Skulduggery Pleasant: Books 10 - 12. Derek Landy

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      “Where are we?” Valkyrie asked, peering out of the car window. The street was narrow. There was graffiti on the walls, none of it any good. She was surprised at this. She hadn’t thought Roarhaven would be tolerant of something so mundane as declarations of lust and crudely drawn genitalia. She’d expected their graffiti standards to be higher.

      “We are where we need to be,” Skulduggery said, coming to a stop and turning off the engine. “Ironfoot Road is close by.”

      They got out and he locked the Bentley. Valkyrie zipped up her jacket against the cold and they started walking. She kept her head down and he kept his façade up, but everyone they passed was too busy with their own problems to notice them.

      They walked for three minutes before coming to a blue door. Valkyrie stood watch while Skulduggery picked the lock. When he was done, he tapped her and they slipped inside. He drew his gun and they crept upstairs to a quiet corridor. They found Melior’s apartment and Skulduggery picked that lock next. When the door was open, he splayed his hand, reading the air, and led the way into the kitchen, where Richard Melior stood with his back to them, watching the window.

      Skulduggery walked right up to him without making a sound and pressed his gun into the back of Melior’s head.

      “Not an inch,” Skulduggery said.

      Without turning, without looking over his shoulder, Melior said, “I’m … I’m very glad you came.”

      “You should be glad I haven’t pulled the trigger.”

      “I’m glad about that, too.”

      “Turn.”

      Melior turned, saw Valkyrie and tried to smile. “Hello.”

      “If you even think about blasting us again,” she said, “we’ll hit you until you’re nothing but a puddle of mess on the floor.”

      “I understand. And I’m really sorry about that. If you’re in any pain, I can help you.”

      “I’m fine,” she replied irritably. “We have doctors who specialise in healing people.”

      “Take a seat, Doctor,” Skulduggery said. “I want you where we can keep an eye on you.”

      Melior nodded, and sat in the chair Skulduggery pulled out for him. He didn’t object when the shackles were produced. Valkyrie turned on her aura-vision for this next part – she wanted to see what happened when they were put on – but she noticed something as Skulduggery moved in. Like most auras she’d seen, Melior’s was orange, but it was a slightly different shade. She didn’t know what that meant, didn’t know if it meant anything, and then the shackles snapped on and Melior’s power dampened, and the aura shrivelled away until Valkyrie could barely see it.

      She switched off the aura-vision. She was really going to have to find a better name for it. “What were you looking at?” she asked.

      “Sorry?”

      “You were looking down at the street. At what?”

      “Oh,” he said, “no, I wasn’t looking at anything. I was waiting for you. You came through the window the first time we met and for some reason I thought you’d come through the window again. I never expected you to come through the door.”

      “Doors are for people with no imagination,” she conceded, “but we like to mix it up a bit around here.”

      Skulduggery sat opposite Melior and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “You’ve got a lot to tell us,” he said.

      “I do. Anything you want to know.”

      “Let’s start from the top,” Valkyrie said. “What is the anti-Sanctuary? What’s it really called?”

      “It’s not called anything,” said Melior. “It’s easier to hide something when it doesn’t have a name, I guess. The anti-Sanctuary, that’s as good a name as any. They’ve been working away behind the scenes for hundreds of years. Assassinations. Disappearances. They’ve orchestrated wars to get their agenda just a little bit further along the line. I know what you’re thinking. I thought it, too. How could it even exist? How could an organisation like this be responsible for centuries of murder and upheaval and yet no one knows anything about them? But that’s why they mostly recruit Neoterics. They’re looking for outsiders, sorcerers with no links to the Sanctuaries. They’re careful. They’re unbelievably, impossibly careful to not leave any fingerprints that’d lead people like you back to them. Or they were, at least. Their endgame is in sight. They’re coming out of the shadows.”

      “What do they want?”

      “War,” said Melior. “A proper, full-scale war, at the end of which the mortals will be our slaves. They want sorcerers to rule the world.”

      “Who’s in charge?” she asked. “Smoke? Lethe?”

      “Smoke’s a lackey. He doesn’t have one original thought in his head. Lethe’s different. He’s smarter. Very talented, very dangerous, very cunning. I’ve never seen him lose a fight. He plays with them at first, lets them think they’ve got the upper hand … I think he does it because he’s bored.”

      “Why СКАЧАТЬ