Читать книгу Death Bringer - Derek Landy - Страница 16

alkyrie’s boots crunched on old graveyard gravel on their way to the crypt. Skulduggery didn’t even have his façade up – there was no one around on this bright evening to see them anyway. By this stage, Valkyrie knew the cemetery well, which was an odd boast for a sixteen-year-old to make, she was aware.

Skulduggery knocked heavily on the crypt door. Thirty seconds later, it opened, and a pale face regarded them with casual indifference. Valkyrie recognised him. His name was Oblivion, or Obliviate, or something. Or maybe Oblivious. No, she doubted it was Oblivious. Although …

“Yes?” said Oblivious. “What?”

“This is why I like Necromancers,” Skulduggery said. “You’re all so cheerful all the time. We’d like to speak with Cleric Wreath, please.”

“Cleric Wreath is busy,” Oblivious said lazily, and started to close the door.

Skulduggery jammed it with his foot. “I’m sure he’d love to see us, though. Look, she’s his favourite student.”

Oblivious observed Valkyrie then sighed. “We already have a Death Bringer, thank you. We don’t need another one.”

“He’s expecting us,” Valkyrie said. “He said to come right over, he’s got exciting news. He said we could walk right in, actually.”

“Your name isn’t on the list,” Oblivious responded.

“Well, maybe not on your list,” Valkyrie laughed.

“Are you implying that there is more than one list?”

“I don’t know,” Valkyrie said mysteriously. “Am I?”

Oblivious frowned. “I’m not sure what you’re—”

“Super!” Skulduggery exclaimed, and Oblivious yelped as Skulduggery shoved the door open and barged through. Valkyrie hurried down the narrow steps after him.

“I didn’t give you permission!” Oblivious raged. “Guards! Guards! We have intruders!”

Two Necromancers appeared at the bottom of the stairs. Skulduggery waved to them. “We’re not really intruding,” he called down. “This is all a big misunderstanding.”

“Stop right there!” shouted one of them.

Skulduggery held his hand to an ear he didn’t have. “What’s that?”

“Stop!”

“Keep going?”

“Stop!”

“OK, we’ll keep going.”

The Necromancer guards backed off as Skulduggery and Valkyrie reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Is Solomon in?” Skulduggery asked. “We’d like to give him a present that Valkyrie got for the Death Bringer. It’s a small gift, just to say congratulations, the best woman won, et cetera et cetera. Valkyrie, show them the gift.”

Valkyrie smiled at them, searched through the pockets of her jacket and came out with a half-empty packet of Skittles.

Oblivious came charging down the stairs. “You do not have permission to be here! You are trespassing!”

“Only a little bit,” Skulduggery said. “We’ll wait here for Wreath, if you wouldn’t mind calling him.”

Oblivious jabbed a finger into Skulduggery’s chest. “I demand that you leave!”

“But that would defeat the whole purpose of coming here.”

“We can do this the easy way,” Oblivious snarled, “or the hard way.”

“What’s the easy way?”

“You leave immediately.”

“And what’s the hard way?”

“We make you leave.”

Skulduggery’s head tilted. “What’s the easy way again?”

“Let them through,” said a voice from behind the guards. Solomon Wreath walked towards them, dressed in a black suit with a black shirt, cane in hand.

“But they’re trespassing,” Oblivious protested weakly.

Wreath waved a hand. “Only a little bit.”

“But our orders are from the High Priest himself. Now that we have the Death Bringer, we can’t allow any outsiders into the Temple, for her safety.”

“Then they’ll stay here in the Antechamber. They’re practically already outside.” Wreath’s good humour faded for a moment. “Now go away.”

The guards dispersed, and Oblivious swallowed thickly and backed off.

“Sorry about that,” Wreath said, turning to them.

“Quite all right,” Skulduggery responded.

Wreath smiled. “I wasn’t talking to you. Valkyrie, I wanted to speak to you before this, I really did, but things have been hectic here, and—”

“Don’t worry about it,” she said, shrugging. “Melancholia gets to save the world. That’s cool. Saves me from having to do it, right?”

“Still, I should have been the one to tell you. No one was more surprised than I when Craven brought her forward as the Death Bringer. But we’ve run some preliminary tests on her powers and they exceed anything we’ve ever seen, so she certainly qualifies. I’m not sure how it happened, it defies explanation, but … well. It happened.”

“Really, Solomon, it’s OK. You’re not going to ask for the ring back though, are you?”

Wreath smiled. “No. Just because you’re not the Death Bringer doesn’t mean you won’t make a powerful Necromancer.”

“But if this Passage thing happens, and I’m not trying to mock your beliefs or anything, won’t we be living in a paradise?”

“Am I to take it that you don’t yet believe the world is about to change?”

“Sorry. It’s just kind of hard to imagine. Again, it’s your belief and I don’t want to offend you …”

Wreath smiled. “You could never offend me.”

“I bet I could,” said Skulduggery. “Solomon, we want to talk to you about a friend of yours we ran into yesterday. Absolutely charming fellow – bald, he was, with a terrible goatee. He set the Jitter Girls on us while he made his escape.”

“That’s dreadful,” Wreath said. “But I’m afraid it doesn’t ring any bells. Anything else? Any other distinguishing marks or specific traits?”

“He was killing an old woman because she knew something about the Passage, and a few days earlier he’d killed a homeless man for the same reason,” Skulduggery said. “Is that specific enough for you?”

“That all sounds terrible,” Wreath said. “And yet, again, no bells are ringing.”

“Solomon,” Valkyrie said, “come on. He was a Necromancer. He was one of you.”

“That doesn’t mean I know anything about what he was doing.”

“But you do know him, yes?”

He looked at her. “Bald, with a goatee? I might.”

“The people he killed were of no threat to anyone. Paul Lynch was a Sensitive with a history of mental health problems. The only person who was ever going to listen to him was the old lady who was killed next.”

Wreath nodded. “It does seem quite … excessive.”

“What’s the bald man’s name?” Valkyrie asked.

Wreath sighed. “Dragonclaw.”

She frowned. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“That’s a ridiculous name.”

“We are quite aware of how ridiculous it is, thank you. He’s used for black ops, but not very often. He tends to … go too far. Using the Jitter Girls as a delaying tactic is a perfect example of this.”

“And you know nothing about it?” Skulduggery asked.

“Not a thing,” Wreath said. “I’ve been busy lately, in case you haven’t noticed. I was ready to take Valkyrie to the next stage of her training – but now it seems as if Melancholia will be taking up everyone’s time. Joy of joys.”

Valkyrie heard the main door open again as someone else entered the Temple. She heard footsteps coming down the stairs.

“So when might we get to experience this wonderful and world-changing Passage?” Skulduggery asked.

“Soon enough,” Wreath said. “Don’t you worry about it.”

“We heard we had until Sunday. Would that be about right?”

Wreath did an impressive job of keeping the frown off his face. “Where did you hear that?”

“So it is Sunday, then.”

Wreath scowled. “Maybe. By our calculations, Sunday would seem to be the best time to attempt it. Whether or not things work out the way we’d like remains to be seen.”

“On Sunday the world changes.”

“On Sunday the world is saved.”

“Yes,” Skulduggery said, “well, we’ll see about that.”

They turned, saw Dragonclaw coming down the steps. He caught sight of them and froze.

“Some people here to see you,” Wreath called lazily, and Dragonclaw spun on the step and ran back the way he had come.

Skulduggery bolted after him, Valkyrie at his heels. They ran up the steps and burst out into the open air to see Dragonclaw sprinting for the gate. He had a dagger in his hand, and with it he drew in the lengthening shadows and flicked them behind him. Skulduggery went right, Valkyrie went left, and the shadows passed harmlessly between them. Dragonclaw waved the dagger in a circle, surrounding himself with darkness, and vanished.

Skulduggery didn’t stop running. “He can’t shadow-walk far,” he said. “He’s still in the area.”

A car sped by on the road outside the cemetery, Dragonclaw at the wheel.

They ran for the Bentley. Valkyrie had barely buckled her seatbelt when Skulduggery jammed his foot on the accelerator and they shot forward. They got to the end of the road and turned, taking the corner so tight it was like the Bentley was on rails. Dragonclaw’s car, a black Hyundai, appeared through the windscreen. It overtook a van and swerved dangerously. The Bentley was gaining fast.

The Hyundai left the road, spinning its wheels as it slid sideways, and then took off down a narrow lane, careening from wall to wall. Skulduggery braked, changed gears, swung smoothly into the lane in pursuit. The walls whipped by on either side and Valkyrie cringed, expecting the wing mirrors to be snapped off. Skulduggery, of course, would never allow that to happen.

Dragonclaw wasn’t as skilful. The Hyundai hit a broken pallet that had been discarded in a pile of rubbish and it jumped slightly, its left side screeching against the wall. He pulled away too sharply and hit the right wall, jamming the Hyundai the width of the lane. As the Bentley braked, Valkyrie could see Dragonclaw clambering over the seat and tumbling out of the car on the far side.

She got out, Skulduggery already moving for the Hyundai. They both used the air to jump the ruined car, but when they landed on the other side, Dragonclaw was gone. Valkyrie started to run, but Skulduggery reached out, grabbed her arm.

“He must have known we’d go to the Temple,” Skulduggery said. She realised he had his gun in his hand. “He must have taken into account the chance that we’d find him.”

Valkyrie frowned. “You think this is a trap?”

“I don’t know,” he said, “but I try not to underestimate my opponents, no matter how ridiculous their beards.”

A man walked into the lane from the other end. Valkyrie tensed. He walked towards them slowly, taking his time. Wary of distractions, Valkyrie splayed her left hand, doing her best to read the air. If someone dropped from the buildings above, hopefully she’d notice the disruption to the air currents before they landed on her head.

The man walked closer. He wore a frayed coat and old, ill-fitting clothes. He was unshaven, and needed a haircut. He was holding something – a photograph. When he was twenty paces away, he stopped, examined the photo, then looked up.

“Skulduggery Pleasant and Valkyrie Cain,” he said. His accent was thick, Eastern European, and he sounded bored. “I’ve been paid to kill you.” He put the photograph away.

“Interesting,” Skulduggery said. “Does it make any difference, the fact that I’m pointing a gun at you?”

The man shrugged.

“He doesn’t seem worried,” Valkyrie murmured.

“That’s never a good sign,” Skulduggery murmured back. He spoke louder. “We have no quarrel with you. We just want the man who hired you – we want Dragonclaw.”

“It doesn’t matter if you have a quarrel with me or not,” the man replied, raising his hand. “I’m going to kill you both.”

“Happy to disappoint,” Skulduggery said, and pulled the trigger.

The bullet hit the man in the neck, opening up a wound from which burst dazzling yellow light. He clamped a hand over the wound, shutting off the glare, and when he removed it, the bullet hole had sealed.

“You’re a Warlock,” Skulduggery said. “I thought your kind were extinct.”

For the first time, the man smiled. “Almost. Not quite. We’re growing stronger every day.”

“What are you doing here? You’re a mercenary now, is that it? Being paid to kill people?”

“This is a special favour,” the Warlock replied. “When it is over, when I am told my services are no longer required, I will return home.”

“What are you getting out of this? What is Dragonclaw doing for you in return? Or maybe it’s not Dragonclaw. Maybe it’s the Necromancers as a whole. What do they want?”

“I can’t see the point of telling you, seeing as how you will be dead soon.”

“What do you know of the Passage?” Skulduggery asked.

The Warlock shook his head. “I don’t know what that is, and we have talked enough.”

His hand bubbled and boiled, and when he thrust it forward, his palm burst open and a stream of yellow light erupted from beneath. It hit Valkyrie’s left shoulder and she spun, cursing, her shoulder tingling then going numb, and by the time she found her balance again, her whole arm was dead.

Skulduggery had used those few seconds to launch himself at the Warlock. His hat flew off as he slammed his forehead into the man’s face, followed it with three sharp elbows and then clubbed the man with the butt of his gun. The Warlock reached out, taking hold of him and launching him through the air.

Valkyrie whipped her good hand at the Warlock, and a trail of shadows sought the man out. They slashed across his face, tearing skin. More light burst from the wounds. Valkyrie whipped her hand back, pouring her magic into the next strike, aiming to take the man’s head from his body. But her opponent ducked, moving fast, and another beam of light escaped from the jagged hole in his palm. Valkyrie jerked away, the light narrowly missing her, and the man was upon her, fingers closing around her throat. The Warlock hauled her up, slammed her against the wall with one hand. His other hand, the hand with the hole in it, was inches from Valkyrie’s face.

It began to bubble again.