Armageddon Outta Here - The World of Skulduggery Pleasant. Derek Landy

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      Anton Shudder walked forward. “Tell us where Serpine is going. I don’t play games like my friends. They’re saying all this to confuse you and frighten you. I prefer to simply ask, and I expect a simple answer.”

      “I would rather die,” said Noche, a touch less convincingly.

      “Do you know my chosen discipline, little man?”

      “You’re a … You have a gist.”

      “That’s right. And when I let it out there are times when I just cannot control it. And it’s a sight to behold. Terrifying. Ferocious. Merciless. Tell us what we want to know or I shall release it, and believe you me you will garner its full attention.”

      Noche swallowed like he’d something sharp stuck in his craw. “Serpine … he mentioned Lancaster County, in Nebraska, as somewhere he’d be safe. Sounded like that’s where he’s headed.”

      Rue peered at him. “Are you lying?”

      “No.”

      “I don’t trust him.”

      Ravel nodded. “I don’t trust him, either.”

      “I trust him,” said Vex happily. “And I’ve changed my mind about his eyebrows, too. Skulduggery, can we keep him?”

      Pleasant tilted his head at the Necromancer. “You’re lying.”

      “No, I—”

      Pleasant splayed his hand and Noche flew off the ground, hit the wall, his feet kicking at air.

      The Dead Men fell silent, lost their smiles and looks of good humour.

      “My friend Anton will kill you,” said Pleasant, “but I will kill you worse. Why are you with Serpine?”

      “Please, I …”

      “You have one chance. If you lie to me, I will start killing you.”

      Something changed in Noche’s eyes, something dripped away. His melting resolve, most likely.

      “He’s heading for the Temple,” he said. “I was to meet him, take him back to it.”

      “The Necromancers are going to hide him?”

      “Y-yes. I don’t know why. He has an … an agreement, of sorts. Made long ago.”

      “He left you here to delay us,” said Pleasant, “and went on to the Temple without you. How far is it?”

      “Three days’ ride,” Noche said.

      Pleasant curled his fingers, and the Necromancer gasped for breath. “Tell us where it is.”

      They rode.

      On the second day they had grass under their horses’ hooves.

      The third day they found Serpine’s horse. It had snapped its leg in a gulley and Serpine hadn’t even had the decency to put it out of its misery. Hopeless laid his hand on its neck and put a bullet in its head, and it was a kindness, and then he remounted and they carried on.

      They made good time. Serpine’s tracks got fresher. They reached the top of a hill, looked down across the valley and saw a man running and falling, making his way to a rocky outcrop of curiously shaped stones and boulders. Standing outside the opening to what looked like a cave were a dozen figures in black, all in a line, watching Serpine approach.

      The Dead Men tore down that hill like the devil’s own demon dogs. They got close enough so that when Serpine glanced back they could see the fear and exhaustion painted across his dirty, sweating face.

      Then he stumbled through the line of black, and disappeared into the cave behind them.

      Pleasant leaped from the saddle, using his magic to propel himself through the air like he’d been shot from a cannon. He landed a couple of strides from the line of Necromancers.

      “Move,” he said.

      The Necromancers, being the contrary lot that they were, showed no intention of budging an inch. The one in the middle, the one who’d stepped aside to allow Serpine pass, gave Pleasant a smile.

      “Welcome to our Temple,” he said. “Ours is a place of peace and learning. Do you have business here?”

      “Move,” Pleasant said again. His voice, usually so smooth, was coarse as the sand they’d travelled across to get here. The Dead Men dismounted behind him, walked slowly up till they formed a wedge at his back. They kept their hands close to their guns.

      “Nefarian Serpine is a guest,” said the talkative Necromancer. “He has provided us a service in the past, and so he is under our protection. I’m afraid I can’t let you through.”

      “If you side with our enemy,” said Pleasant, “you become our enemy.”

      To his credit, the Necromancer didn’t seem all that intimidated by a walking skeleton with guns on his hips. He gave Pleasant another smile. “That’s a rather simplistic view of things, isn’t it? There’s really not much room for manoeuvring around that little philosophy. I prefer, personally, to take each moment as it comes, and to treat every obstacle as an opportunity to do something different. It makes life interesting.”

      His patience worn to a frayed thread already, conversing with a smiling flannel-mouth such as this one was enough to snap it clean. Pleasant went to push by, and suddenly there was a wall of shadows looming over their heads. The Dead Men went for their guns, but froze before drawing. Once those guns cleared leather, death would come flying and there’d be no turning back.

      “You think you scare us?” the Necromancer asked. “They call you the Dead Men, but it is my brothers, my sisters and I who wield the true death magic. You think we’re afraid to die? Really?”

      “I think you talk big,” said Pleasant. “I think you talk about death like it’s your friend. But if you really want to get acquainted, we can help you with that.”

      “Then kill us,” the Necromancer said. “But be warned. We stand at the mouth of a Temple. Beneath our feet, there are more of us than you can imagine. They’ll tear you to pieces and you still won’t be any closer to your quarry.”

      “Then we’ll wait,” Bespoke said. “We’ll make camp right here and we’ll wait.”

      “As much as I would enjoy seeing you waste your time in such a fashion,” the Necromancer replied, “our Temple has hidden entrances and exits leading far and wide. You’re just going to have to accept the fact that Serpine is out of your reach, get on your horses, and trot away.”

      “We don’t give up that easily,” said Ravel.

      “Then you should start,” said the Necromancer. “Because you’ve lost this little game. The skeleton knows it. That’s why he’s gone so quiet. All this time, all this effort, all this building of hatred and anger … all for nothing. You were a few seconds too late, gentlemen. That can’t be easy for you. You have my commiserations. СКАЧАТЬ