Skulduggery Pleasant: Last Stand of Dead Men (11 page)

“We don’t want a war, Elder Mist,” Ravel said. “If you find fault in our tactics, I invite you to offer alternatives. If you don’t have any, we may as well work with what we have. Valkyrie, I see you’ve met Saracen. Only believe half of what he tells you. Skulduggery, you’ve been looking deeper into these Warlock rumours. Any progress?”

Skulduggery took a moment to answer. “Our investigation is ongoing,” he said.

“Do you know something you’re not telling us?”

“Yes.”

“Right. Well, at least someone knows something. That’s a nice bloody change.”

he Repository in the old Sanctuary had been much better. Its ceilings were higher, its aisles were longer, the various magical artefacts were spaced out more. But here, in the Roarhaven Sanctuary, the ceiling was low, the aisles were short and uneven, and all of these wonderful and rare objects were crammed together on the shelves, which made finding one teeny-tiny box all the more difficult.

“Can we interrogate Bernard Sult?” Valkyrie asked as they searched.

“Why would we want to?” Skulduggery murmured, his gloved fingers rifling through a large box of smaller boxes.

“Because we might get a confession out of him.”

Skulduggery put the large box back on the shelf, and kept looking. “We don’t need a confession. Ghastly caught him red-handed.”

“But a confession might make the Supreme Council back off.”

“Only if they were denying his mission, which they’re not.”

She frowned. “I still think we should interrogate him.”

“Why?”

“To get the truth, the facts … also to gloat.”

Skulduggery got to the end of the aisle, and started down the next one. “Gloating is unbecoming of you.”

Valkyrie trailed after him. “You gloat all the time.”

“Because when I do it it’s admirable and funny. Bernard Sult is a political prisoner. The situation must be handled with great care and sensitivity – neither of which are your strong points.”

“Did … you just insult me?”

He stopped, and looked back. “Not that I am aware. Let others be caring and sensitive, Valkyrie. You concentrate on being effective. It’s what you’re good at.” He resumed his search.

“I can be effective
while
I’m being caring and sensitive,” she said to the back of his head. “You’ve seen me with Alice. You’ve seen how caring I can be. I’m the most caring person in the world when I’m with her. I’m almost
too
caring.”

“Let’s not get carried away.”

She glared. “I care. And I’m sensitive. You need to be sensitive in order to be a good big sister.”

“I’ve clearly struck a nerve.”

“No you haven’t. It’s not a nerve. It’s just a thing. I’m a good big sister, and I’m going to keep being a good big sister while she grows up. I’m going to give her advice on school, on clothes, on boys … I’m going to make sure she’s happy and safe and nothing bad ever happens to her.”

Skulduggery turned. “This conversation has shifted.”

“Has it?”

“It has. Who have you been speaking to?”

Valkyrie hesitated.

“Ah,” said Skulduggery. “It was something you were discussing with China. I see. And what did China say that has you so confrontational?”

“I’m not confrontational.”

“You think there’s an argument coming so you’ve started arguing early. It’s what you always do.”

“Fine. OK. Yes, there’s an argument coming. Oh, look, it’s already arrived. Big deal.”

“And may I ask what it is we are arguing about?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“Maybe not, but I think it would probably be useful nevertheless.”

Valkyrie sighed, and put some irritation into it to hide her own uneasiness. “I was talking to China about the Second Lifetime Syndrome, and about maybe telling my parents the truth.”

Skulduggery looked at her with his empty eye sockets.

It was very quiet in the Repository. She could hear her own breathing, and every slight rustle her clothes made as she stood there.

“Hmm,” Skulduggery said.

“China’s not in favour,” Valkyrie said quickly. “Just in case you think she’s talked me into anything.”

He nodded. “Hmm,” he said again.

“She gave me loads of reasons why I shouldn’t, so you don’t have to. I haven’t even decided. I just mentioned it. It’s a possibility. I don’t want to lose my family. Is that so wrong?”

He didn’t answer, and her eyes widened.

“I mean … I’m sorry, I didn’t … That was a dumb thing to say.”

“Why?” he asked, and tilted his head. Then he clicked his fingers. “Oh, yes, because my family is dead. I’d completely forgotten.”

The warmth in his voice made her smile. “You’re such a moron. Sorry, though.”

He waved her words away. “If people had to apologise to me every time they made some random comment about dead families, I’d never get any work done. As for your dilemma, I’m not going to tell you what to do. I want you to be happy and for your parents and sister to be happy and safe. Whatever way you can achieve that is fine with me.”

“Thank you.”

“So long as you take into account all the possible repercussions of your actions before you do anything, I’m confident you’ll make the right decision.”

Her smile soured. “Cheers. Are we going to find this crystal or not?”

“Already have,” Skulduggery said, and held up a small, felt-covered box. He opened it and withdrew a purple crystal the size of a peanut.

“Hmph.”

He tilted his head. “Hmph?”

Valkyrie shrugged. “It’s not very impressive, is it? I was expecting … I don’t know what I was expecting, but I was expecting something less … meh.”

“I have never admired your professionalism more than right at this moment. Anyway, this is the amethyst crystal China told you about – though, to be honest, I didn’t know it could be used to affect the memory in such a selective way. It’s usually wielded with such clumsiness, used to wipe a mind clear. Whoever our mystery man is, he knows what he’s doing.”

“If they’re so powerful,” Valkyrie said, “it couldn’t be easy getting your hands on one.”

“It’s not – certainly not one as loaded with power as this is. A lot of them have been destroyed. Most of the others have been locked away in vaults and Repositories around the world.”

“So our mystery man has a crystal of his very own,” said Valkyrie.

Skulduggery nodded slowly. “Either that or he uses this one.”

She looked at him. “Are you being serious?”

“They’re really not easy to get hold of.”

“So he borrows this one whenever he needs it, then puts it back when he’s done? But then … I mean, if that’s true, then we’ve probably passed him in the corridor a hundred times.”

“Maybe.”

“So we’re pretty sure now that not only is he a Roarhaven mage, he’s also a Sanctuary mage. That means he’s one of us.”

He looked at her. “Yes.”

“Well … that’s just
creepy
. Can we take fingerprints or something?”

“Crystals of this nature don’t hold any oily residue,” Skulduggery said, “and the box is covered in felt. We’ll have someone go over the CCTV footage for this room, but I doubt we’ll find anything useful. The one lead we have, though, that we didn’t have before, is the description of the old man with the long grey beard. Take that description, combine it with Roarhaven, and who springs to mind?”

“The Torment.”

“That being the case, what do you think our next move should be?”

Valkyrie smiled. “Scapegrace.”

hen they walked into the pub, it was empty except for Thrasher behind the bar and Scapegrace sweeping up. Scapegrace brightened when he saw them. When
she
saw them.
He
saw them. God, this was confusing.

Scapegrace threw the sweeping brush away and came forward, clasped Skulduggery’s hand and gave it a firm shake. “My friend,” he said. “It is good to see you again.”

“Uh,” Skulduggery said. “Right.”

“And Valkyrie,” Scapegrace said, turning to her, smiling broadly. “How goes the fight?”

She had to look past the impressive figure, the pretty face, the dazzling smile, and remember the brain that lurked within that head. “What fight would that be?”

“The fight against evil,” said Scapegrace. “How goes it? Does it go well?”

“Sure,” Valkyrie said, a little doubtfully.

“I heard there was an explosion in the Sanctuary. Do you have any leads?”

She frowned. “Yeah.”

“Any suspects?”

“The people who set the bomb were arrested at the scene.”

Scapegrace nodded thoughtfully. “I see, I see. Convenient. A little too convenient, wouldn’t you say? Almost as if they
wanted
to be caught.”

“I don’t think so …”

“Well, maybe not, I know nothing about it. But if you need our help, just give us the sign. We’ll need to work out a sign. Then you can give it, and we’ll come and help. Some kind of signal, or alarm, or, I don’t know, maybe I could give you my phone number, or you could pop by, I suppose. We’re only up the road from you, so that’d probably be handiest.”

“You feeling OK?”

Scapegrace laughed, and stepped back. “Me? I’m fine. Better than Thrasher, that’s for sure.”

Thrasher walked up, a sheepish look on his handsome face. “Hi, Valkyrie. Hi, Skulduggery.”

“You’re not feeling well?” Skulduggery asked.

Before Thrasher could answer, Scapegrace did it for him. “He’s constipated.”

“Master!” Thrasher said, horrified.

“Oh, shut up. We’re all friends here. We can talk about these things. It’s just like Doctor Nye told us. We each got a blast of magic to reanimate these bodies, and that magic has been keeping us going for the past few months. But now our own biological processes are starting to reawaken and take over.”

“I got hungry for the first time on Tuesday,” Thrasher said, somewhat guiltily. “So I ate something.”

Scapegrace grinned happily. “But while his stomach has reactivated, his bowels are still asleep.”

“It’s very uncomfortable,” Thrasher confessed.

“As zombies, we didn’t feel anything,” Scapegrace said, “but now that we’re human again, something like constipation is a real problem. For some of us.”

Thrasher blushed and Scapegrace’s grin widened. Valkyrie felt the need to step in.