Mortal Coil. Derek Landy
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sighed, and the man scrambled up, wiped his eyes, and hurried towards the ramp.
“Wait,” China said. She looked at him for a long moment. “If you return to Eliza Scorn without this book, she will most likely kill you and your pathetic starving family.” She held it out. “Take it.”
“Really?”
“I have three more around here somewhere. Take it before I change my mind.”
He scurried back to her, accepting the book. “Thank you,” he wept. “Thank you for your kindness and your, and your beauty. I … I love you, Miss Sorrows. I’ve never loved anyone as much as—”
“You have a pathetic starving family to get back to, you grubby little man. Get back to them.”
He tore his eyes away from her and ran, wailing, up the ramp and out into the alley. The wall closed up behind him, and China turned, allowing the light to cast itself over her perfect features.
“An act of kindness,” she said, “purely for your benefit, Valkyrie. I know how much you dislike me being mean to people.”
Valkyrie stepped out of the shadows, smiling. “Kindness suits you.”
“Really? I think I’m quite allergic to it. Now what can I do for you both? Perhaps you are here seeking my opinion on matters discussed at this top-secret meeting to which I was not invited?”
“You may not have been there,” Skulduggery said, “but I’m sure a woman of your resources has heard detailed accounts of everything that was spoken about.”
“Nonsense. That meeting was highly confidential. Congratulations, by the way.”
Skulduggery grunted. “There’s nothing to congratulate.”
“Don’t be so modest – I haven’t laughed so hard in years. Erskine, possibly, has the makings of a good Elder, and Corrival Deuce is an inspired choice for Grand Mage. But you? Skulduggery my dear … that is inspired lunacy.”
“Yes, well, we’ll see how it all pans out, but I’m afraid we’re here on matters much more cosmetic.” Skulduggery took a step out of the gloom, and China saw his drooping face.
“Oh dear,” she said.
“It gets better when I do this.” He began slapping himself and shaking his head violently, causing the face to tighten slightly.
“Well,” China said, “at least you’re keeping your dignity. Come. Keep the façade active.”
She touched the car and the headlights went out. They followed her out of the basement and up the stairs.
“What have you heard about Tesseract?” Skulduggery asked as they climbed. His bottom lip hung over his chin like a dead slug.
“The Russian killer? Why on earth would you want …” China looked down at them, her pale blue eyes narrowed. “He’s in the country?”
“You didn’t know?” Skulduggery asked, actually sounding shocked.
There was a brief flicker of annoyance on China’s perfect face, and then it evaporated. She turned, and resumed climbing to the third floor.
“Here is what I know about Tesseract. Born and raised in Russia, somewhere between three and four hundred years ago. He is an Adept, nobody knows who trained him, and nobody knows how many people he’s killed. He wears a mask – again, nobody knows why. He lives in a truck of some description. He’s self-sufficient, doesn’t need to resupply for weeks at a time. His method of communication is a mystery to me – how those who require his services get in touch with him, I confess, I do not know.
“What all this means is that he could be living across the street from me and I’d never know it. It means that I have not heard one single rumour about him in twenty years, and the fact that he is here and I didn’t know about it causes me no small amount of alarm and drives me to unimaginable fury. I am, however, hiding it well. You are sure he is here?”
“We saw him,” said Skulduggery.
They reached the third floor and stopped talking as a man and a woman passed. The man stared at China, entranced by her beauty. The woman stared at Skulduggery, repulsed by the face that was slowly sliding down his head. China led them into her apartment – to Valkyrie it was as beautiful and elegant as China herself – and shut the door after them.
“He went after Davina Marr,” Skulduggery said.
China’s eyebrow raised. “Did he kill her?”
“He came close.”
“Do you have her?”
“She’s somewhere safe and secure – you don’t have to worry about her. This can’t be repeated to anyone, of course.”
“Who do you think I am, some cheap and tawdry gossip-monger? Sit. Loosen your tie.”
Skulduggery did as he was told, and China took a small black case from her desk. From the case she withdrew a calligraphy pen that reminded Valkyrie of a scalpel. She dipped it in black ink before taking a monocle from a side pocket. She crossed to Skulduggery, undid a few shirt buttons to expose the symbols carved into his collarbones, and examined them using the monocle. “Have you questioned Marr yet?” she asked.
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