The Faceless Ones. Derek Landy
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All three of them climbed the stairs.
“What’s that you’ve got there?” Skulduggery asked.
“A book. A book for, for China. She wants it. She said she’d buy it off me.”
“Is it expensive?”
Eck’s laugh was as sudden as it was desperate. “Oh, yes. Oh … oh, yes. Quite rare, this one is. Priceless, I’d say.”
“And what is the going price for a priceless book these days?”
“A lot,” Eck said decisively. “I’m not going to be a pushover, you know? You see these other people and the moment they see her, they forget about money, or a fair deal, and all they want to do is make her happy. Well, not me. I’m a businessman, Skulduggery. This is business.”
By the time they reached the third floor, Eck’s teeth were chattering. Skulduggery knocked on the door marked library, and the thin man opened it and beckoned them inside. Eck’s legs gave out a little, but he managed to stay upright, and they followed him through the labyrinth of bookcases until they came to the desk.
China Sorrows, hair as black as sin and eyes as blue as sky, saw them coming, rose from her chair and the most beautiful woman in the world smiled.
Savian Eck fell to his knees, held the book out before him, and whimpered, “I adore you.”
Skulduggery shook his head and left Valkyrie’s side to peruse the bookshelves.
“Savian,” China said, “you’re so sweet.” The thin man took the leatherbound book from Eck’s trembling hands and placed it on the desk.
“Now, about payment …”
Eck nodded quickly. “Yes. Payment, yes.”
“How are you, by the way? You’re looking well. Have you been exercising?”
He smiled weakly. “I like to jog.”
“It definitely shows,” China said, eyes narrowing appreciatively.
Eck whimpered again.
“I’m sorry,” China said, giving a light laugh and appearing flustered. “You have a tendency to distract me. Back to business, if I can keep my mind on the job for more than three seconds. We were talking about payment.”
“You can have it,” Eck said in a strangled voice.
“I’m sorry?”
Eck rose off his knees. “I give it to you, China. It’s my gift. There’s no payment necessary.”
“Savian, I couldn’t possibly—”
“Please, China. Accept it. Accept it as a token of my, of my …”
Valkyrie was impressed by how large and hopeful China could make her eyes.
“Yes, Savian?”
“… my love, China.”
China pressed a delicate finger to her lips, like she was struggling to hold back a torrent of passion. “Thank you, Savian.”
Eck bowed, swayed slightly and turned. Judging by his smile, he was outrageously, deliriously pleased, and he hurried back the way they’d come. The thin man followed along behind to make sure he didn’t stumble into anything.
“That,” Valkyrie said, “was disgraceful.”
China shrugged, resumed her seat and opened the book. “I do what I must to get the things that I want.” She used a magnifying glass to examine the pages more closely. “You look like you’ve been swimming, Valkyrie,” she said, without raising her head. “And what happened to your hands? All those little cuts look sore.”
“I, uh, I hit a tree.”
“Well, I’m sure it had it coming.”
Desperate to steer the conversation away from her appearance, Valkyrie asked, “What’s the book?”
“It’s a spell book, written by the Mad Sorcerer, over a thousand years ago.”
“Why was he called the Mad Sorcerer?”
“Because he was mad.”
“Oh.”
China straightened up and pursed her lips. “This book’s a forgery. I’d say it’s at least 500 years old, but it’s still a forgery.”
Valkyrie shrugged. “Good thing you didn’t pay for it then, or you’d have to get your money back.”
China closed the book and examined the cover. “I’m not sure I’d want to. The Mad Sorcerer, as well as being quite mad, was also a second-rate sorcerer. The majority of the spells in his spell book did absolutely nothing at all. But this forger, whoever he was, corrected every mistake as he went along. I dare say this is the most important academic discovery of the last fifteen years.”
“Wow.”
“And it’s mine,” China said with a contented smile.
Skulduggery came back, carefully turning the pages of a book that had seen better days. “We need your help,” he said.
China made a face. “Small talk’s over already? Well that’s no fun. We didn’t even get to trade barbs. Oh, how I miss the old days. Don’t you, Valkyrie?”
“They had their moments.”
“They did, didn’t they? It was all ‘Sanctuary business’ this, ‘saving the world’ that, but now what is it? Now you’re on the outside, looking in at a few measly murders. Is this really a case that is worthy of the magnificent Skulduggery Pleasant?”
“Murder’s murder,” Skulduggery said, not looking up from the book.
“Oh, I suppose you’re right. So tell me, how is Guild’s man handling the Irish end of the investigation?”
“You mean you don’t know?” Valkyrie asked, genuinely puzzled. She’d learned by now that every good detective makes full use of information brokers, and China was by far the best in her field.
China smiled. “Do you really think that Remus Crux would associate with me, a person of my dubious history? Remember, dear Valkyrie, I once consorted with the enemy. I once was the enemy. Crux is a limited man of limited imagination. He has his rules, as set down by Thurid Guild, and he follows them. People who follow rules do not come to me. Which explains why I speak to both of you with such regularity.”
“We rogues have to stick together,” Skulduggery said absently.
“That kind of defeats the purpose of being a rogue though, doesn’t it?”
“Isthmus Anchor,” Skulduggery said, reading aloud from the book. “An object belonging to one reality, residing in another. Animate or inanimate. Magical or otherwise. Casts an Isthmus Stream, linking realities through dimensional portals.” He closed the book and his head tilted thoughtfully.
“So?” Valkyrie asked.
“So we have to figure out what form this Anchor takes, and find it before the enemy does. Let me muse on it awhile. China, we need to find someone. An English boy – Fletcher Renn.”
“I’ve never heard of him. Is he a mage?”
“Natural-born Teleporter.”
She arched an eyebrow. “I see. In that case, I may have heard of him after all. Three reports of a ‘ghost boy’ in three different nightclubs in County Meath. The nightclub staff either refused him entry or refused to serve him, and he grew petulant, stormed off and vanished into, as they say, thin air. Because his vanishings were only witnessed by the intoxicated, the inebriated, and the stupid, the authorities aren’t exactly taking it seriously.”
“Where