Skulduggery Pleasant: Books 7 - 9

Scowling to herself, she got on her hands and knees, and started to crawl.

She moved slowly through this forest of softly rustling legs. The train rocked, and while the Hollow Men swayed with it, their feet were so heavy it was like they were anchored in place. Valkyrie accidentally brushed against one or two of them and she froze, waiting for those hands to grab her, but they didn’t seem to notice. Not one of them was looking down. Not yet, anyway. She was almost to the other end when the forest of legs suddenly became impenetrable. No gaps. No way through. She gathered her feet under her, took a deep breath to calm herself, and counted down from five.

At three, her fingers curled, drawing in the air around her.

At one, she straightened up and flung her arms wide, throwing Hollow Men back and clearing a space all around her. She sprang forward, ducked a grab and snapped her palms at the air, flinging another Hollow Man into its brethren. One of them caught her, snagged her arm as she passed. She flicked her right hand and a shadow raked across the Hollow Man’s chest, but it didn’t let go. Panicking now as more hands reached out, she did it again, making the shadow sharper, making the cut deeper. She brought it around in a great swathe, slicing through four necks at once. Their heads lolled back, green gas billowing from their wounds, their bodies deflating.

Valkyrie tripped, coughing, eyes streaming, throat burning from the gas. Hands on her and she tried to shake them off but the grip was tight, and she felt herself being pulled backwards, out into the rushing air. Then she was beyond it, and the wind shut off. The hands again, pulling her up, leading her forward. She didn’t fight them. She was bent forward, and water splashed her face and someone was talking to her.

“Don’t rub your eyes,” he was saying. “It makes it worse. Just let the water do the work.”

She moaned something, unable to speak. Acid burned in her belly. She wanted to throw up. Again, the water splashed. Not much, just cold drops, working to drive away the stinging. She tried pressing her face downwards, to submerge her whole head, but the hands stopped her.

“You’re going to be fine,” said the voice. “Try to breathe. You’re going to be OK.”

Slowly, gradually, she began to relax. At the voice’s instruction, she stopped screwing her eyes shut, and let the water cool her eyelids. When she was finally able to open them, Hansard Kray handed her a towel and stepped back.

“Your nose is running,” he said.

Valkyrie covered her face with the towel, hiding her embarrassment and drying off at the same time, then used it to blow her nose. When she looked up, Hansard was holding out a tissue.

“Oh,” Valkyrie said. “Sorry.”

“Never mind,” said Hansard. “You can keep the towel if you want. We have lots.”

He stepped out of the washroom and she followed him. The carriage they were in was long and luxurious. There was a table, a bar, and even a bed down the other end. No one else in it. She glanced out through the glass in the door, back into the carriage filled with Hollow Men.

She turned to him. “What are you doing with them?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Hollow Men. What are you doing with a train full of Hollow Men? I thought you weren’t like your father.”

Hansard leaned back against the bar. “Meaning what, exactly?”

“You know what,” she said. “Why do you need them? What are you planning? What are you a part of?”

“I’m a part of the family business,” he replied. “As for what I’m planning to do with eight carriages of Hollow Men, I’m planning on delivering them to the people who placed the order.”

She frowned. Her eyes still stung. “What?”

“They’re not for my use, Valkyrie. This is a freight company. Transporting things is what we do.”

“Then who ordered them?”

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you that. Confidentiality is a big part of why people choose us. From your reaction, though, I can tell you’re thinking the worst. I know that Nefarian Serpine was fond of using Hollow Men, but not everyone who does has evil schemes in mind. Mostly they’re used as cheap labour or security, if Rippers can’t be afforded.”

She looked at him, her hostility dampening. “Oh,” she said.

Hansard smiled. “Not that I don’t enjoy being accused of terrible plots against humanity, but may I ask what you’re doing here? Aside from insulting me, of course, and damaging property that isn’t mine.”

“I’m sorry,” Valkyrie said. “I didn’t know they could be used for... other things. But they attacked me.”

He shook his head. “Without specific orders, Hollow Men don’t do anything on their own initiative. If they attacked you, you must have attacked them first.”

She hesitated. “Maybe,” she said. “Oh, God, I’m really sorry. But they’re different from the other ones.”

Hansard nodded. “These Hollow Men are tougher, their skins more expensive. You should see the new ones they’ve come out with – you’d need a chainsaw to cut through them.”

“I really don’t like the sound of that.”

“You didn’t answer my question, Valkyrie.”

She cleared her throat. “I’m actually here to ask you for a favour.”

He laughed. “A favour? After this?”

“Yeah. I know. Sorry.”

“And what’s wrong with using a phone? Or calling by the office, or the house? I’m sure you’d be able to find out where I live without much trouble. Aren’t you a bona fide Sanctuary Detective now? And where is your partner? Don’t tell me he let you stow away on a strange train alone?”

“I didn’t stow away,” she said. “I just dropped in. And as for where Skulduggery is, well, if you look outside your window...”

Hansard turned, saw Skulduggery flying alongside the train in a standing position with his arms crossed.

“Now that,” Hansard said, “looks like fun.” He looked back at her. “You didn’t want to run into my father again, did you?”

“Not really.”

“You’ve got to remember, he was extremely drunk when you met him. He’s not normally like that.”

“He’s not normally a worshipper of the Faceless Ones?”

“No, he is always that... He just isn’t usually so mean.”

“He threatened to spank me.”

“I’ll refrain from commenting,” Hansard said, showing that smile again. “So what’s the favour that you have gone to such great lengths to ask me?”

“You’ve heard about those ordinary people who’ve suddenly developed powers?”

“I have. My dad is by turns amused and horrified at the prospect. What about it?”

“We think the answer lies with a man named Tyren Lament, who hired your company thirty years ago to ship materials to an unknown destination. We need to know that destination.”

Hansard exhaled. “Thirty years ago? You mean before computers were as commonplace as they are now? When every little bit of information was recorded in ledgers and on paper in dusty old cabinets? You’re looking for an address in all of that?”

“Yep.”