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“Thanks.”
“It’s a little small for you though.”
“Yeah.”
“Can I have it when you’re dead?”
Valkyrie paused, trying to think of an appropriate response, but Clarabelle had already flitted out of the room. A few moments later, Kenspeckle returned.
“Clarabelle’s odd,” Valkyrie said.
“She is at that,” Kenspeckle agreed. He fixed a small bandage over the stitches. “Give it an hour or so. The stitches will dissolve. It’s not going to scar.”
They walked out of the Infirmary.
“I heard Cameron Light was killed yesterday,” he said. “I’ve never liked Teleporters, but even so, it’s a terrible world we live in.”
“Why does everyone dislike Teleporters?” Valkyrie had to ask. “Practically no one I’ve met has a good word to say about them.”
“Teleporters are a sneaky lot. Sagacious Tome was a Teleporter, in case you’ve forgotten, and he turned out to be a traitor. I just don’t trust anyone who would choose it as their magical discipline. How are the rest of us supposed to feel safe if there are people out there who can appear anywhere at any moment? When I was a younger man, I had a stifling fear that someone would appear beside me as I was using the toilet – and I had an anxious bladder at the best of times.”
“Oh my God,” Valkyrie breathed. “I didn’t need to know that.”
Skulduggery was waiting for them at the next corner, and immediately Kenspeckle’s face soured. “Are you going to be dragging her into more danger, Detective?”
“She can handle it,” Skulduggery said. “Fletcher, on the other hand, cannot. Can he stay here?”
“As long as he doesn’t annoy me too much,” Kenspeckle replied grumpily.
“I can’t promise that.”
“Then do me a favour, Detective, and solve this particular case as fast as you possibly can.”
“Maybe you could help with that. If you could examine the body of the last victim …”
Kenspeckle shook his head. “Unlikely. The Sanctuary has its own supposed experts, as you well know, and they wouldn’t appreciate my … input. From what I have heard, however, the killer has left no traces and no clues. He is, distastefulness aside, quite admirable.”
“I’ll be sure to pass on the compliment when I’m hitting his face,” Skulduggery assured him.
Kenspeckle shook his head. “Do you really think Valkyrie needs a role model that meets every obstacle with his fists? She is at a very impressionable age.”
“I am not,” she said defensively.
“Valkyrie is doing important work,” Skulduggery said. “She needs to be able to handle herself.”
“That’s right,” Valkyrie agreed. “And you’re not my role model.”
“The war is over,” Kenspeckle countered. “Those days of death and mayhem are gone.”
“Not for some of us.”
Kenspeckle looked at Skulduggery, and there was something in his eyes Valkyrie had never seen before.
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