he trucks pulled up to the Sanctuary and sat with engines idling as the Cleavers loaded themselves on. Ghastly watched as Tipstaff co-ordinated from the centre of the maelstrom, eyes constantly flicking down to the sheaves of paper he had pinned to his clipboard. Cleavers and mages and supplies and equipment, all shipping out to reinforce the outposts around the country, leaving only a skeleton crew to man the Sanctuary.
Madame Mist had spoken to her people within Roarhaven, and they claimed they would defend their town and the Sanctuary itself if outside forces converged. Ghastly had no reason to doubt them, yet he always found it difficult to trust a single word these people said. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that three of their mages had tried to kill both Ravel and him just a few months earlier. While he had no proof that this attack had been orchestrated by Madame Mist – the three would-be assassins had so far been able to resist the psychics that Ravel had assigned to their interrogation – Mist was hiding something, of that Ghastly was certain. Quietly, and without fuss, he and Ravel had worked to reorganise the Sanctuary’s structure. Madame Mist had the entirety of Roarhaven to call upon, after all – it seemed only fair that the Cleavers now answered only to Ravel, and the Sanctuary mages answered only to Ghastly.
He left Tipstaff to his co-ordinating and walked back into the busy corridors of the Sanctuary. If it hadn’t been for the Accelerator, he would have happily abandoned the place altogether. It was such an obvious target for the Supreme Council, and as such it was a magnet for trouble should the shield be somehow breached. But they couldn’t let the Accelerator fall into enemy hands, and neither could they let it fall into the hands of the people of Roarhaven. A dozen trusted sorcerers were to remain here, plus twenty Cleavers, whose job it was to transform the Sanctuary into an impenetrable fortress.
Swapping the grey concrete and harsh lighting of the corridors for the bright and antiseptic gleam of the science-magic department, Ghastly walked in to find two lab technicians struggling to carry away a blue-haired woman who had both hands wrapped round a narrow pillar. The technicians were red-faced, straining and sweating, while the blue-haired woman seemed quite at ease as she clung on.
“Elder Bespoke,” one of the technicians gasped, “please tell her we’re all evacuating. She thinks we’re kidnapping her.”
“Clarabelle,” said Ghastly, “what’s wrong?”
“This is my home,” she said. “I don’t want to leave. I still haven’t found a sandwich I lost in here weeks ago. I can stay here when everyone else is gone. I can dust.”
“The Sanctuary isn’t safe any more.”
“Then why is it called the Sanctuary? Sanctuaries are meant to be safe. It’s where we all go when nowhere else is safe. I think I should stay, concentrate on finding that sandwich. I’ll be fine on my own.”
The door to the backroom opened and Doctor Nye squeezed through. Once clear of the doorframe, the creature straightened up, its long limbs unfolding. The surgical mask it usually wore was absent, allowing Ghastly a distressing view of its wide-gash mouth and the scab where its nose had been cut from its face. Its small eyes, yellow and blinking, fixed on Ghastly as it passed.
“Elder Bespoke,” Doctor Nye said in its high-pitched, breathless voice, “you have caught us at a busy time. I’ve spent the last few hours instructing clumsy oafs in the gentle art of moving my equipment without breaking it. Their ineptitude has set me back weeks in some very important experiments I’ve been running.”
“Maybe if your equipment was located in the science-magic wing,” said Ghastly, “it could be moved by people who know what they’re doing.”
Nye waved one long hand dismissively. “Those people don’t like me. They don’t want me near them on account of some things I did during the war.”
“You mean the crimes you committed.”
“Under orders, Elder Bespoke. And am I not as eligible for the amnesty as any other follower of Mevolent? Have I not repented and paid for my sins?”
“Probably not. Sorcerers have long memories, Doctor.”
“Only when it suits them. You’re looking for this, I take it?” Nye passed him a triangular strip of thin metal, the size of a guitar plectrum.
Ghastly examined the symbol etched on to one side. “It does what we need it to do?”
“That and more,” Nye said. “It was the simplest of tasks to construct, but it will not let you down, you have my word as a scientist. Now, if I can be of no further use to you, I have a journey ahead of me.”
“And what journey would that be?”
“I intend to return to my old laboratories and wait there for this whole nasty business to blow over. I have everything I need there to continue my experiments, and if you should find yourself in need of my services—”
“You’ll be within easy reach,” Ghastly finished. “You’re not going back to your old labs, Doctor. You’re being relocated to the Keep.”
Nye shook its head. “I have already had this conversation with the Administrator. The Keep’s facilities are practically non-existent. How am I expected to run my experiments—”
“Doctor, I really don’t care about your experiments. Everything I’ve heard about them strikes me as being just so incredibly wrong. I’m telling you what’s going to happen. You’re going to the Keep, and you’re going to prepare. If things go according to plan, you’ll have something new to keep you busy before long.”
“You can’t expect a creature of my talents to sit around twiddling its thumbs while—”
“There are two Cleavers outside these doors who will be accompanying you. They have strict instructions to never leave your side.”
A peculiar shade of red flushed beneath Nye’s natural grey pallor. “Elder Bespoke, I am not your prisoner and I refuse to be treated as such.”
“Who said anything about being a prisoner? Those Cleavers are there for your protection. Think of them as your bodyguards.”
“I have my own—” Nye said, then stopped.
Ghastly frowned. “What was that? You have your own what? Doctor, there are plenty of people out there who have lost friends and loved ones to your experiments during the war. Your safety is all that matters.”
Nye looked down at him, its lipless mouth curled in distaste. “Of course,” it said at last. “I will travel to the Keep and upgrade its facilities. Thank you for your … concern.”
Ghastly nodded to it, and left it standing there while the technicians continued to try to pull Clarabelle from the pillar.
He got to the Medical Bay just as Doctor Synecdoche was leaving. The only patient left in here was Fletcher Renn, who sat fidgeting on one of the beds, trying to find a position to ease his discomfort. The wound he’d suffered was deep, but it was already healing, and the leaves he chewed kept the pain away. But Ghastly knew from personal experience that by now the wound and its surrounding area would be itching like crazy thanks to the ointments and the various procedures that had saved Fletcher’s life.
“How are you feeling?” Ghastly asked.
“Better,” Fletcher told him. “I’m just waiting for them to bring me a wheelchair. I’m not even allowed to walk for the next few hours, and they’re saying I’m not allowed to teleport until the infection has been dealt with. That doctor with the name I can’t pronounce said it could be days.”
“Doctor Synecdoche.”
“Days, Ghastly. I can’t teleport for days.”
“Don’t dwell on it. Just focus on getting better.”
Fletcher sighed. “Ah, I’m fine. This is nothing. It’s annoying, but it’ll heal. To be honest, I’m more upset about my taste in women than about being injured. Valkyrie cheats on me and Myra tries to kill me. I’m not really sure I deserved either of those things, to be honest.”
“Fletcher, she fooled everyone, not just you.”
“Yeah,” Fletcher said miserably, “but I dated her. I believed her when she said she loved me.” He looked up. “Do you … do you think she really did? On
some level? I mean, why would she say she loved me if she didn’t have to? I know she was sent to keep an eye on me and then kill me, but … do you think she did fall in love with me, even just a small bit?”
Ghastly put a hand on Fletcher’s shoulder. “Not really.”
“Oh.”
“She stuck a knife in you.”
“Yeah.”
“That’s rarely a good sign.”
“I suppose.”
“But hey, you had some good times, didn’t you?”
Fletcher smiled. “Yes. Yes we did.”
“Before she stabbed you.”
His face fell. “Yeah.”
“Give me your hand,” said Ghastly. Fletcher held out his hand and Ghastly pressed the metal triangle Nye had given him to the back of it. It stuck there.
“This here is a pager of sorts,” Ghastly said.
“What’s a pager?”
“Seriously? What’s a pager? It’s a … it’s a device that receives messages that you carry around on your belt.”
“What, like a phone?”
“This was before mobile phones. A pager was cutting-edge technology back in the … Anyway, when we need you, it’ll glow, give a little beep. A different colour for different people. Providing you still want to help us, of course.”
“I’m in,” said Fletcher. “You didn’t even have to ask.”
“That’s very much appreciated. Fletcher, when you’re back on your feet, you’ll be our troop transport. With you, we actually have an advantage over the Supreme Council. In the blink of an eye you can deliver our people to where they’re needed anywhere around the world, and go in and get them if things go wrong. Because of this, you’re going to be a target. Myra’s already proved that.”
Fletcher tapped his wound, and in his best James Bond impression said, “I got the point.”
“Nice one.”
“Thank you.”
“Roger Moore?”
Fletcher frowned. “Sean Connery.”
“Oh. Still a very good impression.”
“Not if you thought it was Roger Moore.”
Ghastly left him to work on his impressions, and headed deeper into the Sanctuary. He hadn’t even reached the corner when a woman called his name. He turned, watched her approach. He knew her from somewhere. She was a knockout. She was gorgeous. She was …
Oh dear God, she was Scapegrace.
Ghastly’s smile faded. “Yes, Mr Scapegrace, what can I do for you?”
Scapegrace came in close. Ghastly really wished he wouldn’t do that. He focused on looking him in the eyes, in his beautiful green eyes, and tried to remember how annoying this man was.
“Elder Bespoke,” Scapegrace said, “I won’t keep you long. I couldn’t fail to notice that you seem to be shipping out.”
Ghastly nodded, keeping his gaze level. “Yes we are. Is that all?”
“I would never presume to ask what the Sanctuary’s plan is – I have to prove myself to you, I’m aware of this. But you should know that when you are gone, this town will be safe.”
“OK,” said Ghastly.
“The peace will be kept.”
“That’s really nice.”
“Justice will wear a mask.”
“I’m not really sure I understand you any more, but fair enough.”
Scapegrace held out his hand. “Fight the good fight, Ghastly.”
Ghastly shook his hand, and then Scapegrace turned and walked off. Ghastly pulled his eyes away from that view and forced himself to carry on to Ravel’s office. Skulduggery and Saracen were already here, deep in discussion with Ravel and Anton Shudder over their plans. Valkyrie sat in one of the chairs, while Bane and O’Callahan sat on the desk. Gracious was looking particularly down.
Ghastly stood in the doorway, and watched Valkyrie lean forward. “You OK?” she asked.
“No,” Gracious said, somewhat grumpily. “We had plane tickets to Japan for tomorrow and now we can’t go because of all this stupid war stuff. Innocent men are being targeted in Tokyo by a succubus in the form of a beautiful woman. It seduces them and drains their life force.”
“And you want to kill it?”
Gracious looked at her. “Kill it?”
Donegan sighed. “Gracious just wants a girlfriend, that’s all. He’s lonely.”
“It’s not easy meeting single women when you hunt monsters for a living,” Gracious said. Then he looked at Valkyrie like he’d just had the best idea ever. “You’re friends with China Sorrows, aren’t you?”
Valkyrie hesitated. “I … suppose …”
“Is she single?”
“Um …”
“Do you think she’d go out with me?”
“Uh …”
“Stop putting Valkyrie in an awkward position,” Ghastly said, finally walking into the room.
“Exactly,” said Donegan. “She wants to be polite and not hurt your feelings, so she’s not going to laugh right now. But inside? Inside she’s laughing, and so are we.”
Gracious glared. “What’s so funny? She may be beautiful, but China Sorrows is still just a person and, like any other person, she gets lonely, and every now and then she’ll need someone to, y’know … hug.”
“And you think she’ll pick you for that job?”
“I have as good a chance as any. See, her problem is that she’s too beautiful, and that kind of beauty can be intimidating for lesser men.”
“Lesser men,” said Ghastly, “but not you?”
Gracious shook his head. “She probably hasn’t been asked out in years.”
“Actually, she gets asked out all the time,” said Valkyrie.
“Oh.”
“She gets a lot of marriage proposals.”
Gracious sagged. “Oh.”
“Which isn’t to say that she wouldn’t go out with you,” Valkyrie said quickly.
Gracious’s eyes lit up. “You think she would?”
Valkyrie smiled supportively. “Probably not.”
The look of dismay on Gracious’s face told Ghastly it was time to change the subject. “The trucks are loaded and ready to depart,” he announced. “Half of them are going now, half of them will set off in the morning when we’re leaving.”
“I still don’t quite grasp the logic behind this,” said Donegan. “If anyone should be leaving the country, it should be me and Gracious. If we get caught or killed, no big deal.”
“It’d be a big deal for me,” Gracious mumbled.
“But if any of you guys get captured, then we’re all in trouble.”
“We’ll be more effective out in the field,” Ravel said. “We’re used to this stuff. Fighting wars is what we did.”
“But you’re in charge now. And who’ll be left here in Roarhaven? Madame Mist?”
“That’s a good point,” Valkyrie said. “I mean, really, how smart is it to have two of our Elders outside the shield and fighting, while the one Elder we can’t actually trust stays safe and warm inside it?”
“This is about more than it seems,” Skulduggery said. “The Dead Men still carry a certain amount of weight in the magical world at large. If the sorcerers of the Supreme Council view us merely as a Cradle of Magic making trouble, they’ll do their jobs and see it through to the end and it’ll be business as usual. But if they see the Dead Men back together, the same Dead Men who worked so effectively against Mevolent, the same Dead Men who saved their lives and the lives of their friends all those years ago … they’ll know to fear us. And the very fact that Ravel and Ghastly are part of it will tell them we are confident and powerful and no one will be able to stop us.”
“Right,” said Valkyrie. “So you’re basically hoping that your reputations will make them run away.”
Skulduggery looked at her. “Well, it just sounds silly when you say it out loud.”
“And what do we do while you’re gone?” Donegan asked.
Shudder looked at him. “Your first assignment will be disabling the Midnight Hotel. As
ide from Fletcher Renn, the hotel is the only way to get in and out of the country without passing through the shield. The Supreme Council will want to use it to bring in their troops.”
“So we stop them from doing that,” said Donegan. “Gracious and I. The two of us. Against … who? General Mantis?”
“Who’s General Mantis?” Valkyrie asked.
“One of the best tacticians out there,” Skulduggery said. “In the war against Mevolent it was our secret weapon.”
“It?”
“Mantis is a Crenga, the same species as Nye. We never lost a battle when it was in command.”
“That’s not making us feel any better,” Gracious muttered.
“We wouldn’t be sending you if we didn’t think you could do it,” Ravel said. “Or if there was anyone more suited. Or available. Or willing. Or—”
“Thank you,” Donegan said quickly. “You can stop reassuring us now.”
“Don’t worry,” said Ravel, smiling a little, “we’ll find someone to back you up. There’ll be a briefing in the morning, and then we’ll move out.”
“Any word on Dexter?” Saracen asked.
Ghastly shook his head. “Not yet. The most we can hope for is that he keeps his head down and stays out of trouble.”
Saracen frowned. “He’s Dexter Vex. When have you ever known him to stay out of trouble?”
he other Irish prisoners had been taken from the cells hours ago. Vex was the only one left sitting on his bunk, staring at the bars. He hadn’t a clue where they’d been taken. Wherever it was, it was undoubtedly more interesting than here.
Footsteps approached. High heels. Vex sat up straighter as Zafira Kerias came round the corner. An attractive woman who always had a stern look in her eye, she seemed uncharacteristically fragile today.
“Elder Kerias,” said Vex, “to what do I owe this pleasure?”
Zafira looked at him through the bars, and her whole body sagged. “What are we doing?” she mumbled.
“I’m sitting here in chains,” Vex said, “and you’re about to give me the key.”
Zafira’s smile was strained, but it was still a smile. “Not quite, Dexter. But good try, nonetheless. I meant what are we doing on a slightly larger scale.”