Derek Landy - Kingdom of the Wicked

“What does that tell us?”

“Whoever killed him did it remotely. From a distance of more than two or three metres, I’d say.”

“Very good.”

“Apart from all the blood, the room was tidy. No signs of a struggle. There was no scorching, either.”

“Why does that matter?”

“If he was killed with an energy blast, you’d expect it to go through him and out the other side to get a result like that.”

“Then that’s not how he was killed.”

“The killer could have a power like Baron Vengeous. You told me about that friend of yours. Vengeous just looked at him and his whole body ruptured.”

“It shares similarities, yes. But there are a dozen ways to kill someone like that.”

She hunted around in her pocket, came out with some chewing gum that she popped in her mouth to get rid of the horrible taste. “Can we leave this to someone else? We have enough to be dealing with, and there are other detectives. Let’s give this case to them.”

Skulduggery considered it. “We do have a heavy workload.”

“Hell yeah, we do. We should be concentrating on Argeddion, pouring all our energy into that. Forget this horrible murder and forget people trying to kill me and forget Tanith hooking up with Billy-Ray bloody Sanguine … Let’s just solve a problem. Summer starts next Saturday, so we have until then to figure out what’s going on. Let’s get this thing solved and put it away and forget about it, and then move on to the next.”

“Sounds like a lovely idea.”

“That’s because it is. And we let the Cleavers arrest Nocturnal and deal with him. I know his people want me dead, but I really don’t want to have to deal with religious fanatics today.”

“Understandable. Then how about we return to the Sanctuary, open some files, and do a little research on the names that Nadir gave us?”

She made a face. “Research?”

“It’s the bedrock of any investigation.”

“Isn’t that punching?”

“It’s the bedrock of most investigations.”

“Most?”

“Some. Listen, we’re doing research and that’s that.”

“Blood-splattered crime scenes and musty old filing cabinets,” she said. “My life is beyond glamorous.”

They got back to Roarhaven and Valkyrie trudged after Skulduggery on their way to the Magical Hall of Mystical Cabinets, which she insisted on calling the file room, mainly because it annoyed Skulduggery. They walked down the steps, turned the corner, and a man in a black suit was standing there.

“Name, please,” he said, holding up a hand. He was big and strong with a Newcastle accent, one of Quintin Strom’s heavies.

Skulduggery tilted his head. “I’m sorry?”

“Name, please,” the heavy repeated. “I have a list of people authorised to pass beyond this point. What are your names?”

Valkyrie frowned. “We always pass beyond this point. We’re allowed to pass beyond this point.”

The man nodded. “And so long as your names are on my list, you are free to do so again.”

Skulduggery took a moment to observe him, then spoke. “I have to say, without any sense of false modesty, that I am a unique and distinctive person. Look at me. I’m a skeleton in an exquisitely tailored suit. I would even go so far as to say that I am somewhat famous in the circles in which you, Valkyrie and I all move. So the question do you know who I am , which I could ask, is immediately made moot. Of course you know who I am. I’m me. And of course you know who Valkyrie is. She is she. Neither of us knows who you are, but we seem quite comfortable with the lapse.”

“My name is Grim. I am the bodyguard to—”

“The point I am making, Mr Grim, is that since you know who we are, and since you know what our role is in this Sanctuary, then you are either impeding our progress because you have been ordered, specifically, to keep us out, or because you have taken it upon yourself to do so. Which is it?”

“You’re not—”

“Never mind, I don’t really care. Move aside.”

Grim puffed out his chest. “By order of the Supreme Council, no one gets by here without—”

“The Supreme Council has no jurisdiction in this country.”

“You’ll have to take that up with them. I just do what I’m told.”

“Oh, good,” Skulduggery said, “that’ll make this much easier. Move aside.”

He went to walk past and Grim moved directly into his path. “You’re not getting through.”

“I actually think we are.”

“I’m giving you this one and only warning.”

“How nice of you,” said Skulduggery. “By the way, the sparrow flies south for winter.”

Grim frowned, opened his mouth to form a question and Skulduggery swung his hand up, catching him in the side of the jaw with his palm. Grim went down like a sack of rocks.

“Do you think we’ll get into trouble for that?” Valkyrie asked.

“I might,” Skulduggery said, walking on. “You probably won’t, unless there’s a new accessory-to-slapping law that I don’t know about.”

“What are they doing acting as security men?”

“I don’t know, but I doubt Ravel approved this.”

There was a man talking to Tipstaff as they approached, and when he caught sight of them, he shook Tipstaff’s hand and walked over. Tipstaff, for his part, looked unimpressed.

“Mr Pleasant,” the man said in an American accent, hurrying over to shake Skulduggery’s hand. “I am such a huge – forgive me for saying this – a huge, huge admirer of yours. I’ve followed all of your cases, scoured the archives. Huge, huge admirer. Oh, heavens, sorry, my name. I’m Bernard Sult. I’m one of the Junior Administrators at the American Sanctuary. And Miss Cain, very lovely to meet you. We all owe you a gigantic debt of gratitude for the service you’ve done in a few short years. Thank you, Miss Cain. Thank you.”

Valkyrie shook his hand. “Sure,” she said. “No problem.”

“No problem!” Sult repeated, almost spluttering the words as he laughed. “No problem, she says! Defeating Serpine and Vengeous and the Diablerie, defeating gods, recapturing the Remnants …! No problem to Valkyrie Cain, maybe, but for the rest of us, it would have been a great big problem indeed!”

He laughed again, had to wipe his eyes he was laughing so hard. Valkyrie glanced at Skulduggery and he shrugged.

“You’re here with the Supreme Council, then,” Skulduggery said, walking on. Sult kept up with them. “We met one of your friends back there. He didn’t want to let us by.”

Sult looked horrified. “He tried to stop you?”

“He definitely tried. You might want to check on him when you have a spare minute.”

“Well,” said Sult, “I must apologise most profusely if he offended you in any way. Some of our people, they’re so eager to make a good impression that, well, sometimes they’re a little too stringent with the rules.”

“And what rules would they be, Bernard? As far as I’m aware, you and your associates have no duties whatsoever in this Sanctuary.”

“You’re absolutely right,” Sult said, nodding. “But we were just talking with your Cleaver commander about lending a hand if a hand was needed, all in a very unofficial capacity, you understand. Could I ask, was the gentleman who interrupted you from the English Sanctuary?”

“Indeed he was. A Mr Grim.”

“Ah, the bodyguard. That explains it. We had different briefings. I can assure you that such a misunderstanding will not happen again. You have my word. It’s all very embarrassing.”

Now that Sult was focusing on Skulduggery, Valkyrie gave him a quick once-over. Looked to be in his thirties. Dark hair, cut short and neat. Nice suit, tasteful tie. Shiny shoes. Gold wedding ring. Apart from that, there was nothing distinctive about him at all.