“I keep to myself.”
“I know.”
His eyes flickered away, to her shoulder. “I can ask Moloch. But I can’t go alone.”
“We’ll come with you.”
He nodded. “I can’t promise that he’ll have anything useful for you, or even that he’ll agree to see us. But really, he’s the only one who might talk to me.”
“The other vampires don’t like you?” Skulduggery asked. “Why is that?”
Caelan hesitated. “In our culture it’s forbidden for one vampire to kill another.”
“You killed another vampire?”
“Yes, sir. I did.”
“Why?
Caelan shrugged. “He had it coming.”
Towers, thirteen stories high, of tiny apartments stacked side by side. No grass. No trees. One little shop, defaced by graffiti. Rusted shopping trolleys and old mattresses.
The gleaming Bentley parked beside a burnt-out husk of a car and Skulduggery, Valkyrie and Caelan got out. Skulduggery clicked on the car alarm and they followed Caelan through a rubbish-strewn tunnel, as grey as the sky it was blocking. They emerged on the other side and walked across a concrete square to a stairwell that stank of human waste. They passed no one.
The elevator was broken and the climb to the top burned the muscles of Valkyrie’s legs. Skulduggery and Caelan didn’t even notice it.
Still they passed no one.
They reached the top, where every second door was paint-flecked steel, with the locks and the bolts on the outside. Heavy bars criss-crossed the windows.
Caelan hammered his fist against one of the steel doors and they waited. There was the click of a lock being undone on the other side and the door cracked open. A young woman looked out. She was pale and sweating, her eyes red-rimmed and jittery.
“We’re here to see Moloch,” Caelan said and the woman licked her lips, glanced behind her and slipped out. Valkyrie watched her hurry away, arms wrapped around herself.
Valkyrie followed the others into the apartment. It was unfurnished. There were grooves in the walls, long and deep, and more scratches on the back of the steel door. This was where a vampire lived – where a vampire raged and fought to leave. There was another steel door in the living room, leading into the next apartment. In much the same way as China had knocked down the walls in her building to accommodate her library, the vampire Moloch had expanded his living space to accommodate both sides of his nature.
In this furnished apartment they found Moloch. He may have been handsome once, but the years had turned his sharp features cruel. His hair was thinning and his eyes burned with intelligence. He wore tracksuit bottoms and a white T-shirt, despite the cold, and he sat on the couch, hands laced behind his head, master of his domain.
“You scared away my breakfast,” he said in a thick Dublin accent. His eyes drank in Valkyrie. “But it looks like you’ve come with a healthier option. There’s a syringe on the table beside you, love. One pint of your blood is all I’ll be needing.”
“It’s an interesting set-up you’ve got here,” Skulduggery said, ignoring his comment. “Let me guess. The other tenants provide you and your brethren with nourishment, while you protect them from the drug dealers and petty criminals. Am I about right?”
“You sound like you disapprove,” Moloch said. “But isn’t it better than vampires going around killing mortals? This way we don’t have to be the hunters and they don’t have to be afraid.”
“Someone should have probably told that to the girl who ran out of here.”
“The first time is daunting,” Moloch shrugged. “But enough about our situation. I’d heard you were gone. The story I heard, you were pulled into hell and you were gone for good.”
“I was,” Skulduggery said. “I’m not any more.”
Moloch cracked a smile. “The skeleton detective, standing here in my own home. Imagine that. All this time we’ve managed to keep a non-existent profile. You didn’t even know we were here, did you? So what’s next I wonder? You send the Cleavers in?”
“They’re looking for Dusk,” Caelan said.
Moloch blurred from the couch and then Caelan was gone from Valkyrie’s side. There was a crash and she whirled. Moloch had Caelan by the throat, pressing him up against the far wall.
“You led them here,” Moloch snarled. “You led them to my home, you ignorant pup. I should rip your head off right now.”
Skulduggery had his hands in his pockets, seemingly unperturbed by the possibility.
“We forced him to bring us here,” Valkyrie tried.
Moloch tightened his grip and Caelan kicked uselessly, but then he released him. Moloch turned.
“Valkyrie Cain,” he said, wiping the spittle from his lips. “Two years ago you killed my Infected brothers. You led them into the sea, so I hear.”
“I jumped into the sea,” Valkyrie responded. “It’s not my fault they jumped in after me.”
“You misunderstand, young one. I’m thanking you. If they’d been allowed to turn, one of them would probably have gone on a rampage through the city, or been caught on camera, or been seen doing something. It would have been disastrous for us.
“Creating new vampires is an art form. The Infected have to be contained, trained, taught how to behave. They’re not zombies, for God’s sake. But Dusk views them as an army, not family.”
“He sent fourteen fresh vampires into the Sanctuary last night,” Skulduggery said.
“Is that so?”
“You didn’t hear?”
“I sleep late. What makes you think I’ll help you anyway? We’re not all tortured souls like Caelan here pretends to be. I don’t work with sorcerers. And I sure don’t work with Sanctuary agents.”
“You’ve been wondering how to solve a problem like Dusk for a long time. Every morning you’ve been waiting for an opportunity to come knocking on your door. Well, we knocked.”
Moloch considered. Behind him, Caelan stayed flat against the wall, staring at the back of Moloch’s head like he was boring a hole through it.
Moloch pulled back the rug, revealing a steel trapdoor. It was big and round, and looked heavy, but Moloch opened it without difficulty. Valkyrie and Skulduggery stepped to the edge and peered into the gloom.
“It’s where we keep them,” Moloch said. “You’d be surprised how many people living in these buildings want to be like us. Strength, speed, long life and no magic required. Just a bite. Or maybe