Skulduggery Pleasant: Mortal Cole (11 page)

“Because of Tesseract?” Valkyrie asked.

“Tesseract was put on her trail, which leads me to believe that she had co-conspirators who have since abandoned her, and now want her silenced.”

China put down the monocle, pressed the pen against the symbol on Skulduggery’s left collarbone, and applied pressure. “If there is a conspiracy, who would gain from the destruction of the Sanctuary? There has been a five-month period where there has been no Sanctuary, no Grand Mage, and yet from what I can see, there has been no dramatic upsurge in
antisocial activity. Whoever organised this seems to have missed their opportunity.”

“Unless the scale is far grander than we imagine,” Skulduggery said.

“Now you just sound paranoid.” Whatever China was doing to the symbol was having an effect on Skulduggery’s face. It tightened until it almost split, then loosened again. “If you’re right about this grand conspiracy, by the way, you might want to consider the possibility that Marr never really stopped working for the American Sanctuary.”

“We’ve thought about that,” Skulduggery said. “Valkyrie?”

“OK,” Valkyrie said, “so two years ago, Marr is working for the American Sanctuary. Thurid Guild offers her a job in Ireland, thinking she won’t be able to resist the chance to work at a Cradle of Magic because, let’s face it, every day here is an adventure. She tells her bosses, they tell her to accept the job, but to work undercover for them. Any Sanctuary around the world would want to gain a foothold in a country with this much raw magic at its core, and America is no different.

“She starts work, proves to be as good at her job as everyone expects, but all the time she’s looking for a way to bring down the Sanctuary. The Americans need a crisis so they can swoop in. Marr eventually gives them that crisis.”

“The problem with that theory,” Skulduggery continued, “is that once the Sanctuary is destroyed, the Americans do nothing, and then Corrival Deuce gets elected as Grand Mage, with Ravel and myself as possible Elders. I really can’t see how that would benefit the Americans, or anyone else, in the slightest.”

“That should do it,” China said, stepping back. Skulduggery looked up at her, his face staying put. “It was off by a millimetre in depth,” she explained. “An unforgivable mistake on my part, and yet I think I shall manage to forgive myself. Could you deactivate the façade now?”

Skulduggery tapped the symbols, and the face slid away. “You want me to use it only when I have to?” he asked.

“Not at all,” China said. “It’s just that talking to you when you have a face is quite disconcerting. I much prefer you as a skeleton.”

“Me too,” Valkyrie agreed.

As Skulduggery stood up and buttoned his shirt, China began to pack away her equipment. “Then maybe it
isn’t
the Americans,” she said. “Maybe Marr was working undercover for somebody else.”

“It could be someone who just doesn’t like us,” said Valkyrie. “We’ve already had Dreylan Scarab and Billy-Ray
Sanguine come after us for revenge, so what about other bad guys we’ve beaten? What about Jaron Gallow? No one’s heard from him since he chopped off his own arm and ran away from the Faceless Ones. And Remus Crux. If there’s anyone crazy enough to want to kill that many people, it’s
that
lunatic.”

“It’s not Remus Crux,” China said.

“How
do you
know?”

“Because Davina Marr would never work with someone so unstable.”

“Then what about the Torment? Roarhaven stands to benefit a lot from this. They get the Sanctuary right in the middle of their creepy little town.”

“But that still doesn’t grant them any great degree of power,” Skulduggery argued, fixing his tie. “There will still be a Council of Elders, and an entire staff of non-Roarhaven sorcerers. All they gain is the proximity of location.”

“Which is not a good enough reason to set off the Desolation Engine,” China said. “The Children of the Spider
are
known for their cunning, but the fact is, this may have nothing to
do
with Roarhaven.”

“I still think the Torment is behind this,” Valkyrie muttered.

Skulduggery’s smile was in his voice. “Is that because he tried to get me to kill you?”

“I think he’s behind this because he’s a horrible old man who turns into a giant spider. But mostly because he tried to get you to kill me. There are still plenty of others to choose from, though. And don’t forget, we only have Scarab’s word that
he
wasn’t behind it. This might be his last bid for revenge before he dies in prison, to make us think there’s someone else out there.”

“So,” Skulduggery said, “to sum up: Davina Marr’s co-conspirators could either be the Roarhaven mages, the Americans, or anyone else who just doesn’t like us.”

China smiled. “I’m just glad we could narrow it down.” She walked from the room, Valkyrie and Skulduggery following her into the library. “And may I say what a privilege it is to be involved in this investigation at its inception. It fills my heart with warmth to know that, finally, you trust me enough to bother me with things at a much earlier stage than I am used to or am, indeed, happy with.”

“They say sarcasm is the lowest form of wit,” Valkyrie said.

China glanced at her. “They’ve obviously never met me.”

“The fact is,” Skulduggery said as they walked through the labyrinth of bookcases, “over the past few years you’ve proven yourself to be someone who can be depended on.”

“And the unfortunate side effect of that,” Valkyrie
continued, “is that you get to join our little crime-fighting club, whether you like it or not.”

China stopped, and turned to them, a slight frown on her face. “Does this mean… Please don’t tell me this means we are all now
friends.
I have done very well without friends up to this point and I have no intention of developing any
now.
”

Valkyrie frowned. “You make us sound like a rash.”

“An irritation that shows up when you least want it? I think the analogy is quite apt.”

“You do realise that I know what all the big words you’re using
mean,
right?”

“And there I was, trying to baffle you with my verbiage.”

“Understood
that,
too.” Valkyrie glimpsed a familiar face in among the stacks. “Be right back,” she said. They walked on and she approached her friend. “This is where we first met,” she said.

Tanith Low looked up, and smiled. “God, that seems like a hundred years ago. You were so small.”

“I was never small.”

“And so narrow. Now look at you. How are the arms?”

“I’m not showing you.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m not. We’re in the middle of a library.”

“A library frequented solely by freaks and other assorted weirdos. I haven’t seen the arms in weeks. Come on.”

Valkyrie tried to sigh, but ended up grinning. She unzipped her jacket and took it off.

“
Damn,”
Tanith said, drawing the word out. “I hope Fletcher appreciates all the work I’ve put in to making his girlfriend rock solid.”

“I’ve told him I’m aiming to have shoulders like yours. He kind of dribbled when he heard that.” Valkyrie put her jacket back on. “But I was never small.”

Tanith laughed, slid the book she’d been reading back on to the shelf. “You were so unsure and innocent and wide-eyed and shy… Well, maybe not shy.”

“Never shy.”

“But definitely unsure. I knew from the moment I met you we’d be friends, you know.”

“Really?”

“I didn’t know we’d be quite so close, but I saw you and I went, yeah, she’s cool. Hadn’t a clue you had anything to do with why I was over here, though. Things kind of worked out quite well, didn’t they?”

“Yes, they did.”

“My folks say hi, by the way. And my brother wants to meet you. He’s heard so much about the great Valkyrie Cain.”

“Your parents are lovely, and I’ve seen a picture of your brother. I definitely want to meet
him.
”

Tanith wagged her finger. “You, my dear, are a one-man woman. Stick with Fletcher, and stay away from my
older
brother.” Tanith’s smile faded slightly. “What’s wrong?”

“What do you mean?”

“I said ‘one-man woman’ and you… you practically
flinched.
”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Everything OK with Fletcher?”

“Yes,” said Valkyrie. “Things are great.”

“And you’re happy with him? Still having fun?”

“Sometimes it’s like leading a child around, but yes, absolutely, still having a laugh.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Valkyrie said, and laughed.

“What did you
do?
”

“I didn’t do
anything.
”

“Who is he?”

“I don’t know who—”

Tanith looked into her eyes.

“Oh no,” she breathed.

“Oh no what?”

“Not him.”

“Tanith, I really don’t know what you’re on about.”

“The
vampire,
Val?
Really?
The
vampire?
”

“He has a name.”

“He’s a vampire!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, OK? Nothing happened!”

“Oh, that’s a big old lie right there.”

Valkyrie prepared to argue, but she knew there was little use. She sagged. “Fine. OK. We kissed.”

Tanith covered her face with her hands. “No. No no no. You can’t do this.”

“I’m not doing anything. It was a one-off. It’s not going to happen again.”

“He’s too old for you.”

“I know that.”

“And he’s a vampire.”

“Tanith. Caelan has problems, but he’s not like the others.”

“Valkyrie. You’re insane. He’s
exactly
like the others. This isn’t some brooding Gothic rubbish.”

“I swear to God, I know all this. I explained to him, it’ll
never happen again. I’m not in love with him, for God’s sake. It meant basically nothing.”

“It might have meant nothing to
you,”
Tanith said, “but I can tell you that it meant a lot to
him.
”

“That’s not my problem.”

“It will be. Val, I hate to disapprove of
anything
that you do. We’re friends. I shouldn’t lecture you. I should support you. And I will. And I do. But something like this, you’re just going to have to forgive me, because I’ll keep going on about it until it’s over for good.”

Valkyrie nodded. “I understand that.”

“I take it Fletcher doesn’t have any idea?”

“God, no.”

“Good. There’s no point in hurting him and destroying your relationship when you don’t have to. It was a mistake.”

“Yes, it was,” said Valkyrie.

“And it’ll never happen again.”

“No, it won’t.”

“But if it does, you can talk to me about it and I won’t shout at you too much.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m not even going to ask if Skulduggery knows. If Caelan’s still alive, that means he doesn’t.”

Valkyrie nodded her agreement, the truth of that statement making her uneasy. They walked out of the stacks, to where Skulduggery and China were talking.

“Oh, good,” China said without enthusiasm, “Tanith’s here.”

Tanith’s smile made no effort to reach her eyes. “Hello China. You’re looking radiant as ever.”

“And your leather seems to have shrunk since the last time I saw you,” China responded. “Don’t you all have somewhere else to be? It’s not that I want you to go, it’s just that I don’t want you to stay.”

C
leric Craven was in no hurry as he walked the cold corridors of the Temple. He’d always disliked the cold, but such was the Necromancer way. Hardship and suffering, misery and discomfort. The Temple was, almost to its last metre, cold and dark and dank, lit only by sputtering torches in rusted brackets on the walls.
To suffer is to live,
as the saying went – one of the basic tenets of his faith. Who was Craven to object to that? Who was he to demand special consideration? Who was he to forgo the suffering, when so many of his fellows shivered and rattled and didn’t complain?

Beneath his robes he was wrapped in thermals.

He knew for a fact that High Priest Tenebrae wore thermals beneath
his
robes. Cleric Quiver didn’t, as far as he could tell, but then Quiver was the kind of man who enjoyed the odd bit of suffering. As for Cleric Wreath, he didn’t even
wear
his robes, and his clothes
always
looked warm. Craven would expect no less from a Cleric who had spent so many years out
there,
in the world. The house where he lived was furnished, insulated and warm no matter how cold it got elsewhere. Decadent. Indulgent. How Craven envied him.

He reached the iron door of the High Priest’s office and let himself in. Shelves of books and papers. Cabinets of trinkets. Bare walls, bare floors. A single desk. Two chairs. No decoration. The bare necessities – nothing more.

Tenebrae, seated at his desk, glanced at him, scowling, before returning his eyes to Wreath. Behind him, the White Cleaver stood, scythe strapped to his back. Quiver stood by the far wall, hands clasped beneath the sleeves of his robe. Immediately, Craven regretted his tardiness. Wreath was agitated. Craven fought to contain his grin.

“Cleric Wreath,” Tenebrae interrupted, “I understand your concerns, but we are quite safe here in the Temple.”

“The Remnant is loose,” Wreath said angrily. “The moment they realise this they’ll be coming here to ask questions.”

“Let them come.”

“Your Eminence, with all due respect, they are going to want to know how the Remnant escaped. Skulduggery Pleasant will work out that we attempted to use it to control someone.”

“Nonsense. We can tell them one of our acolytes set it free, quite by accident. We’ll tell them the acolyte has been punished and will never do it again. You’re getting upset over nothing, Cleric.”

Craven stood by the door, enjoying this immensely. It wasn’t often he got to see Solomon Wreath being patronised.

“Having a Remnant loose out there is a good enough reason to be upset,” said Wreath. “If we are going to tell people it got free by accident, then at least let it become public. Sorcerers have to know of the danger.”