The Dying of the Light. Derek Landy

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СКАЧАТЬ killed him.”

      “You turned him into furniture.”

      “It’s just another form to take.”

      “I’m gonna have to disagree with you on that one, Darquesse. He’s dead. You killed him. Where are his memories? His personality? Where are all the things that define him?”

      Darquesse tilted her head. “None of that stuff defines us, Billy-Ray. Memories can be lost. Personalities can be changed. Who we are, our true essence, is our energy. If I wanted to kill him, I’d just do it.”

      She clicked her fingers and the chair was incinerated in a burst of black flame.

      “There,” said Darquesse. “Happy now? Nestor is dead. Every last trace of him. His atoms, his energy – gone. He can’t be brought back now. That’s how you kill someone, Billy-Ray. You wipe them from existence. Stopping a heart from beating, cutting off thoughts, turning someone into something … that doesn’t mean anything. Consciousness doesn’t mean anything. Are you any more valuable than a rock, just because you have sentience? No you’re not.”

      “But you’re still punishing Erskine Ravel for killing Ghastly Bespoke.”

      “That’s different,” said Darquesse. “I’m punishing him out of anger.”

      “So what about your friends?” Sanguine said. “Tanith, or China Sorrows, or Skulduggery Pleasant? You’ve formed attachments to them, right? You value them more than you’d value a rock.”

      Darquesse shrugged. “Not really. That was my old way of looking at things. Personalities are fun for a while, but when you think about it, and I mean really think about it, they’re just side effects of brain function. I don’t mean I don’t value them at all, it’s just not so much of a big deal to me any more.”

      “So … so you’d turn them into furniture, too?”

      “Sure. I could turn you into a cushion, if you want.”

      “Please don’t. I don’t wanna be a cushion.”

      She laughed. “If you were a cushion, you wouldn’t know any better. What would you miss? Your thoughts? Cushions don’t sit there missing their thoughts, Billy-Ray. Your thoughts seem important to you now, but I’m here to tell you … they don’t mean anything.”

      “They mean something to me.”

      “Well, now you’re just being silly. What you’re saying, basically, is that your thoughts mean something to your thoughts. It’s a loop of nonsense. Go off and think about it, OK? It took me a while to come to terms with all this, too. But I’ve learned so much. And not just about how to mix and match atoms and particles and molecules and stuff. Other things. Fun things. You know the God-Killers?”

      “Uh … yeah, like the Sceptre …”

      “Actually, no, I’m talking about the sword and the dagger and the stuff you and Tanith stole.”

      Sanguine felt the blood drain from his face. She knew. Oh, God, she knew. And he didn’t even have the dagger with him. He’d been worried that she’d notice it under his jacket. Why the hell hadn’t he just brought it anyway? “Sure, right,” he said. “What about them?”

      “Do you know how they were made?” Darquesse asked. “Those four? Other God-Killers were made in different ways, of course. The Sceptre was forged by the Faceless Ones somewhere, but these four weapons started out as ordinary objects. Nothing special about them. But then they were left in this pool of water, deep inside the caves under Gordon Edgley’s house. Whatever qualities that water had, it made the weapons soak up magic, made them acquire the ability to kill a god. Isn’t that fascinating? It goes against everything we’ve been told about how magic works. I’d love to find that pool. Don’t you think that’s fascinating?”

      “Yeah,” he said. “Pretty fascinating.”

      “Billy-Ray?”

      “Yes?”

      “You look nervous.”

      “Yeah. I guess I am.”

      “You think I’m going to turn you into a cushion, even though I told you it wouldn’t matter if I did?”

      “That’s why I’m nervous, Darquesse.”

      She chuckled. “You’re funny. I don’t know how I didn’t see that when Valkyrie was in charge.”

      “Maybe my humour is an acquired taste.”

      “Maybe.”

      “I just popped by to make sure everything was, y’know, hunky-dory. I’m actually heading out again.”

      “Oh? Where are you going?”

      “Just out. Just headed out. Errands to run. I’ll be back later, so … OK, well, I gotta go.”

      “See you soon,” Darquesse said, smiling, and Sanguine smiled back. He walked out and immediately sank into the ground.

      He turned, moving deeper through the darkness. The familiar rumble of shifting rocks filled his ears. It used to make him feel safe. There were only a handful of people in the world who could do what he did – even fewer now, after what had transpired during the War of the Sanctuaries – and that little fact had transformed the dark and the cold into a refuge. Down here, he couldn’t be touched. Down here, he couldn’t even be found.

      But Darquesse could find him. There would be no escape from her down here, not if she were coming after him.

      He piled on the speed.

      He didn’t pay attention to how fast he was going. Sometimes he liked to time himself. Not tonight. He got to his place in Dublin, rose up through the cracking, crumbling floorboards. The first blush of dawn brightened the house, not that he needed light to see. There weren’t even any bulbs in this small house on this quiet street. No one knew about this place. Not even Tanith. The only people he’d brought back here were—

      “Move and I shoot.”

      Sanguine yelled and spun.

      Skulduggery Pleasant was sitting in Sanguine’s favourite arm-chair, the one in the corner. His hand was on the armrest. In his hand was a gun.

      

      echnically,” the skeleton said, “I should have shot you for that. But let’s start over. Move again and I really will shoot.”

      Sanguine stayed perfectly still. He was too busy getting over the fact that there was someone in his house to even think about trying something sneaky.

      The girl walked in. The reflection, СКАЧАТЬ