Skulduggery Pleasant: Books 1 - 12. Derek Landy

They’ll execute her on the spot.”

      Kenspeckle traced his hands lightly around Marr’s head. “From what I remember, you’ve executed your fair share of guilty people in the past.”

      “I’m not here to argue with you, Professor. The fact is, I don’t believe she was working alone when she decided to destroy the Sanctuary, and I fear that her allies, or her bosses, will try to have her killed before she can name them. I’m fairly confident they’re the ones who hired the assassin.”

      “Ah,” Kenspeckle said, “so it’s not mercy that stays your hand – it’s a grander scale of ruthlessness.”

      Skulduggery cocked his head. “This woman is responsible for the deaths of fifty people, but there are others who also share that responsibility. They’re all going to pay.”

      “Well,” Kenspeckle said, “justice can wait, can it not? Your prisoner has a serious head injury. She’s staying with me until she’s out of danger. It should be a few hours. A day at the most.”

      “She’s going to need someone to stand guard over her.”

      “You think she poses a threat? She’ll be unconscious until I say otherwise.”

      “And what if the assassin comes looking for her?”

      “First he’d have to know who she’s with, then where to find me, and lastly he’d have to get past my defences, for which he’d need an army. Leave me now. I’ll get in touch when she’s strong enough to answer your questions.”

      With nothing left for them to do, they walked back to the Bentley. Valkyrie buckled her seatbelt as they pulled out on to the road. Skulduggery was using the façade again. Ghastly Bespoke’s façade gave him his own face every time, minus the scars, but Skulduggery hadn’t been able to decide on one look, so China made it so that his façade changed every time. Same cheekbones, same jaw, but all the rest was brand-new.

      “Could you drop me off at Gordon’s?” Valkyrie asked.

      Skulduggery raised an eyebrow – a newly acquired skill. “You don’t want to go home to Haggard?”

      “It’s not that, it’s just that I haven’t been to Gordon’s in a while, and it’s nearly Christmas. Around this time every year when I was a kid, we’d go up there, to his big house. I loved that part of Christmas, because, finally, someone would talk to me like I was a person, you know? A grown-up person, not a child. That’s what I loved about him the most.”

      “Ah, there it is,” Skulduggery said, and nodded.

      “Sorry?”

      “That, right there. That story you just told. That little excerpt from your life. That’s the most annoying thing about Christmas. Everyone has these little stories about what Christmas means to them. You don’t get that at any other time of the year. You don’t get people telling you what Easter means to them, or St Patrick’s Day. But everyone opens up at Christmas time.”

      “Wow,” Valkyrie said. “I never noticed before, but you’re a grouch.”

      “No, I’m not.”

      “You’re a Grinch.”

      “I am neither a Grinch nor a grouch. I like Christmas as much as the next person, so long as the next person is as unsentimental as I am.”

      “Sentimental’s nice.”

      “You hate sentimental.”

      “But not at Christmas. At Christmas, sentimental is a perfectly fine thing to be. It is allowed. In moderation, naturally. I don’t want anyone, you know, being sentimental around me, but in principle I have no problem with … uh …”

      “What? What’s wrong?”

      “Um, the façade …”

      Skulduggery tilted his head, and the left side of his face drooped down off his skull, looking like melted rubber.

      “I think something’s going a bit wonky,” said Valkyrie.

      Skulduggery felt his ear flapping against his lapel and took hold of his face with one hand and hoisted it back up again. He gathered a thick fold around his forehead, trying his best to manoeuvre an eye back into its socket. “This is a tad undignified,” he murmured. “Do please tell me if we’re about to crash into something.”

      “Maybe you should let me drive.”

      “I saw how you drove a few hours ago. I’m not letting you behind the wheel of this car ever again.” His voice was muffled because his lips were sliding down his jaw. “Do I look better now?”

      “Oh, much.”

      He did his best to keep his nose in one place.

      “So will I pick you up from Gordon’s once your lapse into sentimentality is over? We have that meeting to go to, in case you’ve forgotten.”

      “How could I have forgotten?” she asked dryly. “I’ve been looking forward to this incredibly boring meeting for days, I really and truly have, oh boy oh boy.”

      “You appear to have found a new level of sarcasm,” Skulduggery nodded. “Impressive.”

      “And no, you don’t have to pick me up. I’ll get Fletcher to pop by. Of course, if you change your mind and decide I don’t have to go to this incredibly boring meeting, I can take my time about it all, and really get the sentimentality out of my system for good.”

      “And deprive you of your chance to be there? I actually think you’ll be surprised by how interesting it all is.”

      “I actually think I’d be very surprised.”

      “But we’ll be electing a new Grand Mage. This is history in the making, Valkyrie.”

      “And how long do you think the new Grand Mage will last before he’s either murdered or imprisoned?”

      “You’re too young to be so cynical.”

      “I’m not cynical. I just happen to remember the last four years. You give me one good reason why I should go. One good reason why I would be even remotely interested in attending.”

      “Erskine Ravel will be there.”

      “Well, OK then.”

      Skulduggery laughed, and let go of his face. After a dangerous quiver, it settled down and stopped misbehaving, apart from the ear that was slowly drifting towards his chin.

      

      ith the morning sun barely making an effort to leak through the windows, Valkyrie’s dead uncle made a steeple of his fingers, and peered at her over the topmost peak. When he was alive, he would often do this while sitting in an armchair with his legs crossed, giving him the air of a wise and contemplative man. Now that he was dead and could no longer interact with the physical world, it merely gave him the air of a man in desperate need of a chair.

      “You’ve discovered your true name,” he said.

      “Yes,” Valkyrie responded.

      “And your true name is Darquesse.”

      “That’s right.”

      “And Darquesse is the sorcerer that all the psychics are having visions about – the one who’s going to destroy the world.”

      “Correct.”

      “So you’re going to destroy the world.”