by Derek Landy
“So you’re a natural, then?” Donegan asked, the binoculars fixed to his eyes.
Fletcher looked round. “Sorry?”
“A natural,” Donegan said. “You didn’t need any training to teleport?”
Fletcher gave a little shrug. “I needed training to control it, to be able to do it properly, but yeah, I just started one day, before I knew anything about magic or sorcerers or any of this. The first time I did it was the day my mother died. I wanted to get away, I was running out of the hospital and then, suddenly, I was at home.”
“That must have been quite a shock,” Gracious said.
“I didn’t know what had happened. The next day I had all these theories, like I just didn’t remember running home, or I’d blocked it out because of my mum. Then, a few weeks later, it happened again. The only Teleporter I’d ever heard of was Nightcrawler – you know him?”
Gracious nodded. “Kurt Wagner, from X-Men.”
“Exactly,” said Fletcher. “So I read all the comics, then watched a few science-fiction movies and TV shows for research. You know, like Dragon Ball Z, Heroes, things like that. But I stopped after I watched The Fly. I didn’t teleport for two weeks after I saw that.”
Gracious winced. “I can understand.”
“And a few months later I met Valkyrie and Skulduggery and some lunatic used me to bring the Faceless Ones back. And now here I am, in Mexico City, with the Monster Hunters.”
“I love stories with happy endings,” said Gracious.
Donegan straightened. “We have movement,” he said, and passed the binoculars to Fletcher.
Fletcher adjusted the focus slightly, saw the Sanctuary door opening, saw the Cleavers lead the security detail out. Beside him, Gracious and Donegan bent their knees and raised their fists. Fletcher took a deep breath, waited until he glimpsed a big enough gap in the group, right beside Zona, then he dropped the binoculars, grabbed the Monster Hunters—
—and then they were down there, in the middle of the security detail, and Gracious was throwing punches and Donegan was throwing energy blasts and everyone was moving and shouting and Zona looked around, her eyes wide, and Fletcher grabbed her and—
—now he was in Roarhaven, in the Sanctuary, but a Cleaver and a mage had grabbed on to Zona at the last moment, and they were turning towards Fletcher even as—
—they plummeted down the side of the tallest peak in the Alps, freezing wind biting into Fletcher’s face, tumbling and rolling all together with Fletcher waiting for the mage to lose his grip and let go of Zona’s arm and—
—now there was just the Cleaver to get rid of as they fell upwards, their momentum taking them into the air above a peaceful meadow in Yorkshire before gravity found them again and they started dipping down, the Cleaver’s scythe swinging for Fletcher’s throat—
—through the Auckland rain and Fletcher ducked and threw himself on Zona and they hit the hard ground and rolled—
—across the Sanctuary floor and Fletcher released his hold and he was—
—back in the Alps and falling again, the mage far below him—
—right beside him, and Fletcher grabbed him with his left hand and—
—held on as the Yorkshire countryside flipped him around and he reached out with his right and—
—grabbed the Cleaver and—
—dumped them both on the heads of the security detail as he fell between them, and Gracious whirled, pulled him to his feet and Donegan grabbed him—
—and they stood over Zona as she stopped rolling across the floor in Roarhaven.
Cleavers came forward and shackled Zona, who was too stunned to even object, and led her away. Fletcher brushed the snow from his hair as he walked out into the corridor, Donegan and Gracious on either side of him.
“We make a good team,” said Donegan.
“We do,” said Gracious.
“You should think about joining us, Fletcher. It’s not a bad life, being a Monster Hunter.”
Fletcher laughed. “I don’t know anything about hunting monsters.”
“Easy to learn,” said Gracious, “but how are you at drawing?”
“I’m sorry?”
“We’re authors, too,” Donegan said, “and we’ve been trying to get into the picture-book market. We have this idea for a Where’s Wally type thing, except in ours, you’d have to find the one living person hiding in among all the dismembered corpses while the chainsaw-wielding killer hunts him down. You know, for kids.”
“We’re going to call it Save the Survivor,” Gracious said. “So what do you think?”
“Uh,” said Fletcher, “isn’t that a bit … disturbing?”
Gracious frowned. “Is it?”
“I don’t think so,” said Donegan.
“Yes,” Fletcher said, “I think it’s a little bit disturbing. I think it might give children nightmares.”
“It doesn’t give me nightmares,” Gracious said, “and people are always saying how childish I am.”
“That’s true, they are,” Donegan said, nodding.
They turned the corner, saw Madame Mist walking with Syc and Portia, their hands free of shackles, and Gracious pulled his gun and Donegan’s hands lit up.
“What the hell is going on?” Gracious snarled.
Even through the veil, Fletcher could feel Mist’s glare.
“You point your gun at me, Monster Hunter?” she said. “I am an Elder. Such an act could see you executed.”
“I’m sure Gracious doesn’t mean anything by it,” Donegan said, energy crackling between his fingers. “I’m sure he’s just wondering what the hell you think you’re doing setting those murderers free.”
“I do not have to explain myself to the likes of you,” Mist said. Behind her, Portia was smiling while Syc looked bored. All three of them moved towards the door, but Donegan stepped into their path.
“Grand Mage Ravel ordered their incarceration,” he said.
“And I am ordering their release,” replied Mist. “What’s done is done. They cannot bring back Bernard Sult, they cannot erase their crime, but they can make up for their mistake. They seek redemption. Who are you to deny them that?”
“You didn’t clear this with Ravel,” said Gracious.
Madame Mist shrugged her slender shoulders. “He is still out of reach, I am afraid. And we cannot wait. We have potential allies waiting to be brought in, but they won’t wait long.”
“We’ll go get them,” said Donegan. “Tell Fletcher where they are and we’ll bring them back.”
“These allies distrust Teleporters, as they distrust all sorcerers.”
Gracious frowned. “What kind of allies are they?”
“Children of the Spider,” said Mist. “Two of them, both old and powerful. The Terror and the Scourge. You would not be able to bring them in. They’d see you and kill you and be lost to us.”
“We’re Monster Hunters,” said Donegan. “Hunting monsters is what we do.”
Madame Mist turned her head ever so slightly. “Monsters? Do you view all Children of the Spider as monsters?”
Gracious shrugged. “Only the ones who turn into great big monster spiders.”
“We’re wasting time,” Portia said. “You will either let us by, or attack your own Elder and be executed for treason. Which will it be?”
For a moment, it looked like Gracious and Donegan were going to go for the second option, but then Donegan lowered his hand, and Gracious holstered his gun. Madame Mist walked on like nothing had happened. Portia followed after, a smirk on her face, and Syc hissed as he passed.
Donegan waited till they were gone, then swung round to Gracious.
“He hissed at me.”
“He hissed at you.”
“Should I hiss back?”
“It’s a bit late.”
“He could still hear.”
“Not unless you run after him.”
“Do you think I should?”
“Probably not.”
“I think I should.”
“It’d be a bit weird.”
“You might be right.” Donegan pursed his lips, then shook his fist at the doorway.
“That showed him,” said Gracious.
Donegan nodded. “He’ll think twice about hissing at me again.” He turned to Fletcher. “So, Save the Survivor. You in or out?”
“Uh,” said Fletcher, “I can’t draw.”
“I wouldn’t worry about that too much,” Gracious whispered to him. “We can’t write. But don’t tell anyone. It’s a secret.”
hina woke to the sound of a door being kicked in.
She rolled over, hit the light switch and then slid off the bed. Even as the bulbs were brightening, she was pulling on her silk bathrobe and tying the sash securely at her waist. She grabbed her handbag, looped it over her head so the strap hung diagonally across her chest. It wouldn’t take them long to figure out that she’d charmed the businessman down the hall into swapping rooms with her.
She ran to the spiral staircase, got to the suite’s upper level just as the door burst open. An instant later, there was a bright flash and a yell of pain. If they didn’t think she’d have set a few booby traps, they had no one to blame but themselves.
She knew them, of course. Know your enemies, her grandmother had always said. She’d identified them by the second day of their pursuit. The leader was Vincent Foe, an Energy-Thrower, nihilist and thug. Mercy Charient was his psychotic second-in-command, another Energy-Thrower, but one who preferred to emit the energy stream from her mouth instead of her hands. Less controlled, but more damaging. The big one was Obloquy, a Sensitive specialising in inflicting pain. And the vampire was called Samuel.
If she’d still had her accounts, if Eliza Scorn had not frozen her assets, China could have bid higher than whoever had paid him, solved this problem with the swipe of a credit card.
As it was, she would just have to keep running.
She emerged on to the balcony, pressed herself back against the right side, and tapped the sigils on her thighs. Immediately she felt the strength flooding her leg muscles. She bolted to the other side, jumped to the edge and sprang to the balcony across the gap. Her bare feet slapped down and she kept going, jumping to the edge and then springing again to the next one. She landed, deactivated the sigils before the magic damaged her muscles, opened the balcony doors and slipped inside.
On the level below, she could hear voices. A couple, in bed, wondering what all the noise was about. She picked her way through the darkness towards the staircase. The balcony doors swung open behind her and she turned as the vampire stepped in, still in human form. He looked straight at her.
China ran for the railing, vaulted over it, dropping to the floor below. She landed on the bed. The woman shrieked beneath her. She accidentally whacked the man in the face with her elbow as she rolled off. She glanced back, saw Samuel jumping over the railing after her. Instead of landing on the terrified couple, he kicked off from the wall, hit the ground and came up to his feet in a run. China grabbed a lamp, smashed it into his head. He staggered and she folded the fingers of her left hand, each fingertip tapping the sigil on her palm one after another. The sigil glowed red and her hand closed round Samuel’s throat. He jerked upright and then pitched backwards.
She opened the door, took a peek, saw Foe and Mercy turning her way. She took the gun from her handbag, flicked off the safety and stepped out, firing. The gunshots sounded incredibly loud on this quiet Dublin night. Foe and Mercy ducked into the open doorway beside them, shoving Obloquy out of the way. China ran for the stairs. Went up.
She threw open the door at the top, ran out across the rooftop. She got to the other side and looked down. Only one balcony here. She hopped up on to the ledge. Voices behind her. She barely had time to look round before a stream of red energy burst from Mercy’s big mouth, went sizzling by her arm. China spun, lost her balance and her weapon, fell, tried to land on the balcony, but her trajectory was off. She flung out a hand, grabbed an iron rail and her body snapped, almost jerking her shoulder from its socket. Grimacing against the pain, she hung, swaying, six floors above the street.
There was a man standing in the window beneath the balcony, staring straight at her. She motioned to his window with her free hand, miming opening it. He appeared unable to move.
She forced a smile on to her face even as her free hand went up to grab on to another rail. The pain from her right arm was starting to streak through her.
“Open the window,” she mouthed to him.
With barely a blink, the man fumbled for the latch. When it wouldn’t open, he frowned, took his eyes off China for the first time since he’d seen her, and tried again. He looked up, shaking his head in abject dismay. It wouldn’t open.
“Break it,” she mouthed.
He nodded, went away, and a moment later a chair smashed through the glass. Working quickly, he cleared the jagged pieces from the sill.
“Get ready to catch me,” China called out.
“I love you,” he called back.
“Prove it by catching me,” she said, and started to swing. Back and forth she went, picking up momentum, kicking her legs up high in front and then kicking them back behind her, and when her wrists couldn’t take any more she swung forward and let herself go – and the nice man caught her.
He pulled her inside and fell back, and she fell on top of him.
“I love you,” he said again.
“You’re sweet,” she replied.
She got up, cradling her right arm, and hurried out of the room. She took the stairs down, arriving in the lobby just as the squad cars pulled up outside. She slipped into the kitchens, smiling at the chef who was preparing someone’s midnight feast. He whimpered at her as she passed.
The rear door led into a narrow alley. She stepped on something disgusting, felt it squish between her toes, and kept going. She hailed a cab, could only stand four minutes of the driver’s adulation before she threw him some money and got out.
Breaking into the department store was child’s play. She cleaned her feet as best she could, and dressed in dark jeans and a loose T-shirt. She pulled on a pair of boots with sensible heels and a black jacket, then tied her hair back into a ponytail. Walked by the make-up section without even glancing at it, and slipped out, into the street.
Had it not been for Eliza Scorn, she would still have Skulduggery’s friendship to rely on. As it was, the Sanctuary was the last place she wanted to go. She’d deal with these thugs the same way she dealt with every problem that reared its head – alone, and with an abundance of style.
hen Trebuchet had told them about the secret way into the research facility, it had sounded so much more impressive than it actually was.
He told them about the shaft, a tunnel that opened on the surface and took natural light and fresh water and clean air downwards into the earth. He described it as small but wide, almost as wide as the stream it was embedded in. He told them its trajectory was diagonal, and that it recycled air and water, and how it was a revolutionary idea when it was first built. Over the centuries, however, the facility grew and changed, and new ideas, technologies and magic arose to take the place of the shaft and make it redundant. These days, he said, barely anyone even knew it had even existed. They certainly didn’t know it could be used as an entry point.
Valkyrie crouched down and peered into the shaft. “It’s a hole,” she said.
The Dead Men were dumping their backpacks on the bank of the stream. The water lapped at Valkyrie’s ankles. She measured the opening. It ran from the tip of her elbow to the third knuckle of her outstretched hand.
She stood. “Are you sure we’ll be able to fit?”
Skulduggery was first to come over. “I’m sure I’ll be fine,” he said. He had collapsed the frame under his clothes, reducing his size drastically.
Valkyrie glared. “I’m actually not worried about you. I’m worried about the rest of us. What if the shaft gets narro
wer in the middle or something?”
“It doesn’t.”
“But what if it does?”
“It doesn’t.”
“I’m just saying, it’s … it’s going to be very tight.”
His head swivelled to her. “You won’t get stuck.”
“But—”
“You just have to close your eyes and take deep breaths. Once we climb through, the angle of the shaft will take us down fairly quickly. We’re not going to be in there for longer than fifteen or twenty seconds, and the dimensions remain constant for the entire journey. To be honest, I think we’ll be going too fast for you to have time to be nervous about the space. You’ll be fine, Valkyrie.”
The rest of the Dead Men joined them.
“Aw, hell,” said Saracen when he saw what they had to fit through.
Valkyrie gave him a half-smile. “You claustrophobic, too?” she asked.
“No,” Shudder answered for him, “just fat.”
Vex and Ghastly laughed while Saracen glared.
“I am a healthy weight,” he said. “I just … I might be a little too healthy to make it to the bottom.”
“If he’s staying, I’m staying,” Valkyrie said immediately.
“Neither of you are staying,” said Skulduggery. “Saracen, suck in your gut and you won’t have a problem. It’s Ghastly and Anton who should be worried. They’re the biggest of us.”
Saracen grinned. “Hear that, Anton? Maybe instead of lifting all those weights you should have joined me in eating a few pies.”
“I’ve never lifted weights in my life,” Shudder responded. “My muscle mass is a natural part of my being genetically superior to you.”
Saracen looked at him, then looked away. “I have no comeback to that.”
Ravel was the first to sit in the stream and slide his legs into the shaft. “Oh my God,” he said, immediately tensing. “The freezing water has just gone down the back of my trousers. Perhaps we should rethink this.”
