Skulduggery Pleasant: Books 1 - 12. Derek Landy

door and a small man in a three-piece suit answered. His face was a catalogue of disappointments, of cohesion attempted but never achieved. His name was Prave, and his bulbous eyes grew so wide they practically erupted from their sockets and rolled down his cheeks.

      “China Sorrows,” he said in a hushed tone. She had forgotten how nasal his voice was. “I knew this day would come. I knew it. You’ve come to kill me, haven’t you?”

      “Now why would I want to do something like that?” China asked. She didn’t smile at him. He wasn’t worthy of her smile. “May I come in?”

      “I’ve done nothing wrong,” he said quickly.

      “That must make a nice change. Stand aside, please.”

      Prave did as he was told and China walked in. The house was a hundred years old and she knew it well, for upon completion it had been converted into a church for the followers of the Faceless Ones. Its existence was one of the best-kept secrets in the city, mainly because the man who ran it, Prave himself, was an ineffectual fool who posed no serious threat to anyone. The walls were decorated with the paintings and iconography of the Dark Gods, and the main room contained an altar and a well-worn carpet, where a handful of desperate disciples had kneeled and worshipped and prayed for the end of humanity.

      “Where is he?” China asked, flicking through the book on the altar. It was a particularly battered edition of the Gospel of the Faceless, a moronic book written by a moron in an attempt to rationalise the behaviour of his ilk.

      Prave shook his head. “I don’t know who you’re talking about, but even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you. You are a traitor and a blasphemer and a heretic.”

      “I seem to be a lot of things. I’m looking for Remus Crux.”

      Prave adopted a look he probably thought was aloof. “I don’t know who that is. A lot has changed since you started your blaspheming ways, Miss Sorrows. We are a respectable religion now, and should be treated as such. We are tired of this persecution we have been subjected to. We have our rights, you know.”

      “No, you don’t.”

      “Well, we should. We’re not hurting anyone, nor do we condone the use of violence towards anyone.”

      “So eleven months ago, when the Faceless Ones stopped by for a visit and all those people were killed …”

      “That’s different,” Prave said. “Those people were asking for it.”

      “You’re annoying me now, Prave, so you’d better answer. Where is Remus Crux?”

      Prave remained defiant for two or three seconds then wilted. “I don’t know,” he said. “He’s been here a few times, but not with any regularity. He likes to sit around and talk in clichés about how the Faceless Ones are going to smite humanity and turn the world to ash, that kind of thing. He doesn’t understand the beauty of what they do – he’s just interested in the end result. I thought talking to him would be a revelation – his mind has been touched by the Dark Gods, after all. But no. He holds no insights, no startling truths. He’s just … insane.”

      “I need to find him.”

      “I can’t help you. I don’t know where he’s living. I don’t even know the people he knows. From what I can see, I’m the only one he talks to, and even then, most of what he says is gibberish.”

      “It must make you question your religion.”

      Prave glared. “Our gods will reward our faith when they return and wipe the heretics from the face of the world.”

      He didn’t know anything of use, and even if he did, she didn’t have the strength to get it out of him. China left him standing by the altar and let herself out. She started back down the trail, and noticed a man walking in off the street. His head was down and his hands were in his pockets. He walked quickly. He was ten steps away from her when he looked up.

      “Hello, Remus,” said China.

      He didn’t bolt as she had expected. He just stood there and looked at her, a deer caught in the headlights, a thief caught in the act.

      “You’ve been a very naughty boy,” she said. “You tried to kill Valkyrie Cain, and I actually like Valkyrie. You got yourself caught up with Scarab and his plans to change the way things are and I like the way things are. I don’t like change – not when I’m not prepared for it.”

      “I know about you,” Crux said, his voice tight.

      “You shouldn’t have got involved in this. You should have stayed hidden and as far away from me as possible.”

      “I know your secret,” he said quickly. “And now you’re scared. Scared of what he’ll do to you when he finds out.”

      “Did you tell my secret to anyone else, Remus?”

      “Everyone.”

      China smiled. “Now that’s a lie. I don’t think you told a soul.”

      He shook his head. “I did. I did. You don’t know.”

      Her hand slipped into her purse. “The last eleven months have been hard on you, haven’t they? You’ve had nowhere to go to for help. No friends. No colleagues. Just you and your scrambled little mind. All you needed was to have one lucid moment … but you didn’t get it, did you?”

      Crux licked his lips. “Everyone knows what you did. I told them. They’re all talking about you. They’re all whispering. China Sorrows, China Sorrows, she’s the one, they’re saying. She’s the one. Nefarian Serpine killed Skulduggery Pleasant, but China Sorrows led his family into the trap.”

      She stepped towards him. Crux clicked his fingers and fire flared in his hands. China pulled the trigger. The bullet ruined a perfectly good purse and then made a mess of Remus Crux’s chest. He fell backwards, fire extinguished, and was already dead when China stepped over his body and walked away.

      

      he last time Valkyrie had seen this castle she had been running from it. They had just rescued Skulduggery and Serpine’s Hollow Men had been closing in from all sides.

      “I rescue you a lot,” she muttered.

      “Sorry?” Skulduggery said, looking back.

      “Nothing.”

      Every ground floor entrance had been bricked up, so they got in through a window on the first floor and worked their way down. It was quiet and cold. Skulduggery went first down the stone stairs, then Fletcher and Anton Shudder. Valkyrie and Ghastly brought up the rear.

      The stairs to the basement level were cemented over.

      “Spread out,” said Skulduggery. “We’re looking for any sign of recent activity.”

      They split up. Valkyrie went to the back of the castle. Here and there were items of old furniture, dust-covered, standing alone in otherwise empty rooms. She stepped into a drawing room with an ornate fireplace, turned to go, then stopped. She looked at the way the light caught the grooves that had been scraped into the floor in front of the fireplace. She knelt by them, running her fingers along the worn edges. Valkyrie was no expert, but she reckoned that these shallow grooves that curved in a uniform pattern had been here for about as long as the castle had been standing. Something heavy had been repeatedly moved across this area over the years – but had it happened recently?

      Valkyrie stepped on to the fireplace’s base and ran her hands along the mantle. The right corner was the only spot free of dust and her fingers drifted