Until the End, page 21
Tyler’s dad went to borrow a car from Tyler’s uncle that Frightening could drive to Houston. It wasn’t much of a car, his dad said, but it wouldn’t break down and it wouldn’t draw the attention of any traffic cops, and Frightening accepted the offer with thanks. While he waited for Tyler’s dad to get back, he sat in the kitchen with Tyler and Mila and told them about South Africa. Mila said she’d always wanted to visit, but Tyler reckoned she was just sweet on Frightening so she’d say pretty much anything to impress him, even though she had a boyfriend that she swore she loved.
They heard a car pull up outside and they all thought it was Tyler’s dad, but when Tyler’s mom answered the door she had a wariness in her voice that made them all go quiet.
“How can I help you?” she asked.
“Afternoon, ma’am,” said a lady. “My name’s Agent Frost, and this here is Agent Dale. We’re from the FBI and we’re looking for a man you may have encountered lately. This man. Have you seen him?”
There was a pause as Tyler’s mom examined whatever they were showing her.
“No,” she said, “sorry. I don’t know him.”
“He’s a very dangerous individual, ma’am.”
“Then I hope you find him.”
“Mrs Clonston, isn’t it?” asked the man, this Agent Dale. “Mrs Clonston, is your husband home, or maybe we could speak to your kids? We’ve been asked to conduct a thorough search.”
“My husband isn’t here right now, but he’ll be back soon.”
“It’s very important that we find this individual before he hurts anybody else.”
Frightening looked at Tyler and Mila, put his finger to his lips, and slipped out of the kitchen.
“I get that,” said Tyler’s mom, “but I don’t know where he is.”
“He killed two Federal agents last week,” said Frost. “Close by here, actually. You know the Madison farm? That’s just up the road, isn’t it? That’s where he killed them.”
“I haven’t heard anything about it on the news.”
“We’re trying not to start a panic.”
“Maybe if you started a panic, you’d find someone who’s seen him. If you’ll excuse me, I have to get back.”
A creak of a door hinge, suddenly stopped.
“Mrs Clonston,” said Agent Dale, “would it be possible to search the premises?”
“No,” Tyler’s mom said. “It definitely would not.”
“You’re not hiding something, are you?”
“Get off my property.” Movement. “What are you doing? You can’t come in here. You can’t come in—”
His mom gave a cry and Tyler and Mila burst out of the kitchen, ran to the front door as Frightening emerged from the living room, colliding with Agent Dale and slamming him into the wall. Agent Frost had fire in her hand, but Frightening batted her arm to one side and the fire went out, and he grabbed her and threw her over his hip.
Dale punched him, punched him again, kicked him in the chest and Frightening caught him with those eye-blasts as he lunged, and Dale was thrown back, hit the wall and collapsed.
Frost scrambled up, whipping a gun from her jacket and Frightening turned, but it was like he couldn’t see her, and he grabbed at nothing. Tyler’s mom tackled Agent Frost from behind, wrapping her up in a bear hug, pinning her arms by her sides. Frost cursed and kicked and Tyler’s mom grunted, but didn’t let go. She was a nurse, and she was used to people struggling.
The air rippled and Tyler’s mom hurtled off her feet and Tyler sprang to catch her. The impact took them both to the ground and Mila was there, grabbing their arms, dragging them up.
Frightening had regained his sight, and he glared at Agent Frost and she glared back. The gun was on the floor between them.
“We’re not here to hurt anyone,” Frost said. Moving slowly, she took a pair of old-fashioned handcuffs from her pocket. “Just put these on and come quietly. No one else has to die.”
Frightening didn’t answer, and Frost tossed him the handcuffs and immediately dived for the gun and Frightening’s eye-blasts struck her just as she grabbed it. She flopped like she was boneless, the gun spiralling out of her hand, and she lay there, unmoving. Frightening backed away, hands out in front to ward off any further attack.
“Are they down?” he asked. “Tyler, are they both down?”
“Yes,” Tyler croaked.
Frightening nodded. “Nobody move, if you please. It takes a moment for my eyes to start working again.”
Tyler’s mom put her arms in front of Tyler and his sister and moved them back as Tyler’s dad stepped into the house, Frost’s gun in his hand and pointed straight at Frightening.
“Who the hell are you?”
Valkyrie sat in Creed’s chair, her feet up on the massive desk. “You knew that we were planning to beat up your little team and go to the Void World ourselves.”
Creed closed the door behind him. “I knew you would be unhappy with an order that told you otherwise.”
“So you set us up,” she said. “Tell me I can’t do something, forcing me to do it against your wishes, and pave the way for Skulduggery to seize his chance to whisk me away. You knew we were going to try something, and you knew he was going to try something.”
“I suspected,” said Creed. “But I didn’t force you to act, Valkyrie. You were the only one to make that decision.”
“But you expected it.”
“I was reasonably sure it would happen, yes.”
She put her feet down and leaned forward. “I don’t like being used as bait, Damocles. Next time you think up a trap in which I’m the lure, I’d appreciate it if you tell me ahead of time.”
“And I would appreciate it if you followed my instructions,” said Creed. “But I have accepted that that’s never going to happen.”
“God, you’re annoying,” she said, standing. “And not in an attractive way. Not in an annoying-but-undeniably-sexy kind of way. You’re just annoying. You make me want to fry you where you stand.”
“If that is your wish, I know I can’t stop you.”
She glared at him. “So annoying.”
“It was, sadly, necessary. Now you know what I already knew: that Skulduggery Pleasant cannot be trusted, and he’s not your friend.”
“Of course he’s my friend.”
“He betrayed you.”
“He was trying to help me.”
“He betrayed the Faceless Ones.”
“He could only have betrayed the Faceless Ones if he’d ever pretended to follow them – which he never did. He made it quite clear that he was staying by my side because of me and me alone. He thought I needed help.”
“But now you can see that he’s the enemy, yes?”
Valkyrie sighed. “Technically, yes.”
“And he needs to be put down, along with the rest of the resistance.”
“If we have to do it, then sure. But if there’s a chance to save them, to let them see the light, we’ll take that opportunity.”
“You have far too much faith in those people.”
Valkyrie shrugged. “If it’s a crime to have faith in your friends, throw me in jail, but don’t really because I’ll kill you.”
There was a knock on the door and Cerise, the High Sanctuary Administrator, stepped in.
“Apologies for interrupting you, Supreme Mage,” she said in her usual calm manner, “but an urgent matter has been brought to my attention that I felt I needed to communicate to you as soon as possible.”
Creed frowned at her. “If it’s urgent, Administrator, why have you wasted time coming here in person when a phone call would suffice?”
“My apologies again, sir,” Cerise said. “You are, of course, entirely correct.”
“What is it? What is the urgent matter?”
“It’s the Cleavers, Supreme Mage. They’re gone.”
Creed didn’t respond, so Cerise kept talking.
“Those coming to the end of their shift left as scheduled, but their replacements failed to turn up. We can’t find any Cleavers anywhere. Not here, not at any of the Sanctuaries around the world.”
“And when were you told about this?”
“Just a few moments ago, Supreme Mage.”
“And you walked over here, did you?”
“I walked quickly, sir.”
“You wasted time, Administrator.”
“I apologise.”
“One might think you have deliberately wasted time.”
“Heavens.”
“Leave,” growled Creed, and Cerise bowed and quietly left the room.
Valkyrie raised an eyebrow. “Did you see that coming? You didn’t, did you?”
“Try not to sound so pleased,” Creed replied. “This affects you just as much as anyone else.”
“Not really, though. The Cleavers walk away, the City Guard steps in to fill the gap here, Sanctuary agents fill the gap around the world, and everyone is stretched so thin that the system breaks down. Chaos and anarchy take over. All your little plans crumble to dust. And me? I’m still the Child and the Mother. So I’ll leave the panicking to you, if it’s all the same, and I’ll just continue on my way.”
She strolled to the door, but stopped and turned slowly. “Oh, Damocles? With all the Cleavers leaving their posts and everything, does that mean the prisons are unguarded?”
Creed’s eyes widened.
Valkyrie shrugged. “Interesting.” Then she left.
Coldheart Prison was a place of sounds.
There were the sounds from the convicts that drifted from the tiers of cells embedded in the rock walls – the idle chatter, the bored laughter, the occasional shout and curse and threat – but those could be found in any prison or gaol around the world. What separated Coldheart from the rest was the hum of magic that flowed through the pipes and cables – the power that kept the island floating through the clouds – and the call of the wind as it sneaked in through cracks and crevices, and up from the vast chasm at the prison’s base.
Walking the corridors – some simple tunnels cut out of rock, some pristine hallways – Temper was reminded of his journey in the USS Nautilus in August 1942. He’d never liked the idea of submarines: the thought of being trapped in a tube under the ocean made his heart constrict. But the sounds it made – hauntingly strange, like nothing else he’d ever experienced – had stayed with him. Coldheart was like that, in a way – hauntingly strange, unique to itself, and also utterly terrifying if he thought about it too long.
“Here we go,” Skulduggery said behind him. “Look miserable.”
The warden, a man named Ritanical, rushed over to meet them, flanked by two gruff-looking sorcerers. He glanced at the handcuffs around Temper’s wrists and then switched his attention to Skulduggery.
“Detective Pleasant!” he said. “The Cleavers! They’re gone!”
“Gone?” said Skulduggery.
“They vanished! The Teleporter, too!”
“You have a Teleporter?”
“It’s in the new regulations – we need to have a Teleporter on duty at all times in case of emergency.”
“But isn’t this an emergency?”
“Yes!”
“So where’s your Teleporter?”
“We don’t have one!”
“Isn’t that against regulations?”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you!”
Skulduggery chuckled. “Well, I won’t tell if you won’t, Warden. I’m just here to deliver a prisoner.”
“Detective Pleasant, you’re an Arbiter. Surely you can use your influence to call for reinforcements? This is, as I said, an emergency. All I have are a dozen sorcerers to maintain order in a facility that needs a hundred and twenty Cleavers, minimum!”
“A hundred and twenty?”
“Minimum!”
“And you have twelve?”
“Yes!”
“Warden, it sounds to me like you have a staff shortage.”
“Yes,” Ritanical said, “I do!”
“How long has Coldheart been back in service? Two weeks, isn’t it? That’s not very long at all.”
“What are we going to do?”
“I’m no expert on prisons,” said Skulduggery, “but if I were you, if I were warden of this entire facility, if the responsibility fell on my shoulders and my shoulders alone … I don’t know. I’d probably panic.”
“But … but I’m already panicking!”
“Then why do you need reinforcements? You’re doing great on your own!”
“I don’t understand why you’re not seeing the severity of the situation! Our Cleavers are gone! Our Teleporter is missing!”
“He’s not missing.”
“I assure you he is!”
“No. I know exactly where he is.”
The warden frowned. “Wait, how did you even get on to the island?” His phone beeped and he looked at it, his frown deepening. “It says here that Skulduggery Pleasant is wanted for crimes against Roarhaven.”
“Can I have a look?” Skulduggery asked, taking the phone from him. “Oh, so it does. There’s something else here, too. The sparrow, it says. The sparrow flies south for winter.”
The handcuffs dropped from Temper’s wrists and he grabbed one of the sorcerers while Skulduggery snapped his hands at the air and the warden flew backwards. The sorcerer tried to pull away, but Temper cracked his elbow into the guy’s jaw and he crumpled. He left Skulduggery to deal with the last guy and raised his hand to the security camera. Hansel shot out, smashed through the camera lens, and then retracted into Temper’s palm.
Skulduggery laid the second sorcerer on the ground and they walked on, side by side. They got to the chasm where the wind howled up from beneath, and Temper operated the console. A cell of metal and glass rose from the depths of the chasm and turned slowly in mid-air, and the skeleton in the orange jumpsuit nodded to them.
“Hello, Skulduggery,” said Cadaver Cain.
“Hello, me,” said Skulduggery.
The jumpsuit hung off Cadaver like a sheet on a clothes horse. The skeleton’s skull was fractured, held together by metal staples. He looked at Skulduggery and Skulduggery looked back at him and neither of them said anything for a while.
“I don’t get what’s going on,” Temper muttered.
“He wants to say that I must know what he’s going to say,” said Cadaver, “but he doesn’t want to be the first to speak.”
“And he wants me to say that so he can tell me that he doesn’t know what I’m going to say, because all the futures he’s already seen have been rendered moot by the arrival of Obsidian,” Skulduggery responded. “Can you even do it any more? Look into the future?”
“I don’t know,” Cadaver replied. “You cut off my link to the Viddu De, and my magic has been bound since you arrested me, so I have no way of knowing if it will still operate. I suppose you’ll just have to let me out of this cell and we’ll see.”
“Amazingly, I don’t see that happening.”
“You’ll have to let me out eventually if you want to know what the future holds.”
“Or I’ll just muddle through on my own.”
Cadaver tilted his head. Skulduggery tilted his. Neither of them said anything for a while.
Temper sighed. “Now what are you doing?”
“Running through the possible conversations,” said Skulduggery.
“In your heads? Each of you are running through the possible conversations in your heads?”
“When we reach the conclusion of one, we go back and start again,” said Cadaver.
“But you don’t know what the other person is thinking.”
“Of course we do,” said Skulduggery. “We’re using logic and anticipating the other’s counter-argument.”
“Right,” Temper said slowly. “So who’s winning?”
“I am,” said Cadaver.
“He is,” said Skulduggery. A moment passed. “Now we’re even.”
They were quiet again.
“Impressive,” said Cadaver.
“I thought so,” said Skulduggery.
“Stop,” Temper said. “For God’s sake, stop. Do either of you have any idea how annoying it is to stand here and know you’re the dumbest person in the room?”
“No,” Skulduggery and Cadaver said at the same time.
“You can’t just look at each other and imagine the argument, all right? You just can’t. It’s not how we do things. Cadaver, you want us to let you out. Skulduggery, you don’t want to let him out. Start the argument there.”
Skulduggery shook his head. “We’re already beyond that.”
“We’ve agreed that I have to be released,” said Cadaver. “Now we’re discussing what comes next.”
“Then what does come next?” Temper asked. “How can we trust you?”
“That all depends,” said Skulduggery, “on the information we have that he doesn’t. He’s already noticed that the Cleavers are missing, and has surmised they’ve left their posts in response to drastic steps taken by Damocles Creed.”
“And Creed would only have taken drastic steps once he was close to achieving his goal,” Cadaver said. “That, plus the fact that it’s just the two of you here, means that Valkyrie has, indeed, become the Child of the Faceless Ones.”
“Her judgement is compromised,” Skulduggery told him. “There are thousands of Faceless Ones already here.”
“Undetectable?”
“To mortals.”
“And Obsidian?”
“He’s killing their worshippers,” said Temper. “Small-scale stuff – like he hasn’t seriously started yet.”
“But he’s noticed Valkyrie,” Skulduggery said. “He’ll be going after her. She’s in danger.”
“And you think that fact will ensure that I do, in fact, help you.”
