Читать книгу Skulduggery Pleasant: Books 1 - 12 - Derek Landy - Страница 210

neaking up on someone who can see into the future is not as impossible a task as many people think. For one thing, the future changes. Details shift, circumstances alter, and while the universe is struggling to realign itself into some semblance of balance, opportunity has its moment to present itself. The trick is to be a constant destabilising influence in a world that really just wants to be left alone.

Solomon Wreath was confident that he could be just such a destabilising influence. Leaving many of his decisions open to chance, he had approached the tattoo parlour three times already, and by the toss of a coin he had walked on by. The fourth toss of the coin, however, brought him to the door, and had him climbing the narrow stairs, black bag in one hand, cane in the other. No sound coming from above him. No whine of the tattooist’s needle. No chat, laughter or yelp. He could practically sense the trap waiting for him, but this didn’t slow his step.

At the top of the stairs he turned and walked through the doorway, and that was when the skinny man with the Pogues T-shirt came at him with a cushion. Not being the world’s deadliest weapon, the cushion bounced softly off Wreath’s shoulder, and the skinny man did his best to run by. Wreath dropped his cane, caught the man and threw him against a chair that looked like it belonged in a dental surgery. The skinny man fell awkwardly over it.

“Finbar Wrong,” Wreath said, putting the black bag on a nearby table. “May I call you Finbar? I assume you know who I am.”

Finbar sprang to his feet, hands held out in front of him, fingers rigid. “I do,” he said, “and I feel I have to warn you, man, you can’t beat me. I’ve seen this fight already, and I know every move you’re gonna make.”

Shadows curled around Wreath’s cane, and brought it up off the floor and into his waiting hand.

Finbar nodded. “I knew you were gonna do that.”

Wreath went to walk around the chair. Finbar moved in the opposite direction. Wreath turned, went the other way, and so did Finbar.

Wreath sighed. “This is ridicul—”

“Ridiculous!” Finbar interrupted quickly. “See? I’ve already lived through this encounter. You’d better walk away now, dude, save yourself a whole lot of pain.”

“If you have seen this fight, if you knew precisely when I would arrive, then why did you attack me with a cushion?”

Finbar hesitated. “I’m … I’m toying with you, is what I’m doing. Hitting you with a cushion instead of my fists of fury is gonna, like, take longer, draw out your agony. Kinda like water torture, with cushions. Cushion torture.”

“It doesn’t sound very painful.”

“Well, I haven’t really settled on a name for it …”

“You’re a trained fighter, I take it?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“You’re a bit thin, aren’t you? You’re practically malnourished.”

“Looks can be deceiving, man. After all, the strongest muscle in the human body is the brain.”

“Well then, as along as you don’t hit me with your brain, I should be OK.”

Finbar suddenly broke for the door. Wreath came up behind him, whacked the cane into the back of his legs. Finbar crashed into the wall.

“Ow,” he moaned.

Wreath took a hold of him and dragged him back, threw him into the dentist’s chair. “When did you first have a vision that I would be paying you a visit?”

“Last night,” he moaned.

“And what did you do?”

“I sent Sharon and my kid away. I was gonna join them, but the vision changed, and you weren’t gonna come.”

“But then a few minutes ago …”

He nodded. “Had another one. Told me you were about to climb the stairs. Only weapon I had was the cushion.”

“Which is not technically considered a weapon.”

Finbar glared. “A true master can make anything into a weapon.”

“But you’re not a true master, Finbar.” Wreath prodded him with the cane, forcing him to sit back. “Did your vision tell you why I was coming to see you?”

“I didn’t really get that far.”

“I need you to do me a favour. I want you to look into Valkyrie Cain’s future, and tell me what you see.”

“Why don’t you just ask her?”

“I need something more than what you’ve already seen. I need you to look harder.”

“Can’t do it,” Finbar said, shaking his head. “I won’t do it. Val’s a friend of mine. You can torture me all you want.”

“Can I?”

He paled. “Metaphorically speaking.”

Wreath smiled, and shadows crept up the chair, wrapping themselves around Finbar’s arms and legs before he could even struggle. Wreath went to the black bag on the table. “It’s OK. I know it would probably take a lot for you to betray a friend like that. So I’m taking the option away from you.”

From the bag, Wreath took a glass sphere, encased in a stone shell.

Quickly realising that he couldn’t break his bonds, Finbar settled back into the chair. “You’re bribing me with a snow globe?” he asked. “That’s a bit … insulting, don’t you think?”

“This isn’t for you.”

Now Finbar could see the darkness swirling in the sphere, and his face slackened and his voice cracked. “That’s a Soul Catcher.”

“Yes, it is. And its occupant is the Remnant who caused everyone so much trouble a few months ago. This is the little guy who possessed Kenspeckle Grouse, who went on to repair the Desolation Engine that destroyed the Sanctuary. This is not a very nice Remnant.”

Finbar licked his lips nervously. “You can’t put it in me. You just can’t, man. No, listen, that thing is, it’s evil, right? Once it’s in me, it’ll lie to you, tell you whatever it thinks you wanna hear.”

“It will tell me whatever I want to know, Finbar, which is not quite the same thing.”

“Aw, please, don’t do this.” The man was almost crying.

“I’ll take it out of you immediately after,” Wreath assured him. “You’ll black out; you won’t remember a thing.”

“I don’t want it in me. It’ll change me.”

“Only for a few minutes.”

Wreath turned the sphere in the stone, and stepped back.

The darkness drained out of the Soul Catcher as the Remnant flitted straight to Finbar. He turned his head and shut his eyes and clamped his mouth shut, but the Remnant would not be denied. Things that may have been hands prised his jaws apart. Wreath watched, fighting the urge to suck the foul creature back into its prison.

Finbar tried to scream as the Remnant, no more than a streak of twisted darkness, clambered its way down his throat. The scream choked and the throat bulged. Finbar’s body thrashed, but Wreath’s restraints held. Finbar suddenly went limp. A moment passed, and dark veins spread beneath his skin and his lips turned black. Then his eyes opened.

“Why is it,” Finbar said, “that every time I’m set free, I have to share a body that isn’t in the peak of physical perfection? Last time it was an old man. Now it’s … this.”

“I didn’t release you for a casual conversation,” Wreath said. “I just want to know what I want to know.”

“And why would I help you dig up information on my good buddy Valkyrie?”

“She isn’t your friend,” Wreath said. “She’s Finbar Wrong’s friend.”

“And there you go, man, making the mistake that everyone makes. I am Finbar Wrong.”

“No, you’re a Remnant.”

“To be honest with you there, a Remnant isn’t really much more than intent. It flies around being angry and doesn’t think too much about anything, y’know? It doesn’t have a personality, or a real consciousness to speak of. But when it inhabits a body, that all changes. It’s whole again. I am Finbar Wrong, but I’m also the Remnant inside him. We’re very happy together, as you can see.” He smiled, and the black veins receded and the darkness disappeared from his lips.

“It’s easy for you to pass for normal, isn’t it?” Wreath asked. “To hide the tell-tale signs that mark the possessed?”

“We can hide it when we need to, yeah.”

“And it’s good to be out of the Soul Catcher, yes?”

“Oh, yeah,” Finbar laughed. “That thing is even worse than being in that room in the Midnight Hotel where they kept us locked up.”

“Now that you’ve tasted freedom, do you want more? I can give you more. I can let you go.”

“A few moments ago you said you were gonna separate us immediately after.”

“I’m a Necromancer. I lied to make it easier on … you. The old you. Look into the future for me, and tell me what you see.”

“And what makes you think I’ll be able to see anything new?”

“Because you and I both know that Sensitives are wary about pushing themselves too hard. Seeing the future is a dangerous line of work. Minds can snap.”

“That they can.”

“But your mind is reinforced now, isn’t it? It’s stronger. So you can look further, and harder, until you see what you need to see.”

“This is all very true,” Finbar nodded. “But why should I trust you? The last people to ask me a favour put me in an old man’s body. Now, I’m not denying I had fun being Kenspeckle Grouse for a day, especially when it came time to hammer nails through Tanith Low’s hands, but they cheated me. They wouldn’t let me go when they said they would.”

“Scarab has never been a trustworthy man.”

“And you are? You’re a Necromancer.”

“Then how about this? You look into the future for me, or I’ll kill you. Remnants can’t survive in something dead, am I right? So the moment Finbar’s body dies, the Remnant inside him dies too. Do you want to die? Either of you?”

Finbar smiled. “You’re talking like there are two of us in here, man. There’s not. You had Finbar, you had the Remnant, and when you put them together, you get me. And I happen to think that the world would miss me too much if you killed me.”

Wreath smiled back. “I thought you’d see it my way.”

“I’m gonna need a few things before I start, though. Herbs, potions, a backrub …”

“You have three seconds to begin.”

“A very quick backrub, then.”

Wreath raised the cane, and Finbar laughed. “OK, OK! I suppose I could do without the luxuries, just this one time. You’re gonna have to back off – I’m not gonna be able to attain the required level of relaxation if you’re hovering over me.”

Wreath nodded. “Get it done, Remnant, or you’re going back in the bottle.”

“Chill,” Finbar breathed, closing his eyes. “My old buddy Val,” he murmured. “Are you going to show me why everyone’s so interested in you, are you? Are you going to show me what’s in store for you …?”

Wreath suppressed a sigh while Finbar prattled on, his voice growing softer and softer. He’d never had much time for Sensitives. They’d deliberately chosen a branch of magic where you reached out with your feelings instead of your fists. They were, in his opinion, a bunch of spaced-out, peace-loving hippies, and he’d never liked hippies. The 1960s and 70s had been particularly annoying times for him.

“There she is,” Finbar said, a slight smile on his face. “Found her.”

“How far ahead are you?” Wreath asked quickly.

“Hard to say, man … She looks a little older … She’s got a tattoo …”

“Is she a Necromancer?”

Finbar’s brow creased over his closed eyes. “Don’t know …”

“What’s she doing?”

“Walking …”

“Where?”

“In the ruins.”

Wreath shook his head. “That’s with Darquesse, right? I’m not interested in that. You need to find out if Valkyrie is the Death Bringer.”

“I can only see what I see,” Finbar said in a sing-song voice. “My sight is drawn to the big moments …”

“Then look away,” Wreath snarled, but his impatience went unnoticed.

“I’ve never seen this much detail,” Finbar continued, deep in the trance. “I’ve always flinched … But now I can see it all … So many dead … It’s wonderful …”

Wreath held his tongue.

“I’m looking at Darquesse now … She’s magnificent … She’s striding through the city, death all around her … You’d like this, dude. So much death …”

“I didn’t ask for a vision of Darquesse, I asked for a vision of Valkyrie.” Wreath’s eyes narrowed. “Unless …”

Finbar smiled in his dream-state. “Unless?”

“Is Valkyrie still there? Can you see her?”

“I can sense her presence, but all I can see is Darquesse.”

“Maybe that’s it,” Wreath said, sudden excitement burning through him. “Maybe that’s how she does it. If Valkyrie is the Death Bringer, maybe she’s the one who steps up and fights. Maybe she’s the one who stops Darquesse and then this, her victory, is what leads to the Passage. This is how she saves the world.”

“I don’t see any of that,” Finbar said. “All I see is Darquesse.” His smile was replaced by a grimace. “This is painful, by the way …”

“Keep looking.”

“It hurts my head.”

“Keep looking or you’ll lose that head.”

“I’ll keep looking then.”

Blood dripped from Finbar’s nose. Wreath said nothing.

“I’ve found her again,” Finbar said happily.

“Valkyrie?”

“Darquesse. I’m … I’m drawn to her … I don’t have a choice. She is … everything. She’s so cold. I’m trying to get in closer, but she’s … She’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen …”

“Can you see a weakness? How can Valkyrie destroy her?”

“Darquesse will not be destroyed!” Finbar snarled suddenly. “She is everything!”

“Tell me her weakness.”

“She has none! She is perfection!”

“Then who is she? Where does she come from?”

Finbar strained harder, and blood began leaking from his ears. “The shadows are heavy around her … I’m trying to see her face … She’s looking away from me … No, wait, she’s turning, she’s turning, I can see her …”

Finbar stopped talking.

“Well?” Wreath pressed. “Can you see her face? What does she look like? Who is she?”

Finbar’s eyes opened. He blinked up at Wreath. “This changes everything.”

Wreath leaned in close. “Who is she, damn it?”

“You Necromancers have your messiah,” Finbar said, “now we Remnants have ours.”

The black veins appeared again, and his head shot forward and crunched against Wreath’s nose. Wreath stumbled back, cursing, feeling his shadow restraints collapse under Finbar’s Remnant-enhanced strength. Hands grabbed him, and suddenly he was flying into the far wall. He crashed through a shelf and sent equipment spilling out across the floor.

“Hope you don’t mind, man,” Finbar said, smiling at him, “but I’m gonna take you over for a bit. I have a brand-new mission, and I need an upgrade.”

Wreath tasted his own blood. His cane was on the floor behind him. There were two ways out of this room – the door and the window. The window was closer.

Finbar opened his mouth wide. Wreath glimpsed the Remnant start to climb out and then he spun, snatching up his cane and using the shadows to smash the window. He leaped through the broken glass without the slightest hesitation, landing painfully on the cobbled street, sending people scattering all around him. He didn’t look at their shocked faces. He didn’t look back at Finbar, standing at the window. He just ran.