Skulduggery Pleasant: Last Stand of Dead Men (65 page)

He didn’t say anything about Stephanie staying behind, so she prepared alongside everyone else. Well, almost everyone.

Scapegrace cornered her on her way back from the toilet. “Let us help,” he said. “I’ve been training in the martial arts. Thrasher has big muscles. Grandmaster Ping is really good at kung fu. Please don’t leave us behind. I want to be one of the good guys.”

“You
are
one of the good guys,” Stephanie said, “but this isn’t up to me. Skulduggery and the others … they need to see you in action before they’ll let you come along, and we don’t have time for that right now.”

“But this is
it
,” said Scapegrace. “This is the big one. I … I need to do this. The Black Cleaver is my fault. I got Thrasher to pick up all the little bits of him after Lord Vile made him explode. I gave the bits to Nye as payment for putting our heads in new bodies. If it wasn’t for me, Ravel wouldn’t have the scariest bodyguard in the world and—”

“Scapegrace,” Stephanie said, “it’s OK. No one’s blaming you.”

“If ever there was a moment to prove myself, to show people that I’m not a joke any more, that it’s time to take me seriously, it’s now. This fight you’re going into is important to you. We want to be there. I want to be there. I want to fight alongside the good guys and whatever happens, victory or defeat, life or death, I’m ready for it.”

“It isn’t up to me.”

“But they’ll listen to you.”

“No,” Stephanie said. “They won’t.”

She left him there, and got back to the living room as a picture flickered into life on Gracious’s laptop. The Accelerator Room. Empty, apart from the Engineer itself. Everyone crowded around.

“Keep an eye on the walls,” Skulduggery said. “They need a large sigil on each one if they want to debilitate Fletcher upon arrival.”

“Can’t see any,” said Vex.

“You’d better be sure,” Fletcher said. “I got hit with one of those things before and it is not fun. I couldn’t teleport for hours afterwards.”

Skulduggery leaned away from the screen. “The walls look clear.”

“So maybe this isn’t a trap, after all.”

“Maybe. Here they come.”

The Engineer swivelled its head and the monitor showed two mages walking in, followed by Ravel with the Black Cleaver behind his right shoulder. The Engineer looked away for a moment, as Clarabelle wandered by, and when it returned its attention to Ravel, the Grand Mage was peering directly into its face. Nye stood by his side, stooping over. The Black Cleaver, Syc and two Roarhaven mages formed a loose circle round them both. Ravel reached out, tried wiping the smiley face from the Engineer’s head. As he did so, he turned the camera slightly, and they glimpsed Portia, standing guard by the door.

“Saracen, Dexter and Gracious, take Syc and his two friends,” Skulduggery said. “Donegan, Portia is yours. The most dangerous person in that room is the Black Cleaver. Stephanie, the Sceptre is the only thing guaranteed to put him down fast. If he moves, turn him to dust. Ravel is mine. Fletcher, you stay away from any fighting. If this is a trap, you grab whoever is closest and get the hell out of there. Everyone clear on what they have to do? OK then, get in position.”

Stephanie didn’t even get to blink and they were standing inside the circle of bodyguards with Ravel and Nye. The Black Cleaver was the first to spin, but Stephanie was already holding the Sceptre out, ready to fire. She was aware of the scuffles all around her, of the shouts and curses and threats, but she didn’t take her eye off the Cleaver as he stood there, his hands frozen halfway to his scythe.

Fletcher was beside her, gently moving her as Vex dragged Syc past them, Syc turning purple in a sleeper hold. The Sceptre didn’t waver. The Cleaver didn’t move.

When Syc slumped into unconsciousness, Vex said, “Clear.”

Behind her, Gracious said, “Clear.”

“Clear,” from Saracen.

“Clear,” from Donegan.

“Put down the scythe,” Stephanie told the Black Cleaver. “Back up against the wall.”

For a moment, the Cleaver didn’t move.

“Do as she says,” said Ravel from somewhere to her right. The Cleaver laid the scythe on the floor and backed up. Stephanie’s mouth was dry.

“I’ve been held here against my will,” Nye said, its voice wavering with fear.

“Shut up,” said Skulduggery. Stephanie glanced at him. He had Ravel on his knees, gun pressed to his head.

“What’s it going to be?” Ravel asked. “Assassination, arrest, or kidnap?”

“Keep talking,” Skulduggery said. “I haven’t made up my mind.”

“Well, if these are my final few moments, I’d like you all to know how sorry I am about Ghastly and Anton.”

“Assassination it is,” Skulduggery muttered, taking a step back to avoid the blood splatter.

“Hold on,” Ravel said quickly. “Just hold on a second, OK? I didn’t want to do it but I had to. I’m changing the world. In fifty years you’ll look back on all this and, I don’t know, maybe you’ll see that I was right.”

“I doubt that very much,” Saracen said.

“Yeah,” said Ravel, “I thought it may have been a tad far-fetched myself, but what else am I going to say with a gun pointed to my head? Apart from if you surrender now, none of you will be harmed.”

“Is this the part where you spring the trap?” Skulduggery asked.

Ravel smiled. “So you knew?”

“Of course.”

“But you came anyway?”

“Of course.”

“See? That’s why we’re friends. I’m going to stand up now. You can shoot me if you want, but I’m standing up.” Ravel got to his feet slowly. The gun stayed pressed to his temple. “You’re not going anywhere, by the way. You’re certainly not teleporting out of here.”

“Is that so?” Fletcher said. “And what’s going to stop us?”

Ravel looked at him. “Your hair is really cool.”

The pager on Fletcher’s hand crackled and he jerked back. Vex caught him as he fell.

“Don’t worry,” said Ravel, “he’s still alive. But he won’t regain consciousness for a while. Just a little something extra I had added to the pager. Voice-activated. I had to pick a phrase that no one else would say to him, ever.”

“They’re coming for us,” Saracen said. “Mages and Cleavers. Dozens of them.”

“Gracious, pick up Fletcher,” Skulduggery said. “We’re shooting our way out of here.”

“No you’re not,” Ravel said, almost angrily. “You’re going to get yourself killed. Just surrender, OK? You’ve lost. Accept it. You’ll be in a cell for a few months and when you emerge we’ll be ruling the world, the way we were always meant to.”

The doors burst open. Skulduggery swung Ravel round and stood behind him.

“If any of us takes one single step,” Ravel told the mages and Cleavers who were flooding the room, “kill us all.”

Skulduggery thumbed back the hammer of his gun. “You’re so eager to die?”

“I won’t let you ruin everything,” Ravel said. “I won’t let Anton’s and Ghastly’s deaths be in vain. This will be seen through to the bitter end – with or without you and me.”

“I should just kill you right now.”

“You could. But then all of you would die. Even Valkyrie there. You want her to die, Skulduggery? I don’t. I don’t want any of you to die.”

Stephanie waited for Skulduggery to correct him, to tell him that she wasn’t the real Valkyrie, but he stayed quiet.

There was a voice from behind the crowd of Cleavers. “Let me through. Let me through, damn it.” A moment later, a narrow man pushed his way to the front.

“Flint,” said Ravel, and for the first time Stephanie detected a hint of surprise in his voice. “Everyone, allow me to introduce Flint, our new Administrator.”

“What happened to Tipstaff?” Stephanie asked.

“Tipstaff is … enjoying some time off,” said Ravel. “He’s spending most of it in a cell, but he’s always been the solitary type. Not everyone understood why I did the things I did.”

“Grand Mage,” Flint said, “we’ve spotted the Warlocks.”

Ravel brightened. “Perfect timing! Where are they? Dublin?”

“No, sir,” Flint said. “They’re here. They’re outside the city gates.”

Ravel stared at him. “But why … why the hell have they come here? They’re meant to be attacking the
mortals
.”

“Looks like they’re not as gullible as you thought,” Skulduggery murmured, and released his hold. “Everyone, stand down.” He held out his gun.

Ravel hesitated, then took it. “Cleavers,” he said, “cuff them.”

The Cleavers moved in. Stephanie allowed them to take the Sceptre away from her, and cold shackles closed round her wrists.

Ravel turned to Nye. “Doctor, keep Fletcher nourished and hydrated while he sleeps.”

“Of course.”

“And no experimenting, you understand me?”

Nye hesitated, then bowed. “Of course.”

Ravel looked at Skulduggery, then spoke to the Black Cleaver. “Bring them up to the wall. They’ve come this far, they may as well see the damn Warlocks.”

he Cleavers herded them into a tight group and they followed Ravel through the Sanctuary. The old familiar corridors, concrete and grey and utilitarian, now opened up into grand walkways of marble and stone. The ceilings, so low, so oppressive, blossomed into arches and domes. They passed a group of men knocking down walls between the old and the new, the drab and the splendid, and it was like peeking into another world. Which, in a way, was exactly what they were doing.

They gathered on a platform. At Ravel’s command, it sank smoothly into the floor, the gap sealing itself above their heads. They came to a stop at the mouth of a wide, well-lit tunnel, and started moving again, forward this time.

“Bloody Warlocks,” he muttered.

Skulduggery sounded oddly pleased. “After you’d gone to all that trouble to frame Department X …”

“Exactly,” said Ravel, exasperated. “I mean, how many breadcrumbs do I have to drop to lead them to attack mortals? Everything worked out according to plan. Everything. Yet still they turn up here. What use is that? We need them to attack
Dublin
, for God’s sake. We need mortals to see them, to fear them, we need the world to panic. Only then can we swoop in and save the day.”

“And then take over,” Vex added.

“Taking over is our right,” said Ravel. “This is the most painless way we can do it, for both us and the mortals. What, you’d prefer if our plans consisted of mass destruction on a global scale? I’m trying to do this with a minimum of hardship. You’re all looking at me like I’ve enjoyed this, like I’ve enjoyed getting innocent blood on my hands or betraying my friends.”

“If you really feel bad about it,” said Stephanie, “take off our shackles.”

“Well,” Ravel said, “I don’t feel
that
bad about it.” He smiled, but nobody else did, so he sighed and held up the Sceptre. “And where did you get this, may I ask? Have you been visiting alternate dimensions again?” He examined it closer. “There are other God-Killer weapons. The sword, the dagger, the spear, the bow. There are more, too, if you believe the legends. But this … this is the one. This is the weapon that drove back the Faceless Ones. An army that carries the Sceptre before it … is invincible.”

Stephanie looked him straight in the eye. “So are you going to kill me? The only way you can use that is to kill me and claim ownership of it for yourself.”

“You really think I’d kill you, Valkyrie?”

“You killed Ghastly. And Shudder. And Corrival Deuce. And who knows how many others.”

Ravel looked away. “Yeah. Well. I’m not going to kill
you
.”

Gracious was standing with his head tilted back, looking at the lights as they flashed by. “We’re underneath the streets?” he asked.

“Yes we are,” Ravel said. “The Sanctuary is connected to all major points in the city by these tunnels. You should see some of the materials we’ve discovered in the dimension where all this was built. Rocks, minerals, metals – we have nothing like them in this reality. No humans over there, but plenty of weird animals and fascinating vegetation. We’ve had experts examining everything and they’ve discovered some kind of basic intelligence in the plant life. Can you imagine that? Intellectual carrots. The mind boggles.”

“What are you trying to do?” Vex asked quietly. “Are you trying to make friends with us? Are we chatting now? You murdered Anton and Ghastly, you son of a bitch. There’s no coming back from that.”