Skulduggery Pleasant_ Death Bringer - Derek Landy [121]
Not that she needed any help as far as that was concerned. The dress was long and slinky, strapless, silk and chiffon. Her shoes were gorgeous.
She stepped into the living room and Skulduggery, wearing the sharpest tuxedo she had ever seen, complete with black gloves and a white scarf, tilted his head to her.
“You’re late,” he said.
“I’m beautiful.”
“You’re always beautiful.”
“I’m always late, too.”
He put on his hat, black to match the tux, and they walked out of the house. He opened the car door and she slipped in.
They left Dublin City, heading north, passed the turn-off for Haggard and continued on to Gordon’s house. There was no one guarding the gate, but even so, Skulduggery slowed to a stop. He took their passkey from his pocket, a gold disc no bigger than his palm, and pressed it between his thumb and forefinger. Once it started to glow they drove on, and Valkyrie saw the symbols pulse on either side of the gate, nullifying the security measures. Gleaming cars were parked on both sides of the long driveway, and Valkyrie glimpsed figures standing in the darkness. Men and women, dressed similarly to Cleavers but in black, with twin sickles in sheaths on their backs.
“They’re Rippers,” Skulduggery said. “Cleaver-trained private security. Only the richest can afford them.”
They got out of the Bentley. Skulduggery had a stern word of warning with the valet, and they walked into the house.
Valkyrie imagined that this was what a high society party looked like – people in expensive clothes sipping champagne and laughing politely. The only difference was that, here and there, there were examples of the extraordinary – an otherwise sombre gentleman with green hair, a woman in a shimmering dress with shimmering skin, a man with claws, and of course the walking skeleton beside her. The richest and the most influential sorcerers in the world. Valkyrie could feel the power the moment she stepped in the door, and it made her insides tingle.
A waiter with dirty fingernails offered her a glass of wine on a silver tray. She politely declined, and as the waiter disappeared in the crowd she frowned after him. Dirty fingernails, at a function like this? She shrugged, letting it go. In one of the rooms there was a small orchestra, whose music drifted throughout the house at a perfect pitch. No one had to raise their voice to be heard.
Everything in here positively glowed. Valkyrie was glad the dress Skulduggery had bought her was so beautiful – it was a match for the others she saw.
Skulduggery handed his hat and scarf to a woman who smiled and took them away. Valkyrie stayed by his side. They passed through to the next room, and Skulduggery did his best to tell her who everyone was. She recognised a lot of the names.
Everyone, it seemed, knew Skulduggery, but not all of them liked him. For every smile they got, there was at least one scowl.
“As you can see,” Skulduggery said quietly, “I’m very, very popular.”
“I can tell.”
Gordon stood by his Echo Stone, chatting to a group of people who laughed at whatever story he was telling. He saw Valkyrie and waved, his eyes sparkling, then returned to his story. She grinned.
Ravel came over, shook Skulduggery’s hand and kissed Valkyrie’s cheek. “You look stunning,” he told her.
She smiled back at him. “Not so bad yourself, Grand Mage.”
He laughed, then caught sight of a group of foreign sorcerers standing nearby, and sighed unhappily. “I must go,” he said. “The curse of this job is that I have to mingle. Just when you