Eyes blinking. Eyes. Blinking.
Alarms. Shouts.
Alarms.
Hands gripping him, pulling him up, Ghastly sitting now, smoke everywhere. People and Cleavers. Ravel, in front of him, shaking him, speaking words.
“—hear me? Ghastly? Can you hear me? I need a doctor over here! My friend’s a vegetable!”
Ghastly felt his mouth twitch into a smile.
“Oh, good,” said Ravel. “He’s not completely gone. Where’s all this blood coming from? Ah, he’s been shot. Of course he has. Typical.”
Doctor Synecdoche hurried over, knelt by him, pressed something against his wound. “Elder Bespoke,” she said, “can you hear me? Can you tell me what day it is?”
“I don’t know,” Ghastly mumbled, “I’m sorry …”
“We need to get him to my lab as quickly as possible,” said Synecdoche. “He needs a CAT scan and a—”
Ghastly shook his head. “No, I mean, I don’t actually know what day it is. It was easier keeping track of days when I had my shop, but ever since I became an Elder …”
“The days become a blur,” finished Ravel, nodding. “He’s OK, Doc. I’ve seen him walk away from bigger traumas than this. Help me get him standing.”
“I really don’t think that’s a good idea, Grand Mage,” said Synecdoche. “He could still be suffering from—”
Ravel sighed, grabbed Ghastly’s right arm and pulled him to his feet. “See?” he said while Synecdoche quietly freaked out. “Not a bother on him. Although you should probably call round to see him later for some private consultation.”
Ghastly did his best to smile at her. “Doctor, thank you, I’ll make my way to the Medical Wing in a moment. Maybe you could treat some of our prisoners while you’re here?”
“Of course, Elder Bespoke,” she said, and was immediately lost in the crowd of Sanctuary personnel.
“She likes you,” Ravel whispered.
“Do not start,” Ghastly responded. He turned as Sult was hauled to his feet by a pair of Cleavers, his hands shackled behind his back.
“Bernard Sult,” said Ravel. “I take it you’re responsible for this mess?”
Sult glared at them both. “I have Level 4 mindguards in place. We all do. Your Sensitives will get nothing from us.”
“We don’t really need anything,” said Ravel. “The fact that you’ve been caught red-handed trying to destroy Sanctuary property will be enough of an embarrassment to the Supreme Council, believe me.”
The defiance in Sult’s eyes diminished somewhat. “What do you mean,” he said, “trying to destroy?”
Ghastly frowned, too. “The Accelerator is salvageable after a blast like that?”
“See for yourselves,” Ravel said.
Ghastly limped to the doorway and Sult came after him, his arms held by the Cleavers. Sanctuary Elementals worked to clear the acrid smoke from the room. The Accelerator stood tall and proud where it had always been. A little scorched, maybe, but definitely in one piece. One of the Elementals placed a hand to the scorch mark and wiped it clean. Just a little soot. Astonishing.
“When they built it,” Ravel said from behind them, “they built it to last.”
“Hi,” said Valkyrie.
China looked at her for a few more moments. “Hello, Valkyrie,” she said at last, composure quietly regained. “I must admit, I didn’t expect to see you on my doorstep. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I’ve been meaning to stop by. You told me about this place ages ago, mentioned all the horses. It’s beautiful around here.”
“My refuge,” said China. “I run to my country house to lick my wounds and bathe in self-pity. Is that … is that your car?”
Valkyrie glanced back at the Oompa-Loompa. “Yep. Isn’t she beautiful?”
“She is remarkably orange. Would you like to come in?”
China stepped to one side, and Valkyrie passed through. A marble staircase swept from a marble floor. Dark paintings in Gothic frames hung from the walls. Twisted sculptures sat on bone-white plinths. Through the windows the old stone yard was in full view, with the horses in their stables and, beyond them, the fields and meadows and the forest that bordered the land.
China led her into a large room with a rich carpet and a floor-to-ceiling bookcase that took up an entire wall. There was an old-fashioned writing desk that Valkyrie barely got a glance at before China closed the lid, and at China’s invitation Valkyrie dutifully sat.
“Can I get you anything?” China asked. “Tea or coffee?”
“I’m fine, thank you.”
China sat in the armchair opposite and crossed her legs. Her feet were bare. “What can I do for you?” she asked, but Valkyrie wasn’t ready to answer that. Not yet.
“Impressive bookcase,” she said instead. “Not as impressive as the library, but …”
“But then I have far fewer books,” finished China. “Rebuilding my collection will take time, I’m afraid. Rebuilding it completely will be impossible – some of the works lost were truly one of a kind. Irreplaceable. The truly valuable books, of course, were kept here and not in the library, so that is a blessing, I suppose.”
“Are you going to reopen?”
“I think not. As I said, I’ve been feeling very sorry for myself. My library was frequented by many patrons whom I viewed as loyal – and yet, when Eliza Scorn burned it to the ground, not one of them came to my aid. Don’t get me wrong, Valkyrie – I am quite used to being a pariah. I just didn’t think it would happen again quite so soon.”
“So you’re not joking, then? You really have been spending all this time feeling sorry for yourself?”
A smile, as sad as it was faint. “Not all this time. I spent a few days recovering from my injuries. The physical wounds healed and left not a bruise. The injury I suffered to my pride, however … well. Once I was back on my feet, I had nothing but revenge in mind, so I began preparing.”
“And what happened?”
“Eliza is nothing if not thorough. My holdings in America, in Switzerland, in Italy … all destroyed. My employees, the ones who haven’t died in terribly suspicious accidents, are missing. The mortal men and women who tend to my horses are the only ones left unharmed. I am alone, Valkyrie. Without allies, without friends.”
“I’m …