“This is… wow.”
“I’m glad you like it. We leave for the Ball in twenty minutes.”
She glared at him. “I have to wash my hair.”
“Then you had better hurry.”
She showered in the bathroom that had been specially installed for her. As she did her make-up, she checked herself for scars and bruises. Apart from the bandage on her forearm there was nothing much to report. She would have liked to have gone to one of the Sanctuary doctors instead of making do with stitches and a bandage, but mortal problems meant mortal solutions. A physical injury that could be photographed and documented would help the Guards in their prosecution, whereas an injury that disappeared overnight would only help Valkyrie look better in her dress.
Not that she needed any help as far as that was concerned. The dress was long and slinky, strapless, silk and chiffon. Her shoes were gorgeous.
She stepped into the living room and Skulduggery, wearing the sharpest tuxedo she had ever seen, complete with black gloves and a white scarf, tilted his head to her.
“You’re late,” he said.
“I’m beautiful.”
“You’re always beautiful.”
“I’m always late, too.”
He put on his hat, black to match the tux, and they walked out of the house. He opened the car door and she slipped in.
They left Dublin City, heading north, passed the turn-off for Haggard and continued on to Gordon’s house. There was no one guarding the gate, but even so, Skulduggery slowed to a stop. He took their passkey from his pocket, a gold disc no bigger than his palm, and pressed it between his thumb and forefinger. Once it started to glow they drove on, and Valkyrie saw the symbols pulse on either side of the gate, nullifying the security measures. Gleaming cars were parked on both sides of the long driveway, and Valkyrie glimpsed figures standing in the darkness. Men and women, dressed similarly to Cleavers but in black, with twin sickles in sheaths on their backs.
“They’re Rippers,” Skulduggery said. “Cleaver-trained private security. Only the richest can afford them.”
They got out of the Bentley. Skulduggery had a stern word of warning with the valet, and they walked into the house.
Valkyrie imagined that this was what a high society party looked like – people in expensive clothes sipping champagne and laughing politely. The only difference was that, here and there, there were examples of the extraordinary – an otherwise sombre gentleman with green hair, a woman in a shimmering dress with shimmering skin, a man with claws, and of course the walking skeleton beside her. The richest and the most influential sorcerers in the world. Valkyrie could feel the power the moment she stepped in the door, and it made her insides tingle.
A waiter with dirty fingernails offered her a glass of wine on a silver tray. She politely declined, and as the waiter disappeared in the crowd she frowned after him. Dirty fingernails, at a function like this? She shrugged, letting it go. In one of the rooms there was a small orchestra, whose music drifted throughout the house at a perfect pitch. No one had to raise their voice to be heard.
Everything in here positively glowed. Valkyrie was glad the dress Skulduggery had bought her was so beautiful – it was a match for the others she saw.
Skulduggery handed his hat and scarf to a woman who smiled and took them away. Valkyrie stayed by his side. They passed through to the next room, and Skulduggery did his best to tell her who everyone was. She recognised a lot of the names.
Everyone, it seemed, knew Skulduggery, but not all of them liked him. For every smile they got, there was at least one scowl.
“As you can see,” Skulduggery said quietly, “I’m very, very popular.”
“I can tell.”
Gordon stood by his Echo Stone, chatting to a group of people who laughed at whatever story he was telling. He saw Valkyrie and waved, his eyes sparkling, then returned to his story. She grinned.
Ravel came over, shook Skulduggery’s hand and kissed Valkyrie’s cheek. “You look stunning,” he told her.
She smiled back at him. “Not so bad yourself, Grand Mage.”
He laughed, then caught sight of a group of foreign sorcerers standing nearby, and sighed unhappily. “I must go,” he said. “The curse of this job is that I have to mingle. Just when you meet someone interesting, you’re called away by someone mundane.”
Ravel moved off, and Ghastly arrived to take his place. “Sorry I’m late,” he said. “I’d trouble getting in. My disc wasn’t working right, and I’d barely passed the gates before I was surrounded by Rippers.”
“Oh Elder Bespoke, that’s dreadful,” Valkyrie teased. “Didn’t they know who you were?”
He looked at her. “You’re making fun of me, aren’t you?”
“Not Valkyrie, Your Lordship,” Skulduggery protested. “She wouldn’t dream of it.”
“I hate you,” Ghastly muttered. “I hate you both. Oh, we have a surprise guest.”
Skulduggery’s head tilted. “We do?”
Ghastly nodded ahead of them, and the crowd parted to reveal a man with short blond hair, his face lighting up when he saw them. He looked young and fit and healthy – no more than thirty years old, wearing his tuxedo with the bow tie undone and the top buttons of his shirt open.
Skulduggery stepped forward to clasp this man’s hand in his, as if they were old friends.
“It’s been too long,” Skulduggery said.
“It has at that,” the newcomer replied. His eyes left Skulduggery and found Valkyrie.
“Hi,” she said. “I’m—”
“Val!” he exclaimed, and enveloped her in a hug. “Any friend of Skulduggery’s, providing she’s pretty enough, is a friend of mine!” He let go of her and stepped back. “You are now my friend.”
“Valkyrie,” Skulduggery said, “allow me to introduce the one and only Dexter Vex, obviously taking a short break from his life of adventuring and derring-do.”
“A very short break,” Vex said, stepping back and flashing her a grin. Oh, she liked him.
“I’ve heard a lot about you,” she said. “You were one of the Dead Men.”
“Indeed I was,” Vex nodded, “cursed to follow this bumbling fool from misadventure to misadventure in the days of our youth. Is he treating you well? He doesn’t boast too much, does he?”
“Sometimes it’s like that’s all he ever does.”
He held her hand in both of his. “I feel your pain,” he said sadly.
Skulduggery pulled their hands apart. “Yes, well, quite enough of that. If you feel the need to gang up on me, at least have the decency to wait until my back is turned. When did you get into town?”
“This morning,” Vex said. “Ghastly sent me an invitation a few weeks ago, and even though I was kind of busy, when someone like His Holy Eminence sends you an invite, you really can’t say no.”
“Oh, great,” Ghastly said, “now you’ve got him at it.”
Valkyrie laughed, hooking her arm through Ghastly’s. “We’re only messing,” she said. “And by the way, you look amazing in that tuxedo.”
Ghastly smiled. “Why thank you, Valkyrie.”
Vex chuckled. “See that? He hasn’t changed a bit. No matter how bad a mood he pretends to be in, all it takes is a nice word from a pretty girl and he’s putty in her hands. Skulduggery, remember that French girl we met in Saipan? What was her name?”
“Oh,” Skulduggery said. “Françoise.”
“That’s it,” said Vex. “Françoise. Remember her, Ghastly? Remember that weekend we couldn’t find you? We thought Mevolent had snatched you away and was torturing you to within an inch of your life. Valkyrie, would you like to know what he was really doing that weekend?”
“Yes I would,” said Valkyrie.
“No she wouldn’t,” said Ghastly.
“I think she would,” Skulduggery said.
“If you tell her,” said Ghastly, “I will have the both of you arrested. And possibly flogged.”
Vex sighed. ?
??Sorry, Val. What happens in wartime, apparently stays in wartime.”
“Aw,” Valkyrie said, her shoulders drooping.
A woman stopped beside Ghastly, whispered something into his ear. He nodded.
“If you’ll excuse me,” he said, “I have people to talk to. Important people, people of influence and stature, and hopefully people who won’t laugh at me.”
He walked away, and immediately Vex leaned in.
“Don’t worry,” he said, “we have plenty of other stories to tell you. And I have plenty of stories to tell you about Skulduggery too. Good stories. Scandalous stories. Stories to use against him no matter what the situation.”
“Suddenly this entire night seems like a bad idea,” Skulduggery said.
The conversation died as a man appeared beside them, luxurious blond hair swept back off his fleshy face, wet lips curled in a smile. Behind him stood a boy of Valkyrie’s age.
“My my,” the man said, his chins quivering with his words, “if it isn’t the Skeleton Detective himself, come down off his mountain to grace us lowly sorcerers with his presence. I am so honoured and awestruck that I fear I am at a loss. Should I bow? Kneel? Curtsey?”
“Leave?” Skulduggery suggested, and the man laughed uproariously.
His small eyes turned to Valkyrie. “And you, my dear, this vision in black, must be Valkyrie Cain herself.” She didn’t like the way he looked at her – he was taking far too long. “Skulduggery, my sincerest congratulations – you’ve picked a good one here. Pretty, too. I can see why you take her wherever you go. Not too smart, though, am I right?”
Valkyrie glanced at Skulduggery. “It’s not just me, is it? He is begging for a box, isn’t he?”
“Indeed he is,” Skulduggery said.
“I think so too,” nodded Vex.
“You can go ahead and hit him if you like,” said Skulduggery.
The man laughed, held up his hands. They were pale and soft, like they’d never seen a day’s work. “I surrender!” he mock-cried. “I yield! Please don’t let the girl strike me!”
Valkyrie was going to hit him out of pure principle, but the boy in the tuxedo took hold of the fat man’s arm and tugged it sharply.
“Father,” he said, “I think you’ve had too much wine. Perhaps you would like some air?”
“There’s plenty of air in here,” the man said, “although it seems to be primarily hot air.” He laughed at his own joke, and disentangled himself. “Miss Cain, this is my son, who has taken the grand and noble name of Hansard Kray, and I am his embarrassing father, the scurrilous and drunken Arthur Dagan. See how he blushes for me? Is that not the sign of a loyal and loving child?”
“I’m very sorry,” Hansard said. He was taller than his father, and lean. The only trait they seemed to share was the colour of their hair.
“Don’t apologise for me!” Arthur snapped. “And especially not to her!”
Skulduggery was right by Valkyrie’s elbow, but remained quiet. She appreciated that. Any other man would have leaped in to defend her honour. Valkyrie was quite capable of doing that herself.
“Do you have a problem with me?” she asked Arthur.
“A problem?” he echoed. “No! My word, no! Not at all! I’m sure, given time, we could be the best of friends, were it not for your unfortunate habit of murdering my gods.”
“Oh,” she said, understanding at last. “You’re a disciple of the Faceless Ones.”
“Indeed I am,” Arthur said, bowing before her. “In the spirit of openness and togetherness that the new Council of Elders wants to project, I have been invited, for the first time, to the Requiem Ball, where all you people laugh and chortle and pat each other’s backs for defeating the evil Mevolent and his evil followers – of which I was one.”
“You didn’t have to come,” Valkyrie pointed out.
“And you don’t tell me what to do,” Arthur sneered. “You’ll get your come-uppance, you know. You’ll pay for all the things you’ve done.”
“It was a pleasure to meet you,” Hansard Kray said, trying to pull his father away.
“I should put you over my knee,” Arthur said loudly, keeping his eyes on Valkyrie, “and spank you here in front of everyone.”
A waiter appeared, tried to help Hansard’s efforts, but Arthur shoved him back. He waved a fat finger at Valkyrie. “You watch yourself, girl. You watch yourself. Your time is coming.”
Finally, Hansard managed to turn his father, and they plunged through the gathered crowd until it swallowed them up. A moment passed, and slowly the conversations picked up again.
Valkyrie turned to Skulduggery. “He was lovely!” she beamed.
“Arthur Dagan’s family was once royalty,” Skulduggery told her, “or something close to it. Mevolent served under his grandfather for a time, before he came to power himself. Arthur hasn’t handled their fall from grace with as much dignity as one might wish for. Hopefully, his son fares better.”
There was a shout, and then a door burst open and men in ski masks poured into the room, waving guns.
“Nobody move!” one of them screamed, firing into the air. “We’re here for your jewellery and wallets! Anyone tries being a hero, they’ll be shot dead!”
Chapter 47
This Evening’s Entertainment
he gunshot stopped the music. Everybody stopped talking, and just stared in absolute astonishment. Valkyrie couldn’t quite believe it.
The guest with the claws spoke up. “You’re… you’re here to rob us?”
“Yeah!” the leader of the gang said. Then he faltered. “What’s up with your hands?”
One of his friends, a man in a red ski mask, was already panicking. He held his gun in a tight grip, and even from where she was standing, Valkyrie recognised the dirty fingernails of the waiter who had offered her champagne. “I told you, Larry, this isn’t right. Look at these people. They’re not right.”
Someone in the crowd started laughing. Someone else joined in. Within moments, practically every one of the assembled guests was doubled over with laughter. Larry and his ski-masked friends did not appreciate the joke.
“Shut up!” Larry screamed. “Shut up!”
Valkyrie was barely able to keep track of what happened next. The air rippled, taking one of the ski-masked men off his feet. A ball of yellow light sped towards Larry and exploded. He was flung backwards. Streams of different colours criss-crossed around the other members of the gang, slamming into them and spinning them around. The man with the dirty fingernails was the last one standing. Ghastly stepped out of the crowd beside him and took his gun away. China Sorrows, dressed in an exquisite silk gown, tapped her arm. An ornate symbol glowed on her skin for a moment, and when she touched the man he screamed and toppled over.
Everyone cheered, the music started up again and the guests got back to chatting.
China approached. “Valkyrie,” she said, “you look beautiful. I always knew there was a pretty girl underneath all those bruises.” She saw Vex and raised an eyebrow. “Dexter Vex is back in the country. All we need is Anton Shudder and Saracen Rue to show up and we’d have a Dead Men reunion right here.”
“Hello China,” Vex said, leaning forward to kiss her cheek. “Have you got over your love for me yet?”
“I take each day as it comes,” she replied, and he laughed.
The orchestra started into a waltz. China held her hand out towards Skulduggery. “They’re playing our song.”
Skulduggery looked at Valkyrie. “If you’ll excuse me…?”
She smiled. “Go right ahead.”
Skulduggery took China’s hand, and led her to the only open space in the room. Valkyrie watched him look into China’s eyes, and they began to dance, moving over and around the unconscious forms of the ski-mask gang like they weren’t even there. They danced like two people were meant to dance – with strength, grace, and passion.
“He sure can dance, can’t he?” Vex said.
Valkyrie took her eye
s away from the dancing, and smiled. “He told me he could. I was a fool to doubt him.”
She looked back. She could see China’s lips move as they danced, and she wondered what they were talking about.
“I taught him everything he knows, of course,” said Vex with a nod. “Before he came to me, he had all the co-ordination of a turnip. I turned him into the dancer you see before you.”
Skulduggery dipped China, and then swung her up and she pressed against him.
“But do I get any thanks?” Vex continued. “Do I get even a nod of appreciation? No I do not. It’s quite fortunate that I don’t need other people’s approval to feel good about myself. But it would help.”
Ghastly appeared between them. “Are you still complaining about that?”
“I’m not complaining,” Vex corrected. “I am merely voicing my displeasure.” He frowned. “By the way, all joking aside, do I call you Ghastly or Elder Bespoke?”
“You can call me whatever you want.”
Vex nodded. “Thank you Gladys. Where’s Shudder tonight, anyway? Don’t tell me that miserable sod’s staying in that Hotel while there’s a party on.”
“I’m afraid he is,” Ghastly said. “You know very well that Anton isn’t one for small talk.”
“The years were meant to mellow the man, didn’t you tell me that once?”
“I was evidently wrong,” Ghastly conceded.
Vex suddenly smiled. “Remember how Larrikin used to wind him up? We’d be sitting around, waiting in a ditch or something for the order to strike, all of us tense and humourless, the enemy a mere stone’s throw away… and then Larrikin would whisper something to Shudder. Remember that?”
A grin formed on Ghastly’s face. “I remember Shudder’s birthday.”
Vex laughed and Valkyrie had to join in, it was so infectious.
“We were huddled down in a field in France,” Ghastly told her, while Vex snorted at the memory. “This was, I don’t know, 1850 or so. We were all there, all seven Dead Men – Skulduggery, Larrikin, Dexter, Hopeless, Saracen, Shudder and me. We hadn’t moved from that spot in three days. Apart from Skulduggery, we were all cold, wet and starving. Anyway, Larrikin decided on the third day that it was Shudder’s birthday, and there was nothing Shudder could do to convince him that it wasn’t.”