Derek Landy - Skulduggery Pleasant - Books 7 – 9 - The Darquesse Trilogy

“But if werewolves are extinct...”

“The infection has been diluted down through the generations, but it’s still there in a tiny fraction of the world’s population. Too weak to ever manifest into any actual transformation – unless the carriers of this infection were suddenly and inexplicably to gain magical abilities.”

“So Ed is like my butterfly man earlier.”

“Yes. The latest in a worryingly long line of mortals developing magic. Unfortunately in Ed’s case, it triggered a long dormant aspect of his physiology. You’re going to need this.” He handed her a long-barrelled gun.

Her eyes widened. “This is mine? You’re giving this to me? This is so cool.”

“It’s a tranquilliser gun.”

Her face fell. “Oh.”

“It’s still cool,” he insisted. “But I’m going to need it back afterwards. It’s part of a set. I have the other one, and I like to keep them together. It’s already loaded with a single tranq dart, so all you have to do is point and pull the trigger. The dart is loaded with enough sedative to bring down a—”

“Small elephant?”

He looked at her. “What?”

“You know. In the movies, if they’re going after something dangerous, they always say their tranquilliser darts have enough sedative to bring down a small elephant.”

“What do people have against small elephants?”

“Well, nothing, but—”

“There’s enough sedative in these darts to bring down a werewolf, which is exactly what we’re hunting. Why would we want to bring down an elephant if we’re not hunting elephants?”

“It’s just something people say in movies.”

“In elephant-hunting movies?”

“No, not particularly.”

“If we were hunting a were-elephant, I would understand the reference.”

“There’s no such thing as a were-elephant.”

“Of course there is. There are were-practically-everythings. Weredogs, werecats, werefish.”

“There are werefish?”

“They don’t generally last very long unless they’re near water.”

“I don’t believe you. I’ve fallen for this too many times in the past.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He started across the road.

She followed. “Oh, don’t you? You’ll insist they’re real and I’ll eventually start to doubt myself, and then I’ll ask, Are there really werefish? And you’ll look at me and say, Good God, Valkyrie, of course not, that’d be silly, and I’ll stand there feeling dumb. Just like with that colony of octopus people.”

“The what?”

“You told me once that octopus people were real.”

“And you believed me?”

“I was twelve!”

They reached the door of the apartment building. “And yet most twelve-year-olds don’t believe in octopus people.”

“I was twelve and impressionable, and I believed whatever you told me.”

“Ah, I remember those days,” Skulduggery said fondly, then took out his revolver. “There is such a thing as a werefish, though.”

She watched him loading the gun. “Those don’t look like tranquilliser bullets.”

“That’s because they’re not. They’re silver. Only thing guaranteed to kill a werewolf. Apart from decapitation. But then—”

“Decapitation kills most things,” Valkyrie finished.

“Exactly.”

“Apart from zombies.”

Skulduggery slid the revolver back into his shoulder holster. “This gun is just for emergency, last-resort back-up. Ed Stynes is a good man – I have no desire to take his life just because he changes into a wolfman a few nights a month.” He took a pair of lock picks from his jacket and started on the door.

“Why don’t we wait until morning to do this?” she asked. “Wouldn’t that be smarter?”

“And leave him free to roam and kill tonight?”

“It’s dark and the moon is full and I don’t hear any howling. Maybe it’s not as bad as you think.”

“He just hasn’t transformed yet. All day he’ll have felt grouchier than usual. This evening the headaches will have started. Once night fell, the cramps will have kicked in. Judging by the position of the moon, we have about ten minutes before he changes. He’ll spend roughly three hours covered in fur, and when the moon slips further away, he’ll change back.”

“So we tranq him while he’s still human?”

“Rarely a good idea,” Skulduggery said, opening the door and putting his lock picks away. “Sometimes it works, but most of the time the transformation occurs anyway, and the adrenaline rush clears the sedative from the system. The wolf wakes up angry and it takes a double dose to put it down again.”

“So we have to wait until he changes into a monster before we can do anything?”

“Indeed.”

“It seems a lot more dangerous.”

“It is.” He took out a tranq gun identical to Valkyrie’s. “Ready?”

“Uh...”

“That’s the spirit.”

They took the stairs to the third floor. The building was quiet, still, like it was holding its breath. They approached Ed Stynes’ door and Skulduggery picked the lock silently. He nudged the door open a little. There were no lights on inside. His hand went to his collarbones, pressing the symbols etched there. The false face melted away, revealing the skull beneath.

He entered, and Valkyrie crept in behind him and shut the door with a soft click. The tranq gun was heavy. She held it in a two-handed grip, just like Skulduggery had taught her.

So far, no growling.

They stepped into the living room, sweeping their guns from corner to corner, making sure Ed Stynes hadn’t lain down to sleep on the couch. It was hard to make anything out in the gloom, but since Skulduggery didn’t shoot anything Valkyrie figured the couch was empty. She may have been the only one with eyes, but his night vision was still better than hers. They moved across the hallway, checked inside the small kitchen. The moonlight washed over the headache tablets that were spilled across the countertop. There was a sudden groan from the bedroom and Valkyrie nearly pulled the trigger in response. Skulduggery tilted his head in her direction and she glared.

He moved through the hallway like he wasn’t even there. A cat would have made more noise. Valkyrie followed, keeping close to the wall, where the floorboards beneath the carpet would creak less. Skulduggery moved past the bedroom door, took up position on the other side.

Valkyrie edged forward, using the mirror on the opposite wall to look through into Stynes’ bedroom. She heard a curse, and there was movement in the darkness, and then the bedside lamp came on. She froze, adrenaline pumping through her, but all Stynes did was push the covers away as he sat up in bed. He was unshaven, pale. Sweating. He looked to be in pain. He groaned as he stood up. Valkyrie glanced at Skulduggery, mouthing the word Hide? But he just shook his head and so she stayed where she was, eyes on the mirror.

Stynes took a step, then doubled over.

“Oh, God...” she heard him mutter.

He straightened up with a scream so sudden it made her jump. His fingers curled like his muscles were being tightened on some invisible rack, and still he screamed. She’d never heard anything like it.

The lamplight shone yellow over his skin as thick black hairs pushed through, matting and knotting across his chest and back, his arms and legs. He fell to his knees, his legs changing shape, his bones lengthening and re-forming. He stared in horror and dismay at his hands as his fingernails fell to the floor and sharper, longer claws grew in their place.

“Help me,” he gasped. “Somebody help—”

He dropped to all fours, another scream twisting up from his core, wrenching itself from his throat as his jaw dislocated. It cracked and popped and started to balloon outwards, his skin stretching over his newly formed muzzle. Fangs split his gums and his scream turned to an animal howl of rage and pain.