Skulduggery Pleasant: Books 7 – 9: The Darquesse Trilogy. Derek Landy

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      “I don’t know,” the man said, distressed. “Is a car like a carriage? We have carriages. Horses pull them. I can show you where they’re kept.”

      Valkyrie looked around. “Never mind. There are sorcerers here, right? Maybe they can help me.”

      The man paled. “You don’t want to go to them.”

      “Why not?”

      “If you don’t know them, you don’t want to know them. You should leave. Now. You should run.”

      A woman hurried by, waving a handkerchief by her side. The man turned.

      “They’re coming.”

      “Who are?” Valkyrie asked. “What’s wrong?”

      He took her hand, dragged her off the street. They ran between two buildings. He jumped a wall and she followed.

      “What’s going on?”

      He didn’t answer. He led her into a sagging house. The door was open and the floorboards were rotten. She followed him up the stairs and he crossed to the window.

      “The Sense-Wardens are patrolling,” he said. “Some of them can read your mind. When you see them, you have to just think of nothing, just focus on being empty, or they’ll see something in your thoughts and they’ll come for you. They got my wife, seven years ago. She didn’t know they were there and they grabbed her off the street, took her away. I haven’t seen her since.”

      “That’s terrible.”

      “The ones in white,” he said, “they’re the Sense-Wardens.”

      Valkyrie joined him at the grime-covered window. Nine people passed below, three of whom wore white robes with hoods obscuring their faces. They walked slowly, hands clasped. Forming a circle around them were six people in robes of deep scarlet. Beneath the robes, black boots and loose garments. On their backs, scythes.

      “They send the Redhoods after us,” the man said bitterly. “There’s no point in running. They’re too fast. There’s no point in fighting. They’re too strong. And those blades of theirs... I once saw a man cut in two as easy as cutting paper.”

      “Cleavers,” said Valkyrie. “They’re called Cleavers. Or that’s what they’re called where I’m from. And they’re dressed in grey, not red.”

      “Well, here they’re called Redhoods,” said the man, “and if one is coming for you, you surrender. Save yourself the pain.”

      He stepped away from the window but Valkyrie stayed where she was, watching. There was a symbol on the breast of their robes – two circles, the smaller one barely bisecting the larger. She watched the Sense-Wardens and their guards move on, watched the people slow down to a stop as they approached. To suddenly turn and walk the other way would be a sign of something to hide, so instead the people paused, lowered their heads and closed their eyes. Probably focusing on being empty.

      One of the Sense-Wardens turned his head, his hood shifting slightly. He stepped from the circle, slowly nearing a young woman with short cropped hair. Her eyes were closed but she could undoubtedly hear his footsteps. She stiffened, and even Valkyrie could see her face twitch with panic.

      The Sense-Warden walked slowly round her. The young woman’s shoulders started to shake. She was crying, but her eyes remained closed.

      Another Sense-Warden broke from the circle, joining the first. A pale hand emerged from a voluminous sleeve and lightly touched the woman’s head. She flinched and sobbed, and her legs gave out and she fell to her knees. She looked up at the Sense-Wardens as they backed away, and a Redhood came forward. He gripped the young woman’s arm and pulled her to her feet.

      “They have someone,” Valkyrie said, her voice quiet. “A girl. Not much older than me.”

      The balding man, from somewhere behind her, spoke without emotion. “She’ll be taken to the Palace. Whatever secrets she’s hiding will come spilling out of her, and if they’re bad enough, she’ll be killed. If not, imprisonment.”

      “There must be someone who fights against this.”

      “There is,” said the man. “At least, I think there is. For all I know it’s just another legend, a story to tell our children at night. I wouldn’t be surprised. Every sorcerer I’ve ever met has hated mortals. I suppose it’s childish to think there are some out there who fight for us.”

      “I’m a sorcerer,” said Valkyrie, “and I’ll fight for you. For as long as I’m here, anyway.”

      The man shrugged. “Then by all means, go down there and save that girl.”

      She hesitated. “There are nine of them.”

      “And it’s only one mortal girl,” said the man, nodding. “She’d hardly be worth the risk.”

      Valkyrie glared at him. “That’s not what I meant. I meant you’ve got to pick your battles. Charging in head first would only get me killed, and what use would I be to anyone then?”

      “What use are you to anyone now?”

      “I’m not going to die for someone I don’t know in a reality I don’t understand. This isn’t even my dimension, for God’s sake.”

      “Fair enough. No one could expect you to bother yourself.”

      “I wouldn’t stand a chance anyway. If your Redhoods are the same as my Cleavers then their clothes are resistant to magic. I wouldn’t last two seconds against nine of them.” As she spoke, she looked out of the window. The Redhood was taking the young woman, who was now wearing shackles, back through the streets. The others, including the Sense-Wardens, had continued on in the other direction, out of sight. She looked at the Redhood and the young woman. “However...” she murmured.

      “However what?”

      “However, I might stand a chance against one of them.”

      She moved to the door but he stood in her way. “No.”

      Valkyrie arched an eyebrow. “No?”

      “You can’t.”

      “You were just saying—”

      “Because I didn’t think you’d try anything. If a Redhood is attacked, do you have any idea what that would mean? They’d tear through these streets looking for whoever did it. They’d torture and kill and take their anger out on innocent people. You can’t interfere.”

      “But that girl—”

      “Is one of a countless number who are taken off the streets every week. You can’t save them all, and saving one would make it worse for everyone else.”

      “So no one does anything? How do you expect things to change if you’re not willing to make a stand?”

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