Skulduggery Pleasant: Mortal Cole (43 page)

He knew there was an underground tunnel leading from somewhere in the town to the Sanctuary. Twice now the Torment had exited the Sanctuary without re-entering. Tesseract returned to his trailer, where he examined plans of the town and read back over its history. An underground tunnel was not mentioned in any of his research.

He took a different approach, focusing instead on the Torment’s known associates. Like many of Roarhaven’s citizens, the Torment hadn’t been born in the town. He had retreated there, no longer prepared to tolerate the mortal civilisation that showed no sign of stopping its global spread. Roarhaven was a town of prejudice and bigotry, of bitter sorcerers and magical malcontents. The Torment, and later on the other Children of the Spider, found a home there that welcomed them and their views.

Beneath his mask, Tesseract smiled. He found a mention of Vaurien Scapegrace in a story from the Torment’s past. Scapegrace had once been a citizen here, before he’d been kicked out. He’d even owned a tavern for a few years.

Tesseract put the files away, and chose a new mask from the wall. This one had rivets over the brow and a long slit at the mouth. The needles sank into the puckered wounds around his face as he left his trailer. He walked for fifteen minutes before he reached the edge of the town.

Using the night as cover, he stole through the streets, moving so silently even those he crept behind didn’t hear him. The tavern was dark, the door locked. He forced a window at the back and climbed through. He found a trapdoor behind one of the bars, and followed the steps down into living quarters. The lamps were on, but no one was there. Tesseract waited.

A little under three hours later, he heard a low rumble coming from the bedroom, the sound of a wall sliding apart. He didn’t move. The wall slid shut again, and now he could hear shuffling footsteps moving into the small living room. Music began to play. He knew the group, it was The Carpenters, but he wasn’t sure of the name of the song. ‘There’s a Kind of Hush’ perhaps. The last song the Torment would ever hear. Tesseract hoped he liked it.

He moved silently to the living room, but when he stepped in, it was empty.

“I don’t wish to alarm you,” Skulduggery said from behind him, “but I have a gun pointed at your head.”

Tesseract spun, flailing one arm, and managed to knock Skulduggery’s hand to one side just as he fired. He batted at the gun-hand again, sent the revolver flying, and Skulduggery caught him with a right hook that almost sent him to the carpet.

“If you would just give yourself up,” Skulduggery said as he kicked him, “you’d make this a lot easier on me.”

Tesseract caught the second kick in the crook of his arm, and immediately Skulduggery sprang into the air, twisting from Tesseract’s grip. He tried to push at the air, but Tesseract lunged, barrelling into him, forcing him back. Tesseract got an elbow in his ear for his trouble, and he fought a wave of dizziness that threatened to topple him. The skeleton snapped out two punches to the head, then sent a sneaky one to the ribs. Tesseract felt something pop, and he growled.

Skulduggery swayed away from one punch and blocked the next, but couldn’t stop the third. Tesseract grabbed him and pulled his head down to meet his knee, then hooked two fingers into his left eye socket and stepped back, swinging him around the room. Skulduggery hit the couch and went over. Tesseract picked him up and slammed him head first into the wall. He did it twice more, until he was sure the detective was dazed, and then he dropped him.

He heard the rumble of the parting wall, and left the living room. The Torment emerged from the bedroom, looked up and his old eyes widened for a moment.

“I see,” he said. “There’s no point in arguing with you, is there?”

“None,” Tesseract admitted. “You tried to kill me, and you didn’t pay me. I can’t have that.”

“I should have cut your throat.”

“You should have.”

Tesseract pressed his hand against the Torment’s forehead and splintered his skull. The old man’s body dropped, and Tesseract stepped over it. He could hear Skulduggery, on his feet again, no doubt with his gun back in his hand. Tesseract hurried into the bedroom and ran through the gap in the wall, into the tunnel beyond. A few moments later, he heard Skulduggery sprinting after him.

The tunnel was long and dark. It began to incline, the darkness giving way to an indistinct grey that became a door. Tesseract ran through into one of the Sanctuary’s broad corridors. His natural inclination was to stick to the shadows, but the corridors ahead were brighter, and that meant they led to the exit. He ran on.

A bullet tugged at his coat at the same time as he heard the
shot, and he dodged right, bursting into a room. He ignored the sorcerer inside and went straight for the opposite door.

He found himself in another room, filled with boxes and unopened crates. He grabbed a crowbar and stepped to one side. Skulduggery ran in and Tesseract swung for his legs. Skulduggery did a flip and crashed down. The crowbar hit him again and he grunted, and Tesseract helped him to his feet with a kick to the ribs. The crowbar cracked against Skulduggery’s cheek, making him reel back.

“I haven’t been paid to kill you,” Tesseract said. “Lie down and don’t get up. You don’t have to die tonight.”

Skulduggery clicked his fingers and a fireball sparked off in his hand. Tesseract hurled the crowbar. It struck the skeleton between the eye sockets and he went down.

The light in the room flickered, and Tesseract frowned. Shadows moved along the walls, in the corners, across the floor. He looked around, looked for whoever was doing this. The shadows whipped at him like a giant claw, its talons ripping deep into his back. Tesseract spun in almost a full circle, and for a moment he thought he might stay on his feet. But no, his legs collapsed from under him and he fell.

He’d once known a man who said that life hinged on the moment, that everything changed in the blink of an eye.
Tesseract knew the truth of that as well as anybody. It was in those moments that he struck, after all, snatching people’s lives away. He’d always known that it was only a matter of time before one of those moments worked against him. The shadows had torn right through his body. He fancied he could feel his organs shutting down, one by one.

The room was quiet. The sorcerer in the other room, the one he’d passed, had obviously fled. Tesseract doubted there were any others working through the night. This Sanctuary wasn’t fully active, after all. It would take a few weeks for that.

He watched Skulduggery pick up his gun, and stand. It took him a moment to see Tesseract, lying there in a pool of his own blood. The detective’s head tilted. He was puzzled. Then he looked up, at something behind Tesseract.

Tesseract heard footsteps, but couldn’t move his head. All he could do was watch Skulduggery as he backed away.

“No,” Skulduggery said.

Skulduggery fired three times. The footsteps didn’t even slow down.

Now Tesseract could see someone stepping into the edge of his vision. A shadow flicked the gun from Skulduggery’s hand. The detective went to push at the air, but another shadow batted his arm down. Skulduggery charged, and the
figure in black watched him come, and then the shadows swooped in.

They slid beneath Skulduggery’s clothes – Tesseract could see them curl and writhe within him. They were in his very skeleton, wrapping around his bones, and Skulduggery screamed in agony as he was lifted off his feet. Darkness slipped from his open jaws to his eye sockets, leaked from his sleeves to between the buttons of his shirt. His body was rigid while the darkness investigated every part of him, and still he screamed.

The figure observed him without moving, letting the shadows do all the work. And then it was over. Skulduggery fell to the ground as the shadows retracted, melting back into the black armour their master wore.

“You can’t be here,” Skulduggery said. “You died. You’re dead.”

The figure must have said something in response, but Tesseract didn’t hear.

“This is insane,” Skulduggery said. He put all his strength into getting to his hands and knees. “You can’t be here. This is… You can’t be here.”

The man in the black armour walked slowly around the detective, who was shaking his head, like he was willing this not to be true. “You’re dead. You’re not real. You’re dead.”

The figure stopped walking, and Skulduggery looked up at him, like he was listening. Tesseract thought he could hear the faintest of whispers, and then Skulduggery roared in anger, and leaped up. His fist struck the figure and there was an explosion of darkness, a wave of shadows that filled the room, and then it was gone.

Tesseract blinked, his vision returning. Skulduggery was on the floor, on his knees with his head down. The figure in black was gone.

Tesseract grimaced as he rolled on to his side. Moving slowly, he got to his feet. He could no longer feel the pain in his back. His legs were going numb. He was aware of all the blood he was losing, but he didn’t dwell on any of it. Instead, he pointed himself at the door, and walked. Each step was a battle.

“Stop,” said Skulduggery, from behind him.

Tesseract stopped. He didn’t turn. He didn’t have to. From the angle of the voice, he knew that Skulduggery was standing, and most likely the gun was back in his hand.

“Who was that?” Tesseract asked.

“No one.”

“The gaping wound in my back tells a different story. I recognised the armour. It’s the same armour Baron Vengeous
wore three years ago, isn’t it? But that wasn’t Baron Vengeous.”

“You’re under arrest.”

Beneath his mask, Tesseract smiled. “I’m dead, Detective. I have a few minutes left, if I’m lucky. He killed me most effectively, did he not? I would at least like to know his name. Did he give it?”

“He did.”

“And what name did he give?”

For a moment, Skulduggery didn’t answer. Then, “He said he was Lord Vile.”

Tesseract gritted his teeth, and turned halfway, so he could see the Skeleton Detective. Skulduggery stood with his gun held down by his side. “And where is he now? Did you strike him down with one mighty blow?”

“He’s gone. I don’t know where he is. I hit him and he… vanished.”

“What did he say to you?”

“What does it matter?”

“I’d really like to know.”

Skulduggery shook his head. Tesseract waited, feeling those precious seconds slip by him so, so slowly. When Skulduggery spoke again, his voice was surprisingly empty.

“He said he came back for her.”

“For Valkyrie?”

“He’s building his strength. When he’s strong enough, he’ll kill her. He said he’ll kill the Death Bringer, then all the Necromancers.”

“And why did he choose to tell
you?
What connection do you have to him?”

Skulduggery didn’t answer. He emptied his gun of spent shells.

“I know about you,” Tesseract continued. “I make a file on everyone I am likely to go up against. I know about you, and I know there is no recorded instance of you and Lord Vile ever meeting.”

“That’s right,” Skulduggery said. He slipped a fresh bullet into a chamber.

“You never fought him. Never faced him. When he arrived, you were gone. Why did you choose
then
to leave, I wonder? Did you know what was coming?”

“You think you know about me,” Skulduggery said. “But you don’t.” Another bullet into the chamber.

“You’re scared of him, aren’t you, Detective? I know fear. I’ve felt it often enough, and I’ve inflicted it. You’re terrified of him, so much so that you ran when you realised he was coming. Are you going to run this time, I wonder?”

Skulduggery clicked the chamber back into place. “No running. Not any more. I’m going to stand and fight.”

“So what is your connection? Why do you fear him? What power does he have over you?”

Skulduggery raised the gun and thumbed back the hammer.

Slowly, Tesseract brought his hands up to the straps around his head, his numb fingers clumsily unbuckling the mask. Finally, it came free, and he let if fall, felt the air on his ravaged face. It felt so good. He felt like laughing.

“A dying man’s last request,” he said. “Answer me this. You were killed, yet you came back. Do you know how it happened? Do you know who would be powerful enough to hold back death,
true
death? Was it Necromancy that brought you back, Skulduggery? Was it Lord Vile?”

Skulduggery’s gloved finger tightened on the trigger, but before the gun fired Tesseract’s legs gave way beneath him once again. He stumbled to the wall, hit it with his shoulder and slid down to the floor. There was no pain, which was nice, because he could feel the rot spreading over his head. When he looked up, Skulduggery was putting his gun away.

“Not going to kill me?” he asked.

“Waste of a bullet.”

“I realise I have no right to ask this, but would you help me outside? It’s almost dawn, and I would like to feel the sun on my face.”

Skulduggery tilted his head slightly. Then he came forward, stooped to wrap Tesseract’s left arm around his neck, and straightened up, lifting Tesseract out of a pool of his own blood.

“The problem with living so long,” Tesseract said, as Skulduggery walked him to the door, “is that we get used to it. We watch the mortals age and wither and die around us, watch the world change and decay… but no matter the hardship or the pain or the sorrow we suffer, we choose to continue living. Out of sheer habit, I think.”

“You’re quite chatty now that I’ve got to know you,” Skulduggery said.

“I have a cat, you know. Back home.”

“I know. You had cat hair on your lapel the day you killed Davina Marr.”

“You don’t miss much, do you? She doesn’t have a name. She is just Cat. She curls up on my chest whenever I sit down, and goes to sleep. I hope she doesn’t miss me. I’m going to miss her.”

They emerged into the cold air of the morning. Dawn had yet to break. Skulduggery found a bench and he let Tesseract
sit, facing the stagnant lake, and beyond it, the horizon. Then he sat beside him.

“Is there anything you regret?” Skulduggery asked.