The Faceless Ones (Skulduggery Pleasant - Book 3) (6 page)

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"Because he was mad."

"Oh."

China straightened up and pursed her lips. "This book's a forgery. I'd say it's at least five hundred 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 daresay 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?"

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"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."

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"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

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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

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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."

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Six

***

F
letcher Renn

The hotel lobby was
wide,
with a small row of plants against one wall and a delicate waterfall
feature
against the other. Two huge marble pillars rose from floor to ceiling, and Skulduggery used one of these pillars to shield himself from the smiling receptionist. He had only his hat and the scarf wrapped around his jaw as a disguise. He casually strolled to the elevators, Valkyrie behind him. She kept her hands, which she had bandaged, in her pockets, and returned the receptionist's smile until they were both out of sight. The elevator doors slid open, and an elderly

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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 with the Texan assassin, 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 apparently 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

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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. His hair 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."

His eyes flickered to something behind her. She turned to see a million little cracks appear in the plaster on the wall. Sanguine passed through into the room, his lip bleeding and his sunglasses missing.

Fletcher saw the black holes where Sanguine's eyes used to be and swore under his breath.

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Valkyrie ripped the bandage off her right hand and clicked her fingers, felt the spark generated by the friction, and fed it her magic. The spark ignited into flame and grew, swirling in her palm. She hurled the fireball, and Sanguine threw himself to one side, barely avoiding it.

The blade of his straight razor gleamed wickedly. Valkyrie took one step forward and extended her arm, hand open. She sank into the stance, knees bending slightly, as she snapped her palm against the air and the space in front of her rippled. Sanguine dived to one side, and the displaced air hit the couch where he had just been standing and sent it crashing against the wall.

Sanguine threw a lamp at Valkyrie, and the base struck her cheek. She stumbled and he moved straight toward her. Even as she was ducking the swipe of the razor, she knew it had been a feint, and he grabbed her and hauled her back as the hotel room door was kicked open and Skulduggery stormed in. His hat and scarf were gone, and Fletcher gaped as he caught his first glimpse of the skeleton detective.

"Let her go," Skulduggery said, the revolver in his hand, ready to fire.

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"But then you might shoot me," Sanguine said. "An' getting' shot
hurts.
Drop the gun, gimme the kid with the freaky hairdo, or I kill the girl."

"No."

"Then I reckon we got ourselves a good old-fashioned standoff."

The blade of the straight razor pressed deeper into Valkyrie's throat, and she didn't even dare swallow. Her cheek throbbed with pain and she felt a trickle of blood run down her face where the lamp had struck her.

Nobody moved, or said anything, for the next few moments.

"Old-fashioned standoffs are mighty borin'," Sanguine muttered.

Fletcher was staring at Skulduggery. "You're a skeleton."

"Get behind me," Skulduggery said.

"What's going on? There's a guy with no eyes and a razor versus a skeleton in a suit with a gun. Who's the good guy here?"

Valkyrie clicked her fingers, but had to do it softly or else Sanguine would hear. She tried again but still couldn't summon a spark.

"Fletcher," Sanguine said, "unlike these two, I

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came here to make you an offer. My employers are very generous people, and they'd like to pay you a lot of money to do one little job for them."

"Don't listen to him," Skulduggery warned.

"Why would I need money?" Fletcher asked. "I teleport wherever I want to go and I take whatever I need. I don't have to pay for anything."

"There are other rewards," Sanguine tried. "We can work something out."

Fletcher shook his head. "I'm sorry, I don't know what any of you want, or why guns and knives are being waved around, or why the girl has just been taken hostage, but everyone seems to be acting like having a
talking skeleton
in the room is perfectly normal. And you, where are your eyes? How can you see? How come the only people with eyes in this room are me and her?"

"Very good questions." Sanguine nodded. "If you come with me right now, I'll give you all the answers you want."

"This man's a killer," said Skulduggery. "You can't trust anything he says."

"I'm not planning on it," Fletcher replied, and he picked up his jacket and put it on. "I don't care why you or your bosses want me to work for you," he

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said to Sanguine. "The fact is, nobody tells me what to do anymore. I'm going to go ahead and say no."

"That's a mistake, boy."

"Come with us," Skulduggery said. "We can protect you."

"Don't need protection." Fletcher shrugged. "Don't need anything from anyone. I've got this really cool power, and I intend to use it to do whatever I want."

"You're in danger," Skulduggery insisted. "Most of the other Teleporters in the world are dead."

Fletcher frowned. "So I'm one of the last?" He took a moment to absorb this information, and when he shrugged, it was with the beginnings of a smile. "Then that just makes me even cooler."

He vanished with a soft pop, as the air around him rushed in to fill the sudden vacuum.

"Damn it all to hell," Sanguine muttered.

Valkyrie clicked her fingers and summoned a single flame into her palm, then pressed it into Sanguine's leg. He yelped and his hold loosened. She grabbed his right wrist and held the straight razor away from her as Skulduggery moved in. Sanguine cursed and pushed Valkyrie into Skulduggery's path.

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"I really hate you guys," he said, sinking down into the ground.

They waited for a few moments, making sure he wasn't going to jump out at them from somewhere.

"Are you all right?" Skulduggery asked as he crossed to Valkyrie and tilted her chin to one side. "Did he cut you?"

"Not with his razor," Valkyrie said, reclaiming her chin. She knew she'd been lucky. Scars left by that blade never healed. "We lost Fletcher. He's probably miles away by now. After this, how are we ever going to find him again? "

There was a sound from the bathroom, and they both looked at the closed door. Skulduggery walked over and knocked. A few seconds later it opened, and Fletcher Renn looked out at them sheepishly.

"Oh," Valkyrie said. "Well, that was easy."

Valkyrie sat opposite Fletcher, neither of them saying anything. He had adopted an air of complete boredom on the drive over, and this obvious attempt at nonchalance was starting to bug her. She dabbed a wadded clump of napkins to her cut