Skulduggery Pleasant: Last Stand of Dead Men (37 page)

Illori Reticent put the report she’d been reading to one side, and beckoned the other woman into her office. It was a small office, full of books, and smelled of old paper and warm leather. After Quintin Strom’s assassination, Cothernus Ode had moved into the Grand Mage’s chambers and the new Elder that had been promoted to replace him had instantly laid claim to Ode’s old office. Palaver Graves was a man to take untold delight in petty victories, and Illori let him have this one. Besides, at no time did Ode’s office ever hold the slightest attraction for her – it was too big, too cold, and too close to the toilets for her liking.

“The Dead Men broke into the facility as we knew they would,” Amalia said. “Grand Mage Mandat’s forces then sprang the trap.”

Illori raised an eyebrow. “By the look on your face, I can tell things stopped going to plan from that moment on.”

“I don’t have all the details, but it appears that the Dead Men received help from external forces.”

Illori sat back in her chair. “The Australians?”

“And the Africans.”

“
Both?
”

“I’m afraid so. The Dead Men escaped. Also, they have the Engineer.”

Illori stared at her. “Does the Grand Mage know?”

“He is being briefed as we speak.”

“This is going to be fun,” Illori muttered. “Thank you, Amalia. You may return to your duties.”

Once Amalia was gone, Illori pulled her cloak over her shoulders and pinned it into place with the clasp that signified her position on the Council. She fixed her hair and applied the lightest sheen of lipstick, then walked the corridors. She met Graves on the way, and with great reluctance he fell in beside her.

“I take it you’ve heard,” he said, trying to get her to speed up.

She maintained her pace. “I did indeed, Palaver. You’re not the only one who has little spies whispering in their ear.”

“I would scarcely call them
spies
, Elder Reticent. Are you feeling all right, by the way? You look tired. Maybe you should rest.”

She gave him a smile. “Your concern is touching. And maybe I do look tired. I tend to work a lot.” They reached Ode’s office, and Palaver opened the door for her. “You’re looking wonderfully well-rested, though,” she said as she passed through.

Palaver came in after her, glowering.

Grand Mage Cothernus Ode stood at the floor-to-ceiling window, looking out over London. While most other Sanctuaries had their premises below ground, thirty years ago, Quintin Strom decided to build upwards instead of deeper down. From the outside, the building was neither pretty enough nor ugly enough to catch the eye or hold the attention. From out there, the window Ode stood at appeared small and showed nothing but an empty room.

“Mandat has made a mess of everything,” Ode said, keeping his eyes on the city. “How that’s possible, I don’t know. The man has a knack for plucking failure from the jaws of success.”

“The Australians and the Africans—” Palaver started, but didn’t get one word further.

“I know about the bloody Australians and the bloody Africans,” Ode said, turning now to cast a contemptuous eye on Illori’s rapidly wilting colleague, “and their involvement shouldn’t even have mattered. If you manage to lure the Dead Men into a trap, you kill them instantly. You blow the entire facility. You don’t try to take them
alive
. You don’t try to take them
down
. You just
kill them
. The press of a button. A big explosion. Instead, he gets all of his sorcerers and all of his Cleavers to lie in wait and, when the Dead Men appear in a place no one was expecting, they all scramble over each other to claim the glory. And then, as you say … the bloody Australians and the bloody Africans.”

“We should contact their Councils,” Illori said.

“We’re trying,” Ode responded. “So far, they’re not picking up the phone. It’s too late. You
know
it’s too late, Illori. They’ve shown which side they’re fighting on. Their colours have been nailed.”

“Then they have become our enemies,” she said, “and they will be dealt with. We knew the Cradles of Magic forming an alliance was a distinct possibility.”

“Doesn’t make the news any easier to take,” Ode said, collapsing into his chair. “Damn it, Graves, don’t just stand there and sulk. Contribute to the conversation.”

Palaver flushed. “Yes, Grand Mage, of course. We should also take into account the fact that the Dead Men have retrieved the Engineer.”

“And that’s another thing!” Ode cried. “The damn Engineer! You lure them into a trap with something they need, the very least you can do is not let them run off with the thing when they escape! Do we have
any
idea where they are?”

“I’m afraid not,” said Palaver, hanging his head in shame.

“We had them,” Ode muttered. “Ravel and Bespoke. Two of the three Elders. All Mandat had to do was not mess up and this war would have been over before it really began.”

There was a knock on the door, and the Administrator, Merriwyn, stepped in. “Apologies, Elders. The Japanese Grand Mage is requesting assistance. There’s a strike team disabling his Sanctuary’s infrastructure faster than it can be repaired.”

“Please tell Grand Mage Kumo that he can deal with it himself – we’re busy fighting a war.”

“He knows that, sir, and he points out that we’re fighting a war using his sorcerers. He barely has anyone left to defend his Sanctuary. And he’s not the only one with this problem. We’re getting requests for assistance from Syria, Romania, Iceland …”

“Iceland?” Ode barked. “Is there even a
Sanctuary
in Iceland?”

Merriwyn didn’t bat an eyelid. “Yes there is, sir, and it’s under attack.”

Ode’s hands curled into fists. “I don’t have time for this. Ravel is sending hit-and-run teams to poorly defended Sanctuaries because he needs some easy wins. These are the actions of a desperate man. From this moment on, all reports of this nature go to Elder Graves. You can handle this, can’t you, Graves?”

Palaver nodded quickly. “Yes, Grand Mage. Of course.”

“Hear that, Merriwyn? Do not bother me with this again. Do you have any relevant information to share with me?”

Merriwyn turned a page. “General Mantis is on schedule, sir. There have been no reports of any delays.”

“Why couldn’t everyone be as efficient as Mantis? Say what you like about its unusual predilections, that creature knows how to stick to a timetable. Is that it, then? That is the one piece of good news today?”

“I’m afraid so, Grand Mage,” said Merriwyn.

“Leave us.”

Merriwyn bowed, and left silently.

Ode turned to Illori. “Thoughts?”

“Fletcher Renn is a problem,” she said. “The Dead Men are a problem. Take Renn out of the equation and the Irish lose their ability to hit and run. Take the Dead Men out of the equation and they lose their leaders.”

“Not all of them. Madame Mist is still in Roarhaven.”

Illori arched an eyebrow. “You think anyone outside of Roarhaven will follow her? The Dead Men are more than just leaders and more than just soldiers. They’re a symbol. They’re the living embodiment of what a small group of determined individuals can accomplish against a much bigger enemy. They proved that against Mevolent. They’re proving it against us.”

“I didn’t realise you’d joined their fan club.”

“Snarkiness doesn’t suit you, Grand Mage. Have you heard what our own people are saying about them? During the day, they are spoken of with trepidation and awe. But at night? At night they’re spoken of with fear. The Dead Men have become the stuff of superstition and nightmares. That is why they are winning.”

“Whoever said they were winning?”

“We have yet to capture or kill more than a dozen of their sorcerers, while forty-one of ours have been taken out of the fight that we know of. They are successfully targeting and attacking our support structures and we still can’t get through their shield. They are chipping away at our allies and we haven’t even moved against theirs. We’re losing, Cothernus. With every cut, they draw more blood.”

“I don’t have time for this. There’s a conference call with my fellow Grand Mages on the Supreme Council that I have to get to. No doubt Mandat will give us a hundred and one excuses as to how this isn’t his fault. There’s going to be a lot of name-calling and angry words, and nothing is going to get decided. By the end of the day, I want a new strategy from you both. Illori, I want proposals on how we handle the Australians and Africans. Graves, give me options on how to track down and eliminate the Dead Men. Get to it.”

t had all been going so well.

Skylar and Serephia had arrived in Mozambique without detection. They’d blended into the throngs of mortals at the airport, where Skylar’s English accent and Serephia’s American twang wouldn’t stand out. None of the African sorcerers stationed there even noticed them passing. Once they were outside, they stole a car, headed out of the city. Cothernus Ode himself had assigned them their mission – assassinate the Sensitive who was psychically co-ordinating the African forces around the world.

The Sensitive had been tracked to a large warehouse, well away from civilian eyes. Skylar had been told to expect a heavy contingent of enemy sorcerers protecting him. She didn’t mind that. She had no intention of taking them on. The plan was to slip in, kill the Sensitive, and slip out before anyone knew what had happened.

So they parked and crept up to the warehouse. They found the first guard, torn apart, and that’s when things started to go wrong.

“We should get out of here,” Serephia said, her voice soft.

“Not until we know the target is down,” Skylar replied. “And not until we know who did this.”

She led the way to the wide-open warehouse door. Even for her, a seasoned assassin, the sight that greeted her was shocking. Dead bodies were strewn about like someone had carelessly tossed them aside. The carnage was fresh. Blood still dripped.

Serephia tapped her, turned her head slightly. Skylar listened. Now she could hear it. A voice. No. Two voices.

They moved into the warehouse, stepping between the bodies, darting from shadow to shadow. Serephia had her gun in her hand. Skylar realised that she’d drawn her own as well, and hadn’t even noticed herself doing it.

Through the next door, there was a man on his knees. He was small, a dark-skinned man with tight silver hair. Skylar recognised him as the Sensitive. Standing over him was a ten-foot slab of muscle with pale skin and a bald head, splattered with other people’s blood. Skylar’s mouth went dry at the sight of him.

“I swear,” the Sensitive said, “I cannot see any sign of them. Please, let me go.”

The huge man laid a massive hand on the Sensitive’s shoulder, and the Sensitive whimpered in pain.

“You are not looking hard enough,” the huge man said. “Find me Department X or I will crush your skull.”

“I need something more,” the Sensitive said. “Please, I need more information. A name, or an object that one of them has touched …”

“I was told you are the most powerful psychic on this continent.”

“Yes, but—”

“Find me Department X.”

“I can’t. Please, I’m sorry. I need more to—”

The huge man grasped the Sensitive’s head between his hands and snapped his neck. Skylar’s heart lurched at the sudden
crack
.

“Disappointing,” the huge man murmured. Then he turned. “But perhaps I’ll have better luck with you two.”

Serephia was already running and Skylar was right behind her. They fired back into the room. Skylar tripped over a corpse and sprawled, lost her gun. Serephia turned, reached out to grab her, and a stream of energy melted through her like she wasn’t even there.

Skylar cursed, fell back, scrambled up, and then the huge man had his hand round her throat.

“Tell me,” he said, “what do you know of Department X?”

She kicked, struggled, but it was no use. She raised her hand, her magic flowing through her, but the big man took her hand and broke it. Skylar screamed and he dropped her.

“Who are you?” she shouted, clutching her arm, tears of pain in her eyes. “What do you want?”

“My name is Charivari,” the huge man said. “And I am looking for the people who have been killing Warlocks. The psychic told me many things. He told me of your little war. He told me of a machine that can increase magic. But he didn’t tell me what I wanted to know. He didn’t tell me where I can find Department X.”