Valkyrie frowned. “What would you need a private morgue for?”
“Experiments,” Kenspeckle said. “Experiments so bizarre and unnatural they would surely make you vomit.”
“Professor Grouse,” Skulduggery said, “we brought the Grotesquery here not only because your facility is more advanced than the Sanctuary’s, but also because you are the leading expert in science magic.”
“Mm,” Kenspeckle said gruffly. “It is. And I am.”
“We need your help. We have a chance to dismantle the Grotesquery and hide the pieces all over the world so it can never be put back together, and we need you to do it.”
“Fine,” Kenspeckle said gruffly. “But you, Valkyrie, must rest. And you, Detective, must not place her in any danger for the next, oh, let’s say an hour. Do we have a deal?”
“I can rest,” Valkyrie said.
“And I can manage an hour,” Skulduggery said.
“All right then,” said Kenspeckle. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a monster to take apart.”
The psychiatric ward was the best. Here, even without the sensitivities brought on by his new armour, he could sense the echoes of fear, madness and desperation. But with the armour, these echoes soaked into him, making him stronger. He felt his armour flourish after all those years of neglect in that cavern.
This would be the perfect place for the Grotesquery to break down the borders between realities, open the portal and invite the Faceless Ones to return. Now all he needed was the Grotesquery itself – but that wasn’t going to be a problem. For all his flashes of rage and his fearsome temper, Vengeous was a military man first and foremost. True, he had suffered a setback, but he had already initiated a plan to rectify the situation.
One of the Infected was standing further along the corridor and it opened the door as he approached. He could tell by its eyes that it was close to becoming a true vampire. He had already ordered Dusk to kill them all before that happened. Dusk, because of the serums he used, controlled the vampire part of himself, but the Infected would be far too unpredictable to keep around.
Vengeous focused on the armour, drawing it back in. He had been letting it writhe and revel in the collected anguish of the old building, but now it was time for business.
Billy-Ray Sanguine was waiting for him. There was a man shackled to an operating table, and when Vengeous walked into the room, the man’s eyes widened.
“Impossible,” he breathed. “You’re dead. You’re … it can’t be you, you’re dead!” Vengeous realised that with the helmet obscuring his face, the man thought Venguous was Lord Vile, risen from the grave to exact a terrible revenge. He said nothing.
“This is a trick!” the man said, straining against his shackles. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but you’ve made a huge mistake! Do you even know who I am?”
“Sure we do,” Sanguine drawled. “You’re a lily-livered sorcerer who’s managed to stay alive by runnin’ from every conceivable fight. Why do you think we chose you?”
“Chose me?” the man repeated. “Chose me for what?”
“For a quick answer,” Vengeous said, aware that the helmet even made him sound like Vile.
The man paled. He was sweating already. “What … what do you want to know?”
“As you can probably tell,” Sanguine said, “I ain’t from around these parts. And the gentleman who is makin’ you mess your britches right now … well, he’s been away for a time. So we need you, chuckles, to tell us where someone might go with the inanimate corpse of a half-god in order to, oh, I dunno, destroy it.”
The man licked his lips. “And … and then you’ll let me go?”
“Yeah, why not?”
Vengeous felt his armour coil. This man’s fear was too potent to ignore. Vengeous narrowed his eyes, controlling the armour through sheer force of will.
“They’d go to the Sanctuary,” the man said.
“That ain’t what we’re lookin’ for,” Sanguine responded. “We got people keepin’ an eye on the Sanctuary and they ain’t turned up there. We’re lookin’ for somethin’ a little more specialist, y’know?”
The man frowned. “Then … then maybe they’ve gone to Grouse.”
“Kenspeckle Grouse?” Vengeous said.
“Uh, yeah. He does work for the Sanctuary. They’d bring anything weird to him.”
“Where?”
“An old cinema, closed down now, the Hibernian. Are you going to let me go now?” Sanguine looked at Vengeous, and Vengeous looked at their captive.
“What did you do during the war?” Vengeous asked.
“Uh … well … not much.”
“I know you, Argus.”
“No. I mean no, sir, we’ve never met. I did some work for Baron Vengeous, but …”
“You supplied Baron Vengeous with the location of a safehouse, when he needed somewhere to lie low for a few days.”
“I … yes … but how would you—?”
“Skulduggery Pleasant tracked him to that safehouse, Argus. The information you supplied led directly to his capture.”
“That’s not my fault. That’s … it wasn’t my fault.”
“The safehouse was known to our enemies, but in your stupidity, you hadn’t realised that.”
“OK,” Argus said quickly, “OK, I made a mistake and Vengeous got arrested. But, Lord Vile, what’s it got to do with you?”
“I am not Lord Vile,” Vengeous said. He reached up and removed the helmet, and it melted into his gloves and flowed into the rest of the armour.
“Oh no,” Argus whispered when he saw Vengeous’ face. “Oh, please, no.”
Vengeous glared and Argus shook uncontrollably, and then it was as if his body forgot everything it had ever learned about how to stay in one piece. His torso exploded outwards and his limbs were flung to the corners of the room. His head popped open and his insides dripped from the walls.
Vengeous turned to Sanguine. “The Hibernian Cinema. We’re leaving immediately.”