Serpine hesitated. “Very well. I take you to the Sceptre, you take this disc off me and unlock this glove and let me go.”
“Agreed. How long will it take to get into the City?”
“What time is it now?”
“Around three.”
“Afternoon or morning, skeleton? You lose track when you don’t have windows.”
“Afternoon.”
Serpine nodded. “The best time to sneak in will be at the end of the working day. We need to be outside the wall at six. Before then I’ll need clothes. My own clothes. And tell them to send a barber. If I go in looking like this, we’ll be arrested on the spot. I assume you have some sort of disguise, skeleton? I’d wear it if I were you. The people of the City are cultured and elegant, not like the grim and shabby specimens who trudge around this place. You, girl,” he said to Valkyrie, and threw her the towel from around his waist. “Run me a bath.”
Using her thumb and forefinger, Valkyrie pulled the towel from her head and dropped it on the floor. “Gross,” she whimpered.
They spoke to Harmony and she arranged the barber and the bath, then they found his clothes. Valkyrie was outside with Skulduggery, sitting on the horse they’d given her, when a Cleaver escorted Serpine out into the sunlight.
The beard was gone and the hair was short. His clothes were old and worn, but still elegant. He blinked against the light, shielding his eyes with the iron glove. She saw for the first time how pale he was.
He saw them and smiled as he came over.
“There,” he said. “So much better. If one is rushing into certain death, one had better look one’s best, don’t you think? I almost feel like my old self again.” He looked at Skulduggery. “You know, the old self who killed your family.”
“Oh, yes,” Skulduggery said, “him.”
Serpine swung his leg up on to his horse, and looked down at Harmony. “Do try not to miss me too much while I’m gone,” he said. “If you find yourself inconsolable, feel free to lie down in your favourite spot on my bunk.”
Harmony’s face got suddenly warmer, Serpine laughed, and turned to Skulduggery. “Shall we go?”
They left the village at a canter. Valkyrie hadn’t ridden a horse in years and it took her a while to ease into the rhythm. She soon found herself enjoying it. And soon after that, she began to ache.
They saw the wall in the distance before they saw Dublin, but soon they were making their way through the narrow streets of the mortals, who hurried from their path even though they had slowed the pace to a brisk walk. They had journeyed mostly in silence, but the closer they got to their destination, the chattier Serpine became.
“It seems the years have mellowed you, skeleton,” he said. “Where is that old anger I used to know? Where is all that fury? All that hatred? Have you changed? Have you become, for want of a better word, a different man?”
“A lot of things have happened since you saw me last,” Skulduggery said. “I’ve already had my revenge, for a start.”
“Oh? How so?”
“The how, where and when don’t concern you, Nefarian.”
“Very well.” Serpine smiled. “But was it everything you had hoped it would be?”
“Oh, it was,” said Skulduggery. “Except that it was over far too quickly.”
“Well, I’m right here if you feel there is blood left unspilled.”
Skulduggery didn’t respond right away, and Valkyrie started to get worried. But then his head tilted in that way of his. “A tempting offer, and much appreciated. It is a rare occasion indeed when I am invited to inflict vast amounts of damage upon a person. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear you wanted me to kill you here and now instead of risk Mevolent getting his hands on you.”
Serpine laughed. “Actually, I’d rather skip my untimely demise completely if it’s all the same to you.”
“Naturally. But if you were going to die on this little mission of ours, and it looks like that’s a distinct possibility, then I’m sure you’d prefer a quick neck-break to a prolonged torture session – which is undoubtedly what Mevolent has in mind for you.”
“Oh, you don’t know Mevolent like I know him. He’s a forgiving fellow, all things considered. If I were captured, I’m sure he’d be quite understanding.”
“In that case, if we are outnumbered, we’ll happily leave you behind, yes?”
Serpine smiled, but the smile was tight. “Please do,” he said. “I haven’t seen my old friends in years. We have so much to catch up on.”
All that plus the fact that Argeddion was walking around conducting those experiments of his and being basically omnipotent meant that Ghastly had enjoyed very little sleep recently.
He missed his old bed. He missed his shop. He missed the part of his life where people didn’t run to him for answers. He was a tailor, not a leader. The only reason he’d taken this job in the first place was to have the resources to track down and cure Tanith Low. But here he was, all this time later, and he was still no closer.
He chose a tie, put it on, tightened the knot all the way and then tugged it down once to loosen it.
He hadn’t even seen Tanith since that time in the van, the Christmas before last. One moment they were chatting, the next there was a bright flash and then everything went dark. When he’d regained his senses, Tanith had fled with a Remnant inside her. It actually stung that she’d infiltrated the Sanctuary mere days earlier to kill Christophe Nocturnal in his cell, and she hadn’t even stopped by to say hello.
That was a weird thing to be upset about, he knew, but he couldn’t help it.
He buttoned his waistcoat and rolled up his shirtsleeves, the exact same number of turns on each arm. Looking good could not be left to chance, after all. He may have been disfigured, but that was no reason to let himself go. And at least his scars were symmetrical. Someone knocked on his door. He opened it.
“The mortals,” Tipstaff said. “They’re awake.”
Ghastly ran, joining Ravel on the way down to the lower levels. They passed Elsie and Ghastly grabbed her hand, making sure she stayed close. By the time they reached the quarantine zone, there was a small crowd gathered. Ghastly got to the front, taking Elsie with him.
The mortals were on either side of the room, standing perfectly straight with their eyes fixed ahead of them. Doctor Synecdoche shook her head. “This shouldn’t be happening,” she said. “They’re all fully sedated. They shouldn’t be able to open their eyes, let alone get out of bed.”
Ravel went up to the nearest mortal, waved his hand in front of her face. “She’s unresponsive,” he said. “Are they sleepwalking?”
“Maybe,”