you want coffee, I’ll be more than happy to bring you some, Grand Mage.”
“I don’t want coffee,” Ravel grumbled. “Fine. OK. We’ll follow the rules. Skulduggery, Valkyrie, sorry about this.”
“No need to apologise,” Skulduggery said. “The whole situation is highly amusing, believe me. I like your robes, by the way.”
“I tried to redesign them,” Ghastly muttered, “but apparently, that’s not allowed, either.”
Tipstaff said nothing.
Madame Mist didn’t move an inch as she spoke. “Now that the quaint small talk has been dispensed with, perhaps the detectives could tell us what they came to see us about – something to do with Melancholia St Clair, no doubt.”
Skulduggery hesitated. “You’ve heard, then.”
“We have,” said Ravel. “What do we know about her?”
“She’s a few years older than me,” Valkyrie said. “Not much more than a low-level student. She’s spent her life in the Temple, reading the books and practising how to sound really pretentious when she talks. I don’t think anyone expected her to suddenly become so powerful. Wreath didn’t. Tenebrae didn’t.”
Ghastly moved in his seat, trying to get comfortable. “Is she trouble?”
“She’s nothing but a Necromancer,” Mist said in her soft voice. “All this talk of the Death Bringer is a waste of our time. Darquesse is the true danger. We should be focusing our energies on finding and killing her before she has a chance to strike.”
“The Necromancers should not be dismissed so casually,” Skulduggery said as Valkyrie looked away.
“I agree,” Ghastly nodded. “If Valkyrie had turned out to be the Death Bringer, we could have kept a close eye on things. That would have been ideal. But now that there’s an actual Necromancer in that position, we lose that advantage.”
Mist sighed. “The Necromancers are selfish cowards. They haven’t posed a threat to anyone in hundreds of years and I doubt they’re going to start now.”
“I hate to say it,” said Ravel, “but Elder Mist is right. It’s hard to take them seriously when they’ve barely poked a head out of their Temples in so long. Maybe if we knew a little more about this Passage thing …?”
“The Necromancers are working to keep us in the dark,” Skulduggery said. “Two people with vital information have so far been killed. That in itself tells me they’re planning something big.”
Ghastly frowned. “You told me once that the Passage is something that will break through the barrier between life and death.”
“Yes.”
“So what does that actually mean?”
“To be honest, Ghastly, I haven’t a bull’s notion.”
“Elder Bespoke should be addressed by his title,” Tipstaff said.
“Of course,” Skulduggery said. “To be honest, Your Highness, I haven’t a bull’s notion. The Necromancers believe life is a continuous stream of energy, flowing from life into death and around again into life. It’s all very vague and unsatisfying. They want to save the world, which is nice of them, but as of yet, they haven’t told us what they want to save the world from.”
“Well,” Ravel said, “maybe we’ll get lucky and Lord Vile will make an appearance, kill the Death Bringer like he said he would, take care of this whole thing before it becomes a problem and then walk off into the sunset.”
“I think it would be a mistake to count on Lord Vile to do anything other than murder a whole lot of people,” Skulduggery said.
“Agreed,” said Ghastly.
“Detective Pleasant,” Madame Mist said, “it is a well-known fact that you don’t like the Necromancer Order. That you take particular exception to their activities – especially since Solomon Wreath began training your protégée.”
“That would be an accurate summation, yes.”
“You don’t feel that your attitude could be tainting your objectivity?”
“When it comes to the Necromancers,” Skulduggery said, “I’m not objective in the slightest. That doesn’t mean I’m wrong. Our next move should be a visit to the Temple, where we can ask Solomon Wreath about this unknown agent who keeps killing the people we want to talk to.”
“So you’re requesting that more Sanctuary resources be made available to you, should you need them?” Ravel asked.
Skulduggery shrugged. “Yes I am, Your Almighty Holiness. What’s the point of having friends in high places if you can’t use them to settle old grudges?”
Ghastly looked at Ravel. “We need to find out what they’re up to.”
“This is a waste of our time,” said Mist.
Ravel shook his head. “I’m willing to go along with Skulduggery on this one. It might turn out to be nothing, but we need to find out what this Passage is, and we need to stop people dying.” He sat back in his throne, raising an eyebrow. “Hear that, Skulduggery? The Elders have spoken. That is the sound of the system working for you.”
Skulduggery tipped his hat to them. “I’m not going to lie to you, I could get used to this.”
Skulduggery knocked heavily on the crypt door. Thirty seconds later, it opened, and a pale face regarded them with casual indifference. Valkyrie recognised him. His name was Oblivion, or Obliviate, or something. Or maybe Oblivious. No, she doubted it was Oblivious. Although …
“Yes?” said Oblivious. “What?”
“This is why I like Necromancers,” Skulduggery said. “You’re all so cheerful all the time. We’d like to speak with Cleric Wreath, please.”
“Cleric Wreath is busy,” Oblivious said lazily, and started to close the door.
Skulduggery jammed it with his foot. “I’m sure he’d love to see us, though. Look, she’s his favourite student.”
Oblivious observed Valkyrie then sighed. “We already have a Death Bringer, thank you. We don’t need another one.”
“He’s expecting us,” Valkyrie said. “He said to come right over, he’s got exciting news. He said we could walk right in, actually.”
“Your name isn’t on the list,” Oblivious responded.
“Well, maybe not on your list,” Valkyrie laughed.
“Are you implying that there is more than one list?”
“I don’t know,” Valkyrie said mysteriously. “Am I?”
Oblivious frowned. “I’m not sure what you’re—”
“Super!” Skulduggery exclaimed, and Oblivious yelped as Skulduggery shoved the door open and barged through. Valkyrie hurried down the narrow steps after him.
“I didn’t give you permission!” Oblivious