скачать книгу бесплатно
“Have you killed anyone?” she asked quickly.
“What? Did you miss what I said, about turning murder into an art form?”
“But you haven’t actually killed anyone yet, have you? I read your file.”
He glowered. “Technically, yeah, all right, maybe I haven’t, but tonight’s the night. You’re going to be my first.”
She readied herself, controlled her breathing. “Find the space where everything connects,” she murmured.
Scapegrace frowned. “What?”
Valkyrie kicked upwards, taking her right hand from the outcrop and feeling the air against her palm. She pushed at it like she’d been taught, and it shimmered and hit Scapegrace, throwing him off his feet. Valkyrie clutched at the edge of the parapet, her legs swinging in open air. She grunted and pulled herself up, then flung her left arm across the edge and hauled herself the rest of the way. She got to her feet, her arms and legs trembling with the strain, and moved away from the edge. The wind whipped her dark hair across her face.
Scapegrace was already getting up and Valkyrie saw anger mottle his face. She clicked her fingers, generating a spark that she caught in her hand. She tried to focus, tried to build it into a flame, but Scapegrace was coming at her like a freight train.
Valkyrie jumped and thrust out both feet. Her boots slammed into his chest and he hit the ground again and went sprawling. He turned to her just as she lashed a kick into his jaw. His body twisted and he tumbled back, came up to his feet then lost his balance, fell again. He spat blood and glared.
“You little brat,” he snarled. “You uppity, sneaky little brat. You don’t know who you’re messing with, do you? I am going to be the greatest killer the world has ever known.” He stood up slowly, wiping his sleeve across his burst lip. “When I’m finished with you I’m going to deliver your mutilated, bloody corpse to your masters, as a warning. They sent you up against me, alone. Next time they’re going to have to send a battalion.”
Valkyrie smiled, and Scapegrace’s anger flared. “What the hell is so funny?”
“First of all,” she said, her confidence growing, “they’re not my masters. I don’t have a master. Second, they don’t need a battalion to take you down. And third – and this really is the most important point – whoever said I came alone?”
Scapegrace frowned, turned, saw someone walking up behind him, a skeleton in a black suit, and he tried to attack, but a gloved fist hit his face, a foot hit his shin and an elbow slammed into his chest. He fell in an awkward heap.
Skulduggery Pleasant turned to Valkyrie. “You all right?”
“I’ll kill you both!” Scapegrace howled.
“Hush,” Skulduggery said.
Scapegrace launched himself forward and Skulduggery moved into him, grabbed his outstretched arm and spun him around, then abruptly cut him off by slamming a forearm into his throat. Scapegrace flipped in midair, landed painfully. Skulduggery turned to Valkyrie again.
“I’m OK,” she said. “Really.”
Scapegrace had his hands to his face. “I think you broke my nose!” They ignored him.
“He talks a lot,” Valkyrie said, “but I don’t think he knows what all the words mean.”
Scapegrace leaped up. “I am the Killer Supreme! I make murder into an art form!”
Skulduggery hit him again and Scapegrace did a little twirl before falling.
“Vaurien Scapegrace,” he said, “by the power endowed unto me under the Sanctuary Rule of Justice, I am placing you under arrest for the attempted murder of Alexander Remit and Sofia Toil in Oregon, Cothurnus Ode and Armiger Fop in Sydney, Gregory Castallan and Bartholomew—”
Scapegrace tried one last desperate attack that Skulduggery cut short by punching him very hard on the nose. The Killer Supreme wobbled, collapsed and started crying.
(#ulink_a81b3d19-4aa4-5cfb-9b95-bac7013fe2b7)
he car was a 1954 Bentley R-Type Continental. It sliced through the quiet Dublin night like a black shark, gleaming and powerful. It was a beautiful car. Valkyrie had grown to love it almost as much as Skulduggery did.
They turned on to O’Connell Street, passed the Spire and the Pearse Monument. Scapegrace sat in the back and complained that the shackles were too tight. It was four in the morning. Valkyrie fought a yawn.
This time last year she would have been in bed, snuggled up and dreaming about … well, whatever it was she dreamed about back then. Things were a lot different now, and she was lucky if she could get a few hours sleep a night. If she wasn’t going up against crazies like Scapegrace, she was practising magic, and if she wasn’t practising magic, she was training to fight with either Skulduggery or Tanith Low. These days, her life was a lot more exciting, a lot more fun, and a lot more dangerous. In fact, one of the major downsides to her new life was that she rarely had sweet dreams any more. When she slept, it was the nightmares that came to her. They waited patiently, and they were always eager to play.
But that was the cost, she reasoned. The cost of living a life of adventure and excitement.
The owners of the Waxworks Museum had closed it down after the events of the previous year, and set up a new and improved version of the Sanctuary of the Elders in another part of the city. The new building stood quietly beside its neighbours, humble and drab, its front doors closed and locked and sealed. But Valkyrie and Skulduggery had never used the front doors anyway.
They parked in the loading area at the back and took Scapegrace in through the rear door. The corridors were dimly lit, and they walked past the lonely historical figures and cinematic icons that had been left to collect dust. Valkyrie traced her hand along the wall to find the switch, and the door slid open beside her. She led the way through and down the steps, her mind flashing back to the summer of the previous year, when she had stepped into the Sanctuary’s foyer to find it littered with dead bodies …
Today, however, there were no corpses in sight. Two Cleavers stood guard against the far wall, dressed all in grey, their scythes strapped to their backs, visored helmets pointing straight ahead. The Cleavers acted as the Sanctuary’s law enforcers and its army. Silent and lethal, they still gave Valkyrie the creeps.
The double doors to their left opened and the new Grand Mage, Thurid Guild, came out to them. He looked to be in his sixties, with thinning grey hair, a lined face and cold eyes.
“You found him then,” Guild said. “Before or after he managed to kill someone?”
“Before,” Skulduggery said. Guild grunted and gestured to the Cleavers. They stepped forward and Scapegrace shrank away from them. They took him firmly by the arms and he didn’t resist. He even stopped whining about his broken nose as they led him away.
Valkyrie looked back at Guild. He wasn’t a friendly man by any means, but he seemed especially uncomfortable around her, like he wasn’t yet sure if he should take her seriously. He tended to speak directly to Skulduggery, and only glanced at Valkyrie when she asked a question.
“A situation has arisen which requires your attention,” said Guild. “This way.”
Skulduggery fell into step beside the Grand Mage, but Valkyrie stayed two paces behind. Guild had taken over as head of the Council of Elders, but he still had to select the two sorcerers who would rule with him. It was a long and arduous process apparently, but Valkyrie suspected she knew who would be Guild’s first choice. He was a man who respected power, after all, and there were few more powerful in this world than Mr Bliss.
They walked into a room with a long table, and Mr Bliss rose – bald, tall and broad shouldered, his eyes a piercing blue.
“I have received some disturbing news,” Bliss said, getting straight to the point as usual. “It seems that Baron Vengeous has been freed from the confinement facility in Russia.”
Skulduggery was silent for a moment. When he spoke, he spoke slowly. “How did he get out?”
“Violently, from the reports we’ve been getting,” Guild said. “Nine Cleavers were killed, along with approximately one third of the prisoners. His cell, like all the cells, was securely bound. Nobody should have been able to use magic in any of them.”
Valkyrie raised an eyebrow and Skulduggery answered her unspoken question. “Baron Vengeous was one of Mevolent’s infamous Three Generals. Dangerously fanatical, extremely intelligent, and very, very powerful. I saw him look at a colleague of mine and my colleague … ruptured.”
“Ruptured?”
Skulduggery nodded. “All over the place.” He turned to Guild. “Do we know who freed him?”
The Grand Mage shook his head. “According to the Russians, one wall of his cell was cracked. Still solid, but cracked, like something had hit it. That’s the only clue we have at the moment.”
“The prison’s location is a closely guarded secret,” Bliss said. “It is well hidden and well protected. Whoever is behind this had inside knowledge.”
Guild made a face. “That’s the Russians’ problem, not ours. The only thing we have to concern ourselves with is stopping Vengeous.”
“You think he’ll come here then?” Valkyrie asked.
Guild looked at her and she saw his fist clench. He probably didn’t even realise he was doing it, but it signalled to Valkyrie loud and clear that he still didn’t like her.
“Vengeous will come home, yes. He has a history here.” He looked at Skulduggery. “We have already sent our people to airports and docks around the country, in the hope of preventing him from entering. But you know better than anyone how difficult the Baron is to … contain.”
“Indeed,” Skulduggery murmured.
“I think we can assume,” Guild continued, “that if Baron Vengeous is not already here, then he will be arriving shortly. You arrested him eighty years ago. I’m relying on you to do it again.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“Do better, Detective.”
Skulduggery observed Guild for a moment before answering. “Of course, Grand Mage.”
Guild dismissed them with a curt nod, and as they were walking back through the corridors, Valkyrie spoke.
“Guild doesn’t like me.”
“That’s true.”
“He doesn’t like you either.”
“That is mystifying.”
“So what about Vengeous? Is he bad news?”
“The worst. I don’t think he’s ever forgotten the time I threw a bundle of dynamite at him. It didn’t kill him obviously, but it definitely ruined his day.”
“Is he all scarred now?”
“Magic gets rid of most physical scars, but I like to think that I scarred him emotionally.”
“How about on the Evil Villain Scale? Ten being Serpine, one being Scapegrace?”
“The Baron, unfortunately, turns it all the way up to eleven.”
“Seriously? Because, you know, that’s one more evil.”
“It is indeed.”
“So we’re in trouble then.”
“Oh, yes,” said Skulduggery darkly.
(#ulink_0d91fa3b-7712-56d1-acf1-288c25472183)
he first thing Baron Vengeous did when he set foot on Irish soil was murder someone. He would have preferred to arrive without incident, to have stepped off the boat and disappeared into the city, but his hand had been forced. He had been recognised.
The sorcerer had seen him, picked him out in the crowd as he disembarked. Vengeous had walked away from the crowd, led the sorcerer somewhere quiet, out of the way. It was an easy kill. He had taken the sorcerer by surprise. A brief struggle and Vengeous’ arm had wrapped around the man’s throat. He hadn’t even needed to use his magic.
Once he had disposed of the body, Vengeous walked deeper into Dublin City, relishing the freedom that was his again after so long.
He was tall and his chest was broad, his tightly-cropped beard the same gun-metal grey as his hair. His clothes were dark, the jacket buttons polished to a gleam, and his boots clacked on the street-lit pavements. Dublin had changed dramatically since he’d been here last. The world had changed dramatically.
He heard the quiet footsteps behind him. He stopped but he didn’t turn. The man in black had to walk around him, into his line of sight.
“Baron,” the man said in greeting.
“You’re late.”
“I’m here, which is the main thing.”
Vengeous looked into the man’s eyes. “I do not tolerate insubordination, Mr Dusk. Perhaps you have forgotten.”
“Times have changed,” Dusk responded evenly. “The war is over.”
“Not for us.”
A taxi passed, and the sweeping headlights illuminated Dusk’s pale face and black hair. “Sanguine isn’t with you,” he noted.
Vengeous resumed walking, Dusk by his side. “He will join us soon, have no fear.”
“Are you sure you can trust him? I appreciate that he freed you from prison, but it took him eighty years to do it.”
Were Dusk any other man, this remark would have been the height ofhypocrisy, as he himself had not lifted one finger to help Vengeous either. But Dusk was not any other man. Dusk was scarcely a man, and as such, loyalty was not in his nature. A certain level of obedience perhaps, but not loyalty. Because of this, Vengeous harboured no resentment towards him.
The resentment he harboured towards Sanguine on the other hand …
Dusk’s breathing suddenly became strained. He reached into his coat and fumbled with a syringe, then jabbed the needle into his forearm. He depressed the plunger, forcing the colourless liquid into his bloodstream, and moments later he was breathing regularly again.
“I’m glad to see you’re still in control,” Vengeous said.
Dusk put the syringe away. “I wouldn’t be much good to you if I wasn’t, would I? What do you need me to do?”
“There will be some obstacles to our work, some enemies we will no doubt face. The Skeleton Detective for example. Apparently he has an apprentice now – a dark-haired girl. You will wait for them outside the Sanctuary, tonight, and you will follow them, and when she is alone, you will fetch her for me.”
“Of course.”
“Alive, Dusk.”
There was a hesitation. “Of course,” Dusk repeated.
(#ulink_6a16108f-819b-55d7-ba2b-91d5ac4a54a8)
hey left the Sanctuary and drove across town, until they came to a street lined with ugly tenement buildings. Skulduggery parked the Bentley, wrapped his scarf around his jaw and pulled his hat down low, and got out.
“I notice you haven’t mentioned how I was thrown off a tower tonight,” Valkyrie said as they crossed the road.
“Does it need mentioning?” Skulduggery queried.
“Scapegrace threw me off a tower. If that doesn’t require mentioning then what does?”
