Skulduggery Pleasant: Last Stand of Dead Men (62 page)

Saracen led the way to the stairs, then up. It took three times longer than usual to make it up to the surface level. Certain rooms were being emptied, while certain other rooms were being crammed full of furniture and materials. Stephanie got the impression that they were preparing for some major refurbishment.

They got to the surface level and Skulduggery took over, leading them through the smaller corridors, the ones that weren’t lit right, the ones that rarely saw activity. They heard footsteps ahead. Half of them darted into one room, half of them into the room opposite. High heels – and, behind them, more footsteps.

Stephanie waited beside Vex. He looked calm. In control. His eyes only widened when they heard Skulduggery say, “Hello, China.”

Vex lunged out and Stephanie and the others followed. They filled the narrow corridor, facing off against China and two Roarhaven mages. The mages were frozen on the spot.

“Skulduggery,” China said, “wait …”

Skulduggery’s voice was cold. “I knew you’d be the first to turn traitor.”

“No, you don’t understand.”

“You just can’t stop betraying people, can you?”

China stepped forward, wringing her hands. “What was I supposed to do? I didn’t know what Ravel was planning, I swear!” Stephanie glimpsed a glowing sigil on China’s palm. “They forced me to stay! I didn’t want to! You have to believe—”

And China whirled, planting her hand on the face of the nearest Roarhaven mage, sending a bolt of power through him. At the same moment, Skulduggery used the air to pull the second mage into an elbow that sent him crumpling to the floor beside his partner.

China smoothed her dress. “I was beginning to think you’d abandoned me.”

“At least you’ve been safe,” Skulduggery said. “Where is he?”

Stephanie joined the others in looking puzzled.

“I don’t know,” said China. “But wherever Ravel is, the Black Cleaver is with him. You need to leave. Every sorcerer in this building has orders to kill you all on sight.” China looked at Stephanie, and her eyes narrowed. “And who do we have here?”

“I’m Stephanie. Valkyrie’s reflection.”

China gazed at her. “Curious.”

“You two planned this from the start,” Stephanie said.

“We improvised,” Skulduggery said, “not planned.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? Valkyrie, I mean. Why didn’t you tell Valkyrie?”

China smiled a little. “Because he didn’t want her to assume we had patched things up. He hasn’t forgiven me for the things I did and I don’t expect him to. But one must be pragmatic in times like these.”

Skulduggery grunted. “What have you found out?”

“Precious little, I’m afraid. Mist has me followed every time I step outside. You’re right, though. There are too many people for this town. You could walk the streets at the same time every day of the week and you’d see the same number of faces, but never the same faces. There is more to Roarhaven than I have been allowed to see.”

“It has to be below the streets. But how big? And how many people? And, more importantly, why? Why has Ravel gone to all this trouble?”

“This is the least of the trouble he’s gone to. I’ve just heard that the German Elders have been killed by their own mages. They’re not even bothering to blame it on assassins any more.”

“And Ravel’s involved?”

“From what I can gather, he is more than merely
involved
. The sorcerers he appointed as interim Elders in Australia and Africa? His supporters. Zafira Kerias in America, Palaver Graves in England? His supporters. He has had Elders turning on Elders, mages turning on Councils, and Sanctuaries turning on Sanctuaries – and, in every single case, the people who have taken over are people who support Ravel’s views on a world run by sorcerers.”

“So that’s it?” Fletcher said. “He’s won? I mean … if the Supreme Council are all dead, then everyone is taking orders from Ravel now.”

“Not quite,” said China. “Ordinary mages would never support a move to turn the mortals into slaves, so he’s going to need something big to unite the sorcerers around the world.”

“The Warlocks,” Skulduggery said.

“I believe so.”

“China, we need to get Ravel alone.”

“That’s not going to happen. The Elders are under constant protection. Ravel never goes anywhere without the Black Cleaver, and Mist never goes anywhere without Syc and Portia. Your best bet is to draw him out into the open, which is easier said than done. It’s just a pity you didn’t get here sooner.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s scheduled to deliver a speech to the good people of Roarhaven in under an hour, right outside the Sanctuary. It would have been perfect for you if you’d had time to prepare.”

“It might still be perfect.”

She frowned. “Don’t let his betrayal lure you into doing something stupid.”

“When was the last time
I
did anything stupid?” Skulduggery asked, and handed her a phone before she could answer. “Take this. If you need to contact us, send a message. It’s untraceable, but only good for thirty words before the protective sigils burn it out. I’ve got its twin.”

China nodded, looked down at the unconscious mages at her feet. “I suppose I’ll have to dispatch these two charming individuals myself. Joy of joys.”

Skulduggery started moving, and China looked up. “I’m sorry, by the way. About Ghastly. I liked him.”

Skulduggery paused, and nodded, and continued on. They followed him down a little-used corridor until they could go no further without looping back on themselves.

He started tapping the bare wall. “There’s a tunnel that runs from here to the cellar beneath Scapegrace’s pub, where the Torment lived. From what I understand, he never told his fellow Children of the Spider about either the tunnel or the cellar.”

“Thank heaven for private people,” Gracious murmured.

The wall rumbled and yawned open, revealing a gullet of darkness. Skulduggery clicked his fingers, summoning flame.

“We’re going to have to run,” he said.

Stephanie took off after them down the slanting slope, cutting straight through this labyrinth. If they took one wrong turn, she knew, they’d find themselves at a dead end with no time to make it back before the walls squashed them all to a red and pink paste. She stumbled, almost fell, but Fletcher grabbed her hand, pulled her onwards.

The walls started rumbling again. The tunnel was closing back in.

His hand still clutching hers, Fletcher jumped so he could see over the heads of the people in front, and when his feet touched down again they were both in the lead, emerging from the tunnel into a dimly-lit bedroom. Stephanie went sprawling across the bed, landing on her feet on the other side. A few moments later, Skulduggery and the others joined them, and the tunnel resealed itself.

“Cheat,” Saracen managed to gasp to Fletcher, who shrugged.

For the first time, Stephanie became aware of music playing. ‘Shake a Tail Feather’ by Ray Charles. Gun drawn, Skulduggery led the way out of the bedroom, Stephanie right behind him. They got to the living room, with its tatty armchairs and battered couch, awful 1970s wallpaper, a painting of a ship on a stormy sea, an old, cracked TV, a record player … and, in the middle of the room, Scapegrace and Thrasher and some old Chinese man, dancing to the music.

The others crowded in around Stephanie. She could feel their frowns.

Scapegrace was doing the mashed potato. Thrasher was doing the twist. The old Chinese man was doing the bird. They all had their eyes closed, faces screwed up as the music ran through them. Skulduggery used the air to lift the needle from the record, and the music cut off and the dancing stopped, and the dancers looked round in confusion until Scapegrace saw Stephanie and the others standing there.

“My friends!” he cried, delight widening his eyes. He rushed over, shaking Skulduggery’s hand, gripping Stephanie by the shoulders, and then beaming at the rest. “I’m so glad you’re here. We’ve been hiding out for days. We haven’t even been able to go out on our nightly patrols. Have you heard? About Elder Bespoke?”

“We heard,” Skulduggery said.

“Sheriff Dacanay is hunting for us. At least twice a day he sends people in to search the pub. They haven’t found us yet. We’re too clever. Although we didn’t bring any food down with us.”

“I can fix that,” Fletcher said, and vanished.

Scapegrace gestured to the furniture. “Please, everyone, sit. Welcome to the Knight-cave. Most of you will know my sidekick Thrasher, and this is Grandmaster Ping, my instructor in the martial arts.”

Ping bowed deeply. “Very honoured to meet you,” he said in halting English. “Miss Scapegrace and I are in love.”

“We’re not in love,” Scapegrace said quickly, smiling to cover up his awkwardness.

“Very much in love,” said Ping.

“For the last time,” said Scapegrace, “I am a
man
.”

Ping looked at him, and shrugged. “Ah well, nobody is perfect.”

“I’m sure this is all very interesting,” Skulduggery said, only putting his gun away now, “but we need to use this cellar—”

“Knight-cave,” said Scapegrace.

“—as a base. We’re going to be striking at Ravel, taking him down and everyone who stands with him. Are you in?”

Scapegrace beamed, then took something from his pocket and turned away from them. He pulled it, whatever it was, over his head, spent a few moments fixing it in place, and then he whirled. He was wearing a mask. It wasn’t a very good one. “The Dark and Stormy Knight will fight for justice,” he announced.

Skulduggery hesitated. “The Dark and Stormy Knight … is that you?”

“Oh, yes, sorry. It is.”

“Right.”

“And I’m the Village Idiot,” Thrasher said happily. Whatever reaction he had expected to this confession, Stephanie reckoned it wasn’t a pained, embarrassed silence. Thrasher flushed red and shut up.

Fletcher appeared by Stephanie’s side, laden down with groceries. “I risked a peek,” he said. “There’s a crowd already gathering outside the Sanctuary. Whatever he’s going to talk about, Ravel’s going to have an audience.”

“Good,” said Skulduggery. “I’d hate if we were the only ones there.”

There was no plan. Stephanie stood with her head down, beside Skulduggery and the others, slightly apart from the huge crowd that was buzzing with anticipation. The only thing Skulduggery had said was that if an opportunity presented itself, they were to take it. Stephanie couldn’t see how an opportunity would present itself. There were Cleavers and Roarhaven mages everywhere, posted at strategic points and mingling with the spectators. If the Dead Men, or what was left of them, were to make one move, they’d be cut down instantly.

There was a podium set up outside the entrance to the Sanctuary, and behind it a giant screen. At the moment the screen showed the crowd. Some people ignored the camera in their faces, others openly scowled at it, but most grinned and laughed and waved. Their moment of glory. Stephanie only had time to wonder who was operating the camera before Erskine Ravel stepped on to the podium, the Black Cleaver right behind him. He waited until the cheers and applause died down before speaking.

“Sorcerers of all disciplines,” he said, his voice coming across loud and clear, “friends … brothers and sisters … I stand before you in the peaceful town of Roarhaven whose borders are even now being threatened by those many of you view as your enemies. But I also speak to them, for I know they can hear me. I speak to General Mantis and the men and women of the army it leads, and I speak to mages around the world, viewing this on the Global Link.

“We have been through some troubling times. Not since the days of Mevolent have we experienced such divisions in our society. But, as destructive as it was, that was a good war to fight. We stood side by side and we fought for survival against a cunning and ruthless foe. When we fought, many of us didn’t even believe that the Faceless Ones were anything more than the superstitions of an old religion. We weren’t fighting against insane gods – we were fighting against their insane worshippers, dark sorcerers who were planning a genocide against the people we were sworn to protect. We fought for each other. We fought for the mortals. And we won.

“But this war is different. There are no villains in this conflict. There are simply opposing sides. Through circumstances beyond our control we have been forced to take up arms against each other. At first it was the Irish Sanctuary against the members of the Supreme Council. Then it was the Cradles of Magic against the Supreme Council. And then fractures began to appear as the moral implications of our own actions took their toll. You saw the footage yourself. My own best friend, Ghastly Bespoke, conspired against me. Not for any selfish reason, but because he thought he knew best. In defending myself I took his life, as many of you are aware. Not a day goes by that I do not shed a tear for my friend. But I also thank him. Because in doing what he thought was right, he reinvigorated my own strength and resolve to do the same.

“My friends, many of the Grand Mages who sit on the Supreme Council are different Grand Mages from the ones who formed it in the first place. In the last hour, I have been informed that Cothernus Ode and Illori Reticent have been found murdered in their own Sanctuary. Palaver Graves is now Grand Mage of England, but he is no less passionate and no less fierce than Ode ever was. I have reached out to Grand Mage Graves and the others and they have reached out to me, for we have seen what divisions like these can lead to if not healed in time. Isolation. Suspicion. Hatred. We have spoken of our grievances and agreed upon a truce. As I speak, word should be reaching General Mantis, confirming what I have just said.”

Ravel took a moment, looking out upon the sea of faces. “We have also spoken of our duty, above all else, to protect the mortals. This is, after all, how the conflict started. In too many instances over the past few years, the Irish Sanctuary has teetered on the brink of disaster. It is only thanks to people like Ghastly Bespoke and Skulduggery Pleasant that none of Mevolent’s Three Generals were able to succeed in their plans. Even more recently, Dreylan Scarab’s plot to kill eighty thousand mortals was foiled, the Remnants were recaptured, the Necromancers stymied and the sorcerer known as Argeddion defeated. In all of these cases, however, the threat of being discovered by the mortals was dangerously high. The camera capturing this message is being wielded by a mortal, a journalist who has uncovered the truth, who has found us. He is but the first. We could wipe his mind, but there would still be others after he’s gone. Would we wipe their minds, too? How many wiped minds are too many?