by Derek Landy
“What do we do?” Tanith asked. “We can’t fight them. If we fight them, we kill them, and they’re not in control of themselves.”
Oberon peeked back in, then jerked away to avoid an energy stream. “Who are they? They are sorcerers, right?”
Skulduggery shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
Tanith narrowed her eyes. “What do you know?”
“There’s a new drug going around,” he said, “called Splash. I thought it was recreational, designed to give sorcerers a hit of someone else’s magic, something to make them feel good for a short while. But the Splash sigil is the same one carved into the soldiers’ skin.”
Tanith frowned. “So these guys are mortals? And this drug makes them into mages?”
“From the looks of things, very unstable mages,” Skulduggery said.
They heard a car, and turned to watch Perkins speed out through the gates.
“Follow him,” Skulduggery said. “The two of you. He’s our only lead, and we need to know where he’s going.”
Tanith frowned. “What are you going to do?”
Skulduggery nodded back towards the screaming soldiers. “I’ll take care of them, and contact you later.”
“Come on,” Tanith said to Oberon, and they ran.
Private Hank Mayer wasn’t human any more. None of them were. Not Ramirez, not Foster, not Cruz nor Dixon.
They were pain. They were agony. Their lives burned through their hands, scorching the walls.
The people ran. The woman and the two men. Ran away from the monsters. He didn’t want them to go. He wanted them to stay. He wanted them to kill him.
He’d suffered enough. They all had. He wanted someone to take the suffering away.
He was dying. The heat that was rushing out of him, it was burning up his insides. He could feel them as he staggered. His organs were liquefying. His brain was liquefying.
And yet he couldn’t stop moving, couldn’t stop screaming, couldn’t stop hurting.
Then one of them came back. A man in a suit. He had something wrong with his face. He had a skull for a head.
Private Hank Mayer didn’t care. He just wanted it to be over.
The man, the man with the skull, he understood. Private Hank Mayer knew he did. The man with the skull walked between them like he was studying them. Examining them.
When he saw that they were dying, when he saw that they were in agony, he took out his gun.
Blam, and Foster went down, and Private Hank Mayer tried waving, tried begging to be next. But blam, Dixon went next.
It was getting hard to see now. Private Hank Mayer’s eyes were failing him.
The man with the skull aimed his gun at Cruz, who had fallen to his knees, but before he could pull the trigger Cruz screeched and all that light and all that heat burst out of his chest and out of his head and his body crumpled, silent at last.
Blam. The man with the skull put Ramirez out of his misery. Now it was Private Hank Mayer’s turn. Finally.
Sobbing, Private Hank Mayer dropped to his knees and waited.
But then another man appeared, right behind the man with the skull, and then they both vanished.
Private Hank Mayer called out, begged for help, begged for mercy, and then the heat grew in his chest and his head and he screamed and he screamed and then there was nothing but sweet, blissful light.
Nero teleported Skulduggery right into the middle of this little cave. The moment Razzia saw the gun in his hand, she sent out one of her pets to snatch it from his grip.
Hansel retracted into her palm, dropping the gun by her feet before he did so. What a good little boy.
Skulduggery didn’t move to retrieve it. He was looking around, assessing his situation, looking at the cave, looking at the weird machine in the corner. Always assessing, that Skulduggery. Smart guy.
Nero stood nearby, smiling. He was just happy he hadn’t messed up. His powers had been on the fritz lately and he’d begun to doubt himself. Today was a win for him, and no mistake.
Destrier stood beside his machine, fiddling with it, making last-minute adjustments. But that was him all over. Always fiddling, that Destrier.
Abyssinia stood quietly. Razzia didn’t like it when Abyssinia was quiet. It made her sad. Abyssinia had worked so hard to get Caisson back, and she’d been so delighted when it had actually happened. But now …
None of them had anticipated Caisson making plans with that old woman from the loony bin. It was all going wrong. They were supposed to be one great big family by this stage, but the lovebirds were off by themselves all the time and Abyssinia just … moped.
The only thing that looked like it might snap her out of this funk she was in was this part of the plan. Abyssinia had been looking forward to it. So had Razzia, for that matter. She quite liked Skulduggery Pleasant. He was a laugh.
Skulduggery, meanwhile, had finished his assessment, and was now making his move.
From where she was standing, Razzia had an unobstructed view of him clicking his fingers. Nero didn’t, though. He didn’t see the spark, or the flame, or the ball of fire, so when Skulduggery flicked his wrist and that ball of fire hit Nero’s arm, all Nero could think to do was panic and howl and slap at himself. That was funny. Razzia had to suppress a giggle. In the meantime, of course, Skulduggery had crossed the distance between them and was about to grab Nero when Abyssinia held out her hand and Skulduggery arched his back, his fingers curling as she started to drain his life force.
The flames were battered into submission and, his jacket now ruined, Nero backed off, glaring.
“Please don’t do that again,” Abyssinia said, approaching slowly. “Nero is part of my family. I don’t appreciate it when people hurt my family. You should know that by now.”
She stopped what she was doing and Skulduggery gasped, and fell to his knees.
“It’s good to see you,” Abyssinia said. “But then you already know that.” She leaned down, raised his chin with her finger. “I never could stay mad at you. Not even after you killed me.”
“So all is forgiven?” he asked. To Razzia’s ears, his voice sounded a little weaker.
“Not in the slightest,” Abyssinia responded, walking away from him. “You cut out my heart, imprisoned me in a box, and took me away from my son. Do you really expect me to forgive you for any of that?”
Skulduggery stood. Slowly. Abyssinia watched him. Razzia watched them both.
“Maybe not,” Skulduggery said, “but there were extenuating circumstances. You were a threat that had to be eliminated.”
“I wasn’t a threat to you. I may have been to everyone else, but not to you. When I heard that you’d returned, when I heard that Skulduggery Pleasant had come back after five years away, I was happy for you. I could admit, even back then, that I’d been a bad influence. That I’d led you astray.”
“You led me nowhere I didn’t want to go,” Skulduggery said. “I take full responsibility for my actions.”
Abyssinia smiled. “I didn’t help, though, did I?”
“You did not,” Skulduggery said. He was sounding stronger. Back to his old self. “But I’ve never blamed you.”
“That … actually means a lot to me. Likewise, I didn’t take it personally, what happened between us. None of it.”
“You are far more gracious than people give you credit for.”
“I think they’re thrown by all the murdering.”
“That might be it, yes. Thank you for bringing me here, by the way. Valkyrie has been trying to convince me that talking our way out of problems is the way to go. I’m not too sure about that – I’m quite old-fashioned in that regard – but I do like to keep an open mind.”
“Ah,” said Abyssinia. “I’m afraid you’ve misunderstood my intentions. I didn’t bring you to this cave to talk this through and find a solution. I already have a solution: everything goes according to my plan, and I win, and everyone else loses.”
Skulduggery took off his hat,
brushed dust from the brim, and put it back on. “I see,” he said. “That’s unfortunate. Entirely understandable, of course, but unfortunate. So why am I here?”
“In this cave, you mean? This cave is important to me. I was nursed back to health in this cave. It holds a special place in my … in my history, I suppose.”
“And are you going to try to kill me?”
Abyssinia laughed. “If that were my intention, there would be no trying, my sweet Skulduggery. There would only be a pile of bones in a nice suit. But no, this world is far more interesting with you in it. You remember Destrier, of course?”
“Of course,” Skulduggery said, as Destrier waved. “A man who holds time itself in the palm of his hands.”
“Well,” Destrier said, blushing, “not quite. No, not quite at all. But it is my, ah, vocation, if you will? My … hobby.”
“Obsession,” Nero muttered.
“Tell Skulduggery what’s in store,” said Abyssinia.
Destrier nodded quickly, and motioned to the machine, which appeared to Razzia to be little more than a square platform with metal columns at each corner. “It’s a prison,” he said. “Or, actually, no. A prison cell. Singular. It’s a …” He cleared his throat. “I have been working, with time, to isolate a moment within a given space, to, uh, to focus it, to concentrate it on what you might call a … a …”
“He’s going to freeze you in time,” Nero said.
Abyssinia’s hands went to her hips. “Nero!”
“Sorry.”
“This was Destrier’s moment!”
“He was taking too long!”
“Everyone takes too long for you,” Abyssinia said. “You’re a Teleporter. The moment you leave, you arrive. The rest of us don’t work that way. You need patience. We’ve talked about this.”
Nero looked down. “Sorry, Abyssinia. Sorry, Destrier.”
“Oh,” said Destrier, “that’s OK. I can be … annoying. I’m, I’m … My thoughts can get jumbled.” He looked back at Skulduggery. “What Nero said was correct, though. Or correct to a degree. I can’t literally freeze you in time, but I am going to slow down time so much that it doesn’t make a great deal of difference.”
“I see,” Skulduggery said.
“We’re calling it the Eternity Gate,” Destrier said. “As a name, it’s a bit dramatic for me, and somewhat misleading, but I’ve been told it sticks in the mind, and it’s memorable, and … and apparently being memorable is better than being, um, accurate. Anyway, I’ve set it to hold you for seven days. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Just long enough to keep me out of the action, I presume,” Skulduggery said.
Abyssinia smiled. “I don’t want to have to hurt you, my love. I think it’s safer for everyone if you miss what’s coming. Now, I would ask you to step up voluntarily, but we both know you’d try a last-minute manoeuvre, so I’m afraid I’ll have to drain the fight out of you.”
She held out her hand and Skulduggery seized up again. That was Razzia’s cue to grab him and move him on to the platform.
“For you,” Abyssinia said, “only an instant will pass, and, when I see you again, all the dominoes will have fallen. The mortal soldiers will be dead, First Wave will be on every news channel on the planet, the White House will have launched their little missiles wherever I tell them to … and I’ll be here to welcome you into the new world.”
“Don’t do this,” Skulduggery said, straightening up. “Don’t—”
Destrier flipped the switch.
An energy field rose between the four columns on the platform, trapping Skulduggery inside like a mosquito caught in amber.
Destrier did a quick check. “It’s working,” he said. “All systems are, um, good.”
Razzia peered up at Skulduggery. He appeared completely frozen.
“That is so cool,” she said. “When this is over, can I have a go next?”
Destrier frowned at her. “Yes …?”
She grinned. “Bonzer.”
Flanery needed some peace and quiet, so he left his briefing documents on the table and moved into his private cabin, shutting the door on the rest of Air Force One, with their ringing phones and constant chatter. He didn’t have time for briefing documents. He didn’t have time for phone calls. He didn’t have time for chatter. It was Friday night. This was the world’s last night before magic was revealed and everything went crazy He needed to be alone.
“Nervous?” Crepuscular Vies asked from Flanery’s favourite chair.
Flanery jumped back, his heart hammering dangerously in his chest. He was seriously starting to hate how magic people kept scaring him. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“I’m everywhere, Martin,” Crepuscular said. “Haven’t you figured that out yet? So, good news. The team’s in place. We’re good to go for tomorrow night so long as Abyssinia fulfils her end.”
“What if someone comes in?”
Crepuscular shrugged. “So what if they do? In a few days, what will it matter? When Naval Magazine Whitley goes down, you’ll order the footage to be broadcast and sorcerers will be revealed to the world. Then the war starts. You’ll need your own sorcerer bodyguards, of course, so I’ll be by your side from that point on. We’ll be inseparable.”
Flanery dropped into the other chair. “When did we decide this?”
Crepuscular always looked like he was smiling, but Flanery got the feeling that he was genuinely smiling now. “This has always been part of the plan, Martin.”
“Abyssinia’s plan?”
“My plan.”
Flanery didn’t like this. Everyone seemed to have a plan except him. He chose his next words carefully. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? How can we tell the American people that all the sorcerers hate us and want to kill us if I have one protecting me?”
“There’ll be a few sorcerers, like me, who will bravely put our humanity before our heritage, and fight for the mortals. It’ll be inspiring, trust me. The American people eat that stuff up. What’s the matter? You look worried.”
“I’m just … This is all happening very fast.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“It is. It’s happening very, very quickly.”
“Everything in the last few years has been leading up to this, Martin. This is why you were elected president.”
“I was elected president because the people were tired of the same old politicians playing politics instead of—”
Crepuscular held up a hand. “Please don’t chant your campaign slogans at me. I don’t think I’d be able to handle it.” He observed him for a moment. Flanery didn’t like being observed. “You’re a funny little man, Martin. You have an enormous capacity for self-deceit. I am entirely convinced that you believe everything you say, simply because you’ve said it enough times. But let me remind you: Abyssinia sought you out. When she was a heart in a box, when all she could do was communicate telepathically, she looked around for someone who could do what she needed them to do. That’s why you were nominated, Martin.”
This was starting to anger Flanery. “I was nominated because I was the best. I was the smartest and the strongest candidate the Republican Party had.”
Crepuscular laughed. “She chose you because you were the weakest. You were the easiest to manipulate. You had the most secrets, and the most money, and so you had the most to lose.”
“That’s a lie.”
“Wilkes did it all for you.”
“Wilkes was a traitor and a spy!”
“Yes, Martin,” Crepuscular said, sighing. “We know that. Abyssinia sent him in to guide you, and to keep an eye on you, but he still came up with the strategies, didn’t he? He arranged for Magenta’s son to be kidnapped so that she’d read the minds of your opponents and push your agenda through.”
Flanery shook his head. “That was my idea.”
“He told you about her, and he waited until you took the hint. That’s not the same thing as coming up with it yourself.”
“You entered into this well aware of what was coming,” Crepuscular continued. “This isn’t happening fast. This has been happening for the last four years. You’re just nervous because now you have to actually do something.”
“I’m not nervous.”
“No? You should be. Abyssinia is going to double-cross you.”
Flanery stared. “What?”
“You’re really not very bright, are you? That’s OK, that’s why you have me. She’s going to double-cross you, Martin. The first part of the plan will go smoothly. First Wave will attack the Naval base on the Whitley peninsula, and they’ll kill everyone they find, providing you with your very own Pearl Harbour. There’ll be a twist, a little more bloodshed … and, when it’s all done, you’ll receive the footage. Evidence, beyond the shadow of a doubt, of the existence of sorcerers. You’ll broadcast this footage and you’ll address the nation. You’ll address the world. That’s your moment. That’s what you’ll be remembered for. Standing at that podium, the entire world listening to every word you say, thanking the Lord that at least they have a leader as strong and as smart as you. You like that idea, don’t you?”
“Yes,” said Flanery.
“Well, that’s not going to happen,” said Crepuscular. “You’ll broadcast the footage and stand at that podium – and then Abyssinia’s bomb will go off.”
Flanery felt the blood drain from his face. “No.”
“Abyssinia is going to kill you on live television. That’s how you’ll be remembered.”
“She wouldn’t,” said Flanery. “She needs me. We have it all worked out.”
“What did she tell you, Martin? Can you even remember? Were you even paying attention? What did she say? War will break out, right? And she’ll co-ordinate with you in secret in order to attack the Sanctuaries and take out the troublesome sorcerers, and then what?”
“She’ll … she’ll become leader of the sorcerers, and we’ll declare a truce, and—”
“And she’ll run the magical societies of the world and you’ll stay in power for the rest of your life,” said Crepuscular. “And, when you die, your children will take over. You’ll leave behind a family dynasty that your father could only dream of.”
