Armageddon Outta Here - The World of Skulduggery Pleasant. Derek Landy

needing sleep. Pleasant stood, arms folded, looking at Noche. Not saying anything. Not moving – not even to breathe.

      A few minutes past eight the next morning, the rest of the Dead Men turned up, rested and fed. A bucket of water woke the Necromancer, who sat up with a lunging breath and then rolled over into a series of coughing fits. When he was done with all the spluttering, he looked up at his captors.

      “What’ll we do with him?” asked Bespoke.

      “I think we should kill him,” Rue said. “I don’t like him. Look at his eyebrows. They’re odd. He’s got odd eyebrows, and I think they might be magical. He’s trying to hypnotise me with his odd, magical eyebrows.”

      “Nobody is trying to hypnotise you,” Shudder said.

      “We should shave them from his face and experiment on them.”

      “I think the stress has finally got to our dear friend Saracen Rue,” said Ravel sadly. “He was a good man while he lasted. Annoying at times, perhaps, but a good man nonetheless.”

      “I will be missed,” Rue nodded.

      Noche frowned up at them. “You’re all insane.”

      “You should have the measure of insanity,” said Vex, “what with all the palling around you’ve been doing with Nefarian Serpine. Why are you associating with the likes of him anyway? The Necromancers have been staying out of the war. Are you really going to join the losing side right before it ends?”

      “My brothers and sisters remain neutral.”

      “So it’s just you, then,” said Pleasant. “A rogue Necromancer teaming up with the most notorious of Mevolent’s Three Generals. Why? He’s been running from us for months, and we’re closer to him now than ever. It’s only a matter of time before we have him.”

      Noche smiled, the smile adopting a certain smug quality. “But time isn’t on your side, is it? You’re absolutely right – Mevolent is rumoured to be injured, his forces are scattered, Vengeous is missing, and the war, they say, is coming to an end. Last I heard, your Sanctuaries were offering a reward to whoever tells them where Mevolent is hiding … But what everyone’s talking about is the amnesty. So long as the war is ended soon, and not allowed to drag out, they’ll be offering forgiveness to all of Mevolent’s followers who aren’t yet imprisoned. That’s why you’re so eager to get to Serpine – because you know that time is ticking away. If you don’t get him before the amnesties are granted, you’ll lose your chance to have your revenge. Won’t you, skeleton?”

      Pleasant tilted his head in that way of his. “You’re working with him. I really don’t care why. Maybe he has something on you. Maybe you owe him. Maybe you’re just a glutton for punishment. I don’t care about you or your motives. All I want is a question answered.”

      “You’ll not get any information out of me,” Noche sneered.

      “We just want to know one little bit of information,” said Rue. “It’s barely worth mentioning, really. Barely worth the breath that would carry the words from my lips.”

      “Just one tiny bit of information,” said Vex, “and then we’ll let you go. You can run off and we won’t tell anyone you helped us.”

      “We’ll swear to it,” said Bespoke.

      “Our word is our bond,” said Rue.

      “Serpine,” Ravel said. “Where is he headed?”

      Noche glared. “I’ll never tell.”

      “Please?” said Ravel. Another glare, and Ravel straightened up. “Right, well. You are of no use to us whatsoever, are you? I don’t even see why you went to the trouble of being captured, I really don’t. What’s the point of being a prisoner if you’re not going to divulge secret plans to your captors?”

      “Defeats the purpose,” Vex grumbled.

      “It does indeed, Dexter,” Ravel said. “What do you have to say for yourself? Are you suitably ashamed? You should be. If I were you, I’d have a good long think about what a disappointment you’ve been to us. We had high hopes.”

      “The highest.”

      “That’s right, Saracen, the highest. See? You’ve upset Saracen.”

      “I just have something in my eye,” said Rue.

      “I have never seen Saracen Rue weep,” Ravel said, “since this morning, but you’ve made him weep like a little child. I hope you’re proud of yourself.”

      Noche looked at them warily. “You are all insane.”

      Anton Shudder walked forward. “Tell us where Serpine is going. I don’t play games like my friends. They’re saying all this to confuse you and frighten you. I prefer to simply ask, and I expect a simple answer.”

      “I would rather die,” said Noche, a touch less convincingly.

      “Do you know my chosen discipline, little man?”

      “You’re a … You have a gist.”

      “That’s right. And when I let it out there are times when I just cannot control it. And it’s a sight to behold. Terrifying. Ferocious. Merciless. Tell us what we want to know or I shall release it, and believe you me you will garner its full attention.”

      Noche swallowed like he’d something sharp stuck in his craw. “Serpine … he mentioned Lancaster County, in Nebraska, as somewhere he’d be safe. Sounded like that’s where he’s headed.”

      Rue peered at him. “Are you lying?”

      “No.”

      “I don’t trust him.”

      Ravel nodded. “I don’t trust him, either.”

      “I trust him,” said Vex happily. “And I’ve changed my mind about his eyebrows, too. Skulduggery, can we keep him?”

      Pleasant tilted his head at the Necromancer. “You’re lying.”

      “No, I—”

      Pleasant splayed his hand and Noche flew off the ground, hit the wall, his feet kicking at air.

      The Dead Men fell silent, lost their smiles and looks of good humour.

      “My friend Anton will kill you,” said Pleasant, “but I will kill you worse. Why are you with Serpine?”

      “Please, I …”

      “You have one chance. If you lie to me, I will start killing you.”

      Something changed in Noche’s eyes, something dripped away. His melting resolve, most likely.

      “He’s heading for the Temple,” he said. “I was to meet him, take him back to it.”

      “The Necromancers are going to hide him?”

      “Y-yes. I don’t know why. He has an … an agreement, of sorts. Made long ago.”

      “He left you here to delay us,” said Pleasant, “and went on to the Temple without you. How far is it?”

      “Three days’ ride,” Noche said.

      Pleasant curled his fingers, and the Necromancer gasped for breath. “Tell us where it is.”

      They rode.

      On the second day they had grass under their horses’ hooves.

      The third day they found Serpine’s horse. It had snapped its leg in a gulley and Serpine hadn’t even had the decency to put it out of its misery. Hopeless laid his hand on its neck and put a bullet in its head, and it was a kindness, and then he remounted and they carried on.

      They made good time. Serpine’s tracks got fresher. They reached the top of a hill, looked down across the valley and saw a man running and falling,