Loe raamatut: «Skulduggery Pleasant: Books 1 - 12», lehekülg 25
enspeckle poked her arm. “Does that hurt?”
“No,” Valkyrie answered.
He nodded, scribbled something in his notebook. “Have you eaten?”
“One of your assistants brought me a burger for breakfast.”
He sighed. “I meant, have you eaten sensibly?”
“I was very sensible while I was eating the burger. Didn’t miss my mouth once.”
He prodded her again. “What about that? Does that hurt?”
“Ow.”
“I’ll take that as a yes. Hopefully, the pain will teach you not to break yourself when your van crashes.” Kenspeckle scribbled something else and Valkyrie looked around. There were no windows in here, but she could guess what kind of morning it was. Bright, blue skied, sunny and warm.
Kenspeckle closed his notebook and nodded. “You’re making an excellent recovery,” he said. “One more hour, the bone will be healed.”
“Thanks, Kenspeckle.”
“Think nothing of it.”
“And, you know, sorry about what I said yesterday, about the salt water and the vampires …”
Kenspeckle chuckled. “Don’t you worry about me, Valkyrie. I’m tougher than I look. Last night, when the nightmares came, they weren’t so bad. I remember them being awful. Now, you just lie back there and let the muck do its work.”
Feeling guiltier than ever, Valkyrie settled back on the bed. The mixture that coated her entire right arm was cold and slimy. It had to be reapplied every twenty minutes as its magical properties were absorbed through the skin.
She heard Skulduggery come into the medical bay. His fight with Vengeous had resulted in a fractured collarbone and a few cracked ribs. She looked over at him and laughed.
He stared at her. He was wearing a bright pink hospital gown, decorated with elephants and bunnies. It hung off him like a sheet on a hatstand.
“How come she gets the blue hospital gown?” he asked Kenspeckle.
“Hmm?” mumbled the professor.
Skulduggery’s head tilted unhappily. “You said the only gowns you had left were these pink bunny ones, but Valkyrie is wearing a perfectly respectable blue one.”
“Your point being?”
“Why am I wearing this ridiculous gown?”
“Because it amuses me.”
Kenspeckle walked out and Skulduggery looked over at her. “The important thing,” he said, “is that I can wear this gown and still maintain my dignity.”
“Yes,” she responded automatically. “Yes, you can.”
“You can stop grinning any time now.”
“I am so trying, I swear.”
He walked over and when he spoke his voice had changed slightly, tinged with concern. “Feeling OK?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know. Whatever happens with the Grotesquery, it’s my fault.”
“Nonsense.”
“But I’m the missing ingredient.”
“That doesn’t make it your fault, Valkyrie. However, if you insist on taking responsibility for something you never had any control over, you can use that to make you stronger. You’re going to need all the strength you can muster, especially when Dusk catches up to you.”
She frowned. “Why Dusk?”
“Oh, yes, something I should maybe mention. Dusk will be wanting to kill you. He has a history of vendettas. He holds a grudge and he doesn’t let it go until he’s spilled blood.”
“And because I cut his face …?”
“You cut his face with Sanguine’s blade, the scars from which do not heal.”
“Ah. That’d … that’d make him pretty mad, wouldn’t it?”
“I just thought you’d like to know.”
“So what are we going to do about Guild? Since he’s working with the bad guys and everything …?”
“Now, we don’t know that. It’s not fact. Not yet.” Skulduggery was quiet for a moment. “Even so, it would be foolish not to take precautions. We will report back to Guild if and when we have to. At no time will we tell him what we’re planning, where we’re going or who we’re hoping to punch next. Agreed?”
“Agreed. So he doesn’t know we have the Grotesquery?”
“I may have forgotten to tell him. I did remember to tell Mr Bliss though, so he has organised three Cleavers to provide security. Any more than that, unfortunately, and it would come to the attention of the Grand Mage.”
“I just hope you realise, after Sagacious Tome and now Guild, that I’m never going to be able to trust anyone in a position of authority ever again.”
Skulduggery’s head tilted. “You don’t view me as an authority figure?”
She laughed. Then stopped. “Oh. I’m sorry. You were serious?”
“That’s lovely, that is,” he said as Kenspeckle wandered in.
“Detective, you will no doubt be happy to know that my assistants are moving the Grotesquery into my brand-new private Morgue, where it will clutter up the place just when I’ve finally managed to get everything in order.”
Valkyrie frowned. “What would you need a private morgue for?”
“Experiments,” Kenspeckle said. “Experiments so bizarre and unnatural they would surely make you vomit.”
“Professor Grouse,” Skulduggery said, “we brought the Grotesquery here not only because your facility is more advanced than the Sanctuary’s, but also because you are the leading expert in science magic.”
“Mm,” Kenspeckle said gruffly. “It is. And I am.”
“We need your help. We have a chance to dismantle the Grotesquery and hide the pieces all over the world so it can never be put back together, and we need you to do it.”
“Fine,” Kenspeckle said gruffly. “But you, Valkyrie, must rest. And you, Detective, must not place her in any danger for the next, oh, let’s say an hour. Do we have a deal?”
“I can rest,” Valkyrie said.
“And I can manage an hour,” Skulduggery said.
“All right then,” said Kenspeckle. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a monster to take apart.”
he old hospital was steeped in dead terror and stale tears. How many people had breathed their last while lying on those small beds? How many had spent their final nights in those tiny rooms, sleeping fitfully while their nightmares rampaged across the landscape of their minds? When Baron Vengeous walked these halls he fancied he could count every single one of them.
The psychiatric ward was the best. Here, even without the sensitivities brought on by his new armour, he could sense the echoes of fear, madness and desperation. But with the armour, these echoes soaked into him, making him stronger. He felt his armour flourish after all those years of neglect in that cavern.
This would be the perfect place for the Grotesquery to break down the borders between realities, open the portal and invite the Faceless Ones to return. Now all he needed was the Grotesquery itself – but that wasn’t going to be a problem. For all his flashes of rage and his fearsome temper, Vengeous was a military man first and foremost. True, he had suffered a setback, but he had already initiated a plan to rectify the situation.
One of the Infected was standing further along the corridor and it opened the door as he approached. He could tell by its eyes that it was close to becoming a true vampire. He had already ordered Dusk to kill them all before that happened. Dusk, because of the serums he used, controlled the vampire part of himself, but the Infected would be far too unpredictable to keep around.
Vengeous focused on the armour, drawing it back in. He had been letting it writhe and revel in the collected anguish of the old building, but now it was time for business.
Billy-Ray Sanguine was waiting for him. There was a man shackled to an operating table, and when Vengeous walked into the room, the man’s eyes widened.
“Impossible,” he breathed. “You’re dead. You’re … it can’t be you, you’re dead!” Vengeous realised that with the helmet obscuring his face, the man thought Venguous was Lord Vile, risen from the grave to exact a terrible revenge. He said nothing.
“This is a trick!” the man said, straining against his shackles. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but you’ve made a huge mistake! Do you even know who I am?”
“Sure we do,” Sanguine drawled. “You’re a lily-livered sorcerer who’s managed to stay alive by runnin’ from every conceivable fight. Why do you think we chose you?”
“Chose me?” the man repeated. “Chose me for what?”
“For a quick answer,” Vengeous said, aware that the helmet even made him sound like Vile.
The man paled. He was sweating already. “What … what do you want to know?”
“As you can probably tell,” Sanguine said, “I ain’t from around these parts. And the gentleman who is makin’ you mess your britches right now … well, he’s been away for a time. So we need you, chuckles, to tell us where someone might go with the inanimate corpse of a half-god in order to, oh, I dunno, destroy it.”
The man licked his lips. “And … and then you’ll let me go?”
“Yeah, why not?”
Vengeous felt his armour coil. This man’s fear was too potent to ignore. Vengeous narrowed his eyes, controlling the armour through sheer force of will.
“They’d go to the Sanctuary,” the man said.
“That ain’t what we’re lookin’ for,” Sanguine responded. “We got people keepin’ an eye on the Sanctuary and they ain’t turned up there. We’re lookin’ for somethin’ a little more specialist, y’know?”
The man frowned. “Then … then maybe they’ve gone to Grouse.”
“Kenspeckle Grouse?” Vengeous said.
“Uh, yeah. He does work for the Sanctuary. They’d bring anything weird to him.”
“Where?”
“An old cinema, closed down now, the Hibernian. Are you going to let me go now?” Sanguine looked at Vengeous, and Vengeous looked at their captive.
“What did you do during the war?” Vengeous asked.
“Uh … well … not much.”
“I know you, Argus.”
“No. I mean no, sir, we’ve never met. I did some work for Baron Vengeous, but …”
“You supplied Baron Vengeous with the location of a safehouse, when he needed somewhere to lie low for a few days.”
“I … yes … but how would you—?”
“Skulduggery Pleasant tracked him to that safehouse, Argus. The information you supplied led directly to his capture.”
“That’s not my fault. That’s … it wasn’t my fault.”
“The safehouse was known to our enemies, but in your stupidity, you hadn’t realised that.”
“OK,” Argus said quickly, “OK, I made a mistake and Vengeous got arrested. But, Lord Vile, what’s it got to do with you?”
“I am not Lord Vile,” Vengeous said. He reached up and removed the helmet, and it melted into his gloves and flowed into the rest of the armour.
“Oh no,” Argus whispered when he saw Vengeous’ face. “Oh, please, no.”
Vengeous glared and Argus shook uncontrollably, and then it was as if his body forgot everything it had ever learned about how to stay in one piece. His torso exploded outwards and his limbs were flung to the corners of the room. His head popped open and his insides dripped from the walls.
Vengeous turned to Sanguine. “The Hibernian Cinema. We’re leaving immediately.”
The Texan brushed a piece of Argus’ brain from his jacket. “And if we happen to encounter any dark-haired young girls along the way?”
“You have my permission to kill whomever you deem fit.”
Billy-Ray Sanguine smiled. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
ew York. 7:37 am
A man who wasn’t there left the comfort of the shadows and strode after the three businessmen. He crossed Bleecker Street, followed them up Hudson, three steps behind them the whole way, and they never even sensed him. They were talking about Sanctuary business, slipping into code words whenever a civilian passed within earshot. They were sorcerers, these businessmen, and important ones at that.
The man who wasn’t there followed them to the parking lot off West 13th Street, to their car, and when he judged the moment was right, he struck. The businessmen, the sorcerers, saw the air part and a figure blur, but it was too late to raise the alarm, and far too late to defend themselves.
Bologna. 10:51 am
Five of them: young, powerful and eager to prove themselves. They wore black clothes, leather coats and sunglasses. Their hair was spiked and their skin was pierced. They liked to think of themselves as goth-punks. No one argued. No one argued and lived anyway.
Italy in April. It was warm and sunny. The goth-punks waited around the statue of Poseidon, fighting off boredom by scaring the occasional passer-by.
One of them, a girl with no hair and wild eyes, spotted their target as he crossed the square. They moved towards him as a pack, grinning in anticipation.
He saw them and frowned, his step faltering. He started to back away. He worked with the Sanctuary in Venice – they knew he wouldn’t be willing to use his powers out here, in full view of the public.
He started to run. They gave chase, the thrill of the hunt making them laugh.
Tokyo. 7:18 pm
The woman in the pinstriped suit sat in the hotel lobby and read the newspaper. The suit was deep navy, the skirt stopped just past her knees, and beneath the jacket she wore an off-white blouse. Her shoes matched her suit. Her nail varnish matched her lipstick. She was a very elegant, very precise woman.
Her phone, impossibly sleek and thin, beeped once, alerting her to the time. She folded the newspaper and placed it on the seat as she stood.
Two men, one old, one young, entered the hotel lobby. The woman appreciated punctuality.
She joined them at the elevator. The men didn’t speak to each other. While they waited for the elevator to arrive, a young foreign couple walked up, in Japan for a holiday perhaps. The woman didn’t mind. It didn’t alter her plan one bit.
The elevator arrived, the doors slid open and they all stepped in. The young couple pressed the button for the eighth floor. The old man pressed the button for the penthouse. The woman didn’t press any button.
The doors closed, the elevator started moving, and the woman’s nails grew long and her teeth grew sharp. She killed everyone and painted the elevator walls with their blood.
London. 9:56 am
Springheeled Jack looked down at the man he was about to kill, and for the first time in his life he wondered why.
He wasn’t suddenly struck by his own sins. He wasn’t having an attack of conscience or anything pedestrian like that. He wasn’t having one of those epiphany things. It was just a voice, that was all, just a voice in the back of his mind telling him to ask something. But ask what? He’d never had the urge to ask any of his victims anything before. He didn’t know where to start. Did he just strike up a conversation?
“Hello,” he said, as nicely as he could.
The man was a sorcerer, but not a very good fighter. He lay crumpled in the alleyway and had a scared look in his eyes. Jack felt uncomfortable. This was a new situation, and he didn’t like new situations. He liked to kill people. Taunt them, sure. Maybe make a witty remark. But not … not talk to them. Not ask them something.
He blamed Billy-Ray Sanguine. Sanguine had taken Jack out of his cell, taken him through the wall, through the ground and out into fresh air. He had talked a little, mentioned a hospital in Ireland called Clearwater, something like that, and then he had looked like maybe he’d said too much, so he’d shut up. Jack hadn’t cared at the time. He’d been freed, after all, and all he had to do in return was kill someone. But the thought was nagging at him – why? Why had Sanguine wanted this bloke dead?
Jack tried to sound casual. “If someone wanted you dead, hypothetically, what do you think their reasons would be?”
“Please don’t kill me,” the man whispered.
“I’m not gonna kill you,” Jack lied and gave a reassuring laugh. “Why would you think I was gonna kill you?”
“You attacked me,” the man said. “And you dragged me into this alley. And, and you told me you were going to kill me.” Jack cursed under his breath. This guy had a good memory.
“Forget about all that,” he said. “Someone wants you dead. I’m curious as to why that may be. Who are you?”
“My name is—”
“I know your bloody name, pally. What do you do? Why are you so important?”
“I’m not important, not at all. I work for the Council of Elders here in London. I’m just, I help co-ordinate things.”
“Like what? What are you co-ordinating now, for example?”
“We’re … sending help to Ireland. Baron Vengeous has escaped from—”
“Damn it!”
The man shrieked and recoiled, but Jack was too busy being angry to bother attacking him. So Sanguine was working with that nutter Vengeous again, carrying out his orders as usual. Only this time, he’d tried to get Jack to do some of the dirty work.
“I been hoodwinked,” he said. He looked down at the man. “If Vengeous is involved, that means all this is about the Faceless Ones, right?”
“Y-yes.”
“I been hoodwinked. That’s … unprofessional, that is.”
“So are you going to let me go? You don’t want to help the Faceless Ones, right? So are you going to let me go?”
Jack hunkered down. “I’d love to, pally. I really would. But see, I was sprung from jail an’ I always repay my debts.”
“But … but by killing me, you’ll be helping them!”
“I’ll just have to find some other way to get back at ’em, then. No hard feelings.”
The conversation came to its natural conclusion with a bit more begging and then Jack killed the guy, so that stopped too.
Jack straightened his top hat and walked away. He still had a few friends, friends who could transport him where he wanted to go.
And it was such a long time since he’d been to Ireland.
tentor and Civet struggled to move the Grotesquery off the stretcher and on to the operating table. The Grotesquery was big and heavy and awkward, but most of all it was big and heavy. They had just managed to drag the top half over when the stretcher squeaked and moved, and the Grotesquery started to fall. Civet tried to grab it, but he went under and the Grotesquery dropped, very slowly, on top of him.
“Help!” Civet cried.
Professor Grouse stormed in. “What on earth are you playing at?”
“It, it fell,” Stentor said, standing to attention.
“I can see that!” Grouse barked. “That specimen is a rare opportunity to study a hybrid form, you imbecile. I don’t want it damaged.”
“Yes, Professor. Sorry.”
“Why were you trying to move it by yourself? Where’s Civet?”
Civet managed to raise a hand. “Here I am, Professor.”
“What on earth are you doing down there, Civet?”
“Trying to breathe, sir.”
“Well, get up!”
“I would, sir, but it’s very heavy. If you could maybe grab an arm or something …”
“I’m an old man, you fool. You expect me to lift that monstrosity off you?”
“Not by yourself, but maybe if Stentor were to help, then I could wriggle out. It really is getting difficult to breathe under here. I think my lung is collapsing.”
Grouse gestured. “Stentor, help me lift.”
“Yes, Professor.”
Together, they pulled the Grotesquery back far enough to enable Civet to squirm out.
“I’ve never dropped a specimen,” Grouse said as they grunted and heaved. “I was never pinned by a corpse either, Civet. You remember that.”
“Yes, sir,” said Civet, as he finally managed to extricate himself.
Grouse hunkered down beside the Grotesquery, then took a pair of scissors and carefully snipped a few bandages away, revealing the scarred flesh beneath. “Astonishing,” he murmured. “So many parts from different creatures, all merged into the one being. A being borne of impossible horrors.”
Stentor nodded. “It’d be even more impressive if it worked though.”
“Less talking,” Grouse snapped, “more lifting. Lift it on to the table. And no more damage to it, you hear? I swear, you’re lucky I’m so easy-going. Stentor. Bend your knees when you lift, you idiot.”
“Sorry sir.”
They strained and lifted, and suddenly Civet let go and jumped back. Stentor clung on, holding the Grotesquery half on, half off the table.
“What’s wrong now?” Grouse demanded.
“Professor,” Civet said nervously, “are you sure this thing is dead?”
“It’s not a thing, it’s a specimen.”
“Sorry, sir. Are you sure this specimen is dead? I … I think it moved.”
“Of course it moved. You moved it.”
“No, sir. I mean, I think it moved on its own.”
“Well, I don’t see how that could be. The ritual to bring it to life was interrupted – only a small portion of Valkyrie Cain’s blood was transfused.”
Civet hesitated then grabbed a massive arm and helped Stentor slide it further on to the table.
He leaped away. “OK!” he said loudly. “OK, that time I definitely felt it move!”
“A lot of energy was passed into it,” Grouse said, frowning. “It may just be a residual spasm. The muscles may simply be reacting to stimuli.”
“It wasn’t a spasm,” Civet said. “I swear.”
Grouse looked at the bandage-wrapped body. It was big and cold and unmoving. “Very well,” he said. “How many Cleavers are stationed here?”
“Three.”
“OK, then. Boys, I want you both to go upstairs, tell the Cleavers to come down here, tell them we may have a—”
And then the Grotesquery sat up and Civet yelled and jumped back, but Stentor was too slow and it grabbed his head in its big hand and crushed it like a freshly laid egg.
