Derek Landy - Last Stand of Dead Men

“The Torment.”

“That being the case, what do you think our next move should be?”

Valkyrie smiled. “Scapegrace.”

hen they walked into the pub, it was empty except for Thrasher behind the bar and Scapegrace sweeping up. Scapegrace brightened when he saw them. When she saw them. He saw them. God, this was confusing.

Scapegrace threw the sweeping brush away and came forward, clasped Skulduggery’s hand and gave it a firm shake. “My friend,” he said. “It is good to see you again.”

“Uh,” Skulduggery said. “Right.”

“And Valkyrie,” Scapegrace said, turning to her, smiling broadly. “How goes the fight?”

She had to look past the impressive figure, the pretty face, the dazzling smile, and remember the brain that lurked within that head. “What fight would that be?”

“The fight against evil,” said Scapegrace. “How goes it? Does it go well?”

“Sure,” Valkyrie said, a little doubtfully.

“I heard there was an explosion in the Sanctuary. Do you have any leads?”

She frowned. “Yeah.”

“Any suspects?”

“The people who set the bomb were arrested at the scene.”

Scapegrace nodded thoughtfully. “I see, I see. Convenient. A little too convenient, wouldn’t you say? Almost as if they wanted to be caught.”

“I don’t think so …”

“Well, maybe not, I know nothing about it. But if you need our help, just give us the sign. We’ll need to work out a sign. Then you can give it, and we’ll come and help. Some kind of signal, or alarm, or, I don’t know, maybe I could give you my phone number, or you could pop by, I suppose. We’re only up the road from you, so that’d probably be handiest.”

“You feeling OK?”

Scapegrace laughed, and stepped back. “Me? I’m fine. Better than Thrasher, that’s for sure.”

Thrasher walked up, a sheepish look on his handsome face. “Hi, Valkyrie. Hi, Skulduggery.”

“You’re not feeling well?” Skulduggery asked.

Before Thrasher could answer, Scapegrace did it for him. “He’s constipated.”

“Master!” Thrasher said, horrified.

“Oh, shut up. We’re all friends here. We can talk about these things. It’s just like Doctor Nye told us. We each got a blast of magic to reanimate these bodies, and that magic has been keeping us going for the past few months. But now our own biological processes are starting to reawaken and take over.”

“I got hungry for the first time on Tuesday,” Thrasher said, somewhat guiltily. “So I ate something.”

Scapegrace grinned happily. “But while his stomach has reactivated, his bowels are still asleep.”

“It’s very uncomfortable,” Thrasher confessed.

“As zombies, we didn’t feel anything,” Scapegrace said, “but now that we’re human again, something like constipation is a real problem. For some of us.”

Thrasher blushed and Scapegrace’s grin widened. Valkyrie felt the need to step in.

“How about you?” she asked. “Have all of your biological processes reawakened yet?”

Scapegrace’s grin faded immediately. “Not yet,” he said. “I can feel my magic beginning to reawaken, but the biological processes are … taking their time. But it … it should be fine. I have a book about it. About what to expect. Actually, now that you’re here, I was wondering … If I have any questions about, you know, certain aspects of womanhood, could I ask you?”

“No,” she said.

“But just a few tips—”

“Under no circumstances. God, no. No way.”

“Oh,” he said. “Fair enough. I suppose … I suppose, OK, let’s keep this professional.”

“Professional is a good way to keep it.”

“It’s just … I don’t have any other female friends.”

She frowned. “We’re friends?”

“What about Clarabelle?” Skulduggery said. “Have you asked her?”

“I have,” Scapegrace said. “She tried to help, but then she started laughing, and she wouldn’t stop. She was laughing so much she couldn’t catch her breath, and she passed out.”

“She did,” said Thrasher. “I was there.”

“It’s all so confusing,” Scapegrace said, sitting down. “I don’t even know what size clothes to wear. I got a big bundle of clothes from a charity shop, but I don’t even know how to wear most of it. This top, the top I’m wearing now, it took me fifteen minutes to work out how to do it up.”

“It’s on backwards,” Valkyrie said gently. “It’s got a scoop neckline. That shouldn’t be on your back.”

“How am I supposed to know that? That’s ridiculous!”

“Also, yellow is not your colour.”

“I told him that,” Thrasher murmured.

Scapegrace jumped to his feet. “Now I have to figure out what my colour is? How is any of this fair?”

“It can’t be all bad,” Valkyrie said, trying for a reassuring smile. “You’re healthy, aren’t you? You’re alive. That’s something.”

“Yeah,” Scapegrace said, face in his hands. “I suppose.”

“And from what I’ve heard, the pub is doing really well.”

At this, Thrasher’s face soured. “It’s just a pity our clientele couldn’t be a bit … classier, that’s all.”

Scapegrace glared. “ Our? ”

“Sorry, Master. Yours.”

“There is nothing wrong with my clientele. Most of them are old friends of mine. Well, not really friends, but … but people I’ve known for years.”

“It’s nice that they’re supporting you,” Valkyrie said.

Scapegrace took a moment. “They treat me differently,” he said. “They’re nicer to me. They laugh now when I say something funny. No one ignores me any more.”

“That’s good.”

“Yes,” he said, and then shook his head. “Oh, who am I kidding? At least when they ignored me, they ignored me for the man I was, not the woman I’m not. Now I’m just an object to them. A pretty face serving them drinks.”

Thrasher’s eyes welled up. “They don’t see you like I see you.”

Scapegrace whirled round to him instantly. “Again, kind of an odd thing to say.”

“Sorry, Master.”

“Stop saying odd things.”

“Yes, Master.”

Scapegrace turned back to Valkyrie and Skulduggery. “You need something. Information? I’m your man. Sort of.”

“We’re looking for information about the Torment,” said Skulduggery.

“Ah, the Torment. I haven’t thought about him for years.”

“Who is he?” Thrasher asked.

“He’s before your time,” Scapegrace said, somewhat wistfully. “He was a Child of the Spider, or an Old Man of the Spider, whatever. He didn’t like Valkyrie because he could sense Ancient blood in her, and also he just wasn’t a very nice man. He could turn into a giant spider, though, which was pretty cool. Skulduggery, remember the first time you questioned me? You wanted me to bring you to him. They were good times, weren’t they? I was so different then. I wasn’t a zombie. I wasn’t a woman. I was me.”

“You brought the Torment to Roarhaven,” Valkyrie said. “You let him stay beneath this very pub.”

“And did I get any thanks for that? All the work I put into converting the cellar into a place someone could live – do you know how long that took? I mean, fine, I may have stolen most of the materials, but it was still a huge undertaking.”