Skulduggery Pleasant: Last Stand of Dead Men (71 page)

Vex threw himself between the man’s legs, ignoring the sword strikes his clothes absorbed. The Warlock started to hop about, trying to get at him, but Vex stayed on his knees, scurrying about underneath, keeping his head tucked below the Warlock’s groin. Not the most dignified of ways to fight a battle, perhaps, but since when had dignity ever kept a man alive?

Someone dropped a war hammer and he dived at it, swung without looking. The hammer crunched into the side of the Warlock’s knee. The knee caved in sideways and the Warlock screamed, toppled, landed on his elbows, still screaming. Vex stood, the Warlock screamed up at him, and the war hammer met his face and brooked no argument.

He turned to another Warlock, who backed away, his eyes focused on something behind him. Vex risked a glance, found himself staring along with everyone else. Six sorcerers hovered in the air, smiling. Vex recognised two of them. They had not been able to fly the last time they’d met.

The Accelerator-boosted mages sent columns of air rippling towards the enemy, so fiercely that they snapped bones and ruptured skin. They threw fire like napalm and Vex had to scramble to avoid being caught in the inferno. Flesh melted and dripped to the ground as the screams rose to the skies. The six sorcerers landed and strode towards the enemy, each one of them keeping the smile on their face. Wretchling and Warlock fell before them, and suddenly the unceasing tide through the gates slowed to a trickle.

A Wretchling jumped on one of the sorcerers, but increased strength seemed to be among the gifts the Accelerator bestowed. The sorcerer laughed as he held the Wretchling by the throat, legs kicking uselessly. He didn’t even seem to care about the dagger in the Wretchling’s hand, at least not until it was buried up to its hilt in his neck. The Wretchling was dropped and the sorcerer fell to his knees, gurgling blood, a look of surprise on his face.

Smiles faded on the faces of the other five sorcerers. A Warlock caught one of them full on with a beam of energy. It took her head off. The remaining four roared in anger and swept forward in a bloody swathe of destruction, but the enemy had their measure now. They could be killed, and so they were.

But, as the last of the six sorcerers fell, another ten appeared in the sky above them. And none of these were smiling.

Someone grabbed Vex from behind and he whirled, but when his elbow crunched into flesh he was standing on top of the wall.

“Fletcher! Sorry!” he said as the kid went stumbling. Saracen caught him, made sure he didn’t fall.

“It’s OK,” Fletcher said, both hands to his face. “I really should have expected that.”

Once he was sure he hadn’t busted Fletcher’s cheekbone, Vex joined Skulduggery and the Monster Hunters at the parapet, looking down. Each supercharged Roarhaven mage was dying, but they were taking down dozens of Wretchlings before they went. “Can’t believe Erskine used the Accelerator,” he said. “He knows it’ll turn them nuts.”

“As long as they’re directed at the Warlocks and not us, I’m not complaining,” Gracious muttered. Then he frowned. “Of course, it’s only a matter of time before he
does
direct them at us, isn’t it?”

“Ravel will send them after us the moment the tide turns in Roarhaven’s favour,” Skulduggery said. “By the looks of things, that could be anytime in the next few hours. So we need to strike now. Or rather,
I
do.”

Saracen looked at him. “What?”

“I need you all to stay here. One of us won’t be missed, but any more than one and the alarm will be raised and I’ll never be able to get near him.”

“So you’re going up against Ravel alone?” Donegan asked. “Him and Mist and all their cronies?”

“I won’t be alone,” Skulduggery said, “and it’s our best chance to catch him unprepared.”

Saracen shook his head. “Splitting up again. How many times do I have to tell you what a bad idea that is? The Dead Men work best when we stay together.”

“There is no Dead Men,” Skulduggery said, sounding almost surprised that no one else had realised it. “Ghastly and Anton have been murdered. Ravel’s betrayed us. Valkyrie is … gone. The Dead Men have had their last stand and we’ve fallen, Saracen. The three of us are all that remain.”

The sounds of war faded for a moment as that quiet, simple fact settled into Vex’s mind. They’d lost members before, but never so many, and they’d never lost one to betrayal. He looked at Saracen and Skulduggery, his friends, his brothers, and although they had history that would hold them together forever, he could feel the bonds between them start to loosen, and fall away. Suddenly Saracen Rue looked old and tired, and Skulduggery Pleasant came into focus as what he really was – a genius, a killer, a tortured soul, and the only true dead man among them.

hina stepped over the sorcerer’s unconscious body and sat at the desk, the monitors before her arranged like a shrine to voyeurism. Rooms, corridors, entrances and exits, all of them displayed in glorious, pixel-perfect definition. She found a card, wrote down the unconscious sorcerer’s name – Susurrus – and the password she’d got out of him – mydogrex1 – and left.

In here, deep in the Sanctuary, she couldn’t hear the explosions at the wall. She couldn’t hear the fighting or the screams or the battle cries. She could see the tension on the faces of the people she passed, though. Everyone walked quickly, everyone spoke urgently. These were Roarhaven mages, people who had been part of Ravel’s plan from the very beginning. It amused her to see them panicking. It made her smile.

She checked her watch. It was a delicate thing, thoroughly unsuited to what was to come, but she had to make do with what she had available to her. Gone were the days when she could afford the luxury of choosing a specific watch for a specific purpose. Ever since Eliza Scorn had destroyed her apartment – and most of her belongings – China had been forced to adopt a more practical approach to life. She acquitted herself well, as one would expect, but that didn’t mean she liked it.

As the appointed minute clicked into being, Skulduggery Pleasant walked round the corner, holding a carved wooden stick. The face he wore was grave and humourless, the kind of face a person wouldn’t want to examine too closely. Without even acknowledging his existence, China turned and started walking. He fell into step beside her, and they made their way to the cells. When Ghastly and Anton Shudder had been murdered, these cells were quickly filled by the sorcerers who tried to fight back. Once the Warlocks attacked, however, most of these sorcerers were released so that they could fight under Skulduggery’s command. Most, but not all.

Skulduggery let his façade melt away, and opened the first two cells they came to. “Tipstaff,” he said, “Mr Weeper, would you care to lend a hand in exacting a little justice?”

Staven Weeper emerged first. Young and a little too earnest for China’s liking, he had nonetheless tried to attack Ravel on three separate occasions for what the Grand Mage had done. That earned him a few points in China’s book, and so she did her best to ignore the way he mewled like a kitten when he saw her. Tipstaff, the ex-Administrator, stepped out and nodded to both her and Skulduggery. Ever the professional, he got straight to the point.

“By justice,” he said, “I assume you mean bringing Erskine Ravel to task for the crimes he has committed.”

“You assume correctly,” Skulduggery said. “But we’ll need your help to do it.”

Weeper looked suddenly worried. “Um, my magic isn’t really combat-based …”

“We know,” China told him. “We won’t need you to fight.”

“Then I’m your man,” Weeper said immediately. “Or I’d like to be. If you’d have me. Because I love you. I love you so much. If I were married, I’d leave her for you. I’m not married. But I’d still leave her. Just say the word.”

“Focus, Staven.”

“Yes. Sorry. I love you. Sorry. You must get that all the time. Sorry.”

“Hush, boy,” Tipstaff said. “Detective Pleasant, Miss Sorrows, what do you need us to do?”

“The Terror and the Scourge are being kept busy overseeing the boosting process in the Accelerator Room,” said China, “which leaves Ravel and Mist protected by Syc and Portia and the Black Cleaver. We need you to find them, then call me with their location.” She handed Tipstaff a card. “That name and password will get you into the security room.”

Tipstaff gave a curt nod.

“We won’t let you down!” Weeper said. “I vow to you, upon my very life, that I will succeed, or die trying.”

“There’s really no need for—”

“If I die, think of me fondly,” Weeper said, his lower lip trembling.

Tipstaff sighed, and walked off towards the security room. Weeper dragged himself after him.

“That must get annoying,” said Skulduggery.

“You have no idea,” said China.

They walked the opposite way, deeper into the Sanctuary, avoiding large groups of mages if they could help it. No one stopped them. No one asked what their business was. Everyone was too concerned about the battle outside.

“I was on the wall earlier,” China said. “Not for long. I just wanted to see what all the fuss was about. I did see a little bit of fighting, however.”

“I’m sure you’re coming to a point,” Skulduggery said.

“Naturally. The reflection that prefers to be called Stephanie. Such a curious thing. It reminded me of a black-clad Pinocchio, battling side by side with the boys, just like the real Valkyrie would be doing, were she not an evil world-breaker.”

“Annoyed, are you?” Skulduggery asked. “That this little slice of information got by you?”

“Somewhat,” China admitted. “All it would have taken was one Sensitive who knew Valkyrie’s face to have had a vision … I don’t like being the last to know. In fact, I despise it.”

“You can’t know every little secret, China.”

“But I want to. Do you know where she is?”

“Valkyrie? If I knew, I’d be there right now.”

“Instead, you have her doppelgänger to occupy your time.”

“Not any more. I sent her home to be with Valkyrie’s family.”

“Her?”

“Sorry?”

“The reflection. Stephanie. It’s a her?”

Skulduggery didn’t respond.

“There’s nothing wrong with it being a her,” China said. “Especially now. And maybe Valkyrie would even be proud to know that some part of her is still capable of fighting the good fight, even if she herself has fallen to the darker side of her nature.”

Her phone buzzed, and she answered.

“The Grand Mage and Elder Mist have just entered what would appear to be the new Hall of Remembrance,” said Tipstaff. “Syc and Portia have remained outside.”

“And the Black Cleaver?” China asked.

“We can’t see him,” said Tipstaff. “We can see
you
, however.”

There was a brief scuffle, and then Weeper came on with “Hi, China,” before Tipstaff regained control.

“Apologies,” he said. “As I was saying, we can see you. Continue down this corridor, take the second right, and then a left. The entrance to the Hall will be around the next corner.”

China hung up. “We’re close,” she said, leading the way. They followed Tipstaff’s directions, slowing as they approached the final corner. China pulled her hair back into a ponytail, and Skulduggery took off his hat, laid it carefully on the ground beside the carved stick.

They rounded the corner. At the far end of this corridor was a heavy door. Halfway between the door and the corner, Syc and Portia stood.

“What are you doing here?” Syc asked, a sneer on his lips. “The fighting is outside.”

Skulduggery didn’t answer, and neither did China. They just kept walking.

Portia’s eyes narrowed. “Syc, I think we are being betrayed. I think they mean to betray us.”

“Finally,” said Syc, his face lighting up. “I’ve been wanting to pull them apart for ages.”

Portia and Syc stood side by side. China walked right up to Portia and Skulduggery walked right up to Syc. Portia smiled, knees bending, getting ready to fight. At the last moment, Skulduggery darted across, smacked her in the jaw and took her off her feet. Syc appeared frozen for a moment, and the sigils on China’s knuckles flashed into his line of sight right before she broke his nose.

He went stumbling, howling in pain. China kept close. She couldn’t afford to let him regain his senses. Her fist crunched into his side, smashing ribs. Letting him regain his senses would mean letting him turn into a giant spider. Another punch, this one to the belly, forcing the air from his lungs. And letting him turn into a giant spider was not on the agenda. He tried to grab her and she batted his arm away and drove an elbow into his temple. Not today.