Читать книгу Skulduggery Pleasant: Books 7 – 9: The Darquesse Trilogy - Derek Landy - Страница 22

rom one scene of violence and death to another – Valkyrie didn’t know how she managed to be so lucky. The house was cordoned off with official Garda tape, but the men and women in the uniforms who were standing around were not Guards.

Skulduggery led the way up the garden path, talking on the phone as he did so. He was arranging for a squad of Cleavers to comb through Killiney with a Sensitive leading the hunt. He was confident that if Christophe Nocturnal really was staying there, they’d bring him in. Valkyrie was only half listening. She nodded to a mage she knew at the door, and went in through the hallway. It was a nice house, small but well maintained. Skulduggery put the phone away and they stepped into the living room.

“My God,” he said.

There were recognisable body parts in the mess, but not many. Valkyrie lunged back out of the door and threw up in the flower bed. When she’d finished, she leaned against the doorframe and closed her eyes. A few moments later, Skulduggery joined her. He was quiet.

He spoke to the other mages, then they both got in the Bentley and Valkyrie wiped her eyes.

“The house belongs to a Gary and Rosemary Delaney,” he said, “both of whom are confirmed to be at work at the moment. They have one son, Michael, eighteen years old. We’re waiting on the test results to get back, but it would appear that Michael is the one in the living room.”

“That’s weird,” Valkyrie said. “I’m crying. Look. I’m crying. I don’t feel like I’m crying but look at my eyes. Those are tears. Why am I crying?”

“Because you know that somebody did that,” Skulduggery said. “Somebody, a human, not an animal, purposefully ripped that boy apart. You’re crying because you can’t understand how anyone could do such a thing.”

She took a deep breath and let it out. “You didn’t spend long in there.”

“I got what I needed.”

She looked at him. “You know who did it?”

“No. But I have enough information to start narrowing it down. So do you.”

“I just glanced in.”

“And what did you learn?”

“Skulduggery, please, I’m really not in the mood for this.”

“Which is why it’s important.”

Valkyrie sighed. “The whole place was covered in blood. There were pieces of him everywhere.”

“How was he killed?”

“Ripped apart, like you said.”

“But how, Valkyrie? Claws? Was he ripped apart by the killer’s bare hands?”

She pictured the scene and shook her head. “No. There were no footprints in the blood. If there had been someone in there, physically attacking him, there’d be footprints. There’d probably be drops of blood leaving the house, too. I didn’t see any.”

“What does that tell us?”

“Whoever killed him did it remotely. From a distance of more than two or three metres, I’d say.”

“Very good.”

“Apart from all the blood, the room was tidy. No signs of a struggle. There was no scorching, either.”

“Why does that matter?”

“If he was killed with an energy blast, you’d expect it to go through him and out the other side to get a result like that.”

“Then that’s not how he was killed.”

“The killer could have a power like Baron Vengeous. You told me about that friend of yours. Vengeous just looked at him and his whole body ruptured.”

“It shares similarities, yes. But there are a dozen ways to kill someone like that.”

She hunted around in her pocket, came out with some chewing gum that she popped in her mouth to get rid of the horrible taste. “Can we leave this to someone else? We have enough to be dealing with, and there are other detectives. Let’s give this case to them.”

Skulduggery considered it. “We do have a heavy workload.”

“Hell yeah, we do. We should be concentrating on Argeddion, pouring all our energy into that. Forget this horrible murder and forget people trying to kill me and forget Tanith hooking up with Billy-Ray bloody Sanguine... Let’s just solve a problem. Summer starts next Saturday, so we have until then to figure out what’s going on. Let’s get this thing solved and put it away and forget about it, and then move on to the next.”

“Sounds like a lovely idea.”

“That’s because it is. And we let the Cleavers arrest Nocturnal and deal with him. I know his people want me dead, but I really don’t want to have to deal with religious fanatics today.”

“Understandable. Then how about we return to the Sanctuary, open some files, and do a little research on the names that Nadir gave us?”

She made a face. “Research?”

“It’s the bedrock of any investigation.”

“Isn’t that punching?”

“It’s the bedrock of most investigations.”

“Most?”

“Some. Listen, we’re doing research and that’s that.”

“Blood-splattered crime scenes and musty old filing cabinets,” she said. “My life is beyond glamorous.”

They got back to Roarhaven and Valkyrie trudged after Skulduggery on their way to the Magical Hall of Mystical Cabinets, which she insisted on calling the file room, mainly because it annoyed Skulduggery. They walked down the steps, turned the corner, and a man in a black suit was standing there.

“Name, please,” he said, holding up a hand. He was big and strong with a Newcastle accent, one of Quintin Strom’s heavies.

Skulduggery tilted his head. “I’m sorry?”

“Name, please,” the heavy repeated. “I have a list of people authorised to pass beyond this point. What are your names?”

Valkyrie frowned. “We always pass beyond this point. We’re allowed to pass beyond this point.”

The man nodded. “And so long as your names are on my list, you are free to do so again.”

Skulduggery took a moment to observe him, then spoke. “I have to say, without any sense of false modesty, that I am a unique and distinctive person. Look at me. I’m a skeleton in an exquisitely tailored suit. I would even go so far as to say that I am somewhat famous in the circles in which you, Valkyrie and I all move. So the question do you know who I am, which I could ask, is immediately made moot. Of course you know who I am. I’m me. And of course you know who Valkyrie is. She is she. Neither of us knows who you are, but we seem quite comfortable with the lapse.”

“My name is Grim. I am the bodyguard to—”

“The point I am making, Mr Grim, is that since you know who we are, and since you know what our role is in this Sanctuary, then you are either impeding our progress because you have been ordered, specifically, to keep us out, or because you have taken it upon yourself to do so. Which is it?”

“You’re not—”

“Never mind, I don’t really care. Move aside.”

Grim puffed out his chest. “By order of the Supreme Council, no one gets by here without—”

“The Supreme Council has no jurisdiction in this country.”

“You’ll have to take that up with them. I just do what I’m told.”

“Oh, good,” Skulduggery said, “that’ll make this much easier. Move aside.”

He went to walk past and Grim moved directly into his path. “You’re not getting through.”

“I actually think we are.”

“I’m giving you this one and only warning.”

“How nice of you,” said Skulduggery. “By the way, the sparrow flies south for winter.”

Grim frowned, opened his mouth to form a question and Skulduggery swung his hand up, catching him in the side of the jaw with his palm. Grim went down like a sack of rocks.

“Do you think we’ll get into trouble for that?” Valkyrie asked.

“I might,” Skulduggery said, walking on. “You probably won’t, unless there’s a new accessory-to-slapping law that I don’t know about.”

“What are they doing acting as security men?”

“I don’t know, but I doubt Ravel approved this.”

There was a man talking to Tipstaff as they approached, and when he caught sight of them, he shook Tipstaff’s hand and walked over. Tipstaff, for his part, looked unimpressed.

“Mr Pleasant,” the man said in an American accent, hurrying over to shake Skulduggery’s hand. “I am such a huge – forgive me for saying this – a huge, huge admirer of yours. I’ve followed all of your cases, scoured the archives. Huge, huge admirer. Oh, heavens, sorry, my name. I’m Bernard Sult. I’m one of the Junior Administrators at the American Sanctuary. And Miss Cain, very lovely to meet you. We all owe you a gigantic debt of gratitude for the service you’ve done in a few short years. Thank you, Miss Cain. Thank you.”

Valkyrie shook his hand. “Sure,” she said. “No problem.”

“No problem!” Sult repeated, almost spluttering the words as he laughed. “No problem, she says! Defeating Serpine and Vengeous and the Diablerie, defeating gods, recapturing the Remnants...! No problem to Valkyrie Cain, maybe, but for the rest of us, it would have been a great big problem indeed!”

He laughed again, had to wipe his eyes he was laughing so hard. Valkyrie glanced at Skulduggery and he shrugged.

“You’re here with the Supreme Council, then,” Skulduggery said, walking on. Sult kept up with them. “We met one of your friends back there. He didn’t want to let us by.”

Sult looked horrified. “He tried to stop you?”

“He definitely tried. You might want to check on him when you have a spare minute.”

“Well,” said Sult, “I must apologise most profusely if he offended you in any way. Some of our people, they’re so eager to make a good impression that, well, sometimes they’re a little too stringent with the rules.”

“And what rules would they be, Bernard? As far as I’m aware, you and your associates have no duties whatsoever in this Sanctuary.”

“You’re absolutely right,” Sult said, nodding. “But we were just talking with your Cleaver commander about lending a hand if a hand was needed, all in a very unofficial capacity, you understand. Could I ask, was the gentleman who interrupted you from the English Sanctuary?”

“Indeed he was. A Mr Grim.”

“Ah, the bodyguard. That explains it. We had different briefings. I can assure you that such a misunderstanding will not happen again. You have my word. It’s all very embarrassing.”

Now that Sult was focusing on Skulduggery, Valkyrie gave him a quick once-over. Looked to be in his thirties. Dark hair, cut short and neat. Nice suit, tasteful tie. Shiny shoes. Gold wedding ring. Apart from that, there was nothing distinctive about him at all.

“Do you work closely with Bisahalani?” Skulduggery asked.

“With Grand Mage Bisahalani, indeed I do,” Sult said, nodding again. “Well, I say closely, but really I’m just one of his many aides. Still, I’m honoured that he chose me to represent him here.”

“I would say so. The Supreme Council and all that. It all sounds so very important.”

Sult laughed again. “It does, doesn’t it? To be honest, I wish they’d have chosen a less grand name but, well... what sorcerer doesn’t love a grand name, eh?”

“Very true,” chuckled Skulduggery. “I suppose that’s one crime we’re all guilty of. At least the Supreme Council is upfront about its intentions. It’d be so much worse to be stabbed in the back by something called the Nice and Friendly Council, wouldn’t it?”

“Stabbed in the back?” Sult laughed. “I’m afraid I don’t get it.”

Skulduggery and Valkyrie stopped walking. “Oh, come now, Bernard. The Supreme Council want nothing more than an excuse to come in here and take over, isn’t that right? What are they looking for? What excuse do they need before they’ll be happy?”

Sult’s smile wavered. “I... I don’t know what you—”

“A huge admirer, are you?” Skulduggery said, talking over him. “Is that why your mouth keeps turning down in contempt? Is that why you practically sneered when you said Valkyrie’s name?”

Sult stepped back. “I assure you, you’re mistaken. I’m—”

“Just because I don’t have a face to call my own does not mean I can’t read other people’s,” said Skulduggery. “You don’t like us, Bernard. In fact, you hate us. You despise us. You’re here to take this Sanctuary down. And as for this administrator thing, this unimportant aide to Grand Mage Bisahalani story, well, I think we can both agree that that’s not entirely true, can’t we? Who are you? You’re not one of his detectives – I’d know you. You don’t step into the light much. You prefer working in the shadows. Is that who you are, Bernard? Bisahalani’s invisible enforcer?”

Sult smiled, and for the first time Valkyrie believed the smile was genuine. Cold, unfriendly, but genuine.

“We’re not here to take over,” Sult said. “We’re just here to help. And I don’t dislike you, Detective. You’ve saved the world. Both of you have. The problem is, you’ve mainly saved the world from your own mistakes. Time and again, this Sanctuary and its Council of Elders have endangered the lives of the people it is supposed to protect. And in doing so, it endangers the lives of everyone else on the planet. And speaking for everyone else on the planet, that isn’t exactly fair.”

“And yet,” Skulduggery said, “by interfering, you’re breaking the international Sanctuary code. What’s next? We don’t solve the latest crisis in six days, and you take the decision out of our hands entirely? Purely for our own good, of course.”

“If we have to,” Sult said. “And it’s five days.”

“That’s what I thought,” said Skulduggery. He went to move off but Sult put a hand on his arm.

“Don’t act like we’re the villains,” he said. “We have been forced to step in because this Sanctuary is incapable of handling its own affairs. This isn’t our doing. It’s yours. And you know it.”

Skulduggery didn’t say anything, he just waited until Sult removed his hand, and then he walked away.

He gave Valkyrie an armful of files and told her to go through them while he went off to find Ghastly. She wanted to be there as they discussed what had just transpired, but reluctantly accepted that she’d probably be able to offer very little insight into what their next move might be. So she found an empty room and settled down and started reading.

It took twenty minutes before she threw the first file back on to the desk in disgust. Nothing was going in. She’d read the words and seen the words but there was a room full of blood and a middle-aged woman with a poisoned ring to keep the words from sinking in. And if that wasn’t enough, there was also the man who’d tried to stop them coming down here and there was Sult, impossibly smug Sult and his stupid face. And her arm still throbbed. She didn’t know what Nadir had done to her, but whatever it was, it was irritating.

She put her feet on the desk, pushed the chair back on to two legs and stared up at the ceiling. She thought about poor Ed Stynes the werewolf man and poor Jerry Houlihan the butterfly man, and how they were both downstairs, sedated, being poked and prodded by the Sanctuary medical staff. How many were down there now? Forty-three? Forty-three mortals lying in beds, bubbling over with magic they didn’t understand and couldn’t control. Sooner or later, one of these outbreaks was going to take place right in the public eye where there’d be no denying what had happened, and then what? Then everything would change.

She went for a walk. She passed sorcerers and Cleavers and didn’t speak to any of them. There were a group of American mages who quietened down when she walked by. Things were tense enough as it was without the Supreme Council and their little army wandering around whispering to each other.

She went outside, looked out over the dark stagnant lake to the wasteland beyond, to where dead trees clawed at the sky like the land itself was screaming. Valkyrie wondered if the whole world would end up looking like that when she was through with it. Would there even be dead trees? Would she leave any sign of life, even as a memento? She didn’t think so. If and when she ever did give in and allow Darquesse to take over completely, she imagined that she’d just burn the planet to a crisp. Do the job and do it properly, sort it out and put it away, then move on to the next thing. Whatever the next thing was. Maybe hunt down the Faceless Ones.

She smiled. She liked that idea. After she killed everyone here, hunting down the Faceless Ones would be the logical progression.

Her smile faded.

There was a shout and she turned. A mage was on his back next to a Cleaver van, and a man was running into the streets of Roarhaven, his hands shackled. Valkyrie recognised him as Christophe Nocturnal, the man who’d tried to have her killed. A Cleaver walked after him, not in any hurry.

Nocturnal grabbed a woman, spun her around, started shouting threats, issuing demands. The woman he’d grabbed was unimpressed, and Nocturnal didn’t notice that the street behind him was beginning to fill with Roarhaven citizens.

The woman waved her hand casually and the air rippled, flinging Nocturnal backwards. He scrambled up and a man stepped out of the crowd, laid a hand on Nocturnal’s shoulder and made him scream in absolute agony.

An old lady shuffled by, took hold of him and hurled him to the ground with astonishing strength. Valkyrie couldn’t hear his words as Nocturnal crawled back to the waiting Cleaver, but she imagined he was doing a lot of apologising.

Roarhaven was not a town to make trouble in.

She stayed out of sight as Nocturnal was hauled to the Sanctuary. She just wasn’t in the mood for yet another confrontation, not with the day she was having. Even so, she was pleased to see him in shackles.

Just as the Cleaver and Nocturnal reached the main doors, Skulduggery emerged. Nocturnal turned to glare but Skulduggery completely ignored him, and strode up to Valkyrie.

“Did you talk to Ghastly?” she asked.

He waved the question away. “Forget Ghastly. Forget Sult. Forget all that. I’ve just figured it out.”

“Figured what out?”

“They’re not dead.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Who aren’t dead?”

“Lament and his missing sorcerers. They’re not dead, Valkyrie. Neither is Argeddion. Maybe they couldn’t find a way to kill him, maybe for some reason they didn’t want to, but they knew how to imprison him. That’s where they are. They’re guarding him.”

Valkyrie didn’t say anything, and he continued.

“Tyren Lament was, above all else, a scientist. Some of his research remains in the archives, enough to tell me that he had been working on a containment system. From the levels recorded, his theory was that it could contain something – or someone – of immense power. I think he was designing a prison for Argeddion. A prison capable of holding a sorcerer who knows their own true name.”

“But you said that wasn’t possible.”

“Lament found a way, I’m sure of it.”

“Then this is it,” she said, excited and nervous at the same time. “This is what we need to hold Darquesse. We could build one for me.”

Skulduggery looked at her. “Exactly. It’s for you, Valkyrie. Don’t forget we’re talking about building a prison to contain you.”

She swallowed. “But what choice do I have? Go to a prison cell until I learn how to control myself, or kill my own parents and probably my little baby sister? Not to mention the rest of the world? I think I’ll choose the prison cell, thank you very much. Are you sure about this?”

“It’s the only thing that answers all the questions. Why were their files destroyed? Why weren’t their disappearances mentioned in the Journals? Meritorious was doing his best to hide Argeddion’s existence from anyone who might go looking.”

“So where are they?”

“I don’t know yet, but it would be somewhere out of the way. Isolated. Somewhere without a magical presence.”

“Do we have any leads?” she asked.

“Just one. A freight company that Lament used was mentioned in the notes. There are companies all around the world, either run by or owned by sorcerers, that operate for both the mortals and the magical. Their dealings with other sorcerers are, as you can imagine, completely under the radar. Dagan Logistics is one such company.”

“So we just talk to them about their dealings with him, where they shipped whatever supplies he needed, and we have where he’s keeping Argeddion. Right?”

“Right.”

“Right. So why aren’t you looking pleased?”

He tilted his head. “How do you know I’m not?”

“I just know. What’s the catch?”

Skulduggery sighed. “Dagan Logistics is not the most reputable of companies, or the most co-operative. I’d imagine that’s the reason Lament used them – they’re used to keeping certain dealings secret. It’s owned by one of Mevolent’s old supporters. Arthur Dagan.”

“Oh,” Valkyrie said. “Him. He doesn’t like me.”

“He’s not too fond of me, either. He didn’t fight in the war, he was always far too timid for that kind of thing, but he worshipped the Faceless Ones as fervently as any fanatic, and he aided Mevolent whenever he could.”

“I can’t really see him helping us.”

“Me neither. His son, on the other hand...”

“Hansard? Would he be able to help us?”

“He’s in the family business. He’d have access to his father’s files. And you two seemed to really hit it off at the Requiem Ball.”

“He was very hot,” Valkyrie murmured. “But why would he help us?”

“Hansard Kray is twenty-two years old. He wasn’t around for the war, and he’s been brought up in a very pro-Faceless Ones environment. Do you know what happens to people like that? They tend to rebel against their parents’ beliefs. Besides, he seems to have a good head on his shoulders, and if you ask him really nicely, how could he refuse you?”

“I am very hot,” Valkyrie murmured.

“We just have to get you close to him without his father finding out. I made a few calls, asked a few people, and it seems that Hansard will be personally overseeing the transport of a large cargo on the invisible railroad tomorrow morning.”

“The invisible railroad?”

“I never told you about the invisible railroad?” Skulduggery asked, walking to the Bentley. “Then you’re in for a treat. So long as you like trains. And invisible things.”

“I love invisible things.”

“What are your feelings towards trains?”

“Meh.”

“That’s good enough for me.”