said nothing.
“Not in a bad way!” he added, laughing. “I didn’t enjoy the fact that he was lost, or that you’ve been so worried about him. I just mean that, for me, being part of everything, it’s been good. I’ve liked being part of a team.”
“Right.”
“So, I mean, I was thinking, I was wondering, do you think he’d let me tag along on your cases?”
Valkyrie took a sudden breath. “I … I really don’t know.”
“I’d be pretty useful, you have to admit. No more driving everywhere in that ancient car of his.”
“He loves the Bentley. And so do I.”
“I know, I know, but still, maybe you could mention it to him, when he’s back.”
“I will,” she said. “I’ll mention it.”
“Unless you don’t want me around.”
Valkyrie raised an eyebrow. “Did I say that?”
“No, but … Actually, yes, you have said that, a lot.”
She shrugged. “That’s only when you annoy me.”
“Have I annoyed you lately?”
“You’re annoying me now…”
Fletcher grinned and Valkyrie held out her hand. “Downstairs.”
He took her hand and bowed. “Yes, m’lady.”
Instantly, they were in the backroom of Bespoke Tailor’s.
“You can let go of my hand,” said Valkyrie.
“I know I can,” Fletcher responded. “I just choose not to.”
She rotated her wrist, forcing him to release her in a relatively painless manner.
They smelled coffee and heard conversation, and emerged into the shop to find Tanith and Ghastly Bespoke sitting at the small table by the wall. Ghastly was shaking his scarred head in disgust.
“What’s wrong?” Valkyrie asked.
“Dreylan Scarab got out of prison yesterday,” Tanith told her.
“Who’s Dreylan Scarab?” asked Fletcher.
“He’s the assassin who killed Esryn Vanguard.”
“Who’s Esryn Vanguard?” asked Fletcher.
Valkyrie was thankful Fletcher was around. Finally, somebody who knew even less than she did.
“Vanguard was an ex-soldier who became a pacifist,” Ghastly said. Valkyrie noticed the edge of a bandage poking out beneath his shirt collar. She didn’t mention it. “This was, what, maybe 200 years ago? He talked about a peaceful resolution to the war with Mevolent, one that didn’t require one side vanquishing the other.”
“Common sense in other words,” said Tanith. “This was well before my time, but I remember my parents talking about him.”
Ghastly said, “Mevolent grew tired of him constantly chipping away at his troops’ morale and conviction, so he sent Scarab to assassinate him.”
“And 200 years later,” Tanith said, “Scarab completes his sentence and is freed. I’m surprised he lasted that long actually. After a couple of years in a bound cell, sorcerers start ageing again. I think everyone expected old age to finish him off.”
“He should be dead,” Ghastly said quietly. “He murdered a great man.”
“Do you know who else should be dead?” Fletcher asked brightly. “Valkyrie. Someone attacked her last night.”
Tanith and Ghastly stared and Valkyrie sighed, then told them about Crux.
Ghastly narrowed his eyes. “Wreath just happened to be passing while all this was taking place? For all we know he could have orchestrated the whole thing just so he could swoop in and save the day.”
“He didn’t save the day,” Valkyrie said somewhat defensively. “I’d have stopped Crux. Somehow.”
“Ghastly’s right,” said Tanith. “We don’t know what Crux has been up to since Aranmore. That glimpse he caught of the Faceless Ones snapped his mind, Val. He could very well have fallen under Wreath’s influence.”
“Solomon Wreath’s on our side,” Valkyrie said, already tired of this argument. It was one they’d had a dozen times before.
“And why would he send Crux after me? What would he have to gain?”
Tanith shrugged. “We’re close to getting Skulduggery back, and he’s close to losing his prized pupil. He gains your trust, and your confidence, and if he’s lucky, you choose Necromancy over Elemental magic.”
Valkyrie felt the ring on her finger. She hadn’t taken it off all night. “We’ll worry about that later,” she said.
“A lunatic attacks you in the middle of the night,” Tanith said with a raised eyebrow, “a lunatic who, even when he was sane, detested you and you want us to forget about it?”
Fletcher peered at Ghastly and then said, with his usual tactfulness, “Hey, what’s with the bandage?”
Ghastly adjusted his collar. “It’s nothing,” he said gruffly.
“Did you cut yourself shaving? Did you cut yourself shaving a lot?”
Ghastly sighed. “I asked China if she could help me blend into a crowd. I’m sick of disguises. So she came up with a façade tattoo. That’s all.”
“What’s a façade tattoo?” Tanith asked.
“It’s not important.”
“Then tell us what it is so we can get on to something important.”
“It’s a false face,” he said, trying to hide his embarrassment with impatience. “She tattooed two symbols on my collarbones and when they’ve healed, in theory, they’ll make me look like I’m normal for a short period of time.”
“Normal?”
“No scars.”
“Wow.”
“Like I said, it’s not important.”
“When can you try it out?”
“Another few hours. It mightn’t work, but … it’s worth a try. It’s better than having to a wear a scarf every time I go out. I think we should get back to the matter at hand. Chabon’s plane lands in an hour, right?”
“He’d be here by now if he’d let me pick him up,” Fletcher said.
“He doesn’t trust us,” Valkyrie told him. “He buys and sells and the people he deals with aren’t always as honest and trustworthy as we are.”
Fletcher shrugged. “I’d have just nicked the skull off him and teleported back here.”
Valkyrie sighed. “Do we have the money?”
Tanith kicked a duffel bag on the floor beside her. “A bit each from our various bank accounts. Good thing money doesn’t mean a whole lot to people like us.”
“Speak for yourself,” grumbled Fletcher.
“You didn’t contribute anything,” Tanith frowned.
“Is contributing time not enough?” Fletcher replied archly.
“Not when you’re trying to buy something, no.”
“Oh.”
Tanith looked back to Valkyrie. “And Val, relax, OK? We’ve thought of everything.”