Skulduggery Pleasant_ Death Bringer - Derek Landy [48]
“I did. I don’t any more. I don’t like to talk about it. He took care of me. He thought I needed taking care of. I let him think that. I think he needed to think that. He needed to take care of someone, so I let him take care of me. I don’t like to talk about it. You’re a zombie.”
“He is the Zombie King!” Thrasher announced with too much enthusiasm.
“That’s cool,” said Clarabelle with the crazy blue hair. “And who are you?”
Thrasher faltered. “Me?”
“If he’s the Zombie King, who are you? The Zombie Queen?”
“He’s not the Zombie Queen,” Scapegrace said quickly.
“The Zombie Prince, then?”
“He’s Thrasher. That’s all he is. Just Thrasher. I’m Vaurien Scapegrace.”
Clarabelle nodded. “The Killer Supreme.”
Scapegrace stared. “You’ve heard of me?”
“Of course. Do you like my hair?”
“It’s very blue,” said Thrasher.
“I dyed it and cut it. I think it was an attempt to leave that part of my life behind me, to start anew. I’m sure that’s what it was. It’s not just a fashion thing. Is blue hair in this year?”
Scapegrace frowned. “Is it in any year?”
“Is it not?” Clarabelle asked, looking genuinely worried.
“I don’t know,” Scapegrace confessed. “I don’t know much about fashion. You’ve heard of me, then? The Killer Supreme?”
“Yes. You’re a feared assassin.”
“But he hasn’t actually killed anyone,” Thrasher said.
“I killed you,” Scapegrace snapped. “That not enough for you? I killed the others too, made them into zombies.”
“But we all came back to life,” Thrasher pointed out, “so it can’t really be counted, can it?”
Scapegrace towered over him. “It can be counted and it will be counted.”
“Sorry, Master,” Thrasher whimpered.
“Why do you want to see Doctor Nye?” Clarabelle asked.
“I think it can return me to full life,” Scapegrace said, “and end this accursed affliction.”
“What accursed affliction?”
“Uh, this. Being a zombie.”
“Oh. That’s a shame. I think zombies are kind of cute.”
“Seriously?”
“I may be thinking about bunnies. Which one has the fluffy little tail, zombies or bunnies?”
“Bunnies.”
“Then it’s bunnies I’m thinking of. Do you want to go with me to see Doctor Nye? I’m going to ask it to give me a job, and you can ask it to give you life, and your friend can ask it to give him a brain.”
“I already have a brain,” Thrasher said defensively.
“I mean a better one.”
“I like the brain I have.”
“Shut up,” Scapegrace said. He turned back to Clarabelle. “Do you know where this Sanctuary is? I heard they have a new one.”
“They do,” said Clarabelle. “It’s in a far-off place, away from the prying eyes of the mortal world. Wicklow, I think.”
“Then let’s go to Wicklow,” Scapegrace said. “Do you have a car?”
“I don’t know how to drive.”
“Don’t worry, Clarabelle. You can ride in our van.”
She looked over her shoulder. “It’s got a giant penguin on it.”
“Yes, it does.”
“We should call it the Penguin-Mobile.”
“OK.”
“Or Fred.”
“Penguin-Mobile is fine.”
She nodded. “All right then.”
Chapter 18
The Arrest Warrant
n the otherwise silent Temple, raised voices darted through the narrow corridors like unwelcome guests. Craven followed them back to their source and barged through into the Antechamber.
“What the hell is going on?” he thundered, and watched with extreme satisfaction as the crowd of Necromancers parted for him, suddenly quiet and subservient. In that crowd he saw the faces of men and women he had argued with over the years, people he had despised, who had despised him, who had called him petty and sycophantic and weak. Now they bowed, they practically prostrated themselves, in his presence. Never had Craven felt so powerful.
As the crowd parted, he saw the others. Sanctuary agents, Skulduggery Pleasant standing in front, a piece of paper in his gloved hand. The Necromancers had been blocking their entry into the main Temple.
“This is private property,” Craven said. He didn’t sneer. He didn’t snarl. He didn’t hide behind the biggest Necromancer and issue threats. He was beyond all that now.
“This is a warrant for the arrest of Melancholia St Clair,” Pleasant