Skulduggery Pleasant: Kingdom of the Wicked (51 page)

But Scapegrace did. He once was human... and he would be so again.

Nye unlocked the Mortuary, and led them in. “Here are your choices,” it said.

Three bodies lay on slabs, covered in blue sheets. Nye uncovered the first body. It was a short man, elderly, with white tufts of hair sprouting out over his ears but none on the top of his head. Scapegrace glared. “You call this an option? Look at him! Why would I want to be him? When I said I wanted a new body, I meant young, six feet tall or above, a full head of hair, in good shape, must have a—”

“You did not furnish me with such specific requirements,” said Nye.

“I thought it was pretty obvious that I’d be wanting something top of the range.”

“Not to me. Besides, the range we have available to us is... limited.”

“If they’re all like this, I’ll wait for the next batch, thank you very much.”

“No waiting for you, zombie-head. You’re going to break up in that solution any day now. These are your only options.”

Scapegrace spoke through gritted teeth. “The others better be an improvement. Show me.”

Thrasher brought him to the second slab as Nye pulled the sheet away.

“Is this more to your liking?” it asked.

Scapegrace glowered. “Do you think this is funny?”

“I confess,” the doctor replied, “I do not know. You human creatures are somewhat of a mystery to me. This body, however, fulfils your requirements. Early twenties. Six feet tall. A full head of hair. In excellent physical condition.”

“Also a woman,” said Scapegrace.

“This is a problem for you?”

“It may have escaped your notice, Doctor, but I am a man.”

“No, Mr Scapegrace, you’re a head in a jar. You don’t even have an Adam’s apple any more. But I will show you the final body and you can make your selection.”

Scapegrace’s hopes were fading fast as Thrasher carried him to the third slab. And then the sheet was pulled off.

“Oh, my,” said Thrasher.

Scapegrace smiled. Scapegrace grinned. This one was perfect. Tall, broad-shouldered, a strong jaw, cheekbones as sharp as glass. Sandy hair. Muscles. A six-pack. Male. Everything... everything was perfect.

“Doctor Nye,” Scapegrace said, “you have outdone yourself.”

“Oh, Master,” Thrasher said, reaching out to prod the body’s arm, “this one is magnificent.”

“Stop!” Scapegrace ordered. “Stop touching it! Hands to yourself!”

Thrasher obeyed, and hung his head.

Scapegrace peered up at Nye. “When can we begin?”

“Immediately,” said Nye.

he man with the golden eyes sat opposite the boy, and smiled at him.

“Hello, Sean,” he said.

“Please,” said the boy. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I did the things I did. But I didn’t kill anyone. The others did but I didn’t. I’m really sorry. I just want to go home.”

“It’s a bit late for that, isn’t it?”

“Please.”

“Do you know the problem with mortals, Sean?” asked the man with the golden eyes. “And by mortals I mean all those people walking around without access to magic. I mean you, two weeks ago. The problem with mortals is that there are just so many of them. Things would be simpler if sorcerers were the dominant species on the planet. Then we wouldn’t have to hide. We wouldn’t have to slink around in the shadows.

“There are other problems with mortals, of course. They’re dull. They plod through their little lives, oblivious to the wonders around them. They’re mean and spiteful and petty. There are those of us who would love to do what you and your friends have done, to announce to the world that magic exists and that we’re taking over. But... we have rules. And where there are rules, there are people to enforce those rules. So we have to be a little sneakier.”

“What do you want?”

“Now there’s the question I’ve been waiting for.” The man with the golden eyes stood up, and walked to the door. “I’m going to let you walk out of here, Sean. There are associates of mine waiting to escort you through one of the many secret tunnels to freedom, where you can join up with your friends and continue your reign of terror.”

“I won’t, I swear.”

“No, Sean. This isn’t a trick. I
want
you to continue. We all do. We’re big supporters of what Argeddion is doing. Bringing magic to the masses? It’s a wonderful idea. If everyone is magic, after all, there’ll be no need to hide, will there? The secret will be out.”

The boy nodded. “OK.”

“And we’ll help you as much as we can. If you get caught again, just stay quiet, don’t mention you ever saw me, and you’ll be free within hours. You have supporters, Sean. The entire town of Roarhaven is cheering you on. You’re a hero here.”

The boy nodded quickly.

The man with the golden eyes opened the door. Outside were two sorcerers. He looked back at the boy. “You’d better hurry. I’m sure your friends are worried about you.”

The boy hesitated, then bolted out of his chair. The man with the golden eyes watched him run, flanked by the sorcerers.

“Did it work?”

He turned as Madame Mist glided to his side.

“I think so,” he said. “The boy is scared, but when he rejoins his friends, this escape should bolster their confidence. If they think they have us on their side, their attacks will grow bolder.”

“Your plan is dangerous,” she said. “We cannot control these children. We don’t know how to kill them once they’ve served their purpose.”

He shrugged. “By then the world will know magic exists. Every Sanctuary of every country will be coming together to defeat them. I’m not worried. You shouldn’t be, either.”

“I preferred the old plan,” said Madame Mist.

“We can still go back to it if this doesn’t work out. But if it does work out, think of all the time and effort we’ll have saved. And we won’t even have had to involve the Warlocks.”

“And the assassins? Will we need them?”

“They owe us a favour, don’t they? They may as well pay it back.”

“Have you decided on a target?”

“Oh, yes,” said the man with the golden eyes, smiling.

hey moved quickly under the City, reaching the first junction in just over twenty minutes. Serpine guided them left, and after another ten minutes of walking they came to a ladder.

“Here we are,” he said, “just like I promised. This is where we part ways, yes?”

“No,” Skulduggery said, “actually, it’s not.”

“Then the least you can do is take this glove off,” Serpine said, holding out his right hand. “If we’re discovered, I need to be able to defend myself.”

“You have us,” Skulduggery said. “You don’t need anything else.”

Serpine glared at him but said nothing, and Skulduggery motioned to the ladder. Muttering, Serpine went first, pushing aside the covering at the top. Valkyrie came up last, emerging into darkness. Serpine was close by, searching for a switch.

“Be ready,” he whispered. “It’s around here... aha.”

There was a soft, almost inaudible
click
, and a crack of light spilled into the black. Skulduggery moved straight to it, opening the door further. Standing in the corridor with his back to them was a Redhood, scythe held by his side. Skulduggery swung both hands towards the Redhood’s head. He didn’t make contact but the air rippled and the Redhood stumbled. Valkyrie gestured and the scythe flew backwards into her hands as the Redhood fell into Skulduggery’s. She’d seen him use that trick before, delivering an instant concussion that knocked the target out cold. Quiet and immediate and very effective. Skulduggery dragged the Redhood’s sleeping form into the darkness and they left him there, then stepped out into the corridor, Serpine giving directions as they went.

They passed a corner, approached another and slowed at Skulduggery’s hand signal.

Footsteps.

She watched Skulduggery standing there with his back against the wall, his body completely relaxed as the footsteps got louder. Then a door opened somewhere behind Valkyrie. Her eyes widened. Another set of footsteps now, from the opposite direction. Serpine, in between them, grinned like he was enjoying the dilemma. Valkyrie crept to the corner. The footsteps of Skulduggery’s target grew even louder. Valkyrie’s target was almost upon her.

She didn’t look round as Skulduggery pounced. Whoever had emerged from that corridor didn’t even get a chance to cry out. She heard scuffling, and a gasp. Skulduggery had him in a choke of some kind. Valkyrie hadn’t the first idea how she was going to subdue
her
target.

A sorcerer rounded the corner and Valkyrie hit him, a punch to the face that rattled her arm and twisted her wrist. The sorcerer fell back, mouth opening to shout and she pushed at the air. His head cracked against the wall and he dropped, and she kicked him in the jaw on the way down.

“Stealthy,” said Serpine as he passed her. He took hold of the sorcerer’s ankles and dragged him from the corridor.

Valkyrie glared at him. Her wrist was hurting but she didn’t rub it. She didn’t want to give him another reason to gloat.

They passed a door she recognised, a door that led to the dungeons. Her reflection was down there. She bit her lip, forcing herself to continue past it. First the Sceptre, then the reflection. They moved slower now, more deliberately, taking extra care not to make a sound.

“We’re here,” Serpine whispered.

Skulduggery and Valkyrie took a peek. The throne room lay beyond a grand doorway, and two Redhoods stood guard. By Mevolent’s throne there was a small table, and upon that table a cup or a chalice of some kind. It was all very medieval. The glass case containing the Sceptre stood exactly as she had remembered – not that she’d expected it to have moved. But with their luck lately...

Serpine turned to them. “All right,” he whispered. “I got you to the Sceptre. I fulfilled my end of the bargain. Now you fulfil yours.”

Skulduggery shook his head. “We’re not letting you go until we’re out of here.”

“That wasn’t the deal. You promised me freedom.”

“And what’s to stop you from alerting Mevolent to our presence? I’m sure it’d do a lot to repair your special friendship.”

Serpine’s eyes were narrow. “Fine,” he said. “But this regulator. Remove it.”

“After.”

“No. Not after. Now. You don’t trust me? I don’t trust you. I killed your wife and child. They may not have been the wife and child you knew, but they’re close enough. What’s to stop you from leaving me here, twisting on the ground in pain? I’m sure you’d be able to make a clean getaway if everyone was distracted by my screams.”