Skulduggery Pleasant. Derek Landy

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       3

      She pushed open the double doors and Doctor Nye waved a long-fingered hand.

      “Do not disturb me,” it said in that familiar high whisper. “I left strict orders not to be—”

      It looked up then, and its small eyes widened and its wide mouth opened as it got to its feet, the stool crashing to the ground behind it.

      Skulduggery held his gun low, by his hip. “The moment you set off an alarm, I will shoot you. I feel we ought to be clear on that from the very beginning.”

      Nye stopped moving backwards, and raised its arms. “I have no weapons.”

      Up close, Valkyrie could see that the threads that had once sewn Nye’s mouth and eyes shut were still there, poking out of its skin. She walked forward. “You act like you’re not pleased to see us, Doctor. That hurts my feelings. I thought we’d bonded that time you autopsied me.”

      “The years have been good to you,” Skulduggery said, coming round the table. “I mean, you’ve obviously shrunk, but apart from that you look great. How have you been spending your time? The last I heard, you’d escaped from Ironpoint Gaol. Who was it that broke you out? Eliza Scorn?”

      “How is Eliza?” Valkyrie asked. “Any word?”

      “I haven’t seen Eliza Scorn in years,” Nye said. “I was not the only one she freed. There were others.”

      “But she set you up here,” said Skulduggery. “You’d lost everything when we imprisoned you. We made sure of it. She helped you.”

      Nye licked its lips. Its tongue was small and pink. “She could see the importance of my work.”

      Valkyrie picked up a scalpel and walked over slowly. “Excavating the soul,” she said. “How’s that going for you? Found it yet?”

      “I believe I have,” said Nye.

      “So what next? Now that you’ve found where it hides, what are you going to do with it?”

      “Finding the soul was only the first step. Now I follow it to where it leads. I’m not hurting anyone. I’m not experimenting on anyone. You can search the castle. I have no patients here.”

      “No?” Valkyrie asked. “You don’t have anyone strapped to a table somewhere, their ribcage open, their organs on a nearby tray while they look around, hallucinating friends and family come to rescue them? No? Well, I have to say that’s an improvement. You’re practically reformed. Skulduggery?”

      “You’re quite sure there is no one being tortured, Doctor?” Skulduggery asked. “Maybe having their skin peeled off? I heard about one experiment you ran during the war where you decapitated prisoners and then kept their heads alive in jars.”

      Nye backed up. “What do you want?”

      “You’re under arrest,” Skulduggery said. “You’re going back to Ironpoint.”

      “We’ll be sure to request a smaller cell this time,” Valkyrie said. “Something snug.”

      “Or you can make it easy on yourself,” Skulduggery said. “You can tell us where Abyssinia is.”

      Incredibly, Nye paled even further.

      “Wow,” said Valkyrie, “your poker face sucks, dude. That means we get to bypass the bit where you tell us you don’t know what we’re talking about – and we threaten you and you eventually break – and go straight to the part where you answer our questions. So where is she?”

      “I do not know.”

      “I’m just going to warn you that we’ve been looking for Abyssinia for almost seven months. Do you hear me? Seven months. And we haven’t found her, or the flying prison she’s commandeered, or any of her little anti-Sanctuary friends. We’re both extremely annoyed about this. Our patience has worn thin, Doctor. When we found out that she paid a visit to this charming castle no less than two days ago … Well, I’m not going to lie: I cried a little. Tears of happiness. And when we learned that you were working here? It was like all my birthdays had come at once. Not only do I get to see my old friend Doctor Nye, but Doctor Nye gets to help us in our search, and tell us where Abyssinia has gone.”

      “I promise you, I do not know.”

      “Then why was she here?” Skulduggery asked.

      “If … if I tell you, you must let me go.”

      “OK.”

      “I think you are lying.”

      “Of course I’m lying. You’re going back to prison, Doctor. The only choice you’ve got is the size of your cell.”

      Nye hesitated, then sagged. “It was not a thing she was looking for. It was a person. His name is Caisson.”

      “And who is Caisson?”

      “Abyssinia said he is her son.”

      “I see,” Skulduggery said, taking a moment. “Does he work here? Is he a scientist or manual labour?”

      Nye hesitated.

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