Death Bringer (32 page)

Valkyrie turned to Skulduggery. “He was
lovely
!” she beamed.

“Arthur Dagan's family was once royalty,” Skulduggery told her, “or something close to it. Mevolent served under his grandfather for a time, before he came to power himself. Arthur hasn't handled their fall from grace with as much dignity as one might wish for. Hopefully, his son fares better.”

There was a shout, and then a door burst open and men in ski masks poured into the room, waving guns.

“Nobody move!” one of them screamed, firing into the air. “We're here for your jewellery and wallets! Anyone tries being a hero, they'll be shot
dead
!”

Chapter 47
This Evening's Entertainment

he gunshot stopped the music. Everybody stopped talking, and just stared in absolute astonishment. Valkyrie couldn't quite believe it.

The guest with the claws spoke up. “You're… you're here to
rob
us?”

“Yeah!” the leader of the gang said. Then he faltered. “What's up with your hands?”

One of his friends, a man in a red ski mask, was already panicking. He held his gun in a tight grip, and even from where she was standing, Valkyrie recognised the dirty fingernails of the waiter who had offered her champagne. “I told you, Larry, this isn't right. Look at these people. They're not
right
.”

Someone in the crowd started laughing. Someone else joined in. Within moments, practically every one of the assembled guests was doubled over with laughter. Larry and his ski-masked friends did not appreciate the joke.

“Shut up!” Larry screamed. “Shut up!”

Valkyrie was barely able to keep track of what happened next. The air rippled, taking one of the ski-masked men off his feet. A ball of yellow light sped towards Larry and exploded. He was flung backwards. Streams of different colours criss-crossed around the other members of the gang, slamming into them and spinning them around. The man with the dirty fingernails was the last one standing. Ghastly stepped out of the crowd beside him and took his gun away. China Sorrows, dressed in an exquisite silk gown, tapped her arm. An ornate symbol glowed on her skin for a moment, and when she touched the man he screamed and toppled over.

Everyone cheered, the music started up again and the guests got back to chatting.

China approached. “Valkyrie,” she said, “you look beautiful. I always knew there was a pretty girl underneath all those bruises.” She saw Vex and raised an eyebrow. “Dexter Vex is back in the country. All we need is Anton Shudder and Saracen Rue to show up and we'd have a Dead Men reunion right here.”

“Hello China,” Vex said, leaning forward to kiss her cheek. “Have you got over your love for me yet?”

“I take each day as it comes,” she replied, and he laughed.

The orchestra started into a waltz. China held her hand out towards Skulduggery. “They're playing our song.”

Skulduggery looked at Valkyrie. “If you'll excuse me…?”

She smiled. “Go right ahead.”

Skulduggery took China's hand, and led her to the only open space in the room. Valkyrie watched him look into China's eyes, and they began to dance, moving over and around the unconscious forms of the ski-mask gang like they weren't even there. They danced like two people were meant to dance – with strength, grace, and passion.

“He sure can dance, can't he?” Vex said.

Valkyrie took her eyes away from the dancing, and smiled. “He told me he could. I was a fool to doubt him.”

She looked back. She could see China's lips move as they danced, and she wondered what they were talking about.

“I taught him everything he knows, of course,” said Vex with a nod. “Before he came to me, he had all the co-ordination of a turnip. I turned him into the dancer you see before you.”

Skulduggery dipped China, and then swung her up and she pressed against him.

“But do I get any thanks?” Vex continued. “Do I get even a nod of appreciation? No I do not. It's quite fortunate that I don't need other people's approval to feel good about myself. But it would help.”

Ghastly appeared between them. “Are you still complaining about that?”

“I'm not complaining,” Vex corrected. “I am merely voicing my displeasure.” He frowned. “By the way, all joking aside, do I call you Ghastly or Elder Bespoke?”

“You can call me whatever you want.”

Vex nodded. “Thank you Gladys. Where's Shudder tonight, anyway? Don't tell me that miserable sod's staying in that Hotel while there's a party on.”

“I'm afraid he is,” Ghastly said. “You know very well that Anton isn't one for small talk.”

“The years were meant to mellow the man, didn't you tell me that once?”

“I was evidently wrong,” Ghastly conceded.

Vex suddenly smiled. “Remember how Larrikin used to wind him up? We'd be sitting around, waiting in a ditch or something for the order to strike, all of us tense and humourless, the enemy a mere stone's throw away… and then Larrikin would whisper something to Shudder. Remember that?”

A grin formed on Ghastly's face. “I remember Shudder's birthday.”

Vex laughed and Valkyrie had to join in, it was so infectious.

“We were huddled down in a field in France,” Ghastly told her, while Vex snorted at the memory. “This was, I don't know, 1850 or so. We were all there, all seven Dead Men – Skulduggery, Larrikin, Dexter, Hopeless, Saracen, Shudder and me. We hadn't moved from that spot in three days. Apart from Skulduggery, we were all cold, wet and starving. Anyway, Larrikin decided on the third day that it was Shudder's birthday, and there was nothing Shudder could do to convince him that it wasn't.”

“The problem,” Vex said, picking up the story, “was that it was getting close to Go Time. There was a squad of Mevolent's men we'd been tracking for days, and we had to take them out without raising the alarm. But now, suddenly, Larrikin was insisting on a birthday cake and a sing-song. The rest of us were focusing on not cracking up, but Shudder was taking it seriously, and couldn't understand why Larrikin would want to do something so dangerous.”

“We were sitting in a hole we'd dug,” Ghastly said, “with the wind howling and the rain falling, and Larrikin squirmed up beside Shudder and kept trying to hug him.”

“And Shudder's not a hugger,” Vex said.

“It developed into an extraordinarily quiet wrestling match,” said Ghastly, grinning. “They rolled over and over in the mud, Larrikin with this enormous smile on his face and Shudder silently furious.”

“Shudder got him in a choke hold,” Vex said. “Larrikin started digging around inside his clothes for something. He was going purple by this stage, though still smiling. And then he brought out a bun.”

Valkyrie laughed. “A bun?”

“A very crushed bun,” Ghastly said. “Crumbs now, mostly. Barely held together. He'd kept it hidden for days. And with his other hand he stuck a candle in it.”

“Only time I've ever seen Anton Shudder smile while on a Dead Men mission,” Vex said, eyes sparkling with approval. “That was a good day.”

“That's why we won,” Ghastly said, a little quieter.

Valkyrie looked at him. “That mission?”

“Hmm? No, no. The mission was just a mission, the latest in a long line. No, the reason we won was friendships like that. They called us the Dead Men because they said we weren't afraid of dying. Mevolent's lot? They wanted to bring the Faceless Ones back, but the main thing was that they wanted to
be
there when it happened. After all, what's the point of going to all that trouble if they weren't around to enjoy the results? So there were no sacrifices to save their friends, none of that. And that's one of the main reasons they lost. It got to the point where they couldn't trust each other, because it was all about personal survival. Whereas with us… we were fighting, and dying, for each other.”

“Larrikin saved my life,” Vex said. “We were in Wales, and Serpine had sneaked right up behind me, about to use that red right hand of his. Larrikin pushed me away, shielded me. He died screaming.” Vex shook his head sadly. “Never forget those screams. You were there when Skulduggery killed Serpine, weren't you?”

“Yes,” Valkyrie answered.

“I would have liked to have seen that.”

“Larrikin was a good man,” Skulduggery said, and they turned as he led China off the dance floor towards them. “As was Hopeless. They died for what they believed in.”

“Hopeless tried to kill me once,” China said, almost wistfully. “This was back when I was fighting for the other side, of course. We had some good, good times.”

“Hopeless and Larrikin,” Ghastly said, raising his glass.

“Hopeless and Larrikin,” they echoed.

Chapter 48
Going Underground

own deep in the caves below Gordon Edgley's house, the zombie horde moved in silence. Twenty recruits to Scapegrace's undead army, all with bite marks and blood splatters, all waiting for the order to charge into battle. Holding flashlights to penetrate the darkness, they looked slightly bewildered, but Scapegrace didn't mind that. In his experience, zombie hordes always looked bewildered. This was his second horde, so he reckoned himself to be something of an expert.

Shards of moonlight somehow found their way through cracks and fissures in the cave ceiling to bathe parts of the tunnels in a hazy silver blue. Master Craven had been so kind as to provide him with a map. If this map were by anyone else's hand, Scapegrace would have dismissed it as crudely drawn – but the Master's work was a deceptively childlike scrawl that implied more than it showed. As such, even though Scapegrace was having trouble working out where exactly they were going, he had a much deeper cultural understanding of where he had been.

Thrasher hurried up, looking anxious. “Master Scapegrace,” he whispered. “I think we have a problem.”

Scapegrace scowled and shone his flashlight straight into Thrasher's face.

“It's one of the zombies,” Thrasher said, blinking quickly. “Reggie. You remember him, don't you, sir? He has a little beard? I… I think he's been eaten.”

Scapegrace froze. “Eaten? Someone's eaten him?” He turned to the horde. “What did I tell you? What did I tell you about eating human flesh?” The horde looked at him dumbly. “Only I can do that and keep my thoughts intact! If any of you try it, you become a mindless, shambling zombie right out of a movie. How many times did I warn you? Eh? Well, come on. Own up. Who did it? Who ate Reggie?”

“Uh,” said Thrasher. “It wasn't one of
them
, sir.”

“What? What do you mean?”

Thrasher led him back down the tunnel. The horde followed. “Reggie was walking behind us,” Thrasher said. “He was lagging a bit and I told him to hurry up, and he ignored me. I kept walking, and he was lagging even more, and I heard something, something chattering, and I looked around and…”

“Chattering, huh?”

“Very distinct chattering,” Thrasher said, shaking his head at the memory. “So I walked over, searched around a little, about to call his name, and then… I came here. I believe this to be the scene of the crime.”

“You don't say.”

“Judging from the signs of disturbance, sir, I think he's been eaten.”

“The signs of disturbance?”

“Yes.”

“And what would these signs of disturbance be, I wonder?” Thrasher pointed with his flashlight. “Well, I mean… the
foot
.” In the middle of the tunnel before them, illuminated by the flashlight, a single foot, still in its shoe, was sitting quietly.

“You worked that out all on your own?” Scapegrace said. “I'm very impressed.”

Thrasher didn't seem capable of appreciating sarcasm, so he smiled gratefully. “Just doing my job, sir.”

Scapegrace hunkered down beside the upright foot, examined it more closely. It was severed just above the ankle, with what looked an awful lot like a big bite mark. Scapegrace couldn't tell for sure. That stupid skeleton was the detective, not him.

Thrasher suddenly screamed and Scapegrace leaped up and whirled in circles until he was sure there was nothing creeping up behind him.

“There!” Thrasher gasped, pointing off into the darkness. Scapegrace looked into the gloom. “There what?”

“I saw it!” Thrasher said. “The thing that ate Reggie! I saw it! It was right there!”

Anxious mutterings spread through the horde like a bad smell. Scapegrace needed to take control of the situation, and fast.

“What did it look like?” he asked. “For God's sake, calm the hell down and tell me what it looked like.”

Thrasher took a deep breath, even though zombies didn't need to breathe. “It looked like, it looked like a cross between a monster and an alien.”

Scapegrace stared at him. “Yeah, OK, that is absolutely no help at all. Did it have arms?”

“Oh yes.”

“Two arms?”

“At least,” Thrasher nodded. “Maybe less.”

“What about legs?”

“It had a few of those.”

“What was its body like?”

Thrasher concentrated. “It was, it was either really hairy, with thick black hair all over it, or it didn't have
any
hair, and it was just the way the light fell.”

“Its head, then. Did you get a good look at its head?”

“What, like, would I be able to pick it out in a line-up?”

“I'm just looking for basics here.”

“OK, well, let's see. It had… I'm not too sure if it had any eyes, and I didn't see a nose, as such. But it had a mouth. A very big mouth, with teeth, teeth as sharp as needles. But I may have imagined that bit.”

“The teeth bit?”

“No, I may have imagined the mouth. I'm not sure if it had a mouth. It probably did. Everything has a mouth, right?”

“Unfortunately,” Scapegrace muttered.

“It would need a mouth if it was going to eat Reggie. That only makes sense, doesn't it? Yes. It had a mouth. I'm sure of it now.”

One of the zombies held up his hand.

“What?” said Scapegrace irritably.

“Hi,” the zombie said. “Uh, I'm Keith? From the…? You bit me?”

“I can't remember every single person I bite,” Scapegrace said, even though he could, because it really wasn't very many, all things considered. “What do you want, Keith? Why is your hand up?”

“I was just wondering,” Keith said, “if there really are monsters down here?”

“There are a few, yes,” Scapegrace said. “No one knows how many, or what they're called. All anyone knows is that they're pretty impervious to magic, so… so don't use magic. Not that you could, because you're mortal. Or, you used to be. Anyway, magic attracts them.”

“Um,” said Keith.

“What now?”

“When you… remember when you bit me? And I woke up, and I was all, oh, what's happening? And your friend explained it?”

“He's not my friend,” said Scapegrace.

“I'm his second-in-command,” explained Thrasher.

“Oh, OK, sorry,” said Keith. “Anyway, he told me I was a zombie now, and that magic was now sustaining me and everything, and all that's fine, but does that mean that now
we
will attract all the monsters because we have magic inside us, or am I just talking complete nonsense?”

Scapegrace looked at him.
Oh, hell
.

“Right,” Scapegrace said loudly. “Everyone fall in, and pay attention.”

Thrasher joined the horde, and Scapegrace looked at them like a general might survey his troops.

“We have been charged with a mission. We are deep in enemy territory. In order to achieve our objective, we must pass through hostile terrain. Keith is absolutely right. Our very presence here will attract the monsters.”

The horde gaped at him, suddenly terrified. Scapegrace pressed on.

“So we will move! Like lightning! And we will arrive at our destination and we will engage the enemy! In years to come, they will speak of this battle and they will speak of the sacrifice we made here! They will speak of the brave Army of the Undead, the horde that turned back the tide, who fought with everything that is in them to make this world
our
world! I have seen the faces of our enemies! I have looked into the eyes of our foes! Do you know what I have seen?” Scapegrace snarled, making them wait for the revelation. “Faces and eyes, gentlemen. Faces… and eyes.”

The horde frowned at him, and Scapegrace realised he had lost track of his speech. Panicked, he continued. “We do what we must. We do what we can. We do what we will. We do what we… we don't do what we won't.”

“Uh…” someone said.

“What will you give?” Scapegrace roared. “What will you give for one chance,
just one chance
, to say to your enemies
this far, and no further
?”

“Who are our enemies again?” someone asked.

“Are you
with
me?” Scapegrace screeched.

“Not really.”

“
Are you with me?
”

“I'm with you!” Thrasher squeaked excitedly.

“
Is anyone apart from Thrasher with me?
” Scapegrace hollered. He decided it was best not to wait for an answer. “Then let's go! Let's fight! Let's show them what it means to die!”

Roaring, Scapegrace charged for the tunnel, Thrasher at his heels. After a moment, the horde started jogging after them. They ran through the darkness and the swaying light, and now some of the horde were joining in with the roars, and by the time they reached the end of the tunnel they were a charging mass of fury and violence, waiting to be loosed upon their enemies. Their feet thundered on the rocky ground, fists pumped the air, their cries turning animalistic, inhuman, a wave of death about to crash down on whoever they found in their way.

They came to a dead end and there was some jostling, and Scapegrace led them back a bit, took the first turn they came to, and the roars started up again and the thunder echoed in the caverns and Scapegrace waved his hand in the air. “Back,” he said, “back. It must be the next turn,” and they turned round again and charged back the way they had come.