Skulduggery Pleasant: Books 1 - 12. Derek Landy

they can’t do magic, but it wouldn’t work. Sorcerers can generally spot a reflection a mile off.”

      Fletcher shrugged. “Worth a shot. I tell you, it’ll sure be nice when all this is over and I can get back to my life.”

      “What was your life? What did you do all day?”

      “Whatever I wanted. I have this power and I didn’t train for it, I wasn’t told about it, it just happened. I’m a natural. And it means I can go anywhere and do anything. And that’s what I do all day – whatever I want.”

      “You should get someone to train you.”

      “Who? Every other Teleporter is dead.”

      “As Skulduggery keeps telling me, magic is magic. The basic underlying principles are the same no matter what your power is.”

      Fletcher made a face. “Sounds a lot like school.”

      “It’s generally more fun,” she smiled. “You may be a natural at this, but you’re never going to be as good as you can be if you don’t train.”

      He vanished, then said from behind her, “I’m good enough already.”

      She sighed and turned, but he was already gone. “OK,” she said, “this is mature.”

      He tapped her on the shoulder and she laughed and swiped for him, but he appeared in front of her, flashing that cocky grin.

      They waited on the roof for another ten minutes, and Valkyrie did her best not to smile at his annoying remarks. Despite her best intentions, however, she found herself being amused by him. When the headlights of the Purple Menace and Ghastly’s van approached, Fletcher extended his arm and she took it. Once again it was like she blinked, and was swept away, and then they were on the pavement. Valkyrie held on to him while the dizziness passed.

      They parted as Skulduggery strode up. He towered over Fletcher, who was looking quite nervous. Ghastly and Tanith hurried to join them.

      “Never,” Skulduggery said, “do that again.”

      Fletcher nodded.

      “Someone’s in the shop,” Ghastly said quietly. They followed his gaze to the door, which stood open slightly. Inside was darkness.

      Skulduggery took out his gun and glanced at Fletcher. “Forget what I just said and teleport somewhere. Valkyrie, go with him.”

      She took Fletcher’s arm and motioned upwards. He nodded and they reappeared on the roof. The dizziness was fleeting this time and she moved quietly, leading the way to the skylight. They crouched and peered through the glass.

      The light from the streetlamps pierced the gloom as the door opened fully. Valkyrie couldn’t see them, but she imagined Skulduggery and the others swarming in, checking the corners, moving with silent purpose. A few seconds later, she heard voices – not raised in alarm, but in conversation.

      Someone turned the light on.

      Skulduggery was putting his gun away and Tanith was sheathing her sword. Ghastly walked back from the light switch to join them as they stood facing Solomon Wreath and two other Necromancers.

      “It’s safe,” Valkyrie told Fletcher. “Let’s go.”

      They stood and he held her hand. She blinked, then they were in the shop, heads turning at their sudden arrival. Wreath nodded her a greeting before resuming talking.

      “What you see before you is the full extent of the Necromancer contingent. The opinion held by the majority is that we should leave you to fight your battles alone.”

      “But you don’t agree with this?” Skulduggery asked.

      “I think it is a foolish approach to take, and my colleagues agree with me.”

      His colleagues wore black. The woman had a cloak thrown back over her shoulders, the ends of which seemed to writhe in the shadows. The man had an old flintlock pistol in a holster on his leg. Neither of them looked remotely friendly.

      “Three Necromancers isn’t much of a contingent,” Ghastly said, clearly unimpressed.

      “Four actually,” Wreath said and tapped his cane on the ground.

      A figure walked in from the back room. Immediately, Skulduggery’s gun was out, and Tanith’s sword was flashing, and Ghastly had fire in his hands.

      The White Cleaver took his place beside Wreath.

      Skulduggery thumbed back the hammer of his gun. “Explain yourself, Wreath. This man has been on the Sanctuary’s Wanted List for over two years.”

      Wreath smiled innocently. “I assure you, Skulduggery, my colleague was not responsible for his actions.”

      “He almost killed me!” Tanith snarled.

      “Under orders from Nefarian Serpine,” Wreath pointed out. “His will was most certainly not his own.”

      The White Cleaver just stood there, perfectly still. The scythe that had sliced through Tanith was strapped to his back.

      “How did he end up with you?” Skulduggery asked.

      Wreath shrugged. “It was our technique Serpine used to bring him back from the dead. Once we had realised what he had done, we managed to break the hold he had over the Cleaver, and the Cleaver came to us.”

      “So that was you, when he ignored Serpine’s orders in the Sanctuary?”

      “That was us. If only we could have severed Serpine’s influence earlier, Miss Low would not have been injured, and Mr Bespoke would not have had to turn himself into a garden ornament.”

      Ghastly lunged and Skulduggery had to hold him back.

      Tanith walked up to the White Cleaver, who looked down at her, his visor reflecting her face.

      “Does he have Necromancer powers?” she asked, directing the question at Wreath, but not taking her eyes off the Cleaver.

      “No. He is merely a Cleaver, albeit one of their best. He is also dead, self-repairing and somewhat unstoppable. He is the result of one of our techniques, and so, being a soldier, his natural instinct is to take our orders and stand at our side. In this case, our side is, happily, also your side.”

      Tanith turned and walked away. “He doesn’t stand at my side.”

      “Mine neither,” Ghastly growled.

      “Nevertheless,” Wreath said, “he is part of the Necromancer contingent you have requested. The three of us and the White Cleaver. Unless, of course, you think you can stop the Diablerie without us.”

      Skulduggery put his gun away. “If any of us survive this, Wreath, you and I are going to have a conversation.”

      

      n Saturday morning, Valkyrie climbed through her bedroom window just as her reflection was waking up.

      “You look dreadful,” it remarked, sitting up and looking at her.

      “Cheers,” Valkyrie responded, throwing her coat into the wardrobe. She’d had two hours of sleep on Ghastly’s couch and was feeling drained. She sat down and pulled off her boots.

      “Your parents are leaving for Paris in half an hour,” the reflection said. “Are you here to say goodbye?”

      “That’s the plan.”

      “Do you want me to return