Until the End, page 29
“I know he’s here,” said Nadir. “You think I’m stupid, Doc? You think I came up here without knowing what I know? What kind of serial killer do you think I was? A goddamn amateur? I stalked. I planned. I took my damn time. Omen Darkly’s been missing for weeks and most of the people sent to look for him think he made it out of Roarhaven, but I know better. I’ve been talking to people. All kinds of people. I spoke to your neighbours. I spoke to your clients. Some of them really didn’t want to tell me, but I made them.”
“What did you do to them, Mr Nadir?”
“I asked them some questions,” Nadir said, his voice tight. “Asked if they’d seen anything. Heard anything. Suspected anything.”
“Mr Nadir, you’re hurting me.”
“I’m gonna do more than hurt you. Where are you hiding him?”
“I’m not hiding anyone.”
“You think I won’t kill you, Doc? You think I won’t—”
There was the sound of someone being hit and Nadir grunted and there was a scramble and Reverie cried out and Omen ran in. Nadir had Reverie on her knees, his left hand yanking her hair, his right arm raised. Instead of a right hand, he had what looked like a large spider made of black metal sprouting from his wrist, and all of those thin arms thrashed at the air.
Nadir turned, saw him, and Omen threw the lamp and it cracked open on Nadir’s face. Reverie scrambled up, Omen grabbed her and they left the apartment, running down the stairs. The door ahead was open and they plunged into the night.
“Get to the resistance,” Omen said.
She held on to his arm. “You’re coming with me.”
He freed himself. “I’ll be fine. Run!”
He took off, and Reverie hesitated, then forced herself to run the other way. A moment later, Silas Nadir burst out, saw Omen, and sprinted after him.
Nearly slipping on the wet road, Omen risked a glance behind him, saw that he was actually increasing his lead. He allowed the possibility that he might be outperforming someone physically to bolster his stamina, and tried to lose the maniac behind him down a maze of alleys that led to Oldtown.
It was going pretty well until three gunshots went off like explosions and Omen came to a staggering stop, his hands up as he turned, wincing, expecting to catch a bullet in the chest. But Nadir just trained the gun on Omen as he staggered after him, then leaned against the wall, sucking in lungfuls of air. His face was flushed and sweating. Omen could have run on forever.
Nadir tried to say something, then changed his mind and focused on his breathing. He hunkered down, leaning back against the wall, the gun wavering slightly in his left hand.
Omen waited.
“If you hadn’t …” Nadir began, before a sudden intake of breath derailed the conversation. He shook his head. Breathed in. Breathed out.
Then a big man stepped into the light, and for a moment Omen thought it might be someone from the resistance come to rescue him, but his hopes were dashed against the rocks of reality, then stomped on by the oversized feet of the murderer-for-hire, Tancred Bold.
“Found him,” Tancred called.
“You didn’t … find him,” Nadir gasped. “I … found him. I caught him. Go away.”
“Hush, little murderer,” said Tancred.
Reznor Rake sauntered through the rain. “Omen Darkly,” he said, smiling as though greeting an old friend, “the world throws us back together, eh? It’s fate, is what it is.”
“I’m the one who found him,” Nadir said, getting his breathing under control.
“You’re the one who found him first,” Reznor corrected. “But we’ve been following you, and now we’re the ones who found him second. But so what? We’re all on the same side, am I right? We’re all working for Creed.”
“I guess,” said Nadir.
“Actually, no,” Reznor said. “We’re not on the same side at all. See, we have a history with Omen. He lost us money and he lost us work. Our reputation was severely damaged by this kid.”
“Damocles Creed wants him brought in for interrogation.”
“Creed can have him when we’re done with him.”
Nadir squared up to Reznor, showed him his spider hand. “You really want to tangle with me, Rake?”
“Oh,” said Reznor, “probably not. But he will.”
Tancred punched Nadir so hard, when he hit the ground his feet started twitching. Reznor and Tancred approached Omen.
“Don’t look so worried,” said Reznor. “We’re not going to hurt you if you don’t do anything that makes us hurt you.”
“If you’re not going to turn me over to the City Guard, then what do you want with me?” Omen asked.
“It’s like we said to the serial killer – you damaged our reputation. Until recently, we were a safe pair of hands. Hire us to do a job, we did the job. Hire us to kill someone, that person got killed. Hire us to steal something, that something got stolen. Hire us to do both? Both got done. But then you took the Obsidian Blade from us, and we failed to deliver on a contract, and our reputation hasn’t recovered. We were beaten by a bunch of, and I don’t mean this in a negative way, a bunch of stupid schoolkids. You see how that would affect our standing in the killing-and-stealing business?”
“I can see it.”
“So we’ve been looking for ways to regain that lost ground. This is nothing personal, by the way. You beat us fair and square. Or rather you beat Tancred fair and square, and that guy in the Cleaver outfit beat me fair and square.”
“I was outnumbered,” Tancred grumbled.
“So we’ve been looking around,” Reznor continued, “searching for some way back to the top of the heap, and it turns out that all we had to do was wait a while until our old friend Omen Darkly got himself mixed up with this resistance we hear so much about on the Network. Now we’re thinking, if we get Omen, and we place Omen in a precarious situation where his very life is on the line, his brave friends in the plucky resistance ought to come running to his rescue. Am I right?”
“You want to use me as bait?” Omen asked.
“That’s about the long and short of it, yeah.”
“It won’t work. I’m not actually a part of all that.”
“See, I don’t think that really matters. What matters is that Skulduggery Pleasant and his friends know you, and like you, and are willing to risk it all to come to your rescue if you get a message to them.”
“And why would I do that?”
“Because we’ll cut bits off you if you don’t,” said Tancred.
“Hey, now, come on, you don’t have to threaten the kid,” Reznor said. “We’re not going to cut bits off you, don’t worry.”
Omen glared. “I won’t lead them into a trap.”
Reznor frowned at him. “You realise we’re going to cut bits off you, right?”
“I’m not bait. I won’t do it.”
“We’ll make you,” Tancred growled.
“Then fine, I’ll do it.”
“Really?”
“Sure,” said Omen. “But I’ll slip a code into the message so that they know it’s a trap.”
Tancred leaned in. “You’d better not.”
“You won’t know either way,” said Omen.
Tancred glanced at Reznor. “Damn,” he said.
“I have a counter-proposal,” said Omen.
Reznor laughed. “Oh, this’ll be good.”
“I won’t help you regain your old reputation,” Omen said, “but I will help you make a new one – a stronger one. Creed’s got China Sorrows in a jail cell, and Valkyrie Cain, too. He’ll expect the resistance to try to save them. He won’t expect you two to free them before that happens.”
Now Tancred laughed. “You want us to rescue China Sorrows and Valkyrie Cain?”
“Yes.”
“You want us to act against Damocles Creed? To act against all these Faceless Ones standing around and the monsters that’re popping up all over the world?”
“Yes.”
“Why should we?” Reznor asked, his expression thoughtful.
“Because we’re going to win,” said Omen. “Skulduggery Pleasant and Valkyrie Cain and everyone in the resistance, they’re going to win. Creed is going to lose. The monsters are going to be beaten and the Faceless Ones are going to be exiled. They’ve run away before and they’ll run away again. They’ve proven that. Everyone who’s working alongside Creed will have everything taken away from them. Right now, yeah, it’s safe to be on Creed’s side – but that’s going to change, and when it does it’ll be too late to switch. You’ll be hunted. You’ll be captured or killed.”
“And what if you’re wrong, and the resistance fails and Creed wins?”
Omen shrugged. “Then I’ll probably be dead, so I won’t much care.”
Reznor chewed his bottom lip, then pointed at Omen. “You stay right there.”
They stepped away to confer and Omen waited. Silas Nadir’s feet had stopped twitching and he lay on the ground, safely unconscious. It had stopped raining.
Reznor and Tancred came back.
“We’ve talked it over,” said Reznor. “What you’re proposing is a huge gamble. A massive, ridiculous gamble. It all comes down to who we think will win. And who can possibly know that? Talk to a dozen different Sensitives, ask them to tell the future, and they’ll come back with a dozen different visions.”
“It is a tricky situation.”
“Add in the minor detail that your entire argument stems from the fact that you’d say anything to get out of this situation – so you and your suggestion, by the very situation you’re in, are already compromised.”
“This is very true.”
“But that doesn’t change the fact that – even though you might well have been making it all up as you went along – you make a very good point.”
“A very good one.”
“So we’ve decided to work with you,” said Reznor, “and rescue Valkyrie Cain and China Sorrows. But first some ground rules. You do what we say, when we say it. You don’t try to run away, or turn us in, or act to harm us or inconvenience us at any stage.”
Omen nodded. “If I can help it.”
“At all.”
Omen nodded again. “At all, if I can help it.”
“I swear to God, kid, there’s something about you that I just want to punch, you know?” Reznor sighed. “Come on. Let’s get you out of here.”
This was it. This was the speech he’d be remembered for. These next few minutes would be his legacy.
“We’re live in five,” said the guy with the headset, “four, three,” then he held up two fingers, then one and then pointed, and the red light on the top of the camera came on.
“My fellow Americans,” said Flanery, “my fellows humans, I speak to you today on a matter of grave importance. This is a day that will go down in history as the most important day in human existence. A day when we, humanity, stand up against the terrors that threaten us, and begin to fight back.
“We have seen, in the last few weeks, devastation on an unprecedented, unimaginable scale around the world. We have witnessed the emergence of previously unknown animals of astonishing size and the chaos and destruction they are leaving in their wake. While they stand there, motives unknown, we have seen other animals attack and kill people in our cities and towns, on our farms and ranches, in our trailer parks and apartment complexes … Nowhere is safe from what many people are calling monsters.”
Flanery paused for dramatic effect. He’d gone off-script slightly there, but he thought it added a common touch that the speech was otherwise lacking. His team had advised him not to use the word monster – they said it would cause panic in the populace – and he’d agreed, but right now, with all the lights and the camera and the fact that the world was watching, he’d realised that he’d look stupid if he didn’t call them what they were. He’d also been advised not to use the phrase “nowhere is safe”, but he figured the only way that people were going to be reassured is if they were first fully aware of the dangers that were facing them.
“I have mobilised the full might of the American military to battle these monsters, and we have already seen incredible victories across our wonderful strong nation.”
Another slight deviation from the script that wasn’t strictly true, but his advisors had told him that a victory was possible and probably even inevitable, so he doubted he’d ever have to walk back those words.
“We have also seen a secondary threat emerge,” he continued, really getting into the sombre mood now, really selling it with the grim jutting of his jaw. “Men and women, demonstrating abilities one could only call magic, have been shown in footage broadcast on social media and news networks, appearing to battle these monsters. It seems that whatever war they are fighting has spilled out of the shadows, and the casualties are people like you and me. These wizards and witches are the enemy. They may look like us, but they are not us. If you see one, call the police immediately. Do not engage, and do not try to be a hero. Barricade yourself in your home and don’t come out until they have left the area.”
Flanery shook his head as if he was thinking of all the lives senselessly lost. Then he looked up.
“A select few members of my administration first learned of the existence of so-called magic late last year. We kept it from you, the American people, so as not to cause widespread panic – and alert our enemies to the fact that we knew of their intentions. We wanted to better understand the situation before we told you. This is not something I was pleased with, but being president means making the tough decisions.”
He put some steel behind his eyes. “So let me assure you that we are not defenceless. Some months ago, I personally instructed our very best scientists and doctors to infuse this magic into the fighting men and women of our military. I saw this coming and I prepared, and so our soldiers have been given amazing powers – superpowers – to protect American lives, American land and American interests.”
If this speech had been delivered in a stadium, the people would have gone crazy at that last line. They would have screamed and cheered so loud they’d have gone hoarse. It was a damn wasted opportunity to be saying these words in the stillness of the Oval Office. Flanery made a mental note to fire someone over that decision.
“But what use is all this if and when our allies fall?” he asked. “What use is it to be the most powerful country in the world if the rest of the world is on fire? So I have decided that I will lead not only the fight-back here in America, but also in every other country that needs our help. In the coming weeks, we will make available our top-secret system of providing superpowers to the soldiers of each country who asks for our assistance.”
Those who could pay, anyway.
“Tomorrow these super-soldiers will be deployed on American soil, and the world can watch as we turn the tide, as we use the wizards’ own magic against them and against these abominations. Our brave heroes will combine magic with the most advanced weaponry and tactics this world has ever seen. On this day, America declares war on the sorcerers – and we will emerge victorious.”
He smiled with appropriate grimness. “God bless you, and God bless the United States of America.”
Tyler’s grams was taking an afternoon nap and his mom was working a double shift and his dad sat forward, rubbing his hands together like he did whenever the fights were on and he wanted one particular guy to beat another particular guy.
“Here it is,” he said. “This is gonna be good. You kids watching?”
“Yeah, Dad,” said Mila.
School was closed and the internet was spotty at best thanks to all the downed lines, so cable news was their only window to the outside world. Their dad wouldn’t even let them leave the house unsupervised any more.
He pointed at the screen as the soldiers advanced down the street. “There they are. Those are our boys. You see ’em?”
“Our boys and girls,” Mila corrected, too worn out to get annoyed.
Tyler’s dad nodded quickly. “Those are our boys and girls, absolutely, sweetheart. Absolutely. They’re just like us – normal, like us – but super-charged full of that magic. Frightening Jones and all those others, they think they’re better than us? Stronger than us? Uh-uh. Not with these fellas. Not with these fellas and ladies – sorry, sweetheart.”
One of the smaller monsters, the kind that was bigger than an SUV but smaller than a semi-truck, was caught out alone. The chyron that flowed from the bright red LIVE banner on the bottom of the screen identified the city as Los Angeles.
Tyler couldn’t help it: he sat forward, just like his dad. This was the first real test of Flanery’s super-magical-warrior soldiers, and it was being broadcast live across the world. This was a big deal, and possibly signalled a turning point in the war.
The soldiers kept advancing, accompanied now by the thunder of their automatic weapons. The bullets annoyed the monster. It roared its displeasure. Then the soldiers let their guns swing back on their straps. Their hands lit up.
“Here we go,” Tyler’s dad said, grinning like a kid at Christmas. “Good old American muscle!”
The monster lumbered towards them. One of the soldiers lost his focus and his hands stopped glowing. Another one just stood there, hands up and teeth gritted, like he’d forgotten how to make the energy leave his body. The rest of the soldiers actually managed to release their streams of energy.
They hit the monster and were ignored, and the monster reared back and its belly convulsed. When it dropped back down, it vomited a thick flaming liquid that struck a police van on the far side of the street and scorched through it. Then it turned its head, and the liquid seared through the soldiers.
“I’m … sorry,” said the news anchor, her face pale, “we seem to have lost the signal. We’ll … We’re trying to re-establish … We’ll be back after this commercial break. Don’t go away.”
Tyler’s dad sagged back in his chair.
Tanith slowed to a stop, put her foot on the street and frowned at the building ahead. An ice-cream parlour, painted a pleasing yellow. On a nice day, in a world without monsters killing everyone, it might have been a lovely place to stop by. But today it was too still, for some reason. It just sat there, this building, like it was waiting for something.
