"You're going to tell Skulduggery Pleasant what you're planning to do and let him shoot you in the head."

"Wrong again, I'm afraid. Do you want one more try?"

"I'd love one more try."

"Then go ahead, China. Guess what the surprise is."

China paused, tapped her chin thoughtfully and smiled. "I know. Is it, by any chance, Jaron Gallow with a brand-new arm?"

Oh, she wished she had a camera to capture the look on Eliza Scorn's face. Gallow emerged from the doorway behind, suddenly unsure, suddenly paranoid that he'd been betrayed, that he was walking into a trap. There was a sudden fear in his eyes that was almost impossible to fake, and now China did believe him.

"How did you know?" Scorn asked. Almost snarled, in fact.

"Please," China said dismissively. "I know what he had for breakfast this morning. I know what he's been doing since he got back to Europe. I was only wondering how long it would take you to reveal him."

A smile appeared on Scorn's lips. "You always were impossible to surprise. Jaron here has just returned to the fold. I hope there's no bad blood between you."

"What's in the past is in the past," China said. "I'm going to end up killing every one of you for all this, and one more name added to the list won't make much difference."

Gallow looked at her, then at Scorn. "I thought you said she was under control."

"She is," Scorn said. "She just likes to say these things to pretend she's still in charge. But as long as I keep her secret, China will do what she's told. For instance, I told her to come back with information about all this Necromancer fuss I've been hearing about. China?"

Everyone else was standing, so China sat on a pew and crossed her legs. She looked at Scorn without tilting her chin, pleased with the way she had changed the dynamic of the room. "Melancholia St Clair is the latest Necromancer to be handed the t.i.tle 'Death Bringer'," she said. "Unlike the others, however, it seems that this girl will actually strive to fulfil her duties."

"And what are her duties?" asked Gallow.

"To usher in the Pa.s.sage, and to save the world. If your next question is to ask me about the Pa.s.sage, you can save your breath. It is something of a mystery, even to those who trade in mysteries. Suffice to say, the end result is a supposedly better world where the living and the dead exist side by side."

"Ridiculous," Scorn said. "That would completely negate death. It would reduce it to a mere concept."

"And, possibly, make the world a better place."

Scorn shook her head. "The world is how the Faceless Ones left it, and that is how it shall stay. If it looks like the Necromancers have a chance of success, we may have to act against them."

"But that's what the Sanctuary is doing," Prave said, hurrying over. "Shouldn't we stay out of it? We'd just get in the way."

Scorn didn't even look at him, but Gallow did, and Prave shrank back. "I don't know you," Gallow said. "I've just met you. Already I want to hurt you."

"You, uh, you actually do know me," Prave said. "We met twice, actually. It was only for a few minutes, though, so you probably don't remember."

"I don't," Gallow said. "At all. Even remotely. And I'm glad. Remembering you would annoy me. It would mean you somehow managed to take up s.p.a.ce in my head, and I reserve s.p.a.ce in my head for people who interest me or, at the very least, have something worthwhile to offer. Now shut up, and don't say anything else."

Prave gaped at him. "How... how dare you. I rescued the Church of the Faceless from collapse. I built it back up to-"

"You built it back up to this?" Gallow didn't have to gesture to his surroundings to make his point. "You're a weak, miserable little man, with no concept of what it will take to bring back the Dark G.o.ds. We could leave this Death Bringer business to the Sanctuary, but that would mean entrusting the Sanctuary with all of our future plans. Is that what you want?"

Scorn turned her head, smiled at Prave. "Maybe you could make us all some tea."

Prave blinked his bulbous eyes. "Tea?"

"A nice big pot, there's a good man."

"But... but I'm in this! I'm involved in... in this whole thing. I'm one of the leaders!"

Scorn raised an eyebrow. "You? Oh, my word, no. No, Prave, you are not one of the leaders. There is only one leader here, and that is me. Gallow is my second, China is our reluctant sponsor and untrustworthy ally, and you're the one who makes the tea. So, Prave, enough of this silly talk and the giving of your inconsequential opinions. Be a dear, and go and make the tea."

Prave closed his mouth, his wet lips pressing together like slippery eels, then turned abruptly and left the room. His ears, which were substantial, burned so red they practically left a heat trail behind him.

Scorn nodded to China. "Continue."

"Melancholia attacked Valkyrie Cain, and the Sanctuary have seized upon the chance to issue an arrest warrant."

"They're getting ready to strike," Scorn murmured.

"What about Lord Vile?" Gallow asked. "I haven't been so out of the loop that I didn't hear of his return."

"His supposed return," Scorn said. "But has he been seen since he battled Skulduggery Pleasant?"

Gallow looked at her. "You think his return is a lie?"

"Perhaps. What could spook the Necromancers more than a rumour that Lord Vile is out to get them?"

"But if he has returned, and he does seek to destroy the Death Bringer, then maybe we can convince him to come back to our side."

Scorn looked at him. "And how do you propose we do that? Are you going to use your longstanding friendship with him to delay his killing stroke while you make your case? Oh, no, that's right. You don't have a longstanding friendship with him, do you? No one does. We may have fought alongside him during the war, but that was a long time ago. We don't know where his loyalties lie."

"We know it's not with the Necromancers," Gallow said. "That's something, at least."

"China," Scorn said, "what do you think?"

"I think approaching Lord Vile is a wonderful idea," China answered, smiling. "I think the pair of you should go and talk to him. I'm sure he'd love that."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd swear you were trying to get me killed before I have a chance to upstage you at the Requiem Ball."

"You're attending?"

"Why, yes. And why shouldn't I? We're celebrating the end of the war, aren't we?"

"Indeed we are," said China. "But I doubt there will be many guests there who fought on the losing side."

Scorn shrugged. "Winning side, losing side, it's all a matter of degree. And then there's you, of course. You don't have a side, do you? You abandoned your side. Turned your back on your-"

"If you're going to describe what a traitor I am, I feel I have to tell you that I've heard it all before, and if you're finished with me, I have a library to get back to."

"Finished with you?" Scorn laughed. "China, my darling, I haven't even started."

She met Gallow later that night, under the moon and the stars.

"That list of twelve people," she said, "the important and influential sorcerers Eliza was talking about. They're going to be at the Requiem Ball."

Gallow frowned. "You're sure? She'd meet with them right under everyone's noses? It's far too dangerous."

"Not for Eliza. It's the perfect excuse to talk to them. We're going to need that list if we want to shut this down before it starts."

Gallow smiled. "You want to a.s.sa.s.sinate them, don't you?"

She shrugged her left shoulder. "It is one option."

"The first person we'll have to take care of is Scorn herself. Once we have the list, we won't need her any more."

"No," said China. "We take them all out at the same time."

"That may not be possible."

"Let me worry about that. Once they're dead, the Church will crumble, once and for all." She looked at Gallow. "Do you think you can retrieve it without her knowing?"

"It shouldn't be a problem. You think you can organise the a.s.sa.s.sination of Scorn and twelve others?"

China smiled. "It shouldn't be a problem."

Chapter 23.

The Homecoming.

hey'd been on the road for a little under twenty-four hours when the Penguin-Mobile stopped, and Clarabelle tapped on the gla.s.s. "We're here," she said.

Scapegrace slid open the freezer and got out. He watched Clarabelle stretch, envying the yawn that accompanied the movement. He was dead. He didn't get tired any more. He missed it.

It was another gorgeous day outside. Grumbling, he put on a coat and pulled up the hood to hide his head. Clarabelle left the van first, and Scapegrace pushed Thrasher aside so he could go next. He stepped on to a pavement. It was awfully familiar. He looked around.

"We're in Roarhaven," he said.

Clarabelle nodded. "This is where the new Sanctuary is."

He stared at her. "But I know Roarhaven. I lived here for years. I know how to get to Roarhaven. We didn't have to spend twenty-four hours driving around waiting for you to remember where the Sanctuary was. You could have just said Roarhaven and I'd have known. We could have been here in an hour."

"It's not about the destination. It's about the journey."

"It's a little about the destination," Thrasher said quietly.

"And besides," Clarabelle said, "we got to see the sights, didn't we?"

"I was stuck in a freezer," Scapegrace reminded her.

"This is my home now," Clarabelle said, ignoring them. "Or it will be, if I get the job. It's a lovely town, isn't it?"

Scapegrace hesitated. "Do you really think so?"

"No, I don't," she admitted. "I liked where I was living in Dublin more. I had a nice flat, and I had a gerbil. His name was Theodore."

"That's a nice name," said Thrasher.

"I don't think he liked it. Roarhaven, though, it isn't a gerbil kind of place."

"I don't suppose it is," Scapegrace said.

"The people aren't very nice."

"They don't trust outsiders."

"I don't think Theodore would have fitted in. Before I left, I released him into the wild."

Thrasher frowned. "You released your gerbil into the wild?"

"Yes. Back into his natural habitat. It was only fair. Now he can live out the rest of his life, hunting his prey and raising a family."

"What, uh, what would a gerbil's prey be?"

"Nuts, mostly."

Thrasher frowned. "And how would he hunt nuts?"

Clarabelle shrugged. "He'd probably lie in wait or something. I don't know. But he's out there now, living his life, and I'm here, in Roarhaven, trying to start a new one. I'm going to ask for a job now." She started walking towards the Sanctuary. Scapegrace hesitated, then followed after her. Thrasher scurried along behind.

"If you get a job," Scapegrace said, "maybe you could ask Doctor Nye to bring me back to life, as a favour."

"Doctor Nye doesn't do favours," Clarabelle said. "Doctor Nye is not that kind of boss."

"You don't know what kind of boss it is. You said earlier you'd never met it."

"I'm only guessing. I'm guessing it'll say no. It'll have to, or I'll get it into my head to ask it for favours every day, and then where will we be? You'll have to ask it yourself."

"But why would it say yes to me?"

"Maybe it's kind."

"You mentioned something about it being a war criminal."

"Yes, I don't think it's kind."