Skulduggery Pleasant: Books 4 - 6

“Do you have any idea of a kill zone?” Skulduggery asked Kenspeckle while Guild made the call.

“I estimate a lethal radius of 150, maybe 200 square metres,” said Kenspeckle.

“I can’t get through to Marr,” Guild said, putting away his phone, “but the Sanctuary is being evacuated. Again.”

Skulduggery cocked his head. “What if the target isn’t the Sanctuary? If Scarab’s plan was for two bombs all along, he’d have two targets. What’s the second target?”

Ghastly said, “Set it off in a crowded street and we’re looking at a couple of thousand dead.”

Valkyrie frowned. “What would be the point of that? Scarab wants revenge on the Sanctuary, not ordinary people.”

“But attacking ordinary people would be an attack on the Sanctuary,” Ghastly argued. “That’s what it’s there for, isn’t it? To shield the non-magical population from us?”

“So you think Scarab is just going to slaughter thousands of innocent people?” Kenspeckle asked.

Ghastly turned to him. “Why not? The Sanctuary frames Scarab for a crime he didn’t commit, and in response, he commits a crime the Sanctuary will never recover from. You think the other Sanctuaries around the world will ignore something like this? They’ll descend on us and devour everything. They’ll tear this country apart and fight over the remains.”

“It won’t be a street,” Skulduggery murmured. “But it will be somewhere public. Somewhere densely packed. Like a…sports stadium.”

Valkyrie looked at him. “The All-Ireland Championship. My dad was trying to get tickets. But that’s today. It must have already started by now.”

“Good God,” Ghastly said in a quiet voice. “He’s going to kill 80,000 people live on air.”

Skulduggery turned to Fletcher. “Please,” he said, “tell me you’ve been to Croke Park before.”

“Of course,” Fletcher said. “The VIP area, mostly.”

“Perfect. That’s where we’re going.”

“And I’m coming with you,” snarled Guild.

44 REVENGE (#ulink_694e42d0-9d7d-51d3-a4f2-53fa616c0024)

alkyrie was eleven years old the last time she’d been to Croke Park. Her father had taken her to the Dublin Kildare game. She had worn her blue jersey and shouted and screamed and cheered along with the thousands of other people in the stands. The sun had been beating down and she remembered it as a day when everyone around her was smiling and laughing. She’d been buzzing with positivity and had talked non-stop all the way home, a rare feat even back then. Her dad had promised to take her again, but they’d never got around to it.

They teleported on to a wide concrete ramp and immediately Valkyrie was hit by the roar of the crowd inside the stadium. Out here though they were alone, high up off the streets and looking out over Dublin. Fletcher led the way down to a set of doors just as they opened and a security guard came out.

“This is the Executive Area,” he informed them politely but firmly, in the tone of a man who had already dealt with dozens of people who had strayed from where they were meant to be. “VIPs only.”

“We are VIPs,” Ghastly smiled. His façade was up, covering his scars. He walked up to the security guard, reaching his hand into his pocket. “I have our tickets here somewhere. Say, you wouldn’t have seen some friends of ours, would you? An odd-looking bunch, with an old American man?”

“Haven’t seen anyone like that,” said the guard, waiting for the tickets to be produced.

“Pity,” Ghastly said and hit him, catching the guard as he fell. He laid the unconscious man on the ground then rejoined the others as they walked through the doors.

Cream walls and wooden floors, framed photographs and tasteful art. Everything in the VIP area was clean and new and nice and safe. The door to one of the Executive Boxes was open and Valkyrie could see past the people gathered inside to the huge windows that overlooked the stadium. It was packed to capacity – over 82,000 people cheering and singing and waiting to die.

“We’re going to need a Sensitive with us,” Ghastly said as they walked on. “We need someone with psychic abilities to sort through this crowd.”

“Scarab’s gang don’t exactly blend in,” Skulduggery responded. “If they’re anywhere, they’ll be somewhere like this, away from the masses. We have Caelan coming in on foot. The rest of us will have to split up and search different areas.”

“We shouldn’t be trusting a vampire,” said Fletcher.

“But you can trust vampire nature,” Shudder told him. “For whatever reason, Caelan has a grudge against Dusk. You can trust him to see that through.”

“Fletcher,” Skulduggery said, “it’s important you understand this. If you see the enemy, do not engage. You might be the difference between success and mass murder.”

“Fine,” Fletcher responded grudgingly.

“Guild, you might want to call in some of your operatives – try to get in touch with Davina Marr again. We could cover a lot more ground with her and a few Cleavers.”

“Let’s try to get this done without her,” Guild said.

“You’d be willing to risk 80,000 lives just to protect your secret?” Shudder asked.

“I told Anton the truth about the Vanguard assassination,” Skulduggery said.

Anger contorted Guild’s features. “You had no right to discuss that matter with anyone!”

“Anton’s one of us,” said Ghastly. “He’s not going to use your past indiscretions against you. None of us are. Which is why you trust us to go after Scarab’s gang and not Davina Marr.”

“I knew Vanguard,” Shudder said. “He was a good man. And yet I can understand Meritorious’s decision. I don’t agree with it, and I don’t like it, but I understand it. Your secret is safe with me, Grand Mage.”

Guild nodded curtly. Valkyrie could see that he didn’t like the fact that they now had something to hold over him. From what she knew of the man, he didn’t strike her as someone who would be comfortable with trusting other people. By not revealing a secret that could bring him down, each one of them was doing him a favour and he knew it.

They reached the door to the escalators. To their left was a window over the Conference Centre, another Executive Box, an elevator and two wooden doors that stood open wide. Standing in that doorway, a smile on his face, was Dreylan Scarab.

They all stopped – Guild out in front, Valkyrie beside Skulduggery, Fletcher and Shudder to her right, Ghastly to her left. Scarab didn’t look at all alarmed.

“Aren’t you a motley crew?” he said. “Detectives and desperadoes. Outlaws and agents. And so many of you. However can I hope to prevail against your combined might?”

“Give us the bomb,” said Guild.

“You have the bomb.”

“The other bomb.”

“Ah,” Scarab smiled. “You figured it out, eh? Of course, you realise this isn’t going to end without a battle. You have your motley crew. I have my Revengers’ Club.”

“They seem to have deserted you,” said Ghastly.

Scarab shook his head. “We’ve lost a couple along the way, but the big players are around. This is all part of our lovely little plan, you see. Everything we’ve done, it’s all about revenge. And when it comes to revenge, timing is everything.”

Skulduggery stepped past Guild. “Scarab, you’re under arrest. Hand over the Desolation Engine, give yourself up and I swear you will get a fair trial.”

“You slap those cuffs on me and I’ll be dead before I get to a cell and you know it. The Grand Mage will have me killed. He might very well have you killed too. And your friends. We know too much, don’t we, Grand Mage?”

“The Detective is offering you a peaceful way out,” Guild said. “I suggest you take him up on it.”