Skulduggery Pleasant: Midnight

by Derek Landy

  “No, thanks,” she said.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Not a chance.”

  “Right then,” Skulduggery said, “it looks like it’s you and me, Cormac.”

  Cormac flew straight at Skulduggery’s jaw and swung a tiny fist that launched Skulduggery backwards.

  “I’m awesomely strong now, by the way,” Cormac called out.

  Skulduggery threw himself forward and Cormac met him in mid-air. Valkyrie noticed the door creak a little, and with a gentle push it opened. She sneaked in, closing it behind her. She found herself in a small courtyard with white stones gathered round three green bushes. She passed through an archway into an enclosed patio area with wrought-iron tables and chairs. Upon the tables were upturned wine glasses and a menu.

  A waiter came out of the doorway to her left, smiling as he approached.

  “Good morning,” he said, “and welcome to the Club. You must be a new member – I would have remembered you otherwise.”

  “It is my first time here. Is it always this quiet?”

  “It is on a Monday morning, yes. Can I get you a drink?”

  “Actually, I’m just here to meet someone. Doctor Quidnunc. Have you seen him recently? I had his number, but then dummy here went and lost her phone, so …”

  The waiter smiled. “I’ve been there. I’m on my third phone in two years because I keep losing them.”

  “Wow,” said Valkyrie, giving a laugh. “Well, at least I’m not that bad. Quidnunc wouldn’t happen to be in today, would he?”

  The waiter rolled his eyes. “Quidnunc’s in every day. Apparently, he’s on the run.”

  “No way.”

  “Yep. He’s availing himself of the facilities here, and the rooms upstairs, to do a little hiding out until the heat wears off. As a matter of fact, he asked that none of the waiting staff answer any questions about him, especially questions posed by people we’ve never seen before …”

  The waiter’s voice grew increasingly quiet, and his face grew increasingly worried.

  Valkyrie flashed him her best smile. “That’s probably wise. So no one else has come looking for him, then? No woman with silver hair?”

  The waiter didn’t answer.

  “I’ll take that as a no. He’s upstairs, is he? How do I get to him?”

  “Now that I think about it,” the waiter said, “you do look awfully familiar.”

  “Then at least I’m not someone you’ve never seen before.”

  “I think I’ve seen you kill thousands of people.”

  “Ah,” Valkyrie said. “That wasn’t me. That was Darquesse. I didn’t kill anyone. The stairs are through here, are they?”

  “That means you’re Valkyrie Cain,” said the waiter. “You work for the High Sanctuary.”

  “Actually, no, I’m an Arbiter now.”

  “What’s that?”

  “We don’t work for the Sanctuaries. We’re our own bosses, with our own jurisdiction.”

  “But you’re still a detective, aren’t you?”

  “Oh, yes. Very much so.”

  “Am I in a lot of trouble?”

  “Not from me,” said Valkyrie, “as long as you tell me where Quidnunc is.”

  The waiter sagged. “Through there and up the stairs. He’s in the East Room. Please don’t tell him I told you.”

  “You have my word.”

  He took out his notepad, flipped to a blank page and held it out. “Could I have your autograph?”

  Valkyrie frowned. “I’m sorry?”

  “I’ve never met a famous person before.”

  “I’m not famous.”

  “I’ve heard of you.”

  “But that doesn’t mean I’m … Listen, I don’t give autographs. That’s weird. It’s weird that you would ask me and it’s weird that you think I’d do it.”

  “There you are,” Skulduggery said, walking in behind her and brushing at his suit.

  “Who won?” Valkyrie asked.

  “We fought to a standstill,” Skulduggery said. “Do we know where Quidnunc is?”

  “Upstairs.”

  “Then let’s go talk to him.”

  “Excuse me,” said the waiter, and held out his notepad and pencil. “Can I have your autograph?”

  “Of course,” Skulduggery said, signing with a flourish before handing the notepad back. “Valkyrie, lead the way.”

  They left the waiter and went upstairs, followed the signs to the East Room and came to the closed door. They heard the splash of water from within, and Skulduggery waved his hand and the door burst open.

  It was a good-sized room, with a large bed and a little table with flowers on it, and a bathtub with clawed feet in the middle of the floor. A naked middle-aged man stood with one foot in the tub, his eyes wide and his mouth open.

  “Ew,” said Valkyrie.

  The man screeched and scrambled, knocked against the table, the vase of flowers smashing to the ground. He dropped to his knees on the other side of the bed, his modesty covered.

  “Thank you for that,” said Valkyrie. “Doctor Quidnunc, is it? We’ve been looking for you.”

  “And we’re not the only ones,” Skulduggery said, taking a bathrobe from behind the door and tossing it to him. “Do cover up, Doctor. There are ladies present.”

  “He’s talking about me,” said Valkyrie. “Where’s your mask? I was expecting a mask.”

  “Wh-why would I be wearing a mask?” Quidnunc asked, pulling on the robe.

  “Because of your thing,” Valkyrie said. “The liquor-fat-sieve thing that rots your skin.”

  “Liquefactive necrosis,” Quidnunc said. “I don’t need a mask or bandages or anything. I caught it early. My serum keeps it under control.”

  “Oh,” said Valkyrie. “That’s disappointing.”

  “You’ve got to help me. My life is in danger.”

  “Then you should have turned yourself in before now. You’d be safe in a cell.”

  “I didn’t want to be in a cell,” Quidnunc said, tying the robe as he got to his feet. “I didn’t want to get arrested. But now that you’re here, and I don’t have a choice – arrest me. Please.”

  Skulduggery folded his arms. “First, you tell us where Caisson is.”

  “No,” Quidnunc said. “First, you take me somewhere safe, somewhere with Cleavers, and then I’ll answer whatever questions you have.”

  “We can stand here arguing,” Skulduggery said, “or you can do it our way and we’ll bring you straight to the High Sanctuary and lock you in their very safest cell. Once again – where is Caisson?”

  “I … OK, I don’t actually know the answer to that particular question. I’m sorry. They took him away; they didn’t give me any warning whatsoever. They just arrived, told me I’d better scram if I wanted to live, told me Abyssinia was probably on her way and that she wouldn’t be too happy to learn about all the experiments I’d been doing over the last few decades, so I said OK, I will get myself gone, and I didn’t ask any questions or—”

  “Stop,” said Skulduggery. “You talk an awful lot and you say very, very little of any actual relevance. Who are the people who took him?”

  “I don’t know their names,” said Quidnunc. “There were five of them. Very professional, but rude, you know? They didn’t have time to chat. Not that I did, either. I mean, my life was in danger.”

  “It still is,” Valkyrie said. “Who do they work for? Who do you work for? We asked Nye but it didn’t know.”

  Quidnunc hesitated. “Uh … I’m not supposed to say.”

  “Say it anyway.”

  “I really don’t think I should.”

  “You don’t have a choice,” Skulduggery said. “Abyssinia is following the same trail we followed to get here – which means you don’t have an awful lot of time. Tell us who you’re working for.”

  Quidnunc sighed unhappily. “She is going to be so mad with me. She has a thing about loyalty, you know?”

  “Who does? Eliza Scorn?
”

  “No, no. Miss Scorn worked for her for a time, but … no. I work – we all work – for Serafina.”

  Valkyrie didn’t need to ask Skulduggery who that was. She’d heard the name a few times over the years, always in passing, always related to the Faceless Ones, or the war.

  Serafina of the Unveiled. Mevolent’s wife.

  Skulduggery grunted. “Well, that’s … lovely. OK, tell us about Caisson.”

  “Um, sure,” said Quidnunc. “He told me all sorts of things. When you, um, experiment on someone for that long, you build up this strange kind of rapport, you know? It’s almost like a friendship.”

  “Except not really,” said Valkyrie.

  “It’s a sort-of friendship.”

  “Where one friend is physically torturing the other.”

  “I never tortured,” Quidnunc said quickly. “I experimented on.”

  “What kinds of experiments?”

  Quidnunc exhaled loudly. “All different kinds. Like his mother, Caisson feeds on the life force of others, which meant I could keep healing him whenever he was in danger of dying. He really was the ideal specimen, you know.” He smiled wistfully. “The perfect subject.”

  “This is getting disturbing,” said Valkyrie, “so let’s get back to the questioning. What did he tell you?”

  “I’m sorry, can I put on my slippers? There’s a broken vase on the floor and I’m afraid I might step on it.”

  “You’re going to have to focus here, OK? What exactly did Caisson tell you?”

  “Everything.”

  “Let’s get a little more specific. What did he tell you about Abyssinia?”

  “He told me about the last time he saw her, how she was attacked. He mentioned you,” Quidnunc said, looking at Skulduggery. “He told me you were there.”

  “He wasn’t lying.”

  “He said you and the rest of the Dead Men, plus the Diablerie, attacked her. The battle went on for days. Abyssinia was winning. On the last day she told Caisson to sneak away, but one of you caught him. China Sorrows. She caught him and she was going to kill him if his mother didn’t stop fighting.”

  “Did he tell you what happened next?”

  “His mother surrendered. You killed her.”

  Skulduggery towered over him. “Then what? What did he do after that? Where was he raised? What’s he like? Who is he?”

  “I … I don’t really know how to answer …”

  “Try.”

  “He’s … savage. Intelligent. Resourceful. I guess he’s everything you’d expect from someone with parents like his.”

  “Who was his father?”

  Quidnunc swallowed. “Take me to Roarhaven and I’ll tell you.”

  “How about you tell us now?” Valkyrie said. “I don’t particularly like to hurt people any more unless I absolutely have to, but Skulduggery still finds the humour in it.”

  Skulduggery shrugged, and pulled his glove tighter round his right hand. “I’m old-fashioned that way.”

  “Don’t hit me,” Quidnunc said immediately. “Please don’t hit me.”

  Skulduggery tilted his head. “For a proud member of the Sadists’ Club, you seem very squeamish when it comes to violence.”

  “Just violence perpetrated upon myself,” Quidnunc said. “It’s ironic, I know. Maybe even hypocritical. But if that’s the worst thing people say about me—”

  “It’s not,” Valkyrie said, cutting him off. “Tell us what we want to know. Caisson’s father. His name.”

  Quidnunc chewed his lip. “And then you’ll take me to Roarhaven?”

  “Pinky promise.”

  “Vile,” said Quidnunc. “His father was Lord Vile.”

  Valkyrie blinked. A distant part of her mind counted the blinks. She blinked four times before turning to look at Skulduggery.

  “Well,” Skulduggery said, “that’s interesting.”

  24

  Valkyrie took hold of the collar of Quidnunc’s bathrobe and hauled him along after her. She opened the wardrobe, shoved him in and closed the door, then came back to Skulduggery.

  She hesitated a moment, then smiled calmly and, keeping her voice low, said, “Can I ask a personal question?”

  “Go ahead,” Skulduggery said.

  “Remember when you were Lord Vile? Remember those days? Now, I know you were dressed in armour and everything, and you were all big and scary and whispery and sinister, but you were … you were still a skeleton, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “So, and I mean this in the nicest possible way, there is absolutely no way that you could have had a kid … right?”

  “Right.”

  “At all?”

  “In the slightest.”

  “OK.”

  “Probably.”

  “What?” Valkyrie said. “There is probably no way you could have had a kid? Where did this ‘probably’ come from?”

  “We’re talking about magic,” Skulduggery said. “People do tricky things with magic.”

  “I paid attention in biology, all right? Well, I didn’t, but my reflection did, and what I remember about the whole baby-making process is that eggs don’t fertilise themselves.”

  “If Quidnunc is telling the truth, then Caisson was either lying to him, or Abyssinia lied to Caisson about his father.”

  “Yes,” Valkyrie said. “That makes sense. That seems obvious. Because you’re totally not the dad, right?”

  “Totally.”

  “OK.”

  “Probably totally.”

  Quidnunc knocked on the inside of the wardrobe. “Hello? Can I come out now?”

  Valkyrie opened the door, pulled him out. “Get dressed,” she said. “We’re going to want to talk about this a lot more when you’re in your cell.”

  “Yes,” Quidnunc said, grabbing his clothes off the floor. “Thank you, yes. Could I make one request?”

  “No requests,” said Skulduggery.

  “It’s just, as a co-operating witness, I thought maybe I’d be granted one small request.”

  “You’re not a co-operating witness. You’re under arrest.”

  Quidnunc looked surprised. “Am I?”

  Skulduggery tilted his head. “Aren’t you? Didn’t we place you under arrest? We may have forgotten. Doctor Quidnunc, you’re under arrest. Put your trousers on.”

  “You haven’t even read me my rights.”

  “Why does everyone think we operate according to mortal rules? We don’t have mortal trials, do we? We have Sensitives who can read your mind and proclaim your guilt or innocence.”

  “So I don’t have any rights?”

  “Not any we have to read to you. Haven’t you ever been arrested before?”

  “No.”

  “Well, now you’ll know for next time.”

  Quidnunc zipped up his fly and pulled on a shirt. He picked a shoe up off the floor and looked around. “Can either of you see my other shoe? It looks just like this one.”

  “We know what a shoe looks like,” Valkyrie responded. “It’s under the chair.”

  “Ah,” Quidnunc said, moving to the other end of the room. He put both shoes on and started tying the laces.

  Skulduggery held the car keys out to Valkyrie. “You’d better bring the car round.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “You’re trusting me with the Bentley twice in the space of a few days?”

  “I should stay with the doctor in case Abyssinia arrives. Pull up on the street outside and we’ll be waiting. Do not crash.”

  Valkyrie took the keys, went to say something bitingly funny to Quidnunc – but Abyssinia was suddenly standing behind him.

  25

  Nero and another woman had teleported in with her and Skulduggery moved at once, using the air to throw Nero off his feet, but Abyssinia had grabbed Quidnunc before they could stop her. “Hello, my darling,” she said to Skulduggery.

  Skulduggery froze. “Hello, dear.”

  “And Valkyrie,” said Abyssinia. She was weari
ng red. It was tight. “It’s so good to meet you. Formally, I mean. When I’m not sucking your life force out of you. I think perhaps that was rude. As was instructing Cadaverous Gant and Jeremiah Wallow to remove you as a potential obstacle on my path back to life. As it turns out, you were vital to my rebirth. You have both my thanks, and my apologies.”

  Valkyrie did her best to appear nonchalant. “It happens.”

  Abyssinia smiled. It was a beautiful smile, though it did seem unsettlingly wide. “Forgiveness is truly a sign of a good soul.”

  Nero stood up, scowling.

  “My soul is not good, I’m afraid,” Abyssinia continued. “I’ve always had a problem with forgiveness. This man here, for example … I suppose I could forgive him for what he did to my son.”

  “Yes,” Quidnunc whimpered, his head held between her hands. “Please.”

  “But then I think about all those experiments he carried out,” Abyssinia continued, “and all that pain he inflicted, and I am unable to think clearly.”

  “I can tell you things,” Quidnunc said quickly. “I can describe the people who took him.”

  “I know who took him,” Abyssinia responded. “Serafina’s people. Five of them. I know they have my son in a private ambulance, and they’re driving through Europe in a futile attempt to stay ahead of me.”

  “I know other things,” Quidnunc said. “I know lots.”

  “Do you?” Abyssinia asked.

  Quidnunc winced suddenly, and Valkyrie felt a pressure in the room, like she was on a plane coming in to land, and then the pressure was pierced and Quidnunc cried out.

  Abyssinia shook her head. “You lie, Doctor. There’s nothing else that interests me in your memories, apart from all those decades of torture you put Caisson through.”

  “It wasn’t my fault,” Quidnunc said, crying now. “I was ordered to do it. Serafina told me—”

  “I know what she told you to do,” Abyssinia said. “And, unlike you, I know why she told you to do it. I suppose you’re not the real villain here. You’re the instrument she used.”

  “Yes,” Quidnunc said. “I’m just the instrument.”

  She put her lips to his ear. “But even the instrument must be broken, Doctor.”

  Quidnunc gasped and went pale, then purple, then yellow, his cheeks hollowing, his eyes drying up in their sockets, his body shrivelling beneath his half-buttoned shirt.