rest of him followed, almost too quick to register – his knees, thighs, hips, chest – and then they had dropped through the cloaking shield and Coldheart Prison burst into existence beneath them, a floating island of rock on which sat the walls, the fences, the watchtowers and the prison buildings themselves.
They teleported lower and flipped, so that their momentum took them upwards and then cancelled out. When they stopped rising, Nero teleported them once more, straight down to solid ground. They landed gently and crouched, waiting for the alerts to be called. When they heard no shouts, heard no alarms, they dared to raise their heads.
They were on the very edge of the island, perched on the slippery rocks. Before them was a fence. Beyond that, another fence. Towers, manned by Cleavers, stood at regular intervals – eight towers to a side. Walls and more fences separated the yard into sections for prisoner recreation and sections for staff. The buildings were big and blocky and imposing. Small windows and few of them. Solid doors.
The main prison building was a massive tower with broad shoulders. Slanted windows at the very top gave it its scowl. The inmates called this building the Brute.
“Fetch the others,” Cadaverous said, the wind whipping away his words. Nero vanished.
As irritating as Nero could be, he was also the key to taking this prison. So long as his enemies were within a certain range, he could teleport them away without having to lay a finger on them. The sigils and safeguards that kept out others of his ilk had no effect on him. He was, to all intents and purposes, virtually unstoppable. That reason, and that reason alone, was enough to keep him alive.
He arrived back with Lethe and the others.
“Cleavers in every tower,” Cadaverous told them. “Electrified fences. Cameras covering the yard. Just as we were warned.”
“And we’re not yet fighting for our lives,” said Lethe, “which means we are indeed in the one blind spot the island offers.”
“Our information was correct,” Smoke said.
Lethe looked at him. “You doubted it?”
“I don’t like spies,” he said, pulling at the braids in his goatee. “Theirs or ours.”
“Well,” Lethe said, “I for one am grateful for our spy. It bodes well for what is to come. You all know what to do. You all know where to go. We want the Cleavers and all Sanctuary personnel dead or gone. This is to be a clean sweep. Ignore the convicts. They’ll beg you to open their cells, but we’re not here for them. We’re here for her. We’re here to find the box.”
“And while we’re all risking our lives,” Nero said, “what are you going to be doing?”
Lethe nodded towards the Brute’s slanted windows. “I’m going to be in the control room,” he said. “Someone’s got to steer this thing, after all.”
Skulduggery and Valkyrie watched as Omen Darkly, his schoolbag slung over his shoulder, failed utterly to take his leave with anything resembling dignity. He tried two locked doors before finding the one that led off the balcony and into the tower. He waved, blushing madly, and disappeared.
“Interesting boy,” Skulduggery said. “Not what I would call especially impressive, but an interesting boy, nonetheless.”
“I don’t know about this,” Valkyrie said. She was getting cold. “He’s a kid, Skulduggery. We shouldn’t be involving him in this stuff.”
“Perhaps,” Skulduggery said, “but he did make a valid point. I involved you in ‘this stuff’ when you were even younger.”
“That’s different.”
“How so?”
“That was me,” she said. “I could handle it.”
“I think Omen will surprise you.”
“He forgot which door he literally just came through.”
“So it’ll be an even bigger surprise.”
She peered over the railing, down on to an empty courtyard. “He’s not going to get the chance, though, is he? He keeps an eye out for this recruiter person and that’s it, he goes home.”
“This is a boarding school.”
“You know what I mean.”
“That’s all we’ll need him to do, yes. But there’s a stubbornness in his eyes that I’ve really only seen once before.”
“I was never stubborn,” Valkyrie said, climbing over the railing. “I just happened to be right.”
She let go and plummeted. The South Tower was six storeys high and she was halfway to the hard ground before the air began to slow her descent. Skulduggery drifted down beside her, wrapping his arm around her waist.
“I do wish you’d tell me before you jump,” he said, “especially if you aren’t even going to attempt to use your powers.”
“I can’t fly,” she reminded him.
“You’ve flown before.”
“I’ve hovered.”
“Hovering is the first step to flying,” he said as they touched down gently in the empty courtyard. He released her. “That’s what I tell people who ask for tips.”
“Do many ask?”
“More and more,” he said. “Apparently, there’s been a resurgence in people choosing Elemental magic as their discipline, all because they want to learn to soar above the clouds.”
The wind had messed up her hair, so she tied it back into a ponytail. “Even though none of their Elemental teachers can fly? This doesn’t suggest to them that maybe flying is harder to master than it would appear?”
“They don’t care,” Skulduggery said. “They just want to emulate their heroes.”
“You mean you.”
“As the only Elemental who can actually fly, yes, I mean me. Don’t you miss it?”
“Flying? The only times I’ve properly flown, Darquesse had taken over. The memory’s a little tainted.”
“I suppose,” he said, then took his pocket watch from his waistcoat and glanced at it. “There’s someone I need to talk to before we leave. Will I meet you back at the car?”
“Ah,” she said, “I kinda want to explore a little, see what’s what.”
“Oh. OK. And you’re sure you don’t want to head back to the car and wait for me there?”
“You’re
