this means, I have to ask Skulduggery and Valkyrie if Tyren Lament or any of his sorcerers ever mentioned anything about the Engineer?”

Valkyrie frowned. “What engineer?”

“
The
Engineer,” said Ravel. “The Sensitives were able to get a few snippets of information out of the mind of one of Sult’s people before the psychic block went up. The Supreme Council has been doing a little research into the Accelerator, it seems, and they came across a mention of this ‘Engineer’.”

“So who is he?” Skulduggery asked.

“Not who – what. It’s a machine. Apparently it’s the only way to deactivate the Accelerator.”

“And where is it?”

“No one knows. It wandered off.”

“How can it wander off? It’s a machine.”

“It’s humanoid, has an independent brain and is most likely sentient in a—”

Valkyrie’s eyes bulged. “It’s a
robot
?”

“Well … yes.”

Excitement bubbled inside her. “There’s a robot out there? That is so cool! Can it transform into anything?”

Ravel hesitated. “No.”

“Really?” Valkyrie said, suddenly disappointed. “Wow. You’d think if someone went to the trouble of building a robot, they’d at least make one that transforms.”

“Yes,” said Ravel slowly, “that was my first thought, too. Anyway, it was supposed to stay with the Accelerator, but obviously it wandered off. I can only assume that when the Supreme Council couldn’t find it, they decided to cut out the middleman, plant a few bombs and just hope for the best. Luckily for us, Ghastly was on hand to save the day.”

“Ghastly’s my hero,” said Saracen.

“But before I interrupted them,” Ghastly said, ignoring Saracen, “Sult did manage to transmit an energy reading to the American Sanctuary. If the Accelerator and the Engineer were built together, and we have every reason to believe they were, then the energy reading of one could theoretically be used to track down the other.”

“What does all this matter?” Valkyrie asked. “We’re not going to use the Accelerator anyway, right?”

“The Supreme Council doesn’t know that,” said Ghastly. “All they know is that we have a weapon that we could deploy at any time. It’s our nuclear deterrent: it stops them from doing anything too stupid. But if we no longer have the option of supercharging our sorcerers …”

“They’re free to be as stupid as they like.”

“Sadly, yes.”

Skulduggery looked back to Ravel. “What has been their reaction to Sult’s arrest?”

Ravel gave a shrug of exasperation. “The Supreme Council is demanding Sult’s release, as you can expect. The interesting thing is that they haven’t even attempted to lie about what he was doing here.”

“So they don’t think they owe anyone an explanation,” Skulduggery said. “Then they’ve already decided on war – now they’re just waiting for the instigating moment.”

Ravel sat heavily into his chair. “It would appear so. In response to our refusal to release him, they’re rounding up Irish mages all over the world, accusing them of spying and putting them in shackles. We’ll use whatever contacts and resources we can to smuggle our people back to us, but we don’t have a number yet on how many have been taken. And there’s something you all should know – Dexter Vex was one of the first arrested.”

“Do we know anything further?” asked Saracen.

“Only that he didn’t resist, which is probably a good thing.”

“And what are we doing about foreign agents on Irish soil?” Ghastly asked.

Ravel hesitated. “We’re asking them to leave, and we’re making sure they do. We can’t afford to be as brash as the Supreme Council. If their sorcerers, people we know and have fought beside, see how respectfully we’re treating them despite Sult’s attack, then maybe they’ll have second thoughts about the part they’re playing in all this.”

“Weakness,” said Madame Mist.

Ravel looked at her. “Excuse me?”

“You’re worried about being rude, and so we tiptoe where we should stride. Our enemies will see this as a weakness.”

“They are not our enemies.”

“Of course they are. Friends become enemies in times of war. If we enter into this with timid hearts, we will be crushed. We must stride, we must bellow, we must be merciless. That is how we win.”

“What are you talking about?” Ravel asked, frowning at her. “Win? What might we win? If we defeat the Supreme Council, then what? Do we take over? Do we run every Sanctuary around the world? Why would we even want that? We’re not in this to win. We’re in it to survive. We defend ourselves. If we have to go to war, we strike at key strategic points. We weaken the Supreme Council and we chip away at their support. Then, when their rank-and-file sorcerers have had enough, we withdraw and let them sort it out among themselves.”

Mist looked at him a moment longer, then sat back. “How … noble,” she said, distaste curling the word.