Death Bringer

  Prave had grown quite pale. His fists were no longer clenched and he was no longer gritting his teeth. He took a step back, then another one. He hesitated, then slowly turned and went back to his sweeping brush.

  China shrugged, and Scorn appeared at the door.

  “China,” she said. “So sorry to have kept you waiting.”

  “Not at all,” China smiled. “Mr Prave here was entertaining me. I do so like how you’ve kept him around.”

  Scorn shrugged. “Ah, well, I made the mistake of feeding him, you see, and now he just won’t go away.”

  China heard Prave muttering under his breath.

  “But I didn’t ask you here to help me insult the help, as fun as that may be. I have a surprise for you.”

  “Let me guess,” China said. “You’ve changed your mind and you’re going to put all this nonsense behind you.”

  “Not even close,” said Scorn. “Do you want another try? I bet you won’t guess what it is.”

  “You’re going to tell Skulduggery Pleasant what you’re planning to do and let him shoot you in the head.”

  “Wrong again, I’m afraid. Do you want one more try?”

  “I’d love one more try.”

  “Then go ahead, China. Guess what the surprise is.”

  China paused, tapped her chin thoughtfully and smiled. “I know. Is it, by any chance, Jaron Gallow with a brand-new arm?”

  Oh, she wished she had a camera to capture the look on Eliza Scorn’s face. Gallow emerged from the doorway behind, suddenly unsure, suddenly paranoid that he’d been betrayed, that he was walking into a trap. There was a sudden fear in his eyes that was almost impossible to fake, and now China did believe him.

  “How did you know?” Scorn asked. Almost snarled, in fact.

  “Please,” China said dismissively. “I know what he had for breakfast this morning. I know what he’s been doing since he got back to Europe. I was only wondering how long it would take you to reveal him.”

  A smile appeared on Scorn’s lips. “You always were impossible to surprise. Jaron here has just returned to the fold. I hope there’s no bad blood between you.”

  “What’s in the past is in the past,” China said. “I’m going to end up killing every one of you for all this, and one more name added to the list won’t make much difference.”

  Gallow looked at her, then at Scorn. “I thought you said she was under control.”

  “She is,” Scorn said. “She just likes to say these things to pretend she’s still in charge. But as long as I keep her secret, China will do what she’s told. For instance, I told her to come back with information about all this Necromancer fuss I’ve been hearing about. China?”

  Everyone else was standing, so China sat on a pew and crossed her legs. She looked at Scorn without tilting her chin, pleased with the way she had changed the dynamic of the room. “Melancholia St Clair is the latest Necromancer to be handed the title ‘Death Bringer’,” she said. “Unlike the others, however, it seems that this girl will actually strive to fulfil her duties.”

  “And what are her duties?” asked Gallow.

  “To usher in the Passage, and to save the world. If your next question is to ask me about the Passage, you can save your breath. It is something of a mystery, even to those who trade in mysteries. Suffice to say, the end result is a supposedly better world where the living and the dead exist side by side.”

  “Ridiculous,” Scorn said. “That would completely negate death. It would reduce it to a mere concept.”

  “And, possibly, make the world a better place.”

  Scorn shook her head. “The world is how the Faceless Ones left it, and that is how it shall stay. If it looks like the Necromancers have a chance of success, we may have to act against them.”

  “But that’s what the Sanctuary is doing,” Prave said, hurrying over. “Shouldn’t we stay out of it? We’d just get in the way.”

  Scorn didn’t even look at him, but Gallow did, and Prave shrank back. “I don’t know you,” Gallow said. “I’ve just met you. Already I want to hurt you.”

  “You, uh, you actually do know me,” Prave said. “We met twice, actually. It was only for a few minutes, though, so you probably don’t remember.”

  “I don’t,” Gallow said. “At all. Even remotely. And I’m glad. Remembering you would annoy me. It would mean you somehow managed to take up space in my head, and I reserve space in my head for people who interest me or, at the very least, have something worthwhile to offer. Now shut up, and don’t say anything else.”

  Prave gaped at him. “How… how dare you. I rescued the Church of the Faceless from collapse. I built it back up to—”

  “You built it back up to this?” Gallow didn’t have to gesture to his surroundings to make his point. “You’re a weak, miserable little man, with no concept of what it will take to bring back the Dark Gods. We could leave this Death Bringer business to the Sanctuary, but that would mean entrusting the Sanctuary with all of our future plans. Is that what you want?”

  Scorn turned her head, smiled at Prave. “Maybe you could make us all some tea.”

  Prave blinked his bulbous eyes. “Tea?”

  “A nice big pot, there’s a good man.”

  “But… but I’m in this! I’m involved in… in this whole thing. I’m one of the leaders!”

  Scorn raised an eyebrow. “You? Oh, my word, no. No, Prave, you are not one of the leaders. There is only one leader here, and that is me. Gallow is my second, China is our reluctant sponsor and untrustworthy ally, and you’re the one who makes the tea. So, Prave, enough of this silly talk and the giving of your inconsequential opinions. Be a dear, and go and make the tea.”

  Prave closed his mouth, his wet lips pressing together like slippery eels, then turned abruptly and left the room. His ears, which were substantial, burned so red they practically left a heat trail behind him.

  Scorn nodded to China. “Continue.”

  “Melancholia attacked Valkyrie Cain, and the Sanctuary have seized upon the chance to issue an arrest warrant.”

  “They’re getting ready to strike,” Scorn murmured.

  “What about Lord Vile?” Gallow asked. “I haven’t been so out of the loop that I didn’t hear of his return.”

  “His supposed return,” Scorn said. “But has he been seen since he battled Skulduggery Pleasant?”

  Gallow looked at her. “You think his return is a lie?”

  “Perhaps. What could spook the Necromancers more than a rumour that Lord Vile is out to get them?”

  “But if he has returned, and he does seek to destroy the Death Bringer, then maybe we can convince him to come back to our side.”

  Scorn looked at him. “And how do you propose we do that? Are you going to use your longstanding friendship with him to delay his killing stroke while you make your case? Oh, no, that’s right. You don’t have a longstanding friendship with him, do you? No one does. We may have fought alongside him during the war, but that was a long time ago. We don’t know where his loyalties lie.”

  “We know it’s not with the Necromancers,” Gallow said. “That’s something, at least.”

  “China,” Scorn said, “what do you think?”

  “I think approaching Lord Vile is a wonderful idea,” China answered, smiling. “I think the pair of you should go and talk to him. I’m sure he’d love that.”

  “If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear you were trying to get me killed before I have a chance to upstage you at the Requiem Ball.”

  “You’re attending?”

  “Why, yes. And why shouldn’t I? We’re celebrating the end of the war, aren’t we?”

  “Indeed we are,” said China. “But I doubt there will be many guests there who fought on the losing side.”

  Scorn shrugged. “Winning side, losing side, it’s all a matter of degree. And then there’s you, of course. You don’t have a side, do you? You abandoned your side. Turned your back on your—”

  “If
you’re going to describe what a traitor I am, I feel I have to tell you that I’ve heard it all before, and if you’re finished with me, I have a library to get back to.”

  “Finished with you?” Scorn laughed. “China, my darling, I haven’t even started.”

  She met Gallow later that night, under the moon and the stars.

  “That list of twelve people,” she said, “the important and influential sorcerers Eliza was talking about. They’re going to be at the Requiem Ball.”

  Gallow frowned. “You’re sure? She’d meet with them right under everyone’s noses? It’s far too dangerous.”

  “Not for Eliza. It’s the perfect excuse to talk to them. We’re going to need that list if we want to shut this down before it starts.”

  Gallow smiled. “You want to assassinate them, don’t you?”

  She shrugged her left shoulder. “It is one option.”

  “The first person we’ll have to take care of is Scorn herself. Once we have the list, we won’t need her any more.”

  “No,” said China. “We take them all out at the same time.”

  “That may not be possible.”

  “Let me worry about that. Once they’re dead, the Church will crumble, once and for all.” She looked at Gallow. “Do you think you can retrieve it without her knowing?”

  “It shouldn’t be a problem. You think you can organise the assassination of Scorn and twelve others?”

  China smiled. “It shouldn’t be a problem.”

  Chapter 23

  The Homecoming

  hey’d been on the road for a little under twenty-four hours when the Penguin-Mobile stopped, and Clarabelle tapped on the glass. “We’re here,” she said.

  Scapegrace slid open the freezer and got out. He watched Clarabelle stretch, envying the yawn that accompanied the movement. He was dead. He didn’t get tired any more. He missed it.

  It was another gorgeous day outside. Grumbling, he put on a coat and pulled up the hood to hide his head. Clarabelle left the van first, and Scapegrace pushed Thrasher aside so he could go next. He stepped on to a pavement. It was awfully familiar. He looked around.

  “We’re in Roarhaven,” he said.

  Clarabelle nodded. “This is where the new Sanctuary is.”

  He stared at her. “But I know Roarhaven. I lived here for years. I know how to get to Roarhaven. We didn’t have to spend twenty-four hours driving around waiting for you to remember where the Sanctuary was. You could have just said Roarhaven and I’d have known. We could have been here in an hour.”

  “It’s not about the destination. It’s about the journey.”

  “It’s a little about the destination,” Thrasher said quietly.

  “And besides,” Clarabelle said, “we got to see the sights, didn’t we?”

  “I was stuck in a freezer,” Scapegrace reminded her.

  “This is my home now,” Clarabelle said, ignoring them. “Or it will be, if I get the job. It’s a lovely town, isn’t it?”

  Scapegrace hesitated. “Do you really think so?”

  “No, I don’t,” she admitted. “I liked where I was living in Dublin more. I had a nice flat, and I had a gerbil. His name was Theodore.”

  “That’s a nice name,” said Thrasher.

  “I don’t think he liked it. Roarhaven, though, it isn’t a gerbil kind of place.”

  “I don’t suppose it is,” Scapegrace said.

  “The people aren’t very nice.”

  “They don’t trust outsiders.”

  “I don’t think Theodore would have fitted in. Before I left, I released him into the wild.”

  Thrasher frowned. “You released your gerbil into the wild?”

  “Yes. Back into his natural habitat. It was only fair. Now he can live out the rest of his life, hunting his prey and raising a family.”

  “What, uh, what would a gerbil’s prey be?”

  “Nuts, mostly.”

  Thrasher frowned. “And how would he hunt nuts?”

  Clarabelle shrugged. “He’d probably lie in wait or something. I don’t know. But he’s out there now, living his life, and I’m here, in Roarhaven, trying to start a new one. I’m going to ask for a job now.” She started walking towards the Sanctuary. Scapegrace hesitated, then followed after her. Thrasher scurried along behind.

  “If you get a job,” Scapegrace said, “maybe you could ask Doctor Nye to bring me back to life, as a favour.”

  “Doctor Nye doesn’t do favours,” Clarabelle said. “Doctor Nye is not that kind of boss.”

  “You don’t know what kind of boss it is. You said earlier you’d never met it.”

  “I’m only guessing. I’m guessing it’ll say no. It’ll have to, or I’ll get it into my head to ask it for favours every day, and then where will we be? You’ll have to ask it yourself.”

  “But why would it say yes to me?”

  “Maybe it’s kind.”

  “You mentioned something about it being a war criminal.”

  “Yes, I don’t think it’s kind.”

  “If it is such a horrible creature,” Thrasher said from behind them, “then why do you want to work for it, Clarabelle? You seem really nice.”

  “Thank you, Thrasher,” Clarabelle said. “You’re nice too. I hope Doctor Nye doesn’t give you a new brain. I hope it just washes the one you already have.”

  Thrasher smiled, and Scapegrace hit him and turned back to Clarabelle. “The problem,” he said, “is that we don’t have anything to bargain with. We don’t have money, we don’t have property. We have no skills to speak of. So what’s the point of even going to see it? It’s only going to say no. It’s only going to laugh at us and say no. Why should I go and see someone who is only going to laugh at me? Everyone laughs at me. The people in this town laughed at me for years, and that was even before I was a zombie.”

  Clarabelle turned to face him. “I’m not laughing at you.”

  “I’m not laughing, either,” Thrasher said.

  “Shut up, Thrasher.” Scapegrace looked at Clarabelle. “I… I’m sorry. Being back here, suddenly all my old insecurities come to the surface again. I wasn’t always the confident person you see before you. I had… doubts. I wasn’t the Killer Supreme. I wasn’t the Zombie King. I was just… Scapegrace.”

  “Well,” Clarabelle said, “I think Scapegrace is a great guy.”

  “Do you believe in me?”

  Clarabelle frowned. “I’m not sure. I’ve hallucinated before. That’s how I met my first boyfriend.”

  “No, not do you believe I exist. I’m asking, do you believe in me? As a person? As a… a being? It’d be nice to hear that, to hear that someone believes in me.”

  “I believe in you, Vaurien.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I believe in lots of silly things.”

  “Oh.”

  “That doesn’t mean they’re not important.”

  “Right.”

  “I believe you can do whatever you put your mind to.”

  “Really?”

  “I don’t know what I’m saying any more.” She resumed her march towards the Sanctuary.

  There was a man leaving just as they came to the door. He frowned at them. “Can I help you?”

  “No,” Clarabelle said cheerily, and breezed by. Scapegrace and Thrasher kept their heads down and shuffled after her.

  A man and a woman emerged from a doorway, deep in conversation. They seemed to recognise Clarabelle, and she asked them for directions and then they continued on, with Clarabelle singing ‘We’re Off to See the Wizard’. She led them through swinging doors into an Operating Room, where a spider-like being was dissecting a corpse.

  “Doctor Nye,” Clarabelle said.

  The spider-like being turned to them. “Zombies,” it said, mildly surprised. “And a blue-haired girl.”

  “My name is Clarabelle. I’m here looking for a job.”

  “A job?”

  “Yes. I have no medical or scientific training to spea
k of, and no inclination to learn, and I pick things up fairly slowly because of my short attention span.”

  Nye blinked its yellow eyes. “But…?”

  “But what?”

  “I’m waiting for you to list your good qualities now.”

  Clarabelle blinked back at him. “Those were my good qualities.”

  “Clarabelle… Clarabelle… You worked as Kenspeckle Grouse’s assistant, did you not?”

  “One of them. He fired all the others.”

  “But not you?”

  “He fired me on the second day, but I kept coming in. I had nowhere else to go.”

  “And then you killed him.”

  “Yes.”

  “A Remnant squirmed inside you, and you killed Kenspeckle Grouse.”

  “Yes.”

  Nye grinned. “You’re hired. But I have to warn you, if you try to kill me, I will dissect you and sing along to your screams.”

  “Can I have Mondays off ?”

  “You may. Who are your friends?”

  Scapegrace cleared his throat. “My name is Vaurien Scapegrace, Doctor. I have sought you out to cure me.”

  “To cure you of what?”

  “Of this accursed affliction.”

  “I cannot cure stupidity.”

  Scapegrace frowned. “I meant being a zombie.”

  “And why should I do this?”

  “Because… it’s a challenge worthy of your skills?”

  “I don’t like challenges,” Nye said dismissively. “Do you have money? I like money.”

  “I don’t have an awful lot.”

  “Do you have any?”