Skulduggery Pleasant: Last Stand of Dead Men

BOOK: Skulduggery Pleasant: Last Stand of Dead Men
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This book is dedicated to you.

Whether you are a Minion or a Skuttlebug or just, you know, a normal person, it’s because of you that I get to do what I love and laughingly call it work.

I know some of you by name and some of you by sight (and some of you by smell, but let’s not get into that) but there are still countless others I have never met, and to all of you I say thank you for your support, your passion, and your lunacy.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Now please, for the love of whatever god you pray to, leave me alone.

War is the business of barbarians
.
—Napoleon Bonaparte

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Dedication

Epigraph

Five Years Ago

Three Months Ago

1. The Witches

2. Back in Roarhaven

3. The Big Day

4. The Secret Origin Of …

5. Unfair Advantage

6. Stark Realities

7. Saracen

8. Searching the Aisles

9. Roarhaven’s Number One Public House

10. The Thirteenth Floor

11. Big, Tough Man

12. The Deadline

13. Eye for an Eye

14. Seeing the Future

15. Spilling Blood

16. The Supreme Council

17. Muffins

18. Regis

19. Laken Cross

20. Off to War

21. Making Plans

22. Staying out of Trouble

23. The Dark and Stormy Knight

24. Stagnant Water

25. The Old Gang Back Together

26. The Pursuit Begins

27. Mantis

28. The Stick

29. Tanith’s True Love

30. Dead Men’s Tales

31. Wolfsong

32. The Ghost Town

33. Monster Hunters and Me

34. Rude Awakening

35. Sneaking in

36. Losing Blood

37. Charivari

38. The Keep

39. Enemy Combatants

40. Wolves at the Door

41. Gunning for Ode

42. Misdirection

43. Undercover

44. The Call to Action

45. Under Attack

46. The New Captain

47. Ajuoga

48. Assassins

49. Intimidation Techniques

50. The Battle at the Keep

51. The Man with the Golden Eyes

52. A Reasonable Reaction

53. In Her Head

54. Stephanie Edgley

55. Refuge

56. The Documentary

57. Sunburn

58. The Brides of Blood Tears

59. The Rise

60. One Little Word

61. The Real Girl

62. Roarhaven Revealed

63. The Trap

64. The Trap is Sprung

65. The Warlocks

66. The Siege at Roarhaven

67. Wraiths

68. Black Smoke, White Flame

69. Quiet Moments

70. Supercharged

71. In the Sanctuary

72. Rescue

73. War Despondent

74. The Thick of it

75. Uneven Odds

76. China’s Final Act

77. The Sacrifice

78. After the War

79. The Package

Also by Derek Landy

Copyright

About the Publisher

he camp was dark and quiet, and the Warlocks slept.

Up on the hill, watching them, a man with golden eyes pulled the collar of his coat tighter in a vain attempt to stave off the cold. His fingers and toes were already numb. His teeth were starting to chatter. How many times had he been in similar circumstances, enduring discomfort while he waited for the perfect time to strike? More than he could remember, that was for sure. It was worth it, of course. It was always worth it.

There was movement behind him, but he didn’t turn. He recognised the footsteps. “I didn’t think you were coming.”

The old man stopped beside him, cupped his hands and blew into them to warm them. “I had visitors,” he said. His voice was rough. Words scraped from his throat. “The Skeleton Detective and a girl. She has old blood in her. Ancient blood, I reckon. She’s dangerous.”

“She’s thirteen years old. She’s a child.”

“She won’t stay a child. A few more years and she’ll be a threat, you mark my words.”

“Consider them marked,” said the man with the golden eyes. What had Madame Mist said about the Torment? Once upon a time, he’d been formidable, he’d been dangerous, but he was an old man now, a good blade that had lost its edge. Maybe she was right.

“These plans of yours,” the Torment said, “the plans you’ve made with my fellow Children of the Spider. These are good plans. They will suffice.”

“You’re onboard, then? What changed your mind?”

The Torment’s lined faced was half hidden by the long grey hair and all that beard, but he didn’t look like a dulled blade any more. He looked suddenly sharp. “My visitors. Their arrogance has stirred me from my apathy. The mortals they protect have run this world long enough. It’s past time we took over.”

“I’m so glad to hear it,” said the man with the golden eyes. “In that case, there are some Warlocks down there in need of killing, if you’re in the mood …?”

The man with the golden eyes approached the camp from the south, the Torment beside him, while the mercenaries closed in from all around. Mortals, in dark military clothing. Heavily armed. Not a sound was made, and yet one of the Warlocks stirred, woke, sat up, looked out into the night, a night that was suddenly lit up by the bright flashes of gunfire.

The three Warlocks leaped up, caught in the crossfire. Notoriously hard to kill, even they couldn’t survive the relentless barrage of bullets. Light spilled from every wound as they jerked and fell and stumbled, and then the light faded and they toppled.

Silence followed, broken only by empty magazines being replaced.

The Torment put his gun away. He didn’t like using mortal weapons. He didn’t like having to work by their side. But he was going to like what came next.

The mercenaries walked into camp, made sure that the Warlocks were really dead.

“You three,” said the man with the golden eyes, “take the jeep and go. I’ll be in touch to arrange payment.”

Three mercenaries faded into the darkness. The other two stayed close, waiting for orders.

The Torment grabbed the taller one’s head, twisted till the neck broke. The smaller one stumbled back, going for his weapon, but the Torment took it from him and used it to beat him to death.

While the mercenary was being killed, the man with the golden eyes surveyed the scene. The other Warlocks would return to find their brothers slaughtered, and they would find the bodies of two of the soldiers who did it. Mortal soldiers, wearing no uniform, with no insignias or identification.

“Why did you let the others live?” the Torment asked when he was done. “They can identify us.”

That was half right. The other mercenaries could identify the Torment, but the man with the golden eyes was already fading from their memories. “For this to work, they need to be able to boast about their missions. The three I let go have the biggest mouths. Their boasts will eventually reach the right ears.”

The Torment scowled. “There is a faster way to do this.”

“No,” said the man with the golden eyes. “We’re not ready yet. But we will be. Soon.”

f its estimations were correct – and of course they were correct, they were never wrong – then the Engineer was going to make it. From the instant that warning
ping
had sounded in its head, it had had exactly four weeks to implement the shutdown procedure before catastrophe became somewhat inevitable. It used the caveat ‘somewhat’ because of course nothing was inevitable, not really. There were always hidden clauses to every eventuality. This the Engineer had learned in its travels, in what it called ‘life experience’. That the Engineer was not, technically, alive, mattered not. It existed, and it had sentience, and as such it had life experience. Moving on …

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