by Derek Landy
“That’s the deal.”
“Abyssinia isn’t any better at keeping deals than you are, I’m afraid. She doesn’t want a truce. She wants to win. That’s where your vice-president comes into it.”
Flanery frowned. “Dan?”
“He’s working with her, Martin.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Dan Tucker is loyal to me.”
“Not really.”
“How do you … how do you know?”
“He told me,” Crepuscular said. “He told me everything. Before I killed him.”
“You killed him?”
“Yep.”
“You can’t just … you can’t just kill the vice-president!”
“Sure I can. Just as easily as I’d kill the president. You’re going to hear that he’s missing in the next hour or so. Try to act surprised. Don’t worry, they’ll never find his body. Not unless I want them to.”
“What are we going to do?” Flanery asked, the panic rising. “What are we going to do?”
“We’re going to calm down, is what we’re going to do. Abyssinia wants to double-cross you so you’ll double-cross her first. Easy.”
“Can I … can I do that?”
“So long as you have me, you can do anything.”
Flanery’s head dropped into his hands. It was all too much. It was suddenly all too much. “Who … who are you? Please, you’ve never given me a straight answer. Just tell me, once and for all, who are you and why are you helping me?”
“Who am I?” Crepuscular said, his voice surprisingly soft. “I’m you, Martin. Haven’t you figured that out yet? I’m a part of you.”
Flanery looked up. “What?”
“Haven’t you wondered why no one else can see me or hear me? I’m not really here. This is all in your head. You killed Wilkes. You killed Dan Tucker. Why doesn’t Abyssinia ever sense the truth when she reads your mind? Because you’re stopping her. There’s a part of you that’s brimming with magic, Martin – and it is amazing.”
Flanery gasped.
And then Crepuscular laughed. “No, only joking. I am really here. And other people have seen me. Wilkes saw me, remember?”
“Oh … yeah.”
“When I killed him? Yeah, he saw me then. And I’m the one protecting your thoughts when Abyssinia goes sneaking. What, you thought you had a split personality? That’s funny. That’s hilarious. You crack me up, Martin, you really do.” He leaned forward. “Don’t you worry. Things are going to get crazy in the next days and weeks and months and, let’s be honest, years, but I’m not going to let anything happen to you. You and me, we’re buds. We’re besties. You are, by far, my favourite mortal. I could … I could hug you. I could just reach over there and … and hug you. Can I? Can I do that?”
“Um,” said Flanery.
“No,” Crepuscular said. “You’re right. It’s silly. We’re two grown men. We can’t just hug. It’s not as if we’re people, with feelings.”
Flanery didn’t know what the hell was going on.
Crepuscular looked around. He nodded to a door behind him. “What’s through there? Is that the toilet?”
“It’s my bedroom.”
“That’ll do,” said Crepuscular, and got up.
Another motel room. Another motel shower.
Tanith and Oberon had followed Perkins for hours until he’d finally pulled in here. They’d rented a room two doors down from him and took turns sleeping.
While Oberon went to get breakfast, Tanith sat by the window. From here, she could see into the diner as Oberon waited for their food, standing with his elbows on the diner counter. He had nice arms.
Perkins stepped out of his room.
Tanith grabbed her phone, dialled, and watched Oberon take out his phone and put it to his ear.
“Perkins is coming in,” she said, and Oberon moved casually away from the counter, keeping his back to the door as Perkins entered.
“Does it look like he’s seen me?” Oberon asked, his voice soft. She could hear low chatter in the background, and music playing. Country and western.
“No,” she said, as Perkins spoke a few words to the waitress on his way to settling into a booth by the window. “Although I’m not entirely sure how you’re going to get out of there without passing right in front of him.”
“Dammit,” said Oberon. She couldn’t see him any more. “Our breakfast is almost ready.”
She sighed. “You may as well grab a table and start eating.”
“I’ve ordered two breakfasts.”
“Better eat them both,” she told him. “You don’t want to raise any suspicions.”
The waitress crossed the length of the window, carrying two plates, before disappearing from sight.
“Thank you,” Oberon said, a little faintly. There was a pause, and then he laughed and spoke again. “No, no, both for me. Yeah. Well, you know, growing boy and all that.” There was another pause, and another laugh, and when he spoke again his voice was clearer. “Our food has arrived.”
“Was that you flirting?” Tanith asked, a grin on her face.
He sounded amused. “You’d know if I were flirting, because I’d be doing it really, really badly.”
Tanith watched the waitress deliver a coffee to Perkins, and a car pulled up. A neatly dressed man with a tight haircut got out – a military man, by the way he moved. “Perkins might have a friend joining him,” she said.
The military man went in and sat opposite Perkins.
“Can you hear what they’re saying?” Tanith asked.
“Bits and pieces,” said Oberon.
The new guy put something on the table, and Perkins scooped it up and slid it into his shirt pocket.
“New guy just gave Perkins a key card,” Oberon whispered.
Both men got up. Perkins paid, and they nodded to each other and walked to their cars.
Tanith grabbed her bag and left the room as the cars moved to the road, waiting for a gap in the traffic. Perkins’s car was indicating right. The new guy was going left.
Oberon ran to his car and jumped in.
Tanith hurried over. “What are you doing?” she asked.
“Perkins is going to meet up with Blackbrook’s black ops unit,” Oberon said, starting the engine. “The new guy is going to relieve one of the men watching my son. I’m sorry, Tanith – that’s where I’m going.”
“Absolutely,” Tanith said. “I have to stick with Perkins, but you have to get your son back.”
He was about to drive off. “You should call for back-up,” he said. “Getting anywhere close to Blackbrook is gonna be too dangerous for one person.”
“I have friends,” Tanith said. “Don’t worry about me. Focus on your son.”
“It was very nice meeting you,” he said. “I really hope I get to see you again.”
She smiled back. “Likewise.”
Five seconds later, he was on the road and Tanith was running towards the nearest parked car. She dialled a number before she reached it.
“Tanith,” said the voice on the other end.
“Hey,” she said. “Been a while. You about? I might be in need of some help.”
“Where are you?”
“Outskirts of Oregon right now, heading west.”
There was a pause. “I can get there by tonight.”
“Thank you. I’ll let you know where I end up.”
She put the phone away, pressed her hand to the car door, and a moment later the lock sprang open.
There was no mirror in her cell, so Valkyrie didn’t know how she looked. Her face was swollen, as was her knee, as was her left hand and most of her torso. Every movement brought new levels of pain.
The City Guard who’d escorted her back here hadn’t said anything the entire way. He’d barely looked at her as she’d shuffled in. Valkyrie recognised shame when she saw it, which meant there were still some cops in Roarhaven with a conscience – even if that conscience didn’t quite
stretch so far as to compel them to do something.
She lay on the uncomfortable bed, unable to take in a full breath, and waited for the footsteps, for the key rattling in the lock, for the door squealing slightly on its heavy hinges as it opened.
She had just started to wonder if maybe they’d skip tonight’s beating, maybe give her a chance to heal more, when the footsteps came.
Moaning, Valkyrie forced herself to stand. She was able to open her left eye now. Her ribs screamed at her but at least she was able to stand without support. The doctor, Whorl, had graciously begun the procedure to fix her broken jaw. It was halfway healed, and she gritted her broken teeth.
The door was heavy and solid and closed. She wanted it to stay that way. Stay closed. Stay shut. Keep her in here. Keep them out there.
The door opened and Temper Fray came in.
“Jesus,” he said when he saw her, and Valkyrie burst out crying and sagged back against the wall, and he came forward and hugged her and she gripped him and hugged him as tightly as she was able. She cried into his shoulder and he held her up, taking her weight.
When the sobs that racked her body, that sent fresh pain streaking through her spine and her ribcage, when that all subsided, he sat her down on the bed and knelt before her, his large hands holding hers.
“Who?” he asked softly. “Yonder? I heard he’d been reinstated. Him and his buddies.”
She nodded. He nodded, too.
“I can’t get you outta here,” he said. “I want to but I can’t. I don’t have the authority. We’d never get past the inner gates.”
Valkyrie took a deep, shuddering breath. “You can’t tell Skulduggery about this,” she muttered, barely able to open her mouth.
He frowned. “He needs to know.”
She shook her head.
“Valkyrie—”
“If he knew, he’d break me out. China would send everyone after us both.”
“Then I’ll go to Commander Hoc,” Temper said. “He’s no friend of mine, and he’s certainly no friend of yours, but from what I’ve seen he’s a by-the-book kinda guy. What’s happening to you, I doubt he’d approve.”
Valkyrie nodded.
“You expecting another visit tonight?”
She nodded again.
“I’ll be quick. I’ll go see Hoc, then get back here. We’ll barricade that door if we have to.”
She went to give him a thumbs up, but her hand was broken.
He straightened. “Hang in there,” he said, and hurried out of the cell. The door closed behind him.
Temper got as far as the stairs before Lush stepped into his path.
“You’re in a hurry,” she said. She was smiling. “Never seen you in a hurry before. You’re always so laid-back.”
He watched her, aware of footsteps coming up behind him. “You’re part of it?” he asked.
Her smile broadened. “Part of what?”
Temper moved slightly so he could keep an eye on Rattan and Ferule as they approached. “What’s this, then? You’re here to stop me going to Hoc?”
“Why’re you going to see the Commander, Corporal Fray?” Rattan asked. “There’s a chain of command here in the City Guard. Any grievance you got, you take it up with your immediate superior. Who is that, in this case?”
“That would be me,” said Yonder, appearing behind Lush. “You have a report to make to me, Corporal?”
Temper smiled at him. “What is it you’re trying to do here? You trying to intimidate me?”
“Intimidate you?” Yonder echoed, horrified at the very thought. “Dear Lord, no. I mean, I wouldn’t even know where to begin! You’re Temper Fray – you’re the guy who went undercover for years. You palled around with the bad guys, walking the razor’s edge. At any moment, they could have figured out who you were really working for. I’m not going to be able to intimidate someone like you, Corporal.”
“We could bribe you,” Lush said. “Is there anything you want? Money? Maybe a promotion? We have friends, higher up. And I mean … higher up.”
“We can’t bribe Temper,” said Yonder. “He’s friends with the skeleton. He’ll do the right thing, no matter the cost. Isn’t that right, Temper?”
“You mind stepping aside?” Temper asked. “I have to get through.”
Yonder sighed heavily. “Temper, I wish things could be different. I really do. But we’re not here to persuade you not to report us. We’re not going to bribe you or threaten you or intimidate you. We’re going to kill you.”
Temper’s first instinct was to laugh, but he’d seen that look on so many faces before – faces of people who meant to do him the worst kind of harm.
“I’m one of you,” he said.
“You wear the uniform, but you’re not one of us,” said Yonder as the others closed in. “You never were.”
Temper fought the urge to lash out. “You’re not thinking this through. Valkyrie’s gonna talk to someone eventually. She’ll tell them you were the ones who beat her.”
“We’re going to kill her, too,” said Lush. “As soon as we get the go-ahead.”
“Maybe it’s tonight,” Yonder said, smiling. “Maybe tomorrow. There are forces at work here, Corporal Fray, that you know nothing about.”
They grabbed him and he struggled and then they put a bag over his head.
They drove him somewhere, loosened him up with a few shots from a shock stick, then dragged him out of the car and into a house. They pulled the bag off his head and dumped him on the ground. He blinked quickly, eyes adjusting to the light.
They were still in Roarhaven, but this was a style of house he wasn’t familiar with. It was small. Furnished but empty. There were sheets covering the windows.
“Don’t bother getting up,” said Lush, training her gun on him. “Rattan, uncuff him.”
“Why bother?” Rattan asked, frowning. “Just shoot him, for God’s sake.”
Lush glared. “You’re a cop, aren’t you? You’re supposed to know this stuff. If he dies with handcuffs on, the blood is in danger of pooling at his wrists, isn’t it? That’d lead someone like Skulduggery Pleasant to conclude that he could have been killed by people who use handcuffs – like us. You don’t want Skulduggery Pleasant kicking down your door, do you, Rattan?”
Rattan scowled, then took the cuffs off Temper and returned them to his belt. “I could handle the skeleton,” he said.
Ferule and Lush laughed, and Rattan’s face went bright red. He glared down at Temper. “What’s your discipline anyway?”
“That’s a good question,” said Lush, still smiling broadly. “I’ve never actually seen you use magic. Why is that?”
“I’ve never needed to,” said Temper.
“Maybe he’s not even a mage,” said Ferule. “Wouldn’t that be something, if he was just a little mortal man, scurrying around, pretending to be a sorcerer?”
Rattan slapped Temper behind the ear. “Tell us what you are before you die,” he said, obviously relieved that they were no longer laughing at him. “Is it something embarrassing? Can you talk to plants or something? Or maybe animals. Did you devote your life to talking to animals only to discover that they don’t talk back?”
Rattan laughed. The other two laughed as well. Lush’s gun wavered, and for a moment it wasn’t pointed directly at Temper.
He released.
The gist burst from his chest and flew, shrieking, straight for Lush, where it separated her arm from her shoulder with its first swipe and then took her face away with its second.
It twisted in mid-air, flowing back under the stream of light and darkness that connected it to Temper’s chest, went for Ferule as he stumbled backwards. It grabbed him, its claws sinking into either side of his chest, and lifted him off the ground, slammed him against the wall and held him there while it tore out his throat with its teeth.
It locked its black eyes on Rattan. It screeched again.
Rattan went for his sword. The gist went for Rattan.
; The gist won.
What remained of Rattan crumpled and fell, and the gist darted to the corners of the room, looking for more enemies to destroy.
When it realised there were no more, it looked, finally, at Temper.
Then it drifted downwards. Legs formed and it stood there. That had never happened before.
Despite the exhaustion, despite the rolling sweat and the trembling muscles, Temper forced himself to his feet. The gist was as tall as him now, as broad as him. It smiled with his face. But those teeth. Those claws. Those eyes.
As he examined the gist, the gist examined him. He could feel it probing his weaknesses. It was patient. It had waited this long. It could wait some more.
It smiled again, and allowed itself to be pulled back inside.
Temper’s legs gave out and he collapsed. He lay on his back, breathing hard.
One more time should do it. He just had to release the gist one more time, and it would take over, and Temper would be gone forever, trapped inside his own dark side.
China shut the doors to keep out the rest of the world, pressed her back against them, and her apartment drank her in.
She stayed where she was for a moment, her eyes closed, her head down. She breathed in the subtle aromas that the apartment sent her way, aromas that brought to mind the days of her youth and the adventures that marked them, of mountains and rivers and romance and danger.
And of him, of course.
She straightened, squaring her shoulders, and entered the large walk-in wardrobe. She had intended to wear a dress made especially for her by Modiste Fair, that most delicate of designers for the magical and wealthy and magically wealthy, but now she thought better of it. Serafina would be coming to dinner in an extravagant gown of her own, and if China dressed to match her she would either succeed, and sour the evening from the very start, or fail, and immediately give Serafina the upper hand. This second possibility was, of course, highly unlikely, but China knew never to underestimate the inestimable Ms Dey.
