this traitor, then you must think that I’m a monster, yes? A cold-hearted monster. And yet I have a wife I adore, and children I worry about, and a responsibility in my work that weighs on my shoulders every moment of every day. So if a cold-hearted monster like me could have all this, and you have none of it, then what does that make you?”
They left the Sanctuary, passed the wax figure of Phil Lynott in silence, and walked back to the car. Valkyrie didn’t like it when Skulduggery went quiet. It usually meant bad things.
A man was standing by their car. He had tight brown hair and a few days’ worth of beard growth. Valkyrie frowned, trying to remember if he’d been there a second ago.
“Skulduggery,” the man said. “I thought I’d find you here.”
Skulduggery nodded to him. “Emmett Peregrine, it’s been a while. Allow me to introduce Valkyrie Cain. Valkyrie, Peregrine here is a Teleporter.”
Peregrine was also a man who apparently didn’t indulge in small talk. “Who’s behind it? Who’s killing the Teleporters?”
“We don’t know.”
“Well, why don’t you know?” he snapped. “You’re supposed to be the big detective, aren’t you? Isn’t that what they say?”
“I don’t work for the Sanctuary,” Skulduggery replied. “I don’t have official sanction.”
“Then who does? Because I’m telling you right now, I am not going to that idiot Crux. I’m not putting my life in the hands of someone like that. Listen, we may not like each other, and I know we have never warmed to each other’s company, but I need your help or I’m next.”
Skulduggery motioned to the wall and all three of them stepped over to it. From here they could talk without being seen.
“Do you have any idea who could be behind the murders?” he asked.
Peregrine made a visible effort to calm down. “None. I’ve been trying to think of what anyone could have to gain by killing us all and I’ve come up with nothing. I don’t even have any random paranoid conspiracy theories to fall back on.”
“Have you noticed anyone watching you, following you …?”
“No and I’ve been looking. Skulduggery, I’m exhausted. Every few hours I teleport somewhere else. I haven’t slept in days.”
“We can protect you.”
Peregrine’s laugh was brittle. “No offence, but you can’t. If you can guard me, the killer can get to me. I’m better off on my own, but I can’t run forever.” He hesitated. “I heard about Cameron.”
“Yes.”
“He was a good man. The best of us.”
“There is a way to draw the killer out.”
“Let me guess – you want me to act as bait? You want me to sit still and let him come to me, and then you’ll pounce and save the day? Sorry, I’m not in the habit of waiting to be killed.”
“It’s our best shot.”
“It’s not going to happen.”
“Then you need to help us. Even when they knew their lives were in danger, Cameron Light and the others still let down their guard. They knew the killer, Emmett, and you probably do too.”
“What are you saying? That I can’t trust my friends?”
“I’m saying you can’t trust anyone but Valkyrie and myself.”
“And why should I trust you?”
Skulduggery sighed. “Because you literally have no other choice.”
“Is there one person that all the Teleporters would know?” Valkyrie asked. “One person who you’d think you’d be safe with?”
Peregrine thought for a moment. “Sanctuary officials,” he said, “a handful of sorcerers probably, but nobody that stands out. Teleporters don’t tend to be well liked, maybe you’ve heard. Our social circles really aren’t that wide.”
“Have you made any new friends?” Skulduggery asked. “Any new acquaintances?”
“No, none. Well, apart from the kid.”
Skulduggery’s head tilted. “The kid?”
“The other Teleporter.”
“I thought you were the last Teleporter.”
“No, there’s a seventeen-year-old English kid, turned up a while back. Renn his name is. Fletcher Renn. No training, no discipline, no clue to what he’s doing – a right pain in the neck. Wait, you think he’s the killer?”
“I don’t know,” Skulduggery murmured. “He’s either the killer or the killer’s next victim. Where is he?”
“He could be anywhere. Cameron and myself went to talk to him a few months ago, to offer to teach him. Cocky little sod laughed in our faces. He’s one of those rare sorcerers, natural-born, magic at his fingertips. He has power, but like I said, no training. I doubt he could teleport a few miles at a time.”
“He doesn’t sound like a killer. But that means he’s out there alone, with no idea what’s going on.”
“I think he’s still in Ireland,” Peregrine said. “He grunted something about planning to stay here for a while, and how we should leave him alone. He doesn’t need anybody apparently. Typical teenager.” Peregrine glanced at Valkyrie. “No offence.”
“Valkyrie’s not a typical anything,” Skulduggery said before she could respond. “We’ll track him down, but if you see him first, send him to us.”
“I doubt he’ll listen to me, but OK.”
“How will we contact you if we need you?”
“You won’t, but I’ll check back every few days for an update. This would all be over a lot quicker if you’d take over the investigation. I don’t trust Crux and I don’t trust Thurid Guild. You’re in close with Bliss, aren’t you? Maybe you could get a message to him. Just tell him that there are a lot of us out here who would back him as the new Grand Mage, if he were interested. All he has to do is say the word.”
“You’re not talking about a coup, are you?”
“If a revolution is what it takes to get the Sanctuary back on track, Skulduggery, then that’s what we’ll do.”
“A little drastic, one would think. But I’ll relay the message.”
“Thank you.”
“There’s nothing else? Nothing you can think of to help us? No matter how small or insignificant?”
“There is nothing, Skulduggery. I don’t know why the other Teleporters were killed, and I don’t know how. We are exceptionally
