open that just by touching it,” Valkyrie chided.
Skulduggery turned his head to her slowly, and a moment later the lock clicked and opened. He returned the lock pick to his pocket. “I like the old fashioned way better.”
“Only because you don’t have a choice.”
“I’m an Elemental,” he reminded her. “Tanith is an Adept. I’d like to see her throw a fireball.”
Scapegrace coughed nervously. “She’s not going to be here, is she? That Tanith woman?”
“Don’t worry,” Valkyrie said, “your brain is safe. For now.”
Skulduggery opened the door and peeked inside then gripped Scapegrace by the elbow and pulled him in. The pub corridor was dark and smelled of stale beer and wet towels. There were a few voices coming from the front.
“Where does he stay?” Skulduggery asked quietly.
“Underground,” Scapegrace said. “I converted the cellar into a living space then he made his own additions.” They moved to the rear of the building.
“Back then,” Scapegrace continued, “I was full of ideas. I was going to renovate the whole front of the pub, and extend out to the west, maybe get in a music system, a little dancefloor. In the end, I decided not to. Too expensive, you know. And, like, there was the fact that nobody wanted to dance, so …”
Valkyrie kept an eye out behind them, to make sure no one was sneaking up.
“But those were good times,” Scapegrace said, his voice tinged with regret. “All the old crowd used to come and meet in my pub – Lightning Dave, Hokum Pete, Hieronymus Deadfall. We used to drink and talk and laugh. Back in the day.”
Skulduggery tilted his head. “Vaurien, if you’re trying to kill us, there are quicker ways than telling us your life-story.”
“Less painful too,” added Valkyrie.
“I just thought you’d like to know,” Scapegrace said indignantly. “I thought it might help if I told you the history of the place and my relationship to it.”
“Any particular reason why you think this knowledge would be helpful?” Skulduggery asked.
“If you’ll let me finish, I’ll tell you.”
“OK then. Finish.”
“The reason they frequented my pub in particular was because, in a town that’s full of sorcerers, there weren’t a whole lot of places you could get together and feel special, you know? But I took care of that. So while out in front the pub catered to the rest of Roarhaven’s mages, there was also a private section just for me and my friends, to sit and talk and plan.”
“Is that so?” Skulduggery asked as Valkyrie opened the door.
“Yep,” Scapegrace said with a nod. “A private section right here in the back.”
They walked in. Two men sitting at the bar. Two more playing pool on a ratty old pool table. A surly bartender and, standing in the corner, a giant, his balding head touching the ceiling. They all stopped and and looked over. Valkyrie and Skulduggery froze.
Scapegrace grinned. “Hi, fellas.”
“Scapegrace,” said the bartender, chewing the name as he said it. “You’ve got some nerve showing your ugly face in my pub.”
“Your pub?” Scapegrace said with a scornful laugh. “You won this place off me in a poker game and you cheated.”
“So did you,” the bartender said. “I just cheated better. Why’re you back?”
“Couldn’t stay away, could I? This town holds so many fond memories for me. Actually Hieronymus, I was hoping your sister might be around – is she here?”
Hieronymus Deadfall looked like he might explode. “Don’t even mention her, you hear me?”
Scapegrace shrugged. “What you gonna do about it?”
“I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” Skulduggery tried, but he was ignored.
Deadfall stepped forward, fists bunched at his sides. “How about I finish what we started twenty years ago, how about that?”
Scapegrace scoffed. “You want to kill me, is that it?”
“Oh, it’s not just me, pally. Anyone else in here want to kill this piece of scum, step forward.”
Everyone took one step forward. “So that’s how it is, is it?” Scapegrace said, acting upset. “After all that talk of friendship, after all those years, all that we’ve been through … you all want to kill me?”
“Kill you,” said one of the pool players, “horribly.”
“I’d love to help you out, fellas,” Scapegrace said, holding up his hands and showing them his shackles, “but as you can see, I’m a little tied up at the moment. Still, I suppose if you manage to kill these two fine people who walked in with me, you might get your wish.”
Deadfall narrowed his eyes. “Kill a little girl? Yeah, I think we could just about manage that momentous task. And what about you, skinny man? Who the hell are you?”
“We’re really not looking for trouble,” Skulduggery said.
“Then it’ll come as a nice surprise,” said the man to Deadfall’s left. Electricity crackled in his open hand. Lightning Dave no doubt.
“We’re here on Sanctuary business,” Skulduggery tried.
The man on Deadfall’s right bristled, and Deadfall grinned. “Hear that, Pete? They’re with the Sanctuary.”
Hokum Pete snarled. “I hate the Sanctuary.”
“Oh,” Skulduggery said.
“We all hate the Sanctuary.”
“Ah. Then we’re not here on Sanctuary business. I was just joking.”
“Then you’re going to die laughing,” Deadfall sneered, “unless you tell us who you are right this second.”
Skulduggery observed him for a moment then removed his disguise and laid it on the pool table. Eyes widened. Mouths opened. Backward steps were taken.
“The Skeleton Detective,” said one of the pool players.
“I’m not going up against the skeleton,” said his friend. “No way.”
“What’s wrong with you?” Deadfall barked. “This is my pub, you understand me? This is my turf. I’m the only one you should be worrying about in here. It’s a dead man – what’s the big deal? We can take him. There’s six of us, there’s one of him. Oh, and a little girl. That too much for you, tough guys?” The pool players glanced at each other nervously, then shook their heads.
“Well, there you go,” Deadfall said. “We’re agreed. We kill these two then we kill our dear old friend Scapegrace.”
“This is gonna be fun,” Scapegrace said, shuffling over to a booth and sitting down. “So how are you going to do it?”
“It’s been a while since Brobding got himself some exercise,”