Skulduggery Pleasant: Books 7 - 9

Scorn smiled. “Christophe Nocturnal.”

Sanguine took off his sunglasses to wipe them. The holes where his eyes used to be seemed to drag in the darkness of the room. “The same Christophe Nocturnal who is now in Sanctuary custody?”

“The very same.”

“You’ve made things awkward for us,” Tanith said. “I don’t like awkward.”

“It was necessary, I’m afraid,” Scorn told her. “Nocturnal is the head of a very large church in America, a church that I want absorbed into mine. And now that he’s in shackles, his congregation is worried he might start naming names. So all of their money, and all of their power, and all of their influence, might all be snatched away from them, along with all of their freedom.”

Tanith folded her arms. “So they’ve gone running to you,” she said, “begging you to silence Nocturnal before he has a chance to rat them out. In return, I expect they’ve agreed to join the Church of the Faceless?”

“Indeed they have.”

“And you want us to break into the Sanctuary and, when Nocturnal has told us where the dagger is, you want us to kill him.”

“Naturally,” Scorn said, nodding. “Of course, you’d be doing this job for free.”

Sanguine laughed. “Now why in tarnation would you think that?”

“Because once he told you where the dagger was, you’d be killing him anyway, wouldn’t you? To stop him from telling Skulduggery Pleasant or some other investigator what you were looking for?”

Sanguine’s laugh died on his lips. “Dammit,” he muttered.

“You,” said Tanith, “are a very cunning woman. Even more cunning than China Sorrows, I’d say.”

“Oh, you flatter me.”

“And just for that, I don’t think we’ll kill you.”

“Thank you very much,” said Scorn. “Now, without wanting to be rude, I have a lot of work to do. By the end of the week my Church will be one of the most powerful and well-funded organisations on earth, and I have arrangements to make.”

(#ulink_3670f44e-800a-56c3-af36-1e2847b19c35)

t was a little past nine on Monday morning. The Bentley was parked in a field, and Skulduggery and Valkyrie were standing in long grass.

“Welcome,” Skulduggery said, “to the invisible railroad.”

Valkyrie looked down at the rusted old railway tracks. “Two things,” she said. “First, it’s not invisible. Second, it’s still not invisible. That’s two things immediately wrong with something called the invisible railroad. I could go on.”

Skulduggery dipped his hat lower so that the sun wouldn’t get into his eyes. She didn’t know why he did that. Force of habit, probably. “The invisible railroad was used a lot during the war,” he said. “It’d ship people and supplies all over the country, then link up with other railroads around the world. Some of these tracks go underwater – and I don’t mean in a tunnel, either. The trains run along on land and then they get to the shoreline and they go down and continue along the seabed.”

“You promised me invisible things.”

“Did you hear what I just said?”

“Trains that travel underwater. Brilliant. You promised me invisible things.”

He checked his pocket watch. “And I keep my promises,” he said. “It should be along any moment now. We should step back.”

They walked away a little, and Valkyrie looked up the tracks. “Are we waiting for an invisible train?”

“Yes, we are.”

“How do we know when it’s here?”

“We’ll know. The train isn’t invisible itself, but rather it’s encased in a series of bubbles.”

“Cloaking spheres?”

“Exactly.”

“And where does the train stop?”

“Pardon me?”

“The train station, where is it?”

Skulduggery laughed. “There isn’t one, Valkyrie. It’s an express service.”

“So what are we supposed to do? Hop on a moving invisible train?”

He looked at her. “Of course. What did you think we were going to do?”

She felt the air shift, pressing against her cheek. To her eye, though, the track was still empty. “It’s coming,” she said.

“Yes, it is,” Skulduggery responded, wrapping his arm round her. They lifted off the ground, moved over the tracks, and started picking up speed. Below them, the long grasses were suddenly blown back by something huge, travelling fast.

They dipped lower, passing through the bubble, and suddenly the train was right there below them and the noise was deafening. They landed on the roof of the last carriage, Skulduggery diverting the rushing air around them.

“I should go in alone,” Valkyrie said, speaking loudly to be heard. “If we both go in, it’ll look too official.”

“So I’ll just stay out here?” Skulduggery asked. “But what’ll I do? There’s no one to talk to. It’s boring.”

“You’re standing on the roof of a speeding train,” Valkyrie pointed out. “If you find this boring, you really need your head examined. Just wait here. I’ll do what has to be done and I’ll be right out.”

“Fine,” he said, sounding grumpy. “Don’t be long.”

She grinned and stepped away from him, bringing up her hand to deflect the air. Her movements were too casual, however, and the sheer force of the rushing wind took her by surprise. It hit her like a truck and she cried out as she was taken off her feet. Skulduggery reached for her but she was already tumbling backwards, the train whipping beneath her. She threw out a hand, grabbed a ladder rung, almost yanking her shoulder from its socket as her legs dangled over the blurring track. She got her other hand on to the ladder, and her feet, and clung on to the rear of the train, her entire body trembling.

She looked up and saw Skulduggery standing there, perfectly straight without even his tie being upset by the wind. He shook his head and she managed a shaky smile to reassure him she was OK. Here lies Valkyrie Cain, who died heroically after falling off a train. At least it rhymed.

She climbed down the ladder, kept a tight hold of it as she slid open the rear door of the carriage. She lunged in, slid it closed behind her, shutting out the noise and the wind. She took a moment to fix her hair and calm down. Oh, that was stupid. Skulduggery wasn’t going to let her forget that one in a hurry.

Her composure regained, she made her way forward. Whatever they were transporting, it wasn’t cargo in the traditional sense. These carriages had windows but no seats. Large canisters were held in place by thick, heavy webbing and nets on either side of her. She slid open the door at the other end, the wind once again threatening to snatch her away, and stepped over the link to the next carriage. In here it was more of the same, dozens of unmarked canisters, clinking together with the rhythm of the train.

She emerged from the other end just as the track went into a tunnel, throwing everything into darkness. She stretched out, her hand closing round the door handle of the third carriage. Still surrounded by pitch-black, she jumped the link, slid open the door and stepped in. She had to struggle a little to get the door shut, but she managed it and turned. Her instinct was to click her fingers and summon a little light, but if those canisters contained some kind of gas, then a naked flame would probably be a bad idea. So she stood there and waited, rocking back and forth with the train, and then the track emerged from the tunnel, the darkness went away and sunlight flooded in, and she found herself in a carriage packed with Hollow Men.

Valkyrie froze. Papery skin, slumping shoulders, arms weighed down by those heavy fists, they all had their backs to her, their featureless faces turned away. She swallowed, reached behind her for the door handle. One of the Hollow Men, the one closest to her, started to turn. Valkyrie darted forward, ducking behind it. Another turned, and another, shifting their slow, clumsy bodies as they looked at the space she had just occupied. Seeing no one there, however, didn’t make them return to their previous positions. Now there were half a dozen Hollow Men with their blank gazes focused on her escape route. There was no way she was getting back there without being seen. She crouched lower, looked the other way, up the carriage.