Skulduggery Pleasant: Mortal Cole

by Derek Landy

  “I may be new to the parish, but as far as I am aware, this is the only head in a box that we have. I’m sorry, if this is a joke, I fail to see how it is funny.”

  “The flat piece of gold,” Valkyrie said. “Have you seen it?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the priest said, turning to walk away, “but maybe you can explain yourselves to the Guards when they get here.”

  If he expected them to protest, or to run after him, he was disappointed. When he’d walked a few steps and they still hadn’t reacted, he whirled, to find them examining the box. “Come away from there at once.”

  Valkyrie ran her hands along the base. “In a second,” she said.

  “You are not allowed to touch the cabinet!” the priest shouted, storming towards them. Valkyrie’s fist caught him just under the chin. He stumbled back, his legs wobbling and his eyes already closing. He slumped to the ground and lay there, unconscious.

  “Oh,” Valkyrie said. “I thought he was possessed.”

  “Sure you did,” Tanith grinned. She pressed her hand against the golden base of the cabinet and they heard a soft click. She pushed, rotated her fingertips, and a flat piece of gold came away, dropping from the base into her palm.

  “Damn,” she said. “I’m good.”

  They called Skulduggery to let him know they’d found the first half of the key. He told them to walk to the bus depot and wait for him there.

  Up through Drogheda, the streets were frozen and empty. The roads glistened, like someone had carelessly tossed down a hundred thousand tiny crystals. Parked cars were covered in frost, windshields thick with ice. Christmas lights gave it all an unearthly sheen, and somewhere far away a house alarm was going off.

  Valkyrie and Tanith crossed the road and kept heading south, towards the bus depot. Valkyrie had her arms crossed, hands jammed under her armpits. Her ears were freezing and her nose was red and running. She stepped on an icy patch and her feet flew out from under her. For the third time in ten minutes, she landed on her backside. Tanith looked back and sighed. Even she had stopped finding that funny.

  They crossed the bridge, staying off the pavements, sticking to the road, where it was less slippery. They hadn’t heard one single moving car, let alone seen one. The lights at the depot were on, and the buses sat still and silent. They hopped the low wall and Tanith pushed open the glass door. An old woman looked up from where she was sitting.

  Valkyrie nodded to her warily, while Tanith went to the ticket booth. It was almost as cold in there as it was outside.

  “There’s nobody else here,” the old woman said. “I tried the office as well. Nobody here at all.”

  Tanith glanced at Valkyrie, and went to make sure. When she was gone, the old woman looked back to Valkyrie. “Have you been watching the news? Terrible, isn’t it? All those sick people.”

  “It is,” said Valkyrie.

  “I’ve been sitting here for hours. I tried calling my son, but I couldn’t get through.”

  “The phones are down.”

  “Is that what it is? I hope he’s all right. I hope he hasn’t got sick. He’s got children, you know. A ten-year-old and a four-year-old.”

  “He’s probably fine,” said Valkyrie.

  The old woman did her best to smile. “I just want to get home. It isn’t right. This town is never this quiet. Where are all the people? Are they all sick? The man on the news said that the sick people are prone to outbreaks of violence. If everyone is sick, it’s not safe here. I just want to go home.”

  “Us too.”

  “What’s your name, child?”

  The old woman didn’t look like someone a Remnant would hijack. She was neither young nor strong. She was small, and her hair was white, and even though she was wrapped up against the cold, she looked thin and frail.

  “My name’s Valkyrie.”

  “That’s an unusual name. French, is it?”

  “Uh, Scandinavian, I think.”

  “It’s very pretty.”

  Tanith came back. “No one here,” she said.

  “I told you,” the old woman responded. “I’ve been here for three hours, and you two are the first people I’ve seen. I should just be thankful that you’re not like the ones they showed on the news.”

  “Where do you live?” Valkyrie asked.

  “Duleek,” the old woman answered. “Do you know it?”

  “I’ve seen signs for it.”

  “The Duleek bus was supposed to leave at ten past seven, but nothing out there has even moved. I haven’t seen any drivers. I don’t know how I’m going to get home.”

  “We’re expecting a lift any minute now,” Valkyrie said, “maybe we could give you a—”

  “Val,” Tanith interrupted, glaring at her.

  “You’re very kind,” the old woman smiled, “but it’s quite all right.”

  “We can’t leave her here,” Valkyrie said to Tanith.

  “Why not?” Tanith answered. “Who’s going to touch her? She’s safer here than she would be with us.”

  “It’s freezing in here.”

  “So? She has mittens.” Tanith turned to the old woman. “Normally, I’d have no problem inviting you along. But for all we know, you might be sick.”

  “Me?” the old woman said, surprised. “But I’m not running around hurting people.”

  “No, you’re not. But you could be about to start.”

  The old woman blinked at them, then seemed to shrink back into the layers of clothes she was wearing. “I should probably stay here anyway. My son might be looking for me.”

  Tanith shrugged at Valkyrie. “See? Problem solved.”

  Then the lights went out.

  “Great,” she heard Tanith mutter.

  For a few seconds, they were in nothing but blackness. Then Valkyrie’s eyes started to adjust, and she could see vague outlines in the gloom. The shape that was Tanith moved to a window.

  “The whole town’s gone dark,” she said. “There’s not a light on for miles.”

  “Maybe they have a torch in the office,” said the old woman, sounding scared.

  “I have a lighter,” Valkyrie said, clicking her fingers. She cupped the flame, disguising the fact that it burned in her palm.

  “Oh, that’s bright,” the old woman said, relieved. “I don’t mean to be a burden on you, but is it at all possible to get a lift with you, when your friend comes? I don’t really like the idea of staying here alone.”

  “I’m sure we can work something out,” Valkyrie said. She could see Tanith in the flickering light. Her friend did not look pleased. “I’ll look for a torch.”

  Valkyrie moved into the office, searched the two desks and then the shelves. She found a torch and clicked it on. The beam lit up the entire room.

  “Found one,” she called.

  She heard Tanith gag, and fear shot through her. She ran out of the office. The old woman had her thin, frail hands wrapped around Tanith’s throat.

  Valkyrie gave a roar and the old woman cursed in a language Valkyrie had never heard before. Valkyrie was almost on top of her when the old woman’s thin, spindly fist flashed out, almost taking her head off. The torch went spinning across the floor and Valkyrie went down, rolled by pure instinct, got up and didn’t know what was happening. Her legs buckled slightly and she staggered, saw the old woman hurling punches down on Tanith.

  Valkyrie’s palm snapped against the air, and the space rippled as the old woman shot sideways, whooping as she went. Tanith sprawled across the floor, unconscious

  The old woman scrambled up. By the light of the torch Valkyrie saw her black lips and vein-ridden face.

  “You can’t escape,” the old woman said. “And why would you want to? You have a glorious destiny.”

  “It’s not destiny,” Valkyrie seethed, stepping closer. “Even if it was, I’ve changed it. It’s not happening.”

  “That’s why we’re here,” the woman explained. “To make sure it does. Darqu
esse, we were aimless. We were nothing. We were anger and hatred and spite. But now? Now we have purpose. Now we have a future. With you.”

  “If you want me to lead you, then let’s start right now. I have a pair of shackles in my pocket. I want you to put them on.”

  The old woman smiled and shook her head. “You need to be guided further along the path,” she said. “Then you will assume your mantle. Then we’ll obey. Right now, you still think you’re Valkyrie Cain. You still think you have friends. Like this one.” The old woman knelt by Tanith, and stroked her hair. “Let me be your friend. I’ll leave this body, this old decrepit thing, and I’ll join with her. Such a nice form to take, with that pretty face, with everything so hard, and strong, and firm. All this muscle, and all this leather.”

  “Stop describing her,” Valkyrie said. “It’s getting weird.”

  The old woman lunged, but Tanith raised her arm and tripped her, and the lunge turned to a stumble. Valkyrie slid into her, flipped her to the floor, got behind her and choked. The old woman squirmed like a fish, but Valkyrie held on. She didn’t want to hurt her, didn’t want to cause the old woman actual harm, she just needed her to go to sleep for a while. She tightened the choke and the old woman weakened, and then her head drooped forward. Valkyrie turned her on her side, and got up.

  “Oh my God,” Valkyrie said numbly. “We just beat up a pensioner.”

  “Evil pensioner,” Tanith corrected, coughing slightly as she dragged herself to her feet. “What was she babbling about? I heard her say Darquesse.”

  “Yeah. Yeah, she did. Just, you know, more babbling. Couldn’t make sense of half of it. You OK?”

  “I’m good. A bit woozy. She has a pretty good right hook, you know. For a granny.”

  42

  THE LESSON BEGINS

  “Teleporting one thousand people is not that different from teleporting one person,” Gordon said as they sped down the empty motorway “The effort, the magic, goes into the initial opening of the rift in space. How wide that rift eventually opens is somewhat immaterial.”

  “What rift?” Fletcher asked.

  “Do you actually know how your power works?”

  Fletcher couldn’t look at Gordon while they were in motion, so he kept his eyes fixed on the windscreen. “Sure. I think about a place I’ve been, and I go there. I don’t open a rift in space or anything.”

  “Actually, that’s precisely what you’re doing. Emmett Peregrine told me how he got his head around it, and I think it might help you. Uh, Fletcher, I don’t want to sound like a schoolteacher or anything, but could you look at me when I’m talking to you?”

  “Sorry,” Fletcher said, “I can’t. You make me carsick.”

  Ghastly frowned. “How does Gordon make you carsick?”

  “Well, he keeps slipping, you know, out of the car, kind of.”

  “That’s hardly my fault,” said Gordon. “Sometimes I don’t notice a turn coming up, or Ghastly switches lanes without telling me.”

  “Sorry about that,” said Ghastly.

  “It’s quite all right. Fletcher, I promise I’ll try harder.”

  Fletcher exhaled, then nodded, and turned around in his seat. “OK,” he said. “Carry on.”

  Gordon smiled gratefully, then the Bentley went over a bump and his face disappeared into the backseat. He had to lean forward to be visible again. The whole thing made Fletcher quite queasy.

  “Instead of focusing on the distance travelled,” Gordon said, “think of it like this. You’re not the one moving.”

  “I’m not?”

  “You’re using your power to stay totally still, and the world moves around you until you are exactly where you want to be.”

  “Uh…”

  “It’s like me, right now. I’m tethered to the Echo Stone, and the Echo Stone is moving, but I’m not. The world is moving around me. And occasionally through me. For you, Fletcher, existence itself rotates and pivots according to your will. I’m sure someone of your self-esteem has no problem with the notion that the universe revolves around him, am I correct?”

  “I think that all the time.”

  Gordon smiled. “I know the feeling well. Emmett used to say that he let the world do the travelling while he stayed in the same place. He focused on where he wanted the world to stop, and that’s all he did. He didn’t burden himself with thoughts of distance, or how many people he was taking with him, or how big a cargo he was transporting. He saw his destination as a clear point in a whirlwind, and he let it come to him. Do you understand?”

  “I… I think so.”

  “That’s good. Understanding is the first step. Acceptance is the second. Once you’ve accepted this as fact, the possibilities are endless.”

  43

  BY THE SWORD

  Burgundy Dalrymple didn’t live in a very nice house. It was, in China’s opinion, ramshackle to the point of dilapidation. It stood alone, a bungalow on a dead road. Two windows were lit up, and even the light was sickly. The garden was a jungle of weeds and long grasses. To be fair, China couldn’t see much of it in the darkness, and for that she was grateful. Squalor held no appeal.

  Valkyrie called just as Skulduggery turned off the van’s engine. China waited while he spoke to her. They’d obviously succeeded in securing their half of the key. Skulduggery told Valkyrie to wait for them, and then he activated his façade and nodded to China. They got out, and approached the house.

  The front door opened slightly.

  “Go away!” said a man’s voice from behind it.

  Skulduggery and China stopped, and Skulduggery’s fake face smiled. “Hello, Burgundy,” he said.

  “That’s not me,” said the man. “That’s somebody else. Go away.”

  “Burgundy,” Skulduggery said, “we just want to talk to you. One minute of your time, and we’ll be gone.”

  “I’m not Burgundy!”

  “You’re Burgundy Dalrymple,” China said. “Master swordsman and war hero.”

  The man’s laugh came out as something like a bark. “War hero? No one calls me a war hero!”

  “Well,” China said, stepping out of the shadows so that he could see her face, “I suppose it all depends on which side of the war you were fighting on.”

  There was a moment of silence, then his voice cracked as he said, “You’re China Sorrows.”

  “I am, and this is Skulduggery Pleasant. We’d like to talk to you about Remnants, if you have the time.”

  “I… I suppose…”

  “May we come in?” Skulduggery asked.

  “Well… all right. But I don’t allow people to bring in weapons. Are you armed?”

  “No.”

  “Show me. Open your jacket.”

  Skulduggery hesitated. “Oh,” he said, “armed. Yes, I am armed. I’m a little armed. I just have a gun. In some people’s hands that’s barely a weapon.”

  “Take it out and leave it there.”

  Grumbling, Skulduggery did as he was told.

  “OK,” said the voice, “come in.”

  They stepped on to the porch. The wood was old and rotten and creaked under their weight. Skulduggery pushed the front door open. The hall which greeted them did so with dim light. The moment he stepped through, his face rippled, and withdrew from his skull. He stopped immediately, and turned to her. “Be careful,” he said, his voice soft. “This house has been bound.”

  China felt it too upon crossing the threshold – the invisible tattoos that graced her body went dull as her magic was dampened.

  “In here,” the man called.

  They walked slowly into the living room. It was surprisingly big, but barely furnished. There was a dining table in the middle of the room and a few chairs around it. A few lamps. That was it. The walls, however, were decorated with all manner of fencing swords, rapiers and sabres, and unlike their dusty surroundings, these swords looked like they were lovingly kept in perfect working order.

  Burgundy Dalrymple stood on the far side o
f the dining table. He was a little too skinny and he needed a shave and a haircut and, China imagined, a wash.

  “I’m Burgundy Dalrymple,” he said nervously.

  “We need your help,” Skulduggery told him. “We know of your history with the Remnants, and we know how much it has affected you and how you live your life.”

  “OK,” Dalrymple said. “Go on.”

  “We also know that you have tracked down one half of the Receptacle key.”

  “I’d have tracked them both down by now,” Dalrymple nodded, “but people stopped talking to me about ten or fifteen years ago, so no one would answer my, you know, my questions. Why? What do you want?”

  “We want your half of the key,” China said.

  Dalrymple’s tone was firm. “No. No. I’m keeping it so that no one will be able to trap the Remnants ever again. I would have destroyed it already if I’d been able to, but it’s pretty durable. Why do you want it?”

  Skulduggery tilted his head. “You mean you don’t know?”

  “If I knew, would I be asking?”

  “We need it to turn the machine on, Burgundy. The Remnants are loose.”

  Dalrymple looked at Skulduggery, and for a long moment he said nothing.

  “Where,” he said at last, sounding like he needed a drink of water, “where are they?”

  “We need the key, Burgundy.”

  “I thought you wanted to study it, or something. To run tests, to find out how something like that, how it works, but… But you want to use the Receptacle? Why would I help you do that? This is what I’ve been waiting for!”

  “I don’t want to threaten you in your own home,” Skulduggery said, “so if you’d like to step outside, I can threaten you there.”

  “Outside?” Dalrymple sneered. “Where magic isn’t bound? Where you can throw fire at me and take the key from around my charred neck?”

  “Ah, so you have it on you?”

  Dalrymple went to the wall, and grabbed a sword. “You want it? You’re welcome to take it.”