told me once that only he can think of everything, but he doesn’t do it very often because it spoils the surprise.”
This raised a smile on Tanith’s lips. “Then we have thought of everything that we four are capable of thinking of, and we can’t think of anything else. There is absolutely no reason to think that this won’t be as easy as meeting up, handing over the money, getting the skull and saying thank you. This afternoon we take a trip up to Aranmore Farm and Fletcher opens the portal. Then we go in, find Skulduggery and bring him back. Easy as proverbial pie.”
“Unless something goes wrong,” Valkyrie said.
“Well, yes. Unless something goes horribly, dreadfully wrong. Which it usually does, of course.”
A little after midday, a man with a suitcase entered. He spotted them immediately and approached. He wasn’t what Valkyrie had been expecting. His clothes were casual and he didn’t have a pencil-thin moustache for a start.
“Afternoon, ladies,” he said, smiling politely. “Do you have my payment?”
“Show us the skull,” said Valkyrie.
Chabon put the suitcase on the table and patted it. “You’re not seeing the merchandise until I know you have my payment. That’s how it works. That’s how these things happen.”
Tanith lifted the duffel bag and opened it, allowing Chabon a peek at the money within. She closed it and held it on her lap.
Valkyrie reached for the case, but Chabon grabbed her wrist.
“You’re very eager,” he said, his voice cold. He turned her wrist, eyes narrowing when he got a closer look at the ring. “You’re a Necromancer? I thought you people didn’t even leave the Temple until you were twenty-five.”
She took her hand back. “I dabble,” she said. “Your turn.”
Chabon flattened his palm on the case and the locks sprang open. He raised the lid, enough for Valkyrie and Tanith to see what it contained.
“That’s the Murder Skull?” Tanith asked. “You’re sure?”
“Positive.”
“If you’re lying to us …” Valkyrie began.
Chabon shook his head. “Don’t threaten me, girl. I’ve been threatened by professionals. I had this discussion with your vampire friend, and all the facts we established then are still true today. So, unless you’re planning on double-crossing me, and using that fella with the stupid hair by the window, what do you say we conduct our business and part ways? I’ve got a plane to catch.”
Valkyrie glanced at Tanith, who put the duffel bag on the table. Chabon reached in and touched the money.
“It’s all there,” Tanith said.
After a moment, Chabon nodded. “Yes, it is.” He withdrew his hand and stood, taking the bag with him and leaving the case on the table. “Been a pleasure,” he said and they watched him walk out.
Fletcher came over and Valkyrie raised the lid slightly. The case was lined and cushioned, the skull sitting comfortably within. A huge smile suddenly broke across Valkyrie’s face.
They had it. They had it, and in a few hours they’d pass through the portal and get Skulduggery back. All her hard work would pay off and, by the end of the day, her life would be allowed to resume. She closed the case.
“I just want to make sure,” she said and hurried to the door. She stepped out and saw Chabon just as he turned the corner on to Grafton Street.
“Hey!” she roared, a furious look on her face.
Chabon turned. If the skull was the Murder Skull, he would have no need to panic. If it wasn’t … Chabon panicked and broke into a sprint.
“It’s a fake!” she shouted to the others and bolted after Chabon, with Tanith and Fletcher following.
Valkyrie barged into the crowd, fighting to keep Chabon in sight. She leaped over a busker’s coin tray and dodged around a man painted silver. Chabon turned right, into a long, bright lane, the duffel bag swinging wildly.
If the lane had been empty, Valkyrie would have wrapped a tendril of shadow around his ankles and pitched him forward on to his face. But there were maybe a dozen people wandering by shop windows, and a woman begging for spare change just ahead of her. Out of the corner of her eye, Valkyrie saw Tanith dart into an alcove and run up the side of the building. Valkyrie chased Chabon to the next street, where he glanced up and saw Tanith moving over rooftops to cut him off. He knocked over an old man and ran into the Powerscourt Centre. Valkyrie took the street adjacent, moving parallel to him. Through the windows she saw him crash through the lunch crowd at the restaurant, slowing him down.
She reached South William Street as Chabon staggered out of the Powerscourt Centre. He saw her, cursed and kept running, through Castle Market and straight into the old Victorian building that housed the George’s Street Arcade. She knew she had him. He didn’t have a hope of getting away now.
The stalls were set up down the middle of the arcade, funnelling the shoppers down paths on either side. There were clothes stalls and jewellery stalls and a fortune-teller behind a red curtain. Chabon chose the left path, knocking people out of his way. He stumbled over a box of old paperbacks and Valkyrie piled on the speed and jumped, her knees slamming into his back. He sprawled to the ground and she ignored the startled looks from the people around her. He reached for the fallen bag and she stomped on his hand. He shrieked, kicking, and her feet swept from beneath her. She landed just as he got up, the bag in his uninjured hand, but she grabbed one of the straps and wouldn’t let go, and Chabon remembered too late that she wasn’t alone.
Tanith came flying over Valkyrie and her boot-heel connected with Chabon’s sternum. There was a crack and he went down and rolled a few times before curling up. Valkyrie got to her feet as Fletcher joined them, puffing and panting like someone who hadn’t needed to run anywhere in quite a while.
“Here you go,” Valkyrie said as she pressed the duffel bag into Fletcher’s arms. She smiled at the crowd. “This poor boy got his bag snatched by that nasty man.”
Fletcher glared at her as the crowd applauded, and Tanith picked up Chabon and escorted him away. Valkyrie and Fletcher followed.
“That was unnecessary,” Fletcher seethed.
“If you’d been faster,” she said quietly, “maybe you could have been the hero – but you weren’t, so you’re the innocent victim. Get over it.”
Tanith took Chabon far enough away from passing pedestrians so that they could talk without being overheard. She pressed him back against the wall. He was holding his hand against his chest, obviously in a great deal of pain.
“Where’s the real Murder Skull?” Valkyrie asked, keeping her voice low.
“I gave it to you,” Chabon tried. She prodded his hands and he hissed. “OK! Stop! I had it, I swear I did. When I talked to you on the phone, I had it.”
“So what did you do with it?”
Chabon was looking quite pale. His injury was making him sweat. “There’s a … Look,