Skulduggery Pleasant: Books 7 - 9. Derek Landy
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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.
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