Death Bringer (16 page)

She shrugged her left shoulder. “It is one option.”

“The first person we'll have to take care of is Scorn herself. Once we have the list, we won't need her any more.”

“No,” said China. “We take them all out at the same time.”

“That may not be possible.”

“Let me worry about that. Once they're dead, the Church will crumble, once and for all.” She looked at Gallow. “Do you think you can retrieve it without her knowing?”

“It shouldn't be a problem. You think you can organise the assassination of Scorn and twelve others?”

China smiled. “It shouldn't be a problem.”

Chapter 23
The Homecoming

hey'd been on the road for a little under twenty-four hours when the Penguin-Mobile stopped, and Clarabelle tapped on the glass. “We're here,” she said.

Scapegrace slid open the freezer and got out. He watched Clarabelle stretch, envying the yawn that accompanied the movement. He was dead. He didn't get tired any more. He missed it.

It was another gorgeous day outside. Grumbling, he put on a coat and pulled up the hood to hide his head. Clarabelle left the van first, and Scapegrace pushed Thrasher aside so he could go next. He stepped on to a pavement. It was awfully familiar. He looked around.

“We're in Roarhaven,” he said.

Clarabelle nodded. “This is where the new Sanctuary is.”

He stared at her. “But I know Roarhaven. I lived here for years. I know how to get to Roarhaven. We didn't have to spend twenty-four hours driving around waiting for you to remember where the Sanctuary was. You could have just said Roarhaven and I'd have known. We could have been here in an hour.”

“It's not about the destination. It's about the journey.”

“It's a little about the destination,” Thrasher said quietly.

“And besides,” Clarabelle said, “we got to see the sights, didn't we?”

“I was stuck in a freezer,” Scapegrace reminded her.

“This is my home now,” Clarabelle said, ignoring them. “Or it will be, if I get the job. It's a lovely town, isn't it?”

Scapegrace hesitated. “Do you really think so?”

“No, I don't,” she admitted. “I liked where I was living in Dublin more. I had a nice flat, and I had a gerbil. His name was Theodore.”

“That's a nice name,” said Thrasher.

“I don't think he liked it. Roarhaven, though, it isn't a gerbil kind of place.”

“I don't suppose it is,” Scapegrace said.

“The people aren't very nice.”

“They don't trust outsiders.”

“I don't think Theodore would have fitted in. Before I left, I released him into the wild.”

Thrasher frowned. “You released your gerbil into the wild?”

“Yes. Back into his natural habitat. It was only fair. Now he can live out the rest of his life, hunting his prey and raising a family.”

“What, uh, what would a gerbil's prey
be
?”

“Nuts, mostly.”

Thrasher frowned. “And how would he hunt nuts?”

Clarabelle shrugged. “He'd probably lie in wait or something. I don't know. But he's out there now, living his life, and I'm here, in Roarhaven, trying to start a new one. I'm going to ask for a job now.” She started walking towards the Sanctuary. Scapegrace hesitated, then followed after her. Thrasher scurried along behind.

“If you get a job,” Scapegrace said, “maybe you could ask Doctor Nye to bring me back to life, as a favour.”

“Doctor Nye doesn't do favours,” Clarabelle said. “Doctor Nye is not that kind of boss.”

“You don't know what kind of boss it is. You said earlier you'd never met it.”

“I'm only guessing. I'm guessing it'll say no. It'll have to, or I'll get it into my head to ask it for favours every day, and then where will we be? You'll have to ask it yourself.”

“But why would it say yes to me?”

“Maybe it's kind.”

“You mentioned something about it being a war criminal.”

“Yes, I don't think it's kind.”

“If it is such a horrible creature,” Thrasher said from behind them, “then why do you want to work for it, Clarabelle? You seem really nice.”

“Thank you, Thrasher,” Clarabelle said. “You're nice too. I hope Doctor Nye doesn't give you a new brain. I hope it just washes the one you already have.”

Thrasher smiled, and Scapegrace hit him and turned back to Clarabelle. “The problem,” he said, “is that we don't have anything to bargain with. We don't have money, we don't have property. We have no skills to speak of. So what's the point of even going to see it? It's only going to say no. It's only going to laugh at us and say no. Why should I go and see someone who is only going to laugh at me? Everyone laughs at me. The people in this town laughed at me for years, and that was even before I was a zombie.”

Clarabelle turned to face him. “I'm not laughing at you.”

“I'm not laughing, either,” Thrasher said.

“Shut up, Thrasher.” Scapegrace looked at Clarabelle. “I… I'm sorry. Being back here, suddenly all my old insecurities come to the surface again. I wasn't always the confident person you see before you. I had… doubts. I wasn't the Killer Supreme. I wasn't the Zombie King. I was just… Scapegrace.”

“Well,” Clarabelle said, “I think Scapegrace is a great guy.”

“Do you believe in me?”

Clarabelle frowned. “I'm not sure. I've hallucinated before. That's how I met my first boyfriend.”

“No, not do you believe I exist. I'm asking, do you believe in
me
? As a person? As a… a being? It'd be nice to hear that, to hear that someone believes in me.”

“I believe in you, Vaurien.”

“Thank you.”

“I believe in lots of silly things.”

“Oh.”

“That doesn't mean they're not important.”

“Right.”

“I believe you can do whatever you put your mind to.”

“Really?”

“I don't know what I'm saying any more.” She resumed her march towards the Sanctuary.

There was a man leaving just as they came to the door. He frowned at them. “Can I help you?”

“No,” Clarabelle said cheerily, and breezed by. Scapegrace and Thrasher kept their heads down and shuffled after her.

A man and a woman emerged from a doorway, deep in conversation. They seemed to recognise Clarabelle, and she asked them for directions and then they continued on, with Clarabelle singing ‘We're Off to See the Wizard'. She led them through swinging doors into an Operating Room, where a spider-like being was dissecting a corpse.

“Doctor Nye,” Clarabelle said.

The spider-like being turned to them. “Zombies,” it said, mildly surprised. “And a blue-haired girl.”

“My name is Clarabelle. I'm here looking for a job.”

“A job?”

“Yes. I have no medical or scientific training to speak of, and no inclination to learn, and I pick things up fairly slowly because of my short attention span.”

Nye blinked its yellow eyes. “But…?”

“But what?”

“I'm waiting for you to list your good qualities now.”

Clarabelle blinked back at him. “Those
were
my good qualities.”

“Clarabelle… Clarabelle… You worked as Kenspeckle Grouse's assistant, did you not?”

“One of them. He fired all the others.”

“But not you?”

“He fired me on the second day, but I kept coming in. I had nowhere else to go.”

“And then you killed him.”

“Yes.”

“A Remnant squirmed inside you, and you killed Kenspeckle Grouse.”

“Yes.”

Nye grinned. “You're hired. But I have to warn you, if you try to kill me, I will dissect you and sing along to your screams.”

“Can I have Mondays off ?”

“You may. Who are your friends?”

Scapegrace cleared his throat. “My name is Vaurien Scapegrace, Doctor. I have sought you out to cure me.”

“To cure you of what?”

“Of this accursed affliction.”

“I cannot cure stupidity.”

Scapegrace frowned. “I meant being a zombie.”

“And why should I do this?”

“Because… it's a challenge worthy of your skills?”

“I don't like challenges,” Nye said dismissively. “Do you have money? I like money.”

“I don't have an awful lot.”

“Do you have any?”

Scapegrace hesitated. “No.”

“Do you have any skills, then? Could you be of use to me?”

“I honestly don't see how.”

“Me neither. It looks like you're destined to remain a zombie until your brain rots in your skull. Which, judging by the rate of your decomposition, should be in a year or so.”

Scapegrace stared. “A year? I only have a year left?”

“If you stay out of the sun.”

“But… but that's terrible!”

Nye shrugged. “It's not so bad for me.”

Scapegrace stumbled out of the Sanctuary, aghast, and Thrasher ran out after him, an idiot. Clarabelle was staying because Clarabelle had a job now, and details needed to be ironed out and suchlike. But Scapegrace had just been handed a death sentence for the already dead. He stopped by the water's edge and looked out across the dark lake.

“What does it all mean?” he asked aloud.

Thrasher looked up at him, and didn't answer.

“What is a life?” Scapegrace continued. “Is life merely living? Is it having a heartbeat? Or is life the effect you have on others? Is it the effect you have on the world around you? If so, what have I done with mine? How have I wasted it?”

Thrasher shook his head sadly.

“I was never that great a sorcerer,” Scapegrace said. “I can admit it now. My magic was never that powerful. But I thought my skills and my talents would make up for it. Even when I realised that I had no skills or talents to speak of, that still didn't stop me. I was the Killer Supreme, and then I became the Zombie King. That, I thought, was a life worth having.”

Thrasher nodded in agreement.

“But now… now look at me. I barely have a face. Bits fall off me all the time. I have to keep them in jars in the ice-cream van. And I'm going to rot away to nothing within a year.”

“You still have me,” Thrasher said kindly.

Scapegrace shoved him in the lake, then marched back towards the town. “Unless I take action. Unless I seize the day! Nye won't return me to life until I make it worth his while? Then I will make it worth his while!”

Thrasher splashed about.

Scapegrace avoided the main street, went instead down one of the alleys between buildings until he came to a pub. The doors were chained shut, fastened by a rusted old padlock. He smashed the padlock with a rock and walked in. The place was dark and dusty. Thrasher scurried in wetly behind him.

“This will be my base of operations,” Scapegrace said grandly. “From here I will build my power, make my plans and convince Doctor Nye to return me to life. I have a year to do it, and by God, do it I shall!”

Thrasher applauded. Scapegrace pointed to a bar stool beside him.

“Sit there and don't annoy me.”

Thrasher hopped up on to the bar stool.

“Vaurien,” said a voice from behind.

Scapegrace turned. A man walked in, tall but thick around the middle. His hair was silver, and he had a stern look in his eye.

“McGill,” Scapegrace said.

Taciturn McGill walked right up to him. “Why are you here?”

“How are you?” Scapegrace smiled. “How have you been? You're looking well. Better than me, anyway. But that's not hard. I'm a zombie now. How are you?”

“Why are you here, Vaurien?”

“I, um…”

“Can I take it that you won't be staying?”

“This bar is mine,” Scapegrace said, losing the smile.

McGill shook his head. “You lost this establishment to Deadfall ten years ago.”

“That was a gentleman's agreement, that was. I lost that bet and I handed everything over, and I left without kicking up a fuss.”

“I recall some crying.”

“My point is, legal ownership never transferred. Technically, this place has always been mine. Now that Deadfall is dead, there's nothing to stop me from picking up where I left off.”

“Actually,” McGill said, “there's plenty to stop you. We don't want you back, Vaurien.”

Scapegrace blinked. “What do you mean? Roarhaven is my home.”

“It
was
your home. But even back then, we didn't want you here.”

“I have close ties to the community.”

“You owe me money.”

“That's one of my ties.”

“It's not a lot of money, though. It certainly isn't enough for me to let you stay while you repay me.”

“I've done great things for this town!” Scapegrace protested. “I was here when it all started! I brought the Torment in, for God's sake! Taciturn, please. I've got nowhere else to go. Look at me. I'm a zombie.”

“We don't like zombies here.”

“You don't like
anything
here! I'm looking for a cure. I think Doctor Nye can cure me. It works at the Sanctuary—”

“I know who Doctor Nye is.”

“It can help me, McGill. Once I'm human again, I'll leave. I will. You'll never see me again. But for now, let me stay. Let me have my bar back. I won't cause any trouble, I promise. I know that if
you
say it's OK, then everyone else will say it's OK too.”