always so immaculate. How does my hair look?”
Skulduggery activated the car alarm. “You have a twig in it.”
Valkyrie yanked the twig out and scowled in pain. She glanced at the car boot as they walked. “Where are you going to bury the body?”
“I know a place.”
“You know a place? Do you bury lots of bodies there?”
“A few.”
“That’s kind of creepy. What about the guy who killed him? Batu? Have you ever heard of him?”
“Never.”
“Maybe the Teleporter murders have nothing to do with Trope Kessel’s murder.”
“And the fact that they’ve all been killed the same way?”
“Could be coincidence.”
“So you’re not worried then? You’re not concerned about the threat of the Faceless Ones coming back?”
She pursed her lips.
“Valkyrie?”
She sighed. “I just wish you didn’t have to be right all the time.”
“It is a burden. But the question becomes, why was there a fifty-year gap between the first murder and the other four? What has our Mr Batu been doing for those intervening years?”
“Maybe he was in prison.”
“You’re thinking more like a detective every day, do you know that? There are some people who owe me favours – I should be able to get a list of recently released felons.”
She sighed. “This would be a lot easier if we were still with the Sanctuary.”
As they were walking into the tenement building, they bumped into Savian Eck, a sorcerer Valkyrie had met only twice before. He was carrying a large book under his arm. It was bound in leather and looked old. He held it tightly against his side and nodded distractedly.
“Afternoon, Skulduggery. Valkyrie.”
All three of them climbed the stairs.
“What’s that you’ve got there?” Skulduggery asked.
“A book. A book for, for China. She wants it. She said she’d buy it off me.”
“Is it expensive?”
Eck’s laugh was as sudden as it was desperate. “Oh, yes. Oh … oh, yes. Quite rare, this one is. Priceless, I’d say.”
“And what is the going price for a priceless book these days?”
“A lot,” Eck said decisively. “I’m not going to be a pushover, you know? You see these other people and the moment they see her, they forget about money, or a fair deal, and all they want to do is make her happy. Well, not me. I’m a businessman, Skulduggery. This is business.”
By the time they reached the third floor, Eck’s teeth were chattering. Skulduggery knocked on the door marked library, and the thin man opened it and beckoned them inside. Eck’s legs gave out a little, but he managed to stay upright, and they followed him through the labyrinth of bookcases until they came to the desk.
China Sorrows, hair as black as sin and eyes as blue as sky, saw them coming, rose from her chair and the most beautiful woman in the world smiled.
Savian Eck fell to his knees, held the book out before him, and whimpered, “I adore you.”
Skulduggery shook his head and left Valkyrie’s side to peruse the bookshelves.
“Savian,” China said, “you’re so sweet.” The thin man took the leatherbound book from Eck’s trembling hands and placed it on the desk.
“Now, about payment …”
Eck nodded quickly. “Yes. Payment, yes.”
“How are you, by the way? You’re looking well. Have you been exercising?”
He smiled weakly. “I like to jog.”
“It definitely shows,” China said, eyes narrowing appreciatively.
Eck whimpered again.
“I’m sorry,” China said, giving a light laugh and appearing flustered. “You have a tendency to distract me. Back to business, if I can keep my mind on the job for more than three seconds. We were talking about payment.”
“You can have it,” Eck said in a strangled voice.
“I’m sorry?”
Eck rose off his knees. “I give it to you, China. It’s my gift. There’s no payment necessary.”
“Savian, I couldn’t possibly—”
“Please, China. Accept it. Accept it as a token of my, of my …”
Valkyrie was impressed by how large and hopeful China could make her eyes.
“Yes, Savian?”
“… my love, China.”
China pressed a delicate finger to her lips, like she was struggling to hold back a torrent of passion. “Thank you, Savian.”
Eck bowed, swayed slightly and turned. Judging by his smile, he was outrageously, deliriously pleased, and he hurried back the way they’d come. The thin man followed along behind to make sure he didn’t stumble into anything.
“That,” Valkyrie said, “was disgraceful.”
China shrugged, resumed her seat and opened the book. “I do what I must to get the things that I want.” She used a magnifying glass to examine the pages more closely. “You look like you’ve been swimming, Valkyrie,” she said, without raising her head. “And what happened to your hands? All those little cuts look sore.”
“I, uh, I hit a tree.”
“Well, I’m sure it had it coming.”
Desperate to steer the conversation away from her appearance, Valkyrie asked, “What’s the book?”
“It’s a spell book, written by the Mad Sorcerer, over a thousand years ago.”
“Why was he called the Mad Sorcerer?”
“Because he was mad.”
“Oh.”
China straightened up and pursed her lips. “This book’s a forgery. I’d say it’s at least 500 years old, but it’s still a forgery.”
Valkyrie shrugged. “Good thing you didn’t pay for it then, or you’d have to get your money back.”
