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Nero looked dismayed. “Why not?”
“You might get it wrong, man,” Memphis said, running a comb through his hair. “Or you might teleport us into a group of Cleavers. I’ll stay here until I know the coast is clear, thank you very much.”
Cadaverous sighed. “I’ll go with him.”
Nero scowled. “I don’t want him to come.”
“You’ve already turned down one and been rejected by another,” Cadaverous said. “It’s me or it’s no one. I’m sick of listening to you complain about not being appreciated for who you are or what you contribute to the team. That’s all I’ve heard from you for the last few weeks. If you’re too scared to go alone, then I shall hold your hand. Is that acceptable to you, Mr Nero?”
“I don’t like the way you’re talking to me.”
“I somehow fail to care.”
“Gentlemen, gentlemen,” Lethe said, holding up his hands, “there’s no need for hostility. Cadaverous has made a kind-hearted offer. Nero, will you accept?”
“Sure,” Nero said grudgingly.
“Beautiful,” Lethe said. “Razzia: what is the time?”
Razzia nodded. “Time is a social construct designed to derive order from chaos.”
“Well put, Razzia. And do you have the time?”
“Oh,” she said. “No, I don’t wear a watch. I don’t believe in them. Time’s never done me any favours, and that’s fair dinkum.”
“I see. Smoke?”
“It’s twelve oh four,” Smoke said. “Twenty seconds to go.”
Lethe rolled his shoulders. “Nero, Cadaverous, prepare yourselves. The rest of us will stand ready.”
Cadaverous took hold of Nero’s wrist.
“We don’t need to be touching,” Nero complained.
Cadaverous gave him a smile. “I’m just making sure you don’t forget about me in all the excitement.”
Nero took a moment to roll his eyes before looking straight ahead, at the patch of thin air he was aiming to arrive at. As the seconds ticked away, Cadaverous used his tongue to pick a piece of meat from between his teeth. He spat it out.
“Go,” said Smoke.
Suddenly they were 1,100 metres off the coast and falling towards the churning, freezing sea. Cadaverous’s body released a bolt of adrenaline. Nero tried to snatch back his arm. He was about to panic, about to teleport away. Cadaverous tightened his grip.
And then his feet vanished.
The rest of him followed, almost too quick to register – his knees, thighs, hips, chest – and then they had dropped through the cloaking shield and Coldheart Prison burst into existence beneath them, a floating island of rock on which sat the walls, the fences, the watchtowers and the prison buildings themselves.
They teleported lower and flipped, so that their momentum took them upwards and then cancelled out. When they stopped rising, Nero teleported them once more, straight down to solid ground. They landed gently and crouched, waiting for the alerts to be called. When they heard no shouts, heard no alarms, they dared to raise their heads.
They were on the very edge of the island, perched on the slippery rocks. Before them was a fence. Beyond that, another fence. Towers, manned by Cleavers, stood at regular intervals – eight towers to a side. Walls and more fences separated the yard into sections for prisoner recreation and sections for staff. The buildings were big and blocky and imposing. Small windows and few of them. Solid doors.
The main prison building was a massive tower with broad shoulders. Slanted windows at the very top gave it its scowl. The inmates called this building the Brute.
“Fetch the others,” Cadaverous said, the wind whipping away his words. Nero vanished.
As irritating as Nero could be, he was also the key to taking this prison. So long as his enemies were within a certain range, he could teleport them away without having to lay a finger on them. The sigils and safeguards that kept out others of his ilk had no effect on him. He was, to all intents and purposes, virtually unstoppable. That reason, and that reason alone, was enough to keep him alive.
He arrived back with Lethe and the others.
“Cleavers in every tower,” Cadaverous told them. “Electrified fences. Cameras covering the yard. Just as we were warned.”
“And we’re not yet fighting for our lives,” said Lethe, “which means we are indeed in the one blind spot the island offers.”
“Our information was correct,” Smoke said.
Lethe looked at him. “You doubted it?”
“I don’t like spies,” he said, pulling at the braids in his goatee. “Theirs or ours.”
“Well,” Lethe said, “I for one am grateful for our spy. It bodes well for what is to come. You all know what to do. You all know where to go. We want the Cleavers and all Sanctuary personnel dead or gone. This is to be a clean sweep. Ignore the convicts. They’ll beg you to open their cells, but we’re not here for them. We’re here for her. We’re here to find the box.”
“And while we’re all risking our lives,” Nero said, “what are you going to be doing?”
Lethe nodded towards the Brute’s slanted windows. “I’m going to be in the control room,” he said. “Someone’s got to steer this thing, after all.”
9 (#ulink_aef37db7-fbb8-586f-9701-244690b471f6)
Skulduggery and Valkyrie watched as Omen Darkly, his schoolbag slung over his shoulder, failed utterly to take his leave with anything resembling dignity. He tried two locked doors before finding the one that led off the balcony and into the tower. He waved, blushing madly, and disappeared.
“Interesting boy,” Skulduggery said. “Not what I would call especially impressive, but an interesting boy, nonetheless.”
“I don’t know about this,” Valkyrie said. She was getting cold. “He’s a kid, Skulduggery. We shouldn’t be involving him in this stuff.”
“Perhaps,” Skulduggery said, “but he did make a valid point. I involved you in ‘this stuff’ when you were even younger.”
“That’s different.”
“How so?”
“That was me,” she said. “I could handle it.”
“I think Omen will surprise you.”
“He forgot which door he literally just came through.”
“So it’ll be an even bigger surprise.”
She peered over the railing, down on to an empty courtyard. “He’s not going to get the chance, though, is he? He keeps an eye out for this recruiter person and that’s it, he goes home.”
“This is a boarding school.”
“You know what I mean.”
“That’s all we’ll need him to do, yes. But there’s a stubbornness in his eyes that I’ve really only seen once before.”
“I was never stubborn,” Valkyrie said, climbing over the railing. “I just happened to be right.”
She let go and plummeted. The South Tower was six storeys high and she was halfway to the hard ground before the air began to slow her descent. Skulduggery drifted down beside her, wrapping his arm around her waist.
“I do wish you’d tell me before you jump,” he said, “especially if you aren’t even going to attempt to use your powers.”
“I can’t fly,” she reminded him.
“You’ve flown before.”
“I’ve hovered.”
“Hovering is the first step to flying,” he said as they touched down gently in the empty courtyard. He released her. “That’s what I tell people who ask for tips.”
“Do many ask?”
“More and more,” he said. “Apparently, there’s been a resurgence in people choosing Elemental magic as their discipline, all because they want to learn to soar above the clouds.”
The wind had messed up her hair, so she tied it back into a ponytail. “Even though none of their Elemental teachers can fly? This doesn’t suggest to them that maybe flying is harder to master than it would appear?”
“They don’t care,” Skulduggery said. “They just want to emulate their heroes.”
“You mean you.”
“As the only Elemental who can actually fly, yes, I mean me. Don’t you miss it?”
“Flying? The only times I’ve properly flown, Darquesse had taken over. The memory’s a little tainted.”
“I suppose,” he said, then took his pocket watch from his waistcoat and glanced at it. “There’s someone I need to talk to before we leave. Will I meet you back at the car?”
“Ah,” she said, “I kinda want to explore a little, see what’s what.”
“Oh. OK. And you’re sure you don’t want to head back to the car and wait for me there?”
“You’re worried that my dog will have peed on your seats, aren’t you?”
“The thought has occurred to me.”
“Xena will still be asleep, believe me, and she doesn’t pee in cars. You go talk to whoever you have to talk to, I’ll have a walk around and I’ll meet you out front in, what, twenty minutes?”
They split up, and she passed through the nearest door, found herself in a corridor just as the bell rang and students swarmed out, filling the spaces and jostling Valkyrie as they squeezed by. She sighed with irritation, kept her elbows down and didn’t hit anyone. After another few seconds, the crowd started to thin and she could walk without tripping over anyone.
Four kids with green ties stood in a group ahead of her. They started whispering. Valkyrie kept her head down and her eyes on the floor as she passed them. Out of the corner of her eye she saw them glance her way, and when they were behind her the whispering picked up again.
Valkyrie turned to face them. “What?” she snapped. “What is it that’s so fascinating about me? What?”
The kids froze. They actually looked scared. One of them snapped out of it, hurried away, and the others quickly followed. Valkyrie glared at them until they had disappeared round the corner. Then she started to feel stupid for overreacting.
She turned again, just as a young woman dressed all in black strode up to her with an arm outstretched.
“Hello!” the young woman said, and Valkyrie was shaking her hand before she knew what was happening. “It’s very good to meet you! I’ve heard so much about you, naturally, but it’s so good to finally meet you in the flesh!”
She was Scottish, had long red hair, a few freckles and the brightest smile Valkyrie had seen in a long time.
“You’ll have to forgive the students,” the woman said, lowering her voice slightly. “It’s not often they meet someone famous.”
Valkyrie took her hand back. Gently. “I’m not famous.”
“Ah, well, infamous, then.”
Valkyrie took a moment to work it out, then she sagged. “Oh, right. Darquesse.”
“They’ve seen all the pictures,” the redhead said, “all the videos. And there are plenty of videos of Darquesse tearing the place up. They don’t mean anything by staring, really they don’t.”
“It’s fine,” Valkyrie replied. “Amazingly, I kind of forgot that people would associate me with her, even though we shared the same face. Just another thing to feel bad about, I suppose.”
“Mmm,” said the redhead, because she obviously couldn’t think of a way to salvage this topic of conversation. Then she brightened again. “I’m Militsa Gnosis. I teach Magic Theory.”
“You’re a Necromancer?”
“Guilty as charged,” Militsa said, and then suddenly stopped smiling. “Which is probably not the best phrase to use when most of your Order plotted to kill billions of people. If it makes any difference, though, I didn’t know anything about the Passage or what the Clerics were planning.”
“So you’re a good Necromancer?”
“Yes,” Militsa said, beaming once again. “I was going to store my magic in a ring like you did, but I didn’t want you to think I was copying you, even though I so would have been, so I keep it in this instead.” She pulled back her sleeve, revealing a thick bracelet. “It’s pretty cool, I think.”
“Yeah.”
Militsa’s smile faltered. “Oh, no.”
“What?”
“I’m being lame, aren’t I?”
“Sorry?”
“I’m being so lame right now,” Militsa said, her chin dropping. “You think I’m a complete idiot, don’t you?”
“Do I?”
“You must.”
“I don’t think so.”
