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“Why did he kill you?” Skulduggery pressed.
“I was, I suppose, a scholar,” the dead man said. “Eons ago, the Faceless Ones were driven from this reality, and even though I had no wish to see them return, the mechanics behind their exile, the magic, the theory … It was a puzzle and I became obsessed trying to solve it. I died because of my curiosity and my blind trust. I believed people were, by nature, good and decent and worthy. Batu, it transpired, was none of those things. He killed me because I knew how to find the thing he desired, and once I had told him, he had to protect his secret.”
“What did he desire?”
“The gate,” the corpse said. “The gate that will open and allow the Faceless Ones to return.”
There was a moment where nothing was said. Valkyrie realised she had taken a breath and had yet to release it. She made herself breathe again.
“Such a gate exists?” Skulduggery asked. He spoke slowly, cautiously, as if the answers were a dog he didn’t want to disturb. He actually sounded worried.
“It does, but I merely worked out how to find it – I never had the chance to put that theory into practice. The wall between our realities has weakened over time. Their darkness and their evil have bled through. A powerful enough Sensitive should be able to trace the lines of energy in our world to their weakest point. It is here that the gate will open.”
“So why haven’t the Faceless Ones come through already?” Valkyrie asked.
“Two things are needed,” the corpse told them. “The first is an Isthmus Anchor, an object bound by an invisible thread travelling from this reality into the next. This thread is what keeps the gate from closing forever. But the Anchor is useless without someone to force the gate open, and only a Teleporter can do this.”
Valkyrie frowned. “But all the Teleporters are being killed.”
Skulduggery looked at her. “So what does that suggest?”
“I don’t know. It doesn’t make sense. Unless … I don’t know, unless the killer doesn’t want the Faceless Ones to return, so he’s killing all the Teleporters to make sure they never open the gate.”
“Which would mean?”
“It’d mean that maybe he’s not a bad guy at all – maybe he’s just a really twisted good guy.”
Skulduggery was quiet and then nodded to the corpse. “Thank you. You have done the world a great service.”
“And you will help me now?”
“Indeed we will.”
The Sea Hag laughed. “You will never leave this lake, corpse.”
Skulduggery looked at her. “What do you want in exchange for him?”
The Hag curled a lip. “I want nothing. He belongs to me. This lake is the place of his death. Its waters have already claimed him.”
“There must be something you want, something we can give you in exchange.”
“I want nothing you can offer. I am a Maiden of the Water. I am above temptation.”
“You’re not a Maiden of the Water,” Valkyrie said. “You’re a Sea Hag.”
The Hag’s eyes narrowed. “When I was younger, I was a Maiden of the—”
“Don’t care,” Valkyrie interrupted. “You may have been beautiful once, but now you’re an ugly old fish-woman.”
“Do not raise my ire, girl.”
“I have no intention of even touching your ire, but we’re not leaving without the dead man. So hand him over or things are going to go bad for you.”
“It seems you do want to drown after all,” the Hag snarled, and lunged, and in an eye blink her bony hands were gripping Valkyrie’s shoulders. She reared back and Valkyrie was lifted off the ground, high into the air and tossed, like a rag doll. She hit the water hard and went under. She twisted and through the bubbles, she saw the Sea Hag’s long serpent-like body tapering off into a tail. And then the body coiled and the Hag was beside her, eyes wide and triumphant, grabbing her again and holding her under.
Valkyrie tried to punch, but her fist moved way too slowly underwater. The Hag laughed, the lake filling her mouth, running down her throat, and for the first time Valkyrie saw the lines of gills on either side of her neck.
Valkyrie’s lungs were already burning. She hadn’t had time to take a breath. She went for the Hag’s eyes, tried to jab at them, but those bony fingers closed over her wrists. The Hag was too strong for her.
And then something moved towards them, and Valkyrie saw Skulduggery, shooting through the water like a torpedo. He was right up beside them before the Hag even realised he was close.
The Hag tried clawing at him, but Skulduggery took hold of Valkyrie’s wrist, the wrist that the Hag had released, and Valkyrie was yanked free.
She clutched Skulduggery tight, feeling the water part in front and boost them from behind. The Hag was after them, her body undulating as she gave chase, her face furious. She drew close and reached out, but Skulduggery veered, taking them into the murky depths of the lake, and then they rolled, changing course, heading back, passing right by the Hag, who screamed her rage in escaping bubbles.
The lake bed was close as they passed over it and getting closer. Valkyrie could have reached out and touched the pebbles and the rocks and the silt and the sand.
And then Skulduggery kicked upwards and they burst free of the water, rising high through the air and falling now, falling to the treeline. Then there was a screech, and the Sea Hag erupted from the churning waves behind them and grabbed Skulduggery, her thin arms encircling his waist, pulling him back under.
Valkyrie dropped, grabbing for a tree branch. She couldn’t hold on. She hit the ground and grunted, barely aware that her hands were cut and bleeding, lacerated by splinters.
She groaned and moved her head slightly to look back at the water. She couldn’t see Skulduggery or the Hag, and the ripples were already spreading out and dying, as if the lake was trying to hide what was going on beneath its surface. Valkyrie rolled over, her dark hair hanging in front of her face, and got up slowly, grimacing when she saw her hands.
The corpse was still standing in the water where they had left him, probably waiting for the Hag to come back and reclaim what she saw as hers. Valkyrie started moving. The corpse had helped them and they’d promised to return the favour.
She ran along the edge of the lake, slipping every now and then, coming too close to the water for her liking. Even so, the Hag didn’t jump out at her, didn’t snatch her as she passed. Skulduggery was probably kicking the hell out of her. At least, she hoped he was.
She got back to the corpse, breathing hard, holding her hands away from her body because they were starting to sting.
“Hey,” she said. “Come on out of there.”
He shook his head. “I can’t move on my own. I’ve spent the last fifty years at the bottom of this lake. I don’t think I can even remember how to move.”
“In that case,” Valkyrie said, “I’ll come and get you.”
“Thank you,” said the corpse.
Valkyrie stepped into the lake. The waters here were calm. No sign of the Sea Hag – which meant that Skulduggery was either keeping her busy or she was lying in wait for Valkyrie to step within easy reach. Valkyrie walked in up to her knees, then her thighs, and when she was waist-deep, she thrust herself forward and swam.
So far, so good. So far, no hands grabbing her and pulling her under.
She reached the corpse and looked up at him. “How do I get you down?”
“I’m afraid I don’t know,” he replied.
She took a breath and plunged her head underwater. He wasn’t standing on anything. It was as if the lake itself was keeping him upright.
She surfaced, reached out to try and pull him down, but the moment she touched his skin the lake stopped holding him and he splashed down.
“Sorry,” he said.
“It’s OK,” Valkyrie responded, hooking her hand under his chin. She fought the urge to shiver as her hand closed over his ice-cold, mottled flesh, and she swam back to land, taking him with her. Her feet touched the bottom. She held him under the arms and started dragging him out.
“Thank you for doing this,” he said.
“We owe you.”
“It was horrible, in that lake.”
“We’ll find you a nice dry grave, don’t you worry.” He managed to twist his head and look back at her. “If the Faceless Ones return, the world will end. Please promise me you’ll stop them.”
She gave him a smile. “Stopping the bad guys is what we do.”
The moment his feet left the water, his head lolled forward and he stopped talking. He was just a corpse once again.
Valkyrie kept dragging him until they were well clear of the lake and then, very carefully, she laid him down.
She was drenched, she was freezing, her hands were cut and stinging, she had muck and dead flesh under her fingernails and she needed to wash her hair as soon as humanly possible.
Something was happening in the middle of the lake. She looked closer, saw a ripple, moving fast, something breaking the surface. Skulduggery rose up out of the water until he was standing. He skimmed across the lake, hands in his pockets, like he was waiting for a bus.
He slowed as he neared and then stepped on to land.
“Well,” he said, “that takes care of that.” He waved a hand and the water lifted from his clothes, leaving him dry.
“You still haven’t taught me how to do that,” Valkyrie scowled.
Skulduggery picked his hat off the ground and brushed off the dirt. “You’re the one insisting that lessons on fire and air manipulation are more important than lessons on water. You can’t really blame me for how much you resemble a drowned rat, now can you?”
“I’m sure I could manage it,” she said grumpily. “How’s the Hag?”
He shrugged. “Regretting her life choices, I imagine. I see you’ve rescued the corpse.”
“Yes. He’s dead.”
“Corpses usually are.”
“I mean he’s not talking any more.”
“Then there is nothing left to do except honour his wishes. >We’ll carry him to the car, trying very hard not to be seen by any passers-by, and take him with us back to Dublin.”
She nodded. Bit her lip.
“What?” Skulduggery asked. “What’s wrong?”
“Well, I don’t mean to sound disrespectful or anything, but it might be weird, being in a car with the remains of a dead man …”
“You do realise that I’m the remains of a dead man too, don’t you?”
“I know, yeah, but … you don’t smell.”
“You make an excellent point. Don’t worry, we’ll put him in the boot. Now then, do you want to take his arms or his legs?”
“Legs.”
Skulduggery picked the corpse up, hands under the armpits. Valkyrie took a hold of the corpse’s ankles and lifted, and the right leg fell off.
“You can carry that,” said Skulduggery.
“I’m a mess,” she grumbled as she got out of the car. “I hate seeing China when I’m a mess. She’s always so immaculate. How does my hair look?”
Skulduggery activated the car alarm. “You have a twig in it.”
Valkyrie yanked the twig out and scowled in pain. She glanced at the car boot as they walked. “Where are you going to bury the body?”
“I know a place.”
“You know a place? Do you bury lots of bodies there?”
“A few.”
“That’s kind of creepy. What about the guy who killed him? Batu? Have you ever heard of him?”
“Never.”
“Maybe the Teleporter murders have nothing to do with Trope Kessel’s murder.”
“And the fact that they’ve all been killed the same way?”
“Could be coincidence.”
“So you’re not worried then? You’re not concerned about the threat of the Faceless Ones coming back?”
She pursed her lips.
“Valkyrie?”
She sighed. “I just wish you didn’t have to be right all the time.”
“It is a burden. But the question becomes, why was there a fifty-year gap between the first murder and the other four? What has our Mr Batu been doing for those intervening years?”
“Maybe he was in prison.”
“You’re thinking more like a detective every day, do you know that? There are some people who owe me favours – I should be able to get a list of recently released felons.”
She sighed. “This would be a lot easier if we were still with the Sanctuary.”
As they were walking into the tenement building, they bumped into Savian Eck, a sorcerer Valkyrie had met only twice before. He was carrying a large book under his arm. It was bound in leather and looked old. He held it tightly against his side and nodded distractedly.
“Afternoon, Skulduggery. Valkyrie.”
All three of them climbed the stairs.
“What’s that you’ve got there?” Skulduggery asked.
“A book. A book for, for China. She wants it. She said she’d buy it off me.”
“Is it expensive?”
Eck’s laugh was as sudden as it was desperate. “Oh, yes. Oh … oh, yes. Quite rare, this one is. Priceless, I’d say.”
“And what is the going price for a priceless book these days?”
“A lot,” Eck said decisively. “I’m not going to be a pushover, you know? You see these other people and the moment they see her, they forget about money, or a fair deal, and all they want to do is make her happy. Well, not me. I’m a businessman, Skulduggery. This is business.”
By the time they reached the third floor, Eck’s teeth were chattering. Skulduggery knocked on the door marked library, and the thin man opened it and beckoned them inside. Eck’s legs gave out a little, but he managed to stay upright, and they followed him through the labyrinth of bookcases until they came to the desk.
China Sorrows, hair as black as sin and eyes as blue as sky, saw them coming, rose from her chair and the most beautiful woman in the world smiled.
Savian Eck fell to his knees, held the book out before him, and whimpered, “I adore you.”
Skulduggery shook his head and left Valkyrie’s side to peruse the bookshelves.
“Savian,” China said, “you’re so sweet.” The thin man took the leatherbound book from Eck’s trembling hands and placed it on the desk.
“Now, about payment …”
Eck nodded quickly. “Yes. Payment, yes.”
“How are you, by the way? You’re looking well. Have you been exercising?”
He smiled weakly. “I like to jog.”
“It definitely shows,” China said, eyes narrowing appreciatively.
Eck whimpered again.
“I’m sorry,” China said, giving a light laugh and appearing flustered. “You have a tendency to distract me. Back to business, if I can keep my mind on the job for more than three seconds. We were talking about payment.”
“You can have it,” Eck said in a strangled voice.
“I’m sorry?”
Eck rose off his knees. “I give it to you, China. It’s my gift. There’s no payment necessary.”
“Savian, I couldn’t possibly—”
“Please, China. Accept it. Accept it as a token of my, of my …”
Valkyrie was impressed by how large and hopeful China could make her eyes.
“Yes, Savian?”
“… my love, China.”
China pressed a delicate finger to her lips, like she was struggling to hold back a torrent of passion. “Thank you, Savian.”
Eck bowed, swayed slightly and turned. Judging by his smile, he was outrageously, deliriously pleased, and he hurried back the way they’d come. The thin man followed along behind to make sure he didn’t stumble into anything.
“That,” Valkyrie said, “was disgraceful.”
China shrugged, resumed her seat and opened the book. “I do what I must to get the things that I want.” She used a magnifying glass to examine the pages more closely. “You look like you’ve been swimming, Valkyrie,” she said, without raising her head. “And what happened to your hands? All those little cuts look sore.”
“I, uh, I hit a tree.”
“Well, I’m sure it had it coming.”
Desperate to steer the conversation away from her appearance, Valkyrie asked, “What’s the book?”
“It’s a spell book, written by the Mad Sorcerer, over a thousand years ago.”
“Why was he called the Mad Sorcerer?”
“Because he was mad.”
“Oh.”
China straightened up and pursed her lips. “This book’s a forgery. I’d say it’s at least 500 years old, but it’s still a forgery.”
Valkyrie shrugged. “Good thing you didn’t pay for it then, or you’d have to get your money back.”
China closed the book and examined the cover. “I’m not sure I’d want to. The Mad Sorcerer, as well as being quite mad, was also a second-rate sorcerer. The majority of the spells in his spell book did absolutely nothing at all. But this forger, whoever he was, corrected every mistake as he went along. I dare say this is the most important academic discovery of the last fifteen years.”
“Wow.”
“And it’s mine,” China said with a contented smile.
Skulduggery came back, carefully turning the pages of a book that had seen better days. “We need your help,” he said.
China made a face. “Small talk’s over already? Well that’s no fun. We didn’t even get to trade barbs. Oh, how I miss the old days. Don’t you, Valkyrie?”
“They had their moments.”
“They did, didn’t they? It was all ‘Sanctuary business’ this, ‘saving the world’ that, but now what is it? Now you’re on the outside, looking in at a few measly murders. Is this really a case that is worthy of the magnificent Skulduggery Pleasant?”
“Murder’s murder,” Skulduggery said, not looking up from the book.
“Oh, I suppose you’re right. So tell me, how is Guild’s man handling the Irish end of the investigation?”
“You mean you don’t know?” Valkyrie asked, genuinely puzzled. She’d learned by now that every good detective makes full use of information brokers, and China was by far the best in her field.
China smiled. “Do you really think that Remus Crux would associate with me, a person of my dubious history? Remember, dear Valkyrie, I once consorted with the enemy. I once was the enemy. Crux is a limited man of limited imagination. He has his rules, as set down by Thurid Guild, and he follows them. People who follow rules do not come to me. Which explains why I speak to both of you with such regularity.”
“We rogues have to stick together,” Skulduggery said absently.
“That kind of defeats the purpose of being a rogue though, doesn’t it?”
“Isthmus Anchor,” Skulduggery said, reading aloud from the book. “An object belonging to one reality, residing in another. Animate or inanimate. Magical or otherwise. Casts an Isthmus Stream, linking realities through dimensional portals.” He closed the book and his head tilted thoughtfully.
“So?” Valkyrie asked.
“So we have to figure out what form this Anchor takes, and find it before the enemy does. Let me muse on it awhile. China, we need to find someone. An English boy – Fletcher Renn.”
“I’ve never heard of him. Is he a mage?”
“Natural-born Teleporter.”
She arched an eyebrow. “I see. In that case, I may have heard of him after all. Three reports of a ‘ghost boy’ in three different nightclubs in County Meath. The nightclub staff either refused him entry or refused to serve him, and he grew petulant, stormed off and vanished into, as they say, thin air. Because his vanishings were only witnessed by the intoxicated, the inebriated, and the stupid, the authorities aren’t exactly taking it seriously.”
“Where in Meath?” Skulduggery asked.
China motioned to the thin man, who was standing so still that Valkyrie had forgotten all about him. The thin man disappeared for a moment, then came back with a map and spread it over China’s desk.
“Here, here and here,” China said, her manicured fingernail tapping lightly on the map.
Skulduggery took a pencil from the desk and drew a circle around the three points. “If what Peregrine says is true, and Mr Renn can only teleport a few miles at a time, then that would put him somewhere in this area.”
“That’s a lot of buildings to search,” China noted.
Skulduggery tapped the pencil against his skull. It made a pleasing hollow sound. “A seventeen-year-old boy with the power to appear anywhere. If he needs money, he appears in a bank vault. If he needs clothes, a clothes shop. Food, a supermarket. He’s not going to be just anywhere. He’s starting to see himself as better than everybody else. He’ll only stay in the best places. The best hotels.” The pencil made an X on the map, within the circle.
“The Grandeur Hotel,” China commented. “Very likely the only hotel in the area with a games console in every room.”
“That’s where he is,” Skulduggery said, wrapping his scarf around his jaw. “That’s where we’ll find him.”
The elevator doors slid open and an elderly couple stepped out. The woman looked curiously at Skulduggery as they passed. Valkyrie joined him in the elevator and pressed the button for the top floor, Fletcher Renn’s most likely location. As they started to rise, Skulduggery checked his gun.
From the elevator they walked down a long corridor. They turned a corner and almost bumped into the man coming the other way. He had blond hair and was wearing sunglasses. There was a moment of stunned silence.
“Oh,” Billy-Ray Sanguine said, “hell.”
He stepped back as his hand darted for his pocket, but Skulduggery slammed into him and the straight razor flew from Sanguine’s grasp.
Skulduggery’s elbow cracked against his jaw and Sanguine stumbled, hand reaching for the wall. Upon contact, the wall started to crumble and Sanguine began passing through, but Skulduggery grabbed him and hauled him out again.
Valkyrie heard a door open and turned to see a good-looking boy who loved his hair staring at them from the doorway of his room.
She lunged at him, pushing him into the room, and slammed the door behind them. The room was luxurious, with a couch and armchairs, a huge TV and a gigantic bed, none of which mattered in the slightest right now.
“You’re Fletcher Renn,” she said. “You’re in great danger.”
Fletcher Renn looked at her. “What?”
“There are some people who want to kill you. We’re here to help you.”
“What are you talking about?”
He had an English accent, not too dissimilar to Tanith Low’s. He was better-looking than she’d imagined and China had been right about his hair. It was spiky and carefully, meticulously untamed.
“My name’s Valkyrie Cain.”
“Valerie?”
“Valkyrie. I know all about you and what you can do, and you’re going to need to teleport right now.”