Читать книгу Skulduggery Pleasant: Books 1 - 12 - Derek Landy - Страница 82

alkyrie opened her eyes. Was that a scream? She sat up and looked out into the corridor. The lights were flickering. She heard running footsteps. Then nothing. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

She got out of bed, her limbs protesting, her arm aching. Her bare feet touched the cold floor. She padded to the small wardrobe built into the wall, where she found her socks and boots. She pulled them on quickly in the darkened room, and she was just shrugging into her coat when she heard someone crying for help. Then a thud and the crying stopped.

Valkyrie poked her head out the door, looked up towards the morgue, and saw the figure moving through the dim corridor like some kind of puppet with half its strings cut. It moved in a jerky manner, stiff and uncoordinated, but even as she watched, it seemed to move a little more smoothly, like it was getting used to its own body. It stepped into a pool of light.

The Grotesquery. It was alive.

She saw the bandages – so old they might have turned to dust under her gaze – that had been used to keep it in one piece. She saw flesh between the bandages, and scars, and stitching. Its ribcage looked like it had been cracked and pulled open, so that now each rib punctured through its torso.

It had something that looked like a massive boil growing on the top of its left wrist and on the underside there was a thick ridge of flesh. Its right arm was huge, the muscles curling impossibly around one another, all the way down to its massive hand. Its fingers were thick, each tipped with a talon. The bandages covered its face completely, not even a gap for the eyes. Here and there black blood had soaked through.

Why was there no alarm? The Grotesquery was alive, but there was no alarm. Valkyrie stepped back, grabbed a chair and stood on it. She clicked her fingers but nothing happened. Her eyes narrowed. She focused, clicked her fingers again until she made a spark, cultivated it into a flame and held it up to the smoke detectors. After a moment the sprinkler system activated and the alarm pierced the silence.

She hurried back to the door as three Cleavers ran by. It was only when they got close to it that she realised how big the Grotesquery truly was. It towered above the tallest of them. They were used to dealing with serious threats. But they had never seen anything like this.

The Grotesquery batted away the swipe of a scythe and grabbed the first Cleaver by the throat. It lifted him high overhead as it swatted the second Cleaver into the wall. The third Cleaver swung his scythe and the Grotesquery swung his colleague’s body into him. Valkyrie heard bones break.

Three seconds. The Grotesquery had killed three Cleavers in three seconds.

Valkyrie stepped back inside her room. The sprinklers were drenching her. She could run for it. Step out of the doorway, turn right, sprint the length of the corridor to the Research Area, then get to the stairs. She’d pass through the screen and be running from the cinema before the Grotesquery even saw her. It was still slow, it wouldn’t even be able to catch her if it did see her. She could do it. So why wasn’t she running?

Valkyrie backed away. She could see the shadow on the wall outside her open door, getting closer. Her legs were unsteady and her arm still hurt. Fear coiled and thrashed in her belly. She felt the wall behind her and pressed herself to it. The darkness of the room didn’t seem dark enough. It would see her. No, it didn’t need to see her. It had no eyes.

And then it was too late to run, because the Grotesquery was passing the doorway, water running down its body. She could smell it now – it smelled of formaldehyde and mould. She held her breath and didn’t move.

The Grotesquery stopped. Valkyrie readied herself. If it turned to her she’d launch herself forward, hit it with everything she had, hurl enough fireballs to send those bandages up in flames. Like that would be enough to stop it. Like that would be enough to save her.

Its head turned slightly, but not in her direction, as if the Grotesquery was listening for something, beyond the alarm. She suddenly thought of a radar that it could use to sense her, but a radar that had been unused for so long it wasn’t as sharp as it could be.

She felt her muscles weaken and a coldness swept into her mind. Terror was robbing her of her strength. The thought that she’d be unable to move seeped in, grew and festered. The things she had learned meant nothing. The skills, the powers, the magic – to the Grotesquery she’d be even more ineffectual than the Cleavers it had just killed. Something less than a threat. Something less than an insect.

But it moved. It took another step, and another, and soon it was out of sight, moving on down the corridor. Valkyrie felt tears mix with the water that was running down her face. She blinked them back. She wasn’t going to die. Not today.

She pushed away from the wall, balanced herself on shaky legs. She waited a few moments, then made her way to the door, her feet splashing slightly as she moved. She got to the door and peeked out, and fingers closed around her throat. She was yanked out into the corridor, her feet off the ground, gagging and spitting and trying to breathe.

The Grotesquery had its head raised, looking up at her with no eyes, examining her. Her hands were at its massive wrist, at those fingers, trying to pry them loose.

Something less than an insect.

She kicked, her boots slamming into the thing. She pelted her fists down on its forearm. It didn’t make one bit of difference. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears. Darkness crept into her vision. She couldn’t breathe. She needed to breathe. She was going to die.

She clicked her fingers, managed to summon a flame then pressed her hand to the Grotesquery’s bandages. The bandages instantly caught fire and then instantly snuffed out. No more tricks. She was done.

Then there was movement behind the Grotesquery – Skulduggery and Tanith, sprinting. The Grotesquery didn’t need to turn. When they were right behind, it swung its left fist back. Skulduggery dodged under it and Tanith leaped to the ceiling, her sword flashing and now Valkyrie was dropping. Skulduggery swooped in, snatched her up and kept running, Tanith beside them.

The Grotesquery regarded its injured hand with something approaching curiosity. They stopped and looked back, as the flesh closed over and healed.

There was movement at the doorway beside them and Kenspeckle limped into the corridor.

“Stay behind us,” Skulduggery ordered.

Kenspeckle grunted. “I plan to.”

They felt the air pressure change and Valkyrie’s ears popped. “What’s happening?” she called out over the alarm.

“Its power is returning,” Kenspeckle said grimly.

Skulduggery took his gun from his jacket. “This is our only chance to stop it before it becomes too strong.”

He walked up to the Grotesquery, firing six times as he went, and six small explosions of black blood erupted against the Grotesquery’s chest, barely making it stagger. Skulduggery put the gun away, clicked his fingers and unleashed two continuous streams of fire, turning the space between them to steam. The flames hit the Grotesquery but didn’t catch.

Skulduggery pushed at the air with both hands and the air rippled. The Grotesquery was forced backwards. Skulduggery did it again and the Grotesquery fought to resist. Skulduggery went to do it a third time, and the Grotesquery reached out with its huge right arm and the arm unravelled. Long strips of flesh, each tipped with a talon, lacerated the air around Skulduggery. He cried out and fell back and the strips returned, wrapped around each other and reformed the arm. The Grotesquery smacked Skulduggery and he hurtled backwards through the air.

Tanith ran up, her hair plastered to her scalp and her sword darting out. The Grotesquery tried grabbing her, but she was too fast. She rolled and cut its leg then leaped up and slashed its arm. Both wounds closed over.

Its right arm unravelled again and she ducked and dodged, then jumped and flipped, and now she was upside down on the ceiling. She advanced, but the Grotesquery kept its distance. It raised its left arm.

Kenspeckle shouted a warning, but the fire alarm drowned him out. The growth on top of the Grotesquery’s left wrist, what Valkyrie had thought was a massive boil, suddenly contracted and a yellow liquid shot out. Tanith had to fling herself sideways to avoid it and she crashed to the ground. The liquid hit the ceiling and ate through it in an instant, leaving a gaping hole.

Skulduggery ran to join her and Tanith got to her feet, and even though the boil was now empty, the Grotesquery was still holding out its left arm. Skulduggery reached for Tanith, but he was a second too late.

A thin spike emerged from the ridge on the underside of the Grotesquery’s wrist and jabbed into Tanith’s side. She cried out and the spike retracted, returning to its sheath. Skulduggery caught Tanith as she collapsed. He backed away.

The Grotesquery looked at its hands and flexed its fingers, as if it was discovering what it could do with each passing moment.

Valkyrie and Kenspeckle ran up. Tanith was unconscious. Her veins were visible through her skin and they were a sickly green colour.

“She’s been infected,” Kenspeckle said. “Helaquin poison. She has maybe twenty minutes before she dies.”

“How do we cure it?” Skulduggery asked.

The alarm whined and went silent, and the sprinklers cut off.

“I haven’t seen this poison for fifty years,” Kenspeckle said. “I don’t have an antidote here. There is some at the Sanctuary if we can get there in time.”

“I’ll lead the Grotesquery away,” Valkyrie said. “Meet you at the car.”

Skulduggery looked up sharply. “What? No! You take Tanith—”

“Don’t tell her this,” Valkyrie said, “but she’s too heavy for me to carry.” And she ran before Skulduggery could stop her.

“Valkyrie!” he roared.

Her boots splashed as she sprinted. The Grotesquery held its arms wide, welcoming her. There was no way past it on either side and she didn’t have Tanith’s ceiling-running skills, so when the Grotesquery reached for her, Valkyrie dropped, sliding on the wet floor, between its legs. Once she was clear she scrambled up and ran on. She glanced back. The Grotesquery was turning, following her.

So that worked, Valkyrie thought to herself. Now what the hell am I going to do?

Just as she turned the corner, Skulduggery shouted something, something like the vanity light. She kept running. She passed the elevators, shut down because of the fire alert, and headed for the back stairs. The Grotesquery hadn’t even reached the corner yet. She slowed, catching her breath, keeping her eyes on the corner. The vanity light. What had Skulduggery meant?

The Grotesquery came around the corner. The back stairs, the ones that joined up with the main stairs behind the screen, were right behind her and she readied herself to sprint if the patchwork monstrosity came up with any more surprises.

And then it disappeared, like it had been swallowed by the empty space around it. Valkyrie blinked. Another of its hybrid abilities, like the stinger and the acid and the unravelling arm. Teleportation.

Skulduggery hadn’t said the vanity light, he had said The Vanishing Night. The Vanishing Night had been one of Gordon’s earliest bestsellers. It had dealt with a creature, a Shibbach, that could appear anywhere, commit a very messy and overly-detailed murder then vanish and reappear a hundred kilometres away. She remembered Gordon now, the Gordon in the Echo Stone, telling her about the pieces of a Shibbach that Vengeous had grafted on.

Valkyrie didn’t even have to look around to know the Grotesquery was behind her. She tried to run but her boot slipped on the wet ground, just as its right hand snatched at her. She fell sideways, glimpsed the Grotesquery’s bandaged head and tumbled down the stairs. She sprawled to a painful stop, grabbed the banister and hauled herself to her feet. She was at the main stairs now, and she took them two at a time, going dangerously fast.

She reached the ground and sprinted for the screen, passed through and leaped off the stage. She ran for the exit, crashed through the door and the midday sunlight struck her like a fist.

“Valkyrie!” Skulduggery shouted. The Bentley was ahead, engine running, and beyond it Baron Vengeous was striding through the lane towards them, followed by Sanguine and Dusk and his pack of Infected.

The Grotesquery stepped out of thin air with a soft whump. Valkyrie dodged it and ran as the Bentley started moving. She jumped for the open window and Kenspeckle grabbed her and dragged her in as Skulduggery floored it. Tanith was in the backseat, still unconscious, and when Valkyrie righted herself she looked back and saw Baron Vengeous approaching the Grotesquery.

The Grotesquery turned its head, keeping its eyeless gaze fixed on the car.

“Seatbelt,” Skulduggery said.