Skulduggery Pleasant_ Death Bringer - Derek Landy [116]
The reflection looked at her. “He’s the one who broke in and attacked you. If your parents were here, he would have attacked them, too. For all we know, he might even have hurt Alice. We should kill him.”
“No, all right? We’re going to do this like normal people. I’m calling the Guards.”
“He’ll identify you as the person who attacked him in his cell.”
“And I’ll say he’s lying.”
“And what will you say when he mentions me?”
“I’ll say I hit him so hard he was seeing double. Nobody’s going to believe a word he says, especially when he starts talking about anything magical.”
“If you call the Guards, they’ll arrest him, put him on trial, throw him in jail. And what are you going to do when he gets out again? He’ll come back, you know he will, and you’re not going to be here.”
“No,” Valkyrie said, “but you are. And you’re going to protect my family.”
The reflection looked down at Moore. “If he comes back,” it said, “I’m going to kill him.”
Valkyrie kept her eyes on the reflection, and didn’t say anything. That sounded fair to her.
Chapter 42
A New Mission
capegrace threw open the doors to the pub, and nobody came in. The people of Roarhaven wrinkled their noses at his disfigured appearance as they passed. Not one of them said hello. Not one of them stepped inside. He turned, went back into the cool interior, away from the glare of the sun and the glares of the people.
Years ago, when he had first run the place, the bar had been split into two. There was a section for the regular people, and a section for the special guests, the VIPs. Now there weren’t any VIPs, but neither were there regular people. There was just Scapegrace, the owner and bartender, and Thrasher, the idiot who wiped the tables.
“Stop wiping the tables,” Scapegrace said. “There’s no one here. You keep wiping the damn tables. You do a loop of the room, humming away to yourself, wiping the tables one after another… It’s insane. You look like an insane person doing that.”
“Sorry,” Thrasher said, his head drooping.
“Go clean the toilets.”
“But they’re disgusting.”
“So are you. Clean them.”
Thrasher’s head dipped even lower, and he trudged away to do his duty.
Sometime around mid-afternoon, two men walked in. They wore black, and Scapegrace had never seen them before. They certainly weren’t Roarhaven natives. One of them held the door open and two more men walked in. The first was dressed in a black robe, and the second was dressed all in white. Scapegrace’s eyes would have widened if they’d been able, but having half his face burned off severely limited his expressions of surprise. He stared at the White Cleaver until the man in the black robe cleared his throat.
“You’re a zombie,” said the man.
Scapegrace nodded. No point in denying it.
“Do you know what that means?” the man continued. “It means that you, like the White Cleaver here, are a product of Necromancer magic. As such, you are bound to Necromancer will.”
“I am?” asked Scapegrace. It was news to him, and yet he did feel an odd urge to bow.
“Oh, you are,” said the man. “And that means you are bound to my will. I am High Priest Vandameer Craven. I am your master.”
Thrasher popped his head out of the toilets. “Are you my master too?”
High Priest Craven glanced at him distastefully, then looked back at Scapegrace. “This is one you turned? Why is it still with you?”
“I’ve tried getting rid of him,” Scapegrace offered. “But he keeps coming back.”
High Priest Craven sighed. “No matter. I have a task for you, zombie. You will obey without question.”
Scapegrace nodded eagerly. He had only just met his Master, but already he could tell that the Necromancer was a very important man.
Thrasher hurried forward. “Can I obey too?” he begged. “All I do here is clean the toilets. I long to serve!”
The Master’s lip curled. “If you shut up and move away from me, yes, you can obey.”
Thrasher squealed with delight and ran back beside Scapegrace.