Skulduggery Pleasant: Books 4 - 6

“Not this time, Fletcher. You can only teleport to places you’ve already been, and this room in particular has a tendency to move around a lot.”

Valkyrie frowned. “What does that mean?”

Fletcher went off to help Ghastly, and Skulduggery and Valkyrie drove out of the city. As they drove, he told her all about the Midnight Hotel.

It was run by a sorcerer named Anton Shudder, an old friend of Skulduggery’s who fought alongside him during the war with Mevolent. Dissatisfied with the various Sanctuaries around the world, which he felt had grown too powerful and bureaucratic, he had built the hotel as a refuge for those who operated outside of official boundaries. His guests were often outcasts or outlaws or sometimes even out-and-out criminals, but as long as they obeyed the primary rule of the hotel, all were welcome.

The primary rule, Skulduggery said, was simple: no violence against any guest. If a fight did break out, Shudder himself would fight on behalf of the victim, whoever it happened to be. And no one, apparently, wanted to go up against Shudder.

“He must be pretty good,” Valkyrie said, “if everyone’s afraid of him. Is he Elemental or Adept?”

“Adept,” Skulduggery said. “If you’re lucky, you’ll never have to see what he can do.”

They drove on and Valkyrie tried to pin down something that had been bugging her for the past few hours – a nagging feeling in the back of her mind that wouldn’t go away. They arrived at a clearing in woodland, but she still had no idea what this stray thought might be. Skulduggery parked the car and they got out.

“You had better hold on to me,” Skulduggery said.

She clung to him and they rose up off the ground, away from the road and into the air. They passed over the tops of the trees, her feet rustling the branches lightly. Skulduggery kept them on course, and every so often she thought she heard him talking to himself, words that the wind whipped from his lipless mouth before they reached her ears.

They drifted down to a clearing, landing gently.

“What are we doing?” Valkyrie asked. “Where’s the hotel?”

“Any second now,” he answered, checking his pocket watch. He put it away.

A moment later the ground in the clearing rumbled and a building grew.

Wooden beams sprang from the earth and concrete seeped from the grass and hardened. The walls blossomed around the foundations, and inside Valkyrie saw rooms being born and tables flowering. A second storey grew and then a third, and the walls sprouted a roof that joined in the middle. Glass dripped from the tops of windows and formed panes, and doorways grew doors. The last thing to grow was a sign that said The Midnight Hotel.

“Every twelve hours it grows in another location around the world,” Skulduggery said, “and everyone inside is transported with it. He could have called it the Midday Hotel, I suppose, but Midnight sounds so much better, don’t you think?”

“I do,” Valkyrie said, a little stunned. She followed him inside.

There was a reception desk and maybe two dozen hooks on a board behind it for the room keys to hang from. Beside the board there was an open door that led to a backroom. There was a lamp and a ledger on the desk, and a single pen.

They walked through into the common room. A couple of old chairs, a sofa and a low table were arranged around the fireplace, for guests to come down to in the evening and relax. There was a bookshelf along one wall and a door that led somewhere, possibly the kitchen or the dining area. A woman came down the stairs, ignored them and walked out. They went back to the reception desk. A man stood there now – tall, with long black hair, dressed like a funeral director. He smiled gently.

“Hello, my friend,” he said to Skulduggery. “Providing you are not here to bother my guests, it is good to see you.”

“Likewise. Valkyrie Cain, this is Anton Shudder, the owner and manager of the Midnight Hotel.”

Shudder bowed his head to her. “It pleases me to meet you, Valkyrie. I’ve heard stories.”

“Good stories or bad stories?”

“All stories are good stories,” he smiled, “even the bad ones. What can I do for you?”

“We’re here to check on the Remnants,” Skulduggery said.

Shudder took a moment to react. “I see,” he said eventually. “Are you here to count them?”

“We just want to make sure they’re still where they’re supposed to be.”

“You have reason to believe they wouldn’t be?” Shudder asked, stepping out from behind the desk.

“Dreylan Scarab is out of prison,” Skulduggery said as they followed him up the stairs. “He’s got himself a little gang of like-minded killers and we think they want to set a Remnant free.”

“And you think they have managed this without my knowing?”

“I don’t underestimate my enemies.”

“And yet you seem to underestimate your friends.” Shudder looked back at Valkyrie. “Twenty-four rooms, the walls, doors and windows reinforced physically and magically. There are seals around the perimeter, guarding against certain types of undesirables. I make it a point of offering the best protection to my guests. There is one room, however, that is different from all the others.”

They stopped outside a door on the second floor, marked 24.

“This is where I keep the Remnants,” Shudder said. “They’ve been here for over a hundred years and they’ve never managed to escape. This door hasn’t been opened in a century and it won’t be opened for a century more. They’re not going anywhere.”

Skulduggery took off his hat and brushed imaginary lint from the brim. “These are some very resourceful people we’re talking about, Anton.”

“In that case they will try and they will fail. I would offer you the room across the hall, to make sure nobody gets in, but I am fully booked and expecting another guest at any time.”

“If it’s all the same to you though, we’ll stick around for a few hours.”

“By all means.”

Shudder led them back down and into the reception area, where they found Billy-Ray Sanguine standing at the desk.

Skulduggery’s gun leaped into his hand, and Sanguine laughed and backed away, hands up.

“Don’t shoot!” he cried in mock horror. “I’m unarmed!”

Skulduggery didn’t say anything. The gun didn’t waver.

Sanguine lost the laugh. “Hey, I’m serious now. Don’t you shoot me.”

“You’re under arrest,” Skulduggery said.

“Sanctuary agents have no jurisdiction in the Midnight Hotel,” Sanguine said. “Ain’t that right? I checked the rules before I came.”

“That is correct,” said Shudder.

“Makes no difference to me,” Skulduggery said coldly. “I can throw you out of here and arrest you then just as easily.”

“You can’t lay a finger on me,” Sanguine smiled. “You’re Shudder, right? Mr Shudder, I believe I have a reservation at this fine establishment for one whole night. The name’s William-Raymond Sanguine. Billy-Ray to my friends.”

Shudder went to his desk and looked in the book, then raised his eyes to Valkyrie and Skulduggery. “He is a guest,” he confirmed.

“Not yet he isn’t,” Skulduggery said, moving to Sanguine. Shudder stepped between them.