“Here, here and here,” China said, her manicured fingernail tapping lightly on the map.
Skulduggery took a pencil from the desk and drew a circle around the three points. “If what Peregrine says is true, and Mr Renn can only teleport a few miles at a time, then that would put him somewhere in this area.”
“That’s a lot of buildings to search,” China noted.
Skulduggery tapped the pencil against his skull. It made a pleasing hollow sound. “A seventeen-year-old boy with the power to appear anywhere. If he needs money, he appears in a bank vault. If he needs clothes, a clothes shop. Food, a supermarket. He’s not going to be just anywhere. He’s starting to see himself as better than everybody else. He’ll only stay in the best places. The best hotels.” The pencil made an X on the map, within the circle.
“The Grandeur Hotel,” China commented. “Very likely the only hotel in the area with a games console in every room.”
“That’s where he is,” Skulduggery said, wrapping his scarf around his jaw. “That’s where we’ll find him.”
The elevator doors slid open and an elderly couple stepped out. The woman looked curiously at Skulduggery as they passed. Valkyrie joined him in the elevator and pressed the button for the top floor, Fletcher Renn’s most likely location. As they started to rise, Skulduggery checked his gun.
From the elevator they walked down a long corridor. They turned a corner and almost bumped into the man coming the other way. He had blond hair and was wearing sunglasses. There was a moment of stunned silence.
“Oh,” Billy-Ray Sanguine said, “hell.”
He stepped back as his hand darted for his pocket, but Skulduggery slammed into him and the straight razor flew from Sanguine’s grasp.
Skulduggery’s elbow cracked against his jaw and Sanguine stumbled, hand reaching for the wall. Upon contact, the wall started to crumble and Sanguine began passing through, but Skulduggery grabbed him and hauled him out again.
Valkyrie heard a door open and turned to see a good-looking boy who loved his hair staring at them from the doorway of his room.
She lunged at him, pushing him into the room, and slammed the door behind them. The room was luxurious, with a couch and armchairs, a huge TV and a gigantic bed, none of which mattered in the slightest right now.
“You’re Fletcher Renn,” she said. “You’re in great danger.”
Fletcher Renn looked at her. “What?”
“There are some people who want to kill you. We’re here to help you.”
“What are you talking about?”
He had an English accent, not too dissimilar to Tanith Low’s. He was better-looking than she’d imagined and China had been right about his hair. It was spiky and carefully, meticulously untamed.
“My name’s Valkyrie Cain.”
“Valerie?”
“Valkyrie. I know all about you and what you can do, and you’re going to need to teleport right now.”
His eyes flickered to something behind her. She turned to see a million little cracks appear in the plaster on the wall. Sanguine passed through into the room, his lip bleeding and his sunglasses missing.
Fletcher saw the black holes where Sanguine’s eyes used to be and swore under his breath.
Valkyrie ripped the bandage off her right hand and clicked her fingers, felt the spark generated by the friction and fed it her magic. The spark ignited into flame and grew, swirling in her palm. She hurled the fireball and Sanguine threw himself to one side, barely avoiding it.
The blade of his straight razor gleamed wickedly. Valkyrie took one step forward and extended her arm, hand open. She sank into the stance, knees bending slightly, as she snapped her palm against the air and the space in front of her rippled. Sanguine dived to one side and the displaced air hit the couch where he had just been standing and sent it crashing against the wall.
Sanguine threw a lamp at Valkyrie and the base struck her cheek. She stumbled and he moved straight towards her. Even as she was ducking the swipe of the razor, she knew it had been a feint, and he grabbed her and hauled her back as the hotel room door was kicked open and Skulduggery stormed in. His hat and scarf were gone, and Fletcher gaped as he caught his first real glimpse of the skeleton detective.
“Let her go,” Skulduggery said, the revolver in his hand, ready to fire.
“But then you might shoot me,” Sanguine said. “An’ getting’ shot hurts. Drop the gun, gimme the kid with the freaky hair-do or I kill the girl.”
“No.”
“Then I reckon we got ourselves a good old-fashioned stand-off.”
The blade of the straight razor pressed deeper into Valkyrie’s throat and she didn’t even dare swallow. Her cheek throbbed with pain and she felt a trickle of blood run down her face where the lamp had struck her.
Nobody moved, or said anything, for the next few moments.
“Old-fashioned stand-offs are mighty borin’,” Sanguine muttered.
Fletcher was staring at Skulduggery. “You’re a skeleton.”
“Get behind me,” Skulduggery said.
“What’s going on? There’s a guy with no eyes and a razor versus a skeleton in a suit with a gun. Who’s the good guy here?”
Valkyrie clicked her fingers, but had to do it softly or else Sanguine would hear. She tried again, but still couldn’t summon a spark.
“Fletcher,” Sanguine said, “unlike these two, I came here to make you an offer. My employers are very generous people and they’d like to pay you a lot of money to do one little job for them.”
“Don’t listen to him,” Skulduggery warned.
“Why would I need money?” Fletcher asked. “I teleport wherever I want to go and I take whatever I need. I don’t have to pay for anything.”
“There are other rewards,” Sanguine tried. “We can work something out.”
Fletcher shook his head. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what any of you want, or why guns and knives are being waved around, and why the girl has just been taken hostage, but everyone seems to be acting like having a talking skeleton in the room is perfectly normal. And you, where are your eyes? How can you see? How come the only people with eyes in this room are me and her?”
“Very good questions,” Sanguine nodded. “If you come with me right now, I’ll give you all the answers you want.”
“This man’s a killer,” said Skulduggery. “You can’t trust anything he says.”
“I’m not planning on it,” Fletcher replied, and he picked up his jacket