Skulduggery Pleasant: Last Stand of Dead Men (47 page)

Losing Fletcher was a major setback. They had done their best to keep him out of the fighting and as far away from danger as they possibly could. He was the one advantage they’d had over the Supreme Council and, for all they knew, he was already dead. The Monster Hunters were pleading to go back to Mozambique and Valkyrie was trying to convince Skulduggery to help her track down this Ajuoga person, but Ravel wouldn’t let any of them go and Ghastly agreed with him. Once Mantis was defeated, once its army was in shackles, they could find Fletcher and bring him back. If he were still alive.

At least this part was going according to plan – so far. Mantis and his army were still hunkered down in the Keep for the fourth day in a row, and Ghastly was down here with everyone else at the bottom of the valley. Another night had fallen and – Fletcher notwithstanding – no one was hurt and no one was dead. Ghastly was experiencing a rare moment of relief. And then his phone rang.

“Doctor,” he said, “what can I do for you?”

“Elder Bespoke, I’m so sorry for bothering you.” Doctor Synecdoche sounded worried. She talked fast, and he could practically hear her frown over the phone. “If there were anyone else I could call, I wouldn’t be wasting your time with—”

“Doctor, please, it’s no trouble. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Well … this sounds ridiculous, but I can’t get into Roarhaven.”

He answered her frown with one of his own. “I’m sorry?”

“When Doctor Nye arrived back in the Sanctuary, I decided to take a few days off. Nye was busy with the Engineer and I had some leave owed me, so I drove into Dublin to see some friends. But I’ve just driven back and … they won’t let me in.”

“Who won’t let you in?”

“The Roarhaven mages. They have the road blocked off. I can see more of them on the hill. They know who I am. They know I work for the Sanctuary. But they said they’re not letting anyone through.”

“Doctor, I don’t know what’s going on, but if I give you Administrator Tipstaff’s number, you can call him and he’ll—”

“He’s not answering,” said Synecdoche. “I called Elder Mist, too, and I got talking to a man I’ve never spoken to before and he told me Elder Mist is unavailable. He wouldn’t give me his name. Sir, I really don’t mean to pester you, I know how preoccupied you must be right now, but … something’s not right.”

“Doctor, thank you for bringing this to my attention. Go back to Dublin. Keep your phone on. When this is resolved, I’ll have someone call you, or I’ll call you myself, and hopefully I’ll have a satisfactory explanation for you. Thank you, Doctor.”

He hung up, his frown deepening. He found Ravel strolling through the camp, talking with Saracen.

“We may have a problem,” he said. “There are roadblocks up around Roarhaven. Our people aren’t being allowed in. No one inside is answering their phone.”

“The Supreme Council could have sneaked some people into Roarhaven,” said Saracen, “using Mantis as a distraction.”

Ghastly shook his head. “Synecdoche said it was Roarhaven mages who stopped her. Whatever’s going on, the Supreme Council isn’t behind it.”

Ravel sighed. “It’s probably just some new piece of bureaucracy that Mist has introduced to ‘improve security’ since we’ve been gone. What do you want to do? You want to check it out? You could even take the nice doctor with you, and demonstrate how full of authority you are.”

Saracen nodded. “That’s sure to impress her. It’d impress me.”

“See that? If it’d impress Saracen Rue, it’s
sure
to impress a lady.”

“Would the both of you just shut up about that?” Ghastly said. “With all this badgering about meeting a nice girl, you’re worse than my mother ever was.”

“Chicks dig scars,” said Saracen. “That’s all I’m going to say about it.”

“You’re a veritable font of wisdom, you know that?”

Laughing, Saracen wrapped his arms round Ghastly and Ravel and slowed their walk as he pulled them in. “Two men with knives ahead of us,” he muttered. “A third coming up on our left, a fourth on our right.”

Ravel grinned, but spoke softly. “This is technically an army camp. Everyone has knives.”

“They’re waiting for us.”

“Maybe they’re fans,” Ravel whispered, but veered to the left as Saracen went right, leaving Ghastly to keep walking straight ahead. Typical.

A man and woman walked out from behind cover with their heads down. They each had a hand hidden from view. They parted to allow Ghastly to walk between them. Instead, he stopped, and raised an eyebrow.

“You don’t really think you’re going to catch me unawares, do you?”

They moved and he snapped his palm against the air and the woman went flying back. The man brought the blade swinging low and Ghastly grabbed his wrist with both hands and yanked him into a headbutt. The knife-man collapsed and Ghastly clicked his fingers, threw a fireball into the chest of the woman as she ran at him. She shrieked and beat at the flames and Ghastly waved his hand. The flames went away and she looked up and Ghastly hit her so hard he heard her jaw break.

Behind him, Ravel was practically posing for photos with one foot on the head of his unconscious opponent. Saracen dragged his own would-be assassin across the ground and dumped him in the clearing between them. Saracen’s hand was bleeding from a deep cut across the back of it. He looked annoyed.

“What’s your name?” asked Ghastly.

The failed assassin snarled.

“I know him,” said Ravel. “His name’s … something nervous. Like Worrying or Fretting or—”

“Anguish,” the assassin said. “But that’s all you’re getting out of me.”

Ravel looked at Ghastly. “Roarhaven mage.”

Ghastly rubbed his head where he had butted the knife-man. It was starting to swell. “This isn’t the first time Roarhaven mages have tried to kill us. You’d think they’d have got the message by now. Mr Anguish, we’re not going to be killed by the likes of you, so do yourself a favour and tell us who’s behind this.”

Anguish’s sneer was becoming unsightly. “You’re dead. All of you are dead. Everyone who stands between us and our destiny is dead.”

“And what destiny would that be?” Saracen asked.

“Ruling over the mortals like we were born to do,” Anguish told him. “And don’t try to read my mind. We all have Level 4 barriers.”

“I’m not psychic,” said Saracen. “Why does everyone think I’m psychic? I just know things.”

“Do you know who sent them?” Ravel asked.

Saracen gave a sigh. “I said I know
things
. Most of these are random things. Not especially useful things.”

By the time Saracen rejoined them with his hand wrapped in a bandage, the assassins had been hauled away and the rest of the Dead Men were gathered in Ravel’s tent. Ghastly kept his eyes on Valkyrie. Since Fletcher had been taken, she’d barely spoken to anyone except to argue her case in going after him.

“Madame Mist appears to be making her grab for power,” said Skulduggery. “Although it would seem to be an especially clumsy one for someone as meticulous as she is.”

“Maybe she just saw her chance,” said Vex. “Erskine and Ghastly are in the field, along with most of the sorcerers loyal to them. She’s not going to get an opportunity like this again.”

Valkyrie rubbed her forehead like she was trying to get rid of a headache. “But what’s the point?” she asked, her voice irritable. “Mist sets up roadblocks and takes over the Sanctuary … and then what? She’s seized a building. So what? That doesn’t mean she’s in charge, not while the other two Elders are still alive.”

“I’ll be sure to ask her when I get there,” Ravel said.

Ghastly saw a flicker of apprehension in Valkyrie’s eyes. Something about what Ravel said made her uneasy.

“That’s not a good idea,” said Skulduggery.

“Staying in this camp is not a good idea,” Ravel countered. “If Mist had four assassins hidden here, she could very well have more. You know me, Skulduggery – I have no patience for this kind of thing. If someone wants to kill me, I’ll meet them halfway.”

“You were in one of Cassandra Pharos’s visions,” Valkyrie blurted. “We didn’t tell you because of the whole, you know, affecting-the-future thing. But we saw you in the Sanctuary. You were in pain. A
lot
of pain.”

“I see,” Ravel said, raising an eyebrow. “Did she see anything else?”

“Nothing more to do with you,” Skulduggery said.

Ravel nodded, then shrugged. “The future can be changed just by knowing what’s going to happen. I’ll be fine.”

“It’s really not a good idea.”

“If Mist takes over, all this will be for nothing. I’m going back to Roarhaven, Skulduggery. It’s my decision.”

“I’ll go, too,” said Ghastly. “Cassandra didn’t see me in that vision, did she? So I’ll stick with Erskine, and make sure that future doesn’t happen.”

“Fair enough,” said Skulduggery. “Anton, you’re going, too, you’re on bodyguard duty. Valkyrie, Dexter, Saracen and I will stay here.”

Saracen frowned. “We’re splitting up,” he said. “When we fought against Mevolent, we had a rule. We don’t split up until the job is done.”

“It won’t be for long,” said Ravel. “A few days at the very most. If we get to Roarhaven and it’s too much for us to handle, we’ll hang back, wait until Mantis and his army are taken down. Then we’ll all march in together.”

“Unless
you’ve
had a premonition of something bad happening,” Vex said to Saracen.

Saracen glowered. “I’m not a psychic.”

“Then what are you?”

“Wary.”

“The awesome power of wariness,” Vex grumbled. “One of these days you
are
going to tell me what your magic discipline is.”

“How many times do I have to say this? I know things.”

“I hate you.”

“See? I knew that.”

“We’ve got two Australian mages with us,” Skulduggery said, still on topic, “Nixion and Zathract. Take them with you, they’re good in a fight. And the Cleavers have been given strict instructions to obey the Grand Mage above all else – you’ll need them, too.”

“Makes sense,” Ravel said. “How many?”

Skulduggery looked at the map. “All of them,” he said.

“But that’d cut our numbers here by a third,” said Ghastly. “If Mantis attacks, you’ll be crushed.”

Skulduggery tapped their position on the map. “We know Mantis has eyes in these woods,” he said. “If you leave now, they’ll need a few hours to verify that you’ve really gone. Maybe they’re behind what’s happening at Roarhaven or maybe not, but I bet they know something’s up. When you leave, taking the Cleavers with you, they’ll report back. Mantis won’t be able to let an opportunity like this pass, and it
will
attack.”

Valkyrie frowned. “Yay. It’ll attack and kill us, falling right into our trap.”

“Val’s right,” said Saracen. “I fail to see how any of this is to our advantage.”

“Mantis won’t know how long our forces will be depleted,” Skulduggery said. “I doubt it’d even wait until morning to attack. Under cover of night, it’ll come for us. They’re so fond of their shields over there. We’ll construct our own, all the way across this line. And up here, on this ridge, we already have Moloch and fifty vampires.”

The men around the table were too seasoned to show it, but the sudden silence that followed those words was proof enough of their shock.

“They’re up there?” Vex asked.

Skulduggery nodded. “I called Moloch this afternoon. They mobilise quickly, I have to say. They arrived before nightfall and set up a cage. If there’s one thing vampires know how to build well, it’s a cage.” He trailed his finger from Mantis’s position on the map to their own. “Mantis will charge straight at us. When its forces reach this point, the vampires will charge at them from the ridge, catching them in the open. The Cleavers will stand and fight, but all the sorcerers in the rear will know better. They’ll retreat. The sorcerers at the front will be caught between the vampires and our shields. We’ll be accepting their surrender and taking prisoners – Mantis among them.”

“Uh, OK,” said Vex. “And then there’ll be fifty vampires roaming around in this area here.”

“Moloch says he can control them. He’s already taken the serum, so he’ll stay human and herd them back to where they can do no harm.”

“He’s sure he can do that?”

“He seems confident. All we can do is take him at his word.”

“So your entire plan hinges on the word of a vampire?” Ghastly pressed. “Skulduggery, you hate vampires. I mean, out of all of us, you trust them the least. And we don’t trust them at all.”

“I trust that Moloch can’t afford to let us fail,” Skulduggery said.

“But what if he can’t control them like he thinks he can?” asked Saracen.

“Then we take them out,” Skulduggery said, “and solve Dublin’s vampire problem along the way.”

s Scapegrace swept the floor, he wondered if this was it. Was this his life? Was this the full extent of what he would achieve? Ex-zombie, now woman, owner of a modestly successful pub? What had happened to his dreams? Was he sweeping them up along with the dust? Was he abandoning them?