Skulduggery Pleasant: Midnight

by Derek Landy

  The foil contained a few small pieces of raw meat. Razzia brought her other hand close. “Things are different,” she said. “Before we got Abyssinia back, it was non-stop, you know? We were always busy. Always focused.”

  “But now that’s all changed,” Cadaverous said.

  “We still have our plans, though. Abyssinia has her people in place, and First Wave are getting ready to strike.” Razzia’s palm opened slowly, and the parasite poked out. A black tentacle with a head slightly thicker than its body, it had no eyes but plenty of sharp, tiny teeth. It hovered over the foil, then dipped down, snatching the meat into its jaws.

  Cadaverous couldn’t take his eyes off it as it fed. “But is that enough to keep life interesting, Razzia?”

  “No, it ain’t. She won’t even send me on the simple jobs because she thinks I’ll do something crazy and kill a bunch of people for no reason.”

  “I know.”

  “I always have a reason, Caddie.”

  “I know that, too.”

  “But she sends Skeiri instead, because apparently she has more ‘self-control’. What’s so good about self-control?”

  “Nothing that I can see.”

  “I hate Skeiri.”

  “I know.”

  “She’s basically just a sane version of me. We even have the same pets!”

  “What are the odds?”

  “Her pets aren’t as well-trained as mine, though. And see this guy? He’s longer than Skeiri’s, and he’s not even fully grown yet. And her pets are green. Can you imagine it? How ugly.”

  “Very ugly.”

  “Can I tell you something? And promise you won’t tell anyone else?”

  Cadaverous dragged his eyes away from the parasite. “Of course.”

  “I’m not sure that I have any friends here. Like real, actual mates. Nero makes me want to stab him every time I talk to him and Destrier’s always working on his little projects, and he’s a weirdo anyway … For so long, Abyssinia was my friend, a voice in my head that only I could hear. But she barely does that any more, and when she does it just feels … weird.”

  “I’d like to think that I’m your friend, Razzia.”

  She smiled. “Yeah. I reckon you are.” She looked down at the parasite as it ate. “But you’re a psychopath, so I don’t think you count.”

  “Do you want to know a secret?” Cadaverous asked. “I’ve been having the exact same thoughts as you. I’m bored. It’s as if all Abyssinia wanted was for us to bring her back to life, so she filled our heads with all these wonderful ideas of an anti-Sanctuary and getting revenge on the people who’ve wronged us … and, now that she’s back, all she cares about is herself and her son.”

  “You really think she was fooling us?”

  “I don’t know,” Cadaverous said, shrugging. “I hope not. But that’s how it seems. That’s how it feels.”

  The parasite finished its lunch and retracted into Razzia’s palm. She crumpled up the foil and tossed it over the side. “I think I’m having a midlife crisis.”

  “We just need to remind Abyssinia that we’re here, and we’re valuable. We just need some way to impress her again.” Cadaverous gave a little shrug. “Oh, well. If anything occurs to you …”

  He let his words hang, and started walking away.

  “What about …” Razzia said, and her voice trailed off.

  Cadaverous turned. “Yes?”

  “Nothing.”

  “No, go on. What were you going to say?”

  She hesitated. “Well, if all Abyssinia cares about is getting Caisson back, then she’d be, like, super happy with us if we found him.”

  Cadaverous frowned. “But she’s assigned Avatar to that job, and, from what I gather, he is mere hours away from finding the ambulance route. He’s going to get all the praise. He’s going to get all the fun jobs.”

  “Yeah, but we could, you know … kill him.”

  “Kill him?”

  “Just a little,” Razzia said quickly. “Just slightly.”

  “So what you’re suggesting is that we wait for Avatar to find the ambulance’s route … and then we kill him, sneak off ourselves, and rescue Caisson.”

  “Well, I mean, yeah,” said Razzia. “Why not? We bring her son back, Abyssinia’s gonna love us.”

  Cadaverous smiled. “You’re not as insane as you seem, are you?”

  Razzia laughed, then turned deadly serious. “Oh, no, I am, but. I really am.”

  19

  It was late evening by the time they found Gravid Caw standing with a small group of people at the steps of the High Sanctuary. They were chanting and waving placards, calling for the refugees to be sent home while impassive Cleavers stood so still they might have been carved from granite.

  Valkyrie walked up and stood beside him. He didn’t notice for the first few seconds – he was far too busy chanting and waving his placard.

  “I like your sign,” said Valkyrie, and Gravid turned his head to her. His eyes widened when he realised who she was. “There are no typos, for one thing. I’ve always thought, what’s the point of hating someone if you can’t be grammatically correct about it?”

  “I, uh, I don’t hate anyone,” Gravid mumbled, and went to move away. Then Skulduggery was on his other side.

  “Well,” he said, “you hate mortals a little.”

  “No,” Gravid responded, growing noticeably paler. “We’re just … we’re here to ensure they’re treated fairly.”

  Valkyrie raised an eyebrow. “This will be interesting.”

  The chanting died down once the protesters saw who had joined them. Valkyrie smiled. Skulduggery waved. The protesters glanced at each other, glanced at Gravid, and then moved away, abandoning him to restart their protest a little further on. Gravid’s shoulders slumped.

  “You were saying,” Valkyrie prompted, “about your struggle to ensure the mortals are treated fairly.”

  Gravid cleared his throat, then cleared it again. “We just don’t think it’s, you know, fair that they’re being kept in tents and things. They’re not animals, after all. They have their dignity.”

  “First of all,” Valkyrie said, “yes, they do have their dignity, thanks for reminding us. That’s very important. Second, how many animals do you know of that are kept in tents? Is that a thing, keeping animals in tents? I mean, cattle can be kept in sheds, and horses in stables, but I’ve never heard of an animal that is kept in a tent.”

  “It’s, uh, metaphorical.”

  Valkyrie frowned. “Which part, the animals or the tent?”

  “I have a question,” Skulduggery said, taking the placard from Gravid’s hand and examining it. “It says here: Keep Mortals Out of Roarhaven. So obviously you’re not inviting them in. You don’t want them outside in tents, you don’t want them inside in houses … so where do you want them?”

  Gravid didn’t answer.

  “Do you think we should send them to Dublin, or Cork, or Belfast?” Skulduggery continued. “Do you think they could assimilate into mortal culture here? That would be troublesome, though, wouldn’t it? They’re from an alternate dimension. It would be quite the security risk.”

  Gravid mumbled something.

  “Sorry?” Valkyrie said. “What was that?”

  Gravid cleared his throat once more. “We could send them back.”

  “Send them back where?”

  “Back where they came from.”

  Skulduggery didn’t say anything. He was leaving this to Valkyrie. She joined him in silence for a moment, enjoying the effect it was having on poor little Gravid. He was practically squirming in his shoes.

  “Do you know why they came here?” she asked.

  Gravid girded himself. “The unfortunate circumstance they find themselves in should not be our concern.”

  “But do you know?”

  “Why should we be held responsible for—”

  “Yes or no answer, Gravid,” Valkyrie interrupted. “Do you know what they’re running
from?”

  “Yes, but that’s got nothing to do with us.”

  “So you know that they’re fleeing from, basically, genocide, yes?”

  “I have sympathy for them,” Gravid said, “of course I do, but we have to help our own before we can even think of helping others.”

  “Well, you’re definitely not thinking of helping others, so you’re halfway there already.”

  “Look—”

  “Look?” Valkyrie repeated, stepping closer. “Are you losing your patience with me, Gravid? Are you getting angry? Are you upset that I’m not just accepting your nasty little excuses like the rest of your sign-waving friends? What do you intend to do about that, eh? You want to bully me? Intimidate me? Tell me to go back where I came from?”

  Gravid swallowed. “We’re having a peaceful protest. I’m not losing my patience with anyone.”

  “I’m losing my patience with you, Gravid. Gravid. What does that name even mean, anyhow?”

  “It means meaningful,” Gravid said quietly.

  “It also means pregnant,” Skulduggery said.

  “I didn’t know that when I chose it,” Gravid muttered. “But I’m doing nothing wrong, OK? You can’t arrest me for standing on the street and voicing an opinion. I’m entitled to it.”

  Valkyrie frowned again. “Who told you that?”

  “Who told me what?”

  “That you’re entitled to an opinion,” Valkyrie said. “Who told you?”

  “But … but I am.”

  “So no one told you. You just heard it somewhere and decided it was true. You’re not entitled to an opinion, Gravid. You’re faced with right and wrong. You’re choosing wrong, and, because you can’t defend that choice without admitting that you’re wrong, you claim that you’re entitled to believe in a lie if you so wish.” She leaned in. “I hate people like you, Gravid. I despise them. You’re not even strong enough to be honest about how rotten you are.”

  “Besides,” Skulduggery said, clamping a hand on Gravid’s shoulder, “who said we were here to arrest you? I never said anything about arresting you. Valkyrie, did you say anything about arresting Gravid?”

  “I thought it,” Valkyrie said.

  “She’d do it, too,” said Skulduggery. “That’s the problem you face when you deal with Arbiters. We don’t answer to anyone. We could arrest you, throw you in a cell, and you’d languish there until we remembered to ask you those questions we’d been meaning to.”

  “What, uh, what questions?”

  “It’s about your day job, actually. Nothing to do with standing on pavements and waving signs about sending people back to get murdered. No, this is about your job, not your hobby.”

  “I’m unemployed.”

  “In this economy? How can that be? Roarhaven is thriving. There’s work for everyone.”

  “Maybe you’re not looking hard enough,” Valkyrie said. “Or maybe you’re too busy making illegal drugs.”

  Gravid shook his head in an unconvincing attempt at appearing unconcerned. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “The drugs, Gravid,” Skulduggery said. “She’s talking about the drugs you make in your basement, illegally, that you then sell to people. For money.”

  “I don’t … I don’t do that.”

  “You are possibly less convincing than you think you are, but I’m afraid we’ve just come from your basement.”

  Gravid’s eyes widened. “You’re not allowed to do that! You need a warrant to search someone’s house!”

  “For someone who doesn’t view mortals too highly, you seem to think that a lot of their laws apply to you. We don’t need warrants, Gravid. We’re Arbiters. We knocked, you weren’t home, and very gently we let ourselves in.”

  “You’re going to need a new door,” Valkyrie said.

  Skulduggery nodded. “It’s possible you might need a new door, but that’s only if you like doors. Personally, I think the gaping hole lets a lot of light in. While we were there, in your house, we happened to find the hidden entrance to the basement. Well, I don’t mind telling you, we were surprised. We certainly didn’t expect to find the entrance in the wall, did we, Valkyrie?”

  “We did not.”

  “I mean, we thought it might be there, but we weren’t sure.”

  “You’re going to need a new wall, too,” said Valkyrie.

  “Just a slight wall,” Skulduggery nodded. “The west one. It’s got some holes in it. Four small ones and a big one. Anyway, once we found the hidden basement, we found all the paraphernalia that you use to make the illegal drugs. There was a lot of it.”

  “So much,” said Valkyrie.

  “A huge amount. We told the City Guard about that, by the way. A friend of ours, a nice American man, you’ll like him, is on his way to see you. I don’t want to spoil anything, but you’re looking at a lot of gaol time.”

  “So much,” said Valkyrie.

  “A huge amount.”

  Gravid tried to bolt, but Skulduggery grabbed his arm and squeezed his shoulder and he rose to his tiptoes and cried out.

  “But before all that,” Skulduggery said, “we were wondering if you could answer a few questions. It’s got nothing to do with the protest, don’t worry, and nothing to do with the illegal drugs, either. Another drug you make – a perfectly legal one, so good for you on that – is to combat necrosis. You make that one for a man named Quidnunc. We need to find this man. Where is he? Do you know?”

  “All … all this just to find Quidnunc?”

  “Yes.”

  “Breaking into my house, finding the drugs, calling the City Guard … and you just wanted to know where Quidnunc is? I would have told you! If you’d asked, I would have told you, no problem!”

  Skulduggery nodded to Valkyrie. “See? I told you he’d be nice. Where is Quidnunc, Gravid?”

  “He’s staying at the Sadists’ Club.”

  “I’ve never heard of it.”

  “It’s really secret.”

  “Is it a club for sadists?”

  “Yes.”

  “Clever.”

  “I don’t know where it is – Quidnunc never said. Did you really call the cops?”

  “Yes.”

  “Aw, man. I would have told you. You just had to ask. Like the woman did.”

  Valkyrie narrowed her eyes. “What woman?”

  “A woman in red came to see me, asking about Quidnunc, but she didn’t pull any of the stuff that you just pulled. She simply asked, and left.”

  “Did she have silver hair?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did she say anything about her plans? Anything that could help us figure out where she is? If you have something useful, we could talk to our American friend and he could take it into account when your charges are being filed.”

  “OK,” said Gravid, “OK, yeah, she did, she said, uh …”

  “True things only,” Skulduggery said. “Lies will result in even more gaol time.”

  Gravid sagged. “Then no. Nothing.”

  They took Gravid Caw to the nearest Cleaver and handed him over.

  “That was fun,” said Valkyrie

  “You really got into it that time.”

  “He annoyed me. So – the Sadists’ Club. Any idea where it is?”

  “Not yet, but I’m sure I know just the people to ask. Would you like to accompany me?”

  “Will there be punching?”

  “Probably.”

  “Then, if it’s all the same to you, I’ll give it a miss. If I can go a full day without having to hit anyone or inflict physical pain, I’m going to do it. That’s my New Year’s resolution.”

  “You’re about nine months too late.”

  “I meant my Chinese New Year’s resolution.”

  “Then you’re about eight months too late.”

  “Then it’s just something I’ve decided.”

  “That’s fair enough. I’ll meet you here in the morning?”

  “Cool. I’ll be he
re around nine.”

  Skulduggery doffed his hat to her and walked towards the Bentley. Valkyrie turned and headed off in the opposite direction.

  Once in her car, she left Roarhaven behind her, and the roads got bumpier before widening again and smoothing out. She joined the motorway. This time of night, there wasn’t very much traffic. She turned on the radio, sang along with the music, allowing her mind to drift. She changed lanes and adjusted speed without giving any of it much thought. After a bit, she stopped singing and turned off the radio and just drove in silence. Her mind settled into the rhythm of the road. The drone of the tyres filled the car slowly until she was all alone in the world.

  Abyssinia walked across the motorway and Valkyrie cursed and braked and swerved and went right through her.

  The car rocked to a stop.

  Valkyrie jumped out, energy crackling between her fingers, crackling from her eyes, her teeth bared, ready to fight, but the road was quiet and empty, and Abyssinia was neither lying there nor standing there. She wasn’t there at all.

  A hallucination, that’s all it was. A hallucination or a vision, brought on by the meditative state she’d been sinking into. So Valkyrie was either having flashbacks to psychic episodes or having psychic episodes without meaning to – she didn’t know which was worse. She got back in the car, restarted the engine and did a slow U-turn.

  Back on track, the car drove straight and steady like nothing had happened, but Valkyrie’s hands shook as they gripped the wheel.

  20

  Down below, the energy field hummed with power, its light flickering off the lower tier of cells.

  Cadaverous took the folded paper from Avatar’s hand and opened it. Printed upon the three sheets was a detailed route through Europe, complete with timings, rest stops, and distance in both miles and kilometres. Everything a group of sorcerers would need to keep a private ambulance moving smoothly, and everything a certain other group of sorcerers would need to ambush said ambulance.

  “You’ve done good work,” Cadaverous said. “Very good work, actually. I didn’t think you had either the contacts or the intelligence to pull this off, if I’m being honest. I thought you were all muscle and no brains – but it seems Abyssinia was right about you.”