Spoiler Alert Flood

[golden_eyes]

[Video 1]

Erskine smiles as he walks through a crowded room to stop in front of two people; a teenage girl in dark clothes standing next to a skeleton in a suit.

“Erskine,” the skeleton says, shaking his hand.

“Skulduggery, good to see you,” says Erskine, shaking the girl's hand next. “Valkyrie, you’re looking well.”

She blushes, turning her head a little. She frowns, having spotted someone. She nods her head toward an old man with a grey beard. “Why is he here?”

Erskine puts his hands in his pockets. “Like it or not, we need representatives from all the major groups in order to elect a new Grand Mage, and the mages in Roarhaven have as much say as anyone.”

“But why does he have to be here?”

“You don’t like the Torment?”

“He doesn’t like me.” The Torment scowls at Valkyrie when he mets her eyes. There's a woman beside him, in a black dress that flowed on to the ground at her feet. Her face is covered by a veil, and her hands wereare gloved.

“He’s here with his sister,” Erskine says. “Not his real sister, of course, but another Child of the Spider.”

“Madame Mist,” Skulduggery says, eyeless gaze on the woman in the black veil. “She lives in Roarhaven now too? Since when? I didn’t even know she was in the country.”

Erskine shrugs. “We really weren’t chatting long enough for me to get the details. I try to stay away from Children of the Spider, you know? They tend to give me the creeps. And speaking of creepy…”

High Priest Tenebrae entered the hall, flanked as always by Craven and Quiver. Tenebrae nodded to Valkyrie as they sweep by in their black robes.

“Well now,” Erskine says, catching the nod. “You seem to know more people here than I do.”

Valkyrie smiles. “I’m still going to need some help with the boring ones.”

Erskine laughs. “I’m sure they’d love to hear themselves being called that. In this hall, you have the usual suspects. Sorcerers of particular power or age or standing. That lady over there is Shakra, and beside her is Flaring. You probably know them from the Sanctuary. They were lucky enough not to be there the day the Desolation Engine went off. To their left are assorted sorcerers you may not know – they work behind the scenes mostly, and do their best to stay out of the spotlight.

“Over here we have Corrival Deuce,” Erskine continues, indicating a portly old man in a colourful coat. “He’s more or less retired now, but we dragged him out of his house for this little get-together. He’s a good man.”

“A very good man,” Skulduggery agrees. “We took orders from him during the war. There aren’t many people I’d take orders from. He’s one of them.”

“The two people ahead of us,” Skulduggery says, “are Geoffrey Scrutinous and Philomena Random.” Scrutinous has bizarrely frizzy hair and a goatee, and despite the cold weather outside, he was wearing sandals. Random’s appearance was altogether more sober – she has short hair, a warm coat, and none of the beads or rings or bangles that decorated her colleague’s wrists and hands.

“They’re public relations officers – it’s their job to convince the mortals they didn’t see what they thought they saw. The five people glaring at the Necromancers call themselves the Four Elementals. They see themselves as being in harmony with the world around them, and because of this they’re astonishingly self-righteous.”

“The Four Elementals?”

“Yes.”

“But there are five of them.”

“I know.”

“Can they not count?”

“They started off with four, but then Amity, the man with the unusual chin married the heavyset woman with all the jewellery and insisted she be allowed to become the fifth member of the quartet.”

“Couldn’t they just rename themselves?”

“And become the Five Elementals, when there are only four elements? They didn’t want to lose their precious synchronicity.”

“It’s better than everyone thinking you can’t count.”

“That it is,” says Corrival Deuce, arriving at Valyrie's elbow. She turns, suprised, having obviously not heard his approach. “You’re Valkyrie Cain,” he says, smiling. “I’ve heard so much about you. This is indeed an honour.” She shakes his hand.

“Hi."

“Erskine,” Corrival says. “Skulduggery. Good to see you again.”

“I didn’t think you’d come,” Erskine says to the older sorcerer.

Corrival barks a laugh. “What, after a solid three weeks of you pestering me about it?”

“I thought I was being subtle.”

“You don’t know the meaning of the word. Where are the others, then? Where’s Ghastly, and Vex?”

“Ghastly hates these things,” Skulduggery says, “and I don’t know where Vex is.”

“Probably having another adventure,” Corrival says with a little sigh. “That boy needs to grow up one of these days, he really does. What about Anton Shudder?”

“Shudder likes to stay in his hotel,” Erskine says. “Besides all the Remnants trapped in there, he also has a vampire guest to contend with. If I were him, I’d want to keep a close eye on things too.”

Corrival looks around. “So is this it? Is everyone here? Erskine, maybe you should start the ball rolling. I have places to go and things to do.”

“Me?” Erskine asks. “Why do I have to start it? You’re the most respected mage here. You start it. Or Skulduggery.”

Skulduggery shakes his head. “I can’t start it. I don’t like most of these people. I might start shooting.”

Erskine scowls. “Fine.”

He turns, clears his throat, and speaks loudly. “Everyone who is going to be here is here,” he announces. The other conversations die down, and all eyes turn to him. “We all know why we’ve gathered. If we can elect a Grand Mage today, then we can immediately start work on forming a new Council and finding a new Sanctuary.”

“Before we talk about the new Sanctuary,” Scrutinous says, “I think we should discuss the old one. In particular, I think everyone would like to ask how the search for Davina Marr has been going.”

“As far as we know, she’s still in the country,” Skulduggery says. “Any more than that, I’m afraid I can’t disclose.”

“Why not?” asks Amity.

“It’s an ongoing investigation.”

“She has evaded you for five months already, Detective Pleasant. Maybe we should be entrusting somebody else with the task of tracking her down.”

“Then by all means, Amity,” Skulduggery says, “find someone else.”

“The damage has been done," Shakra says in a Belfast accent. “Marr isn’t important, not any more. What is important is how weak we appear. The Sanctuaries around the world are waiting to pounce, did you know that?”

“That’s a slight exaggeration,” Scrutinous says.

“Is it? The Americans have already announced how they will no longer stand by and watch as Ireland struggles against the legacy that people like Mevolent have left us. That’s what they said, word for word.”

“It was a gesture of support,” Amity says.

“No,” Shakra responds, “it was a threat. They’re telling us they’re getting ready to step in and take over if something like this happens again.”

Amity shakes his head. “Nonsense. Ireland is a Cradle of Magic. No one would dare disrupt the delicate balance that holds the world in check.”

Shakra scowls. “You’re a moron.”

“Being rude does not make you more intelligent than I.”

“No, being more intelligent than you makes me more intelligent than you, you goat-brained simpleton.”

“I did not come here to be insulted.”

“What, do you have somewhere special to go for that kind of thing?”

“Can we please focus?” Corrival asks. Immediately, everyone shut up. “In the last five years alone, two of our Elders have been murdered, the third betrayed us, and the Grand Mage who took over has been revealed as a criminal. Two out of Mevolent’s Three Generals returned, and the Faceless Ones actually broke through into this reality.

“Amity, you and your Four Elementals may not want to believe this, but Ireland is under attack. We have enemies both obvious and hidden. The war with Mevolent was fought largely on Irish soil. His actions, and the actions of his followers, have created an instability that is impossible to be rid of. This is where the agents of unrest are drawn. There is blood in the water here.”

“That’s right,” Flaring says. “Dark sorcerers like Charivari in France, or Keratin in the mountains of Siberia, hate us and plot against us with every moment that passes. And what about all the visions of this Darquesse person, laying waste to the world? We need to be ready.”

“Then we need to get down to business,” High Priest Tenebrae says. “The task ahead is not an easy one. We’ll have to set up a new Council, elect a Grand Mage and two Elders, build a new Sanctuary and consolidate our power base. Even though it will add greatly to my responsibilities and workload, I am willing to put my own name forward for the role of Grand Mage.”

There are some rolled eyes and cruel whispers, but Corrival holds up a hand to silence them. “Thank you, High Priest. Who are the other nominees?”

“Some of us have been talking about this among ourselves,” Scrutinous says, “and we’d like to suggest Corrival Deuce as a candidate.”

Corrival raises an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“You’re well-respected and well-liked, Corrival, and—”

“I know what I am,” Corrival interrupts, “and what I am is retired. Even if I wasn’t retired, I’ve never been interested in the job. That’s for people like Meritorious, not people like me.”

“Your country needs you,” Flaring says.

“My country needs better taste.”

“You’re the only one who can do it.”

“This is ridiculous,” Corrival says. “I don’t have the experience or the training, and I’m always getting into arguments. Not many sorcerers agree with my point of view, you know.”

“Even so,” say Random, “you’re one of the few people who could bring the Irish magical community together in its time of need.”

“Nonsense. There are plenty of others.”

“We don’t make this suggestion lightly, Corrival. We’ve considered this a great deal.”

“And all you could come up with was me?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“But I’m really enjoying my retirement. I get to sleep in every day. I do crossword puzzles and eat cakes.”

“Duty calls, Corrival.”

“Then we’ll vote,” Flaring says. “Right here, right now. Let’s forgo the usual pomp and circumstance and have it as a simple aye or nay. All those in favour of High Priest Auron Tenebrae as the new Grand Mage, say aye.”

Craven and Quiver both say aye. Tenebrae clenches his jaw against the overwhelming silence.

“OK then,” Scrutinous says. “All in favour of Corrival Deuce as the new Grand Mage, say aye.”

Ayes filled the room. Only the Necromancers and the Roarhaven mages stayed quiet.

Scrutinous grins. “I think it’s decided.”

“Fine,” Corrival says. “I’ll accept the position, on the condition that as soon as someone more competent comes along, you’ll all let me retire in peace.”

“Agreed,” says Amity. “So now we need to talk about nominations for the other two seats on the Council, and where the new Sanctuary is going to be built.”

“Don’t need to start building,” the Torment says in a croaky voice. “We have a Sanctuary, ready and waiting.”

“In Roarhaven?” Tenebrae says, disgust in his voice.

“Yes,” the Torment glares back. “A fine building, built especially for this purpose.”

“Built for a coup that failed,” Erskine says.

“That may be so,” the Torment says, “but the fact remains. There is a new Sanctuary building with all the rooms and requirements. Do any of you have any proper objections, apart from the fact that it’s outside your precious capital city?”

There's silence.

“It’s a good suggestion,” Corrival says, ignoring the looks of surprise. “The fact is,” he continues, “it’s there, and it’s available. And if someone sets off another bomb, we won’t have to explain it to the civilian authorities. And as for the other two seats on the Council, I already have my nominees. I nominate Erskine Ravel and Skulduggery Pleasant.”

Someone barks a laugh. Valkyrie turns to Skulduggery.

“Ah,” says Erskine

“Oh,” says Skulduggery.

“Sorry, fellas,” Corrival says, “but if I have to suffer through this ridiculousness, then so do you. Both of you are controversial figures, but I fought with your unit on the battlefield, and I’ve never known such bravery and honour. Erskine, you like spending money way too much, but you’ve been my trusted confidant for the last hundred years, and I don’t think there is anyone who is going to deny that you would make an excellent Elder. You’re wise when you need to be, and impulsive when you have to be.

“Skulduggery, my old friend, I daresay a lot of people are going to object to your nomination.”

“Myself included,” Skulduggery answers.

“You make more enemies than friends, which isn’t saying an awful lot, but you also make the difficult decisions. You always have. That’s all I’m going to say on the matter. The rest is up to the voters. As duly elected Grand Mage, I now call a halt to proceedings, as I have a crossword to do and some cakes to eat.”

Without waiting for a response, Corrival turns and walks from the room.

“I was not expecting that,” Erskine says in a low voice.

“I’ll vote for you,” Skulduggery says, “so long as you promise not to vote for me.”

Erskine grins. “And let you miss the fun? Not on your life, dead man.”

[Video 2]

“I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure,” Erskine says when he sets his eyes on a blonde young woman.

“I think I would have remembered,” she replies, smiling as they shake hands. “I’m Tanith Low. You must be the notorious Erskine Ravel. I’ve heard stories about you.”

“Did any of them paint me in a flattering light? Because if they did, they are probably lies.”

“Just the usual Dead Men tales.”

Valkyrie frowns. “Dead Men?”

“That’s what they called us during the war,” a man says, his face is deeply scarred; his shirtsleeves were rolled back off his thick forearms, shooting a glare at Erskine as he carries broken mannequins into the back. Erskine's smile just widens at the look.

“They were legends,” Tanith says, “Skulduggery, Mr Ravel here, Shudder, Dexter Vex. And Ghastly of course," nodding at the man, "They called them the Dead Men because they went on suicide missions and always came back alive.”

“Not all of us,” Skulduggery says, coming in behind them. “Erskine, so good to see you again after so short a time.”

“I was in the neighbourhood,” he shrugs. “I thought I’d drop in and say hi to Ghastly. I kind of hoped you’d stop by, actually. Has it sunk in yet?”

“Has what sunk in?” Skulduggery asks. “The insanity of what Corrival asked, or the stupidity?”

Erskine shakes his head. “It’s ridiculous, isn’t it? I was just thinking that and… It is ridiculous. The two of us, on the Council of Elders? Do you realise how boring that job would get? We’re not used to jobs that… peaceful.”

“I hear Elders don’t even get to punch anyone,” Skulduggery says miserably. “Apparently, we’d have people to do that for us.”

“We’re just not suited to it. We’ve commanded people on the battlefield, we’ve issued orders during investigations… I mean, being a leader is one thing, but…”

“But being mature is something else entirely,” Skulduggery nods. “I agree completely.”

“So you’re not going to do it?” Tanith asks. “Really? You’re both going to turn this down?”

“What would we be turning down?” Skulduggery asks. “It’s only a nomination. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“What about Corrival?” Valkyrie asks. “If he’d said no to the Grand Mage position, would you have accepted that?”

At that, both men hesitate. Finally, Erskine shrugs.

“I don’t know. The chance to make a difference? To make some real and lasting changes? He’s perfect for the job.”

“And it’s going to be really nice to have someone in the Sanctuary we can trust,” Skulduggery says. “If he said no, I wouldn’t have stopped until I’d convinced him to change his mind.”

“So you’re saying that you wouldn’t have allowed Corrival Deuce to turn down this opportunity,” Tanith says, “but the pair of you are just too cool to say yes?”

“Well, we’re rogues,” Ravel informs her.

“Mavericks, one might say,” Skulduggery adds. “Also, we don’t appreciate our own arguments being used against us. It’s self-defeating in the worst possible way.”

Tanith raises an eyebrow. “And also tremendously hypocritical?”

“If I’m a hypocrite,” Ravel announces, “I haven’t noticed. I’ve never cared much for introspection. I’ve done my best to leave that for the bleakest of poets and the most self-pitying of vampires.”

Ghastly comes out of the backroom. “When are you going to tell him you’re saying no?”

“I’m planning on delaying it,” Skulduggery says. “The longer it goes on, the more ridiculous it will seem, and the more people will complain about it. They’ll do my job for me. Erskine, of course, doesn’t have that luxury.”

Erskine looks at him. “What? Why don’t I?”

“Because not enough people dislike you. And Corrival trusts you implicitly – he always has. Erskine, to be brutally honest, it doesn’t sound like a completely stupid idea to have you as an Elder.”

“Take that back."

“He’s going to need your help. As he goes on, he’s going to make a lot of enemies. He’s prided himself on being a man of the people, for the people. His greatest priority has always been the safety and protection of the mortals. I can see him restricting sorcerer activity even more than it already has been. That’s probably a wise move, too. The way things have been going, it’s only a matter of time before one of our secret little battles explodes across the mainstream media, and then not even Scrutinous and Random will be able to smooth things over.”

Erskine shakes his head. “Not everyone is going to be as understanding as you, Skulduggery. I’ve been by his side for the last hundred years, and even I’m going to have trouble with some of the things he’ll introduce. He has this glorious vision of sorcerers as humanity’s guardian angels – silent, invisible…”

“Exactly what they need.”

Erskine laughs. “I suppose you’re right.”

“The new Council needs to be strong,” Ghastly says. “Without a strong leadership with a clear purpose, I have a feeling that our friends around the globe won’t be content to just sit back and watch.”

“They’d try to take over,” Skulduggery says.

“Could they?” Valkyrie asks. “I mean, would they be allowed?”

“Who’d stop them? The fact is, they don’t trust us to take care of our own problems. They’re not our enemies. If the Americans were involved in the destruction of the Sanctuary, it’s not because they want to destroy us – it’s just because they think that things would be better if they were in charge.”

“So… they’d invade?”

“It would be quiet, vicious, and sudden.”

“You two would probably be the first to be killed,” Erskine says.

Valkyrie stares. “What?”

“Sorry, but it’s true. The amount of damage the pair of you have inflicted on anyone who’s crossed you over the past few years? They’re not going to take a chance on leaving you alive.”

“He’s right,” Skulduggery says. “We’re just too good at our job.”

"Damn it,” Valkyrie scowls. “I hate being too good at our job.” 

[Video 3]

Ghastly parts the blinds and looks out on to a quiet street. Still dark. Still empty. Still glistening.

“You look like you’re waiting for someone,” Erskine says from behind him. “Anyone I know?”

“I’m just looking, Erskine.”

Erskine takes a sip from his mug of tea. “You know who I’d like to meet again? Tesseract. And this time we’d be ready for him.”

Skulduggery, not bothering to lift his gaze from his newspaper, says, “I wouldn’t be too eager for a rematch, if I were you.”

Ghastly lifts a swatch of material to a small table, and sits at the sewing machine. “It’s been a while since I faced anyone that good. It was only a few seconds, but it was enough.”

Erskine smiles. “You boys have lost your sense of adventure. There was a time when we’d have raced headlong into something like this.”

“We’re not young men any more.”

“Be honest, though – doesn’t the thought of the Dead Men getting back together fill you with a dangerous kind of glee?”

“The Dead Men aren’t getting back together,” Skulduggery says. “It’s just us, sitting around at Christmas because we’ve got nothing else to do.”

“Besides, I don’t go looking for fights any more, especially against people like Tesseract. I have responsibilities now. I have this shop. And you two are going to have to grow up sooner or later, you know. People expect a certain level of maturity from Elders.”

There's the sound of fingers digging into newspaper. “Do not joke about that, Bespoke,” Skulduggery says.

Ghastly smiles as he feeds the sleeve of the jacket through the machine, making minute adjustments as it went. “You haven’t changed your mind about taking it on?”

“I think I would be a horrifically bad choice. Maybe Corrival can be convinced to ask someone who is less controversial than I am – China, perhaps.”

“Oh, everyone would love that,” Erskine laughs. “A founding member of the Diablerie and a devout follower of the Faceless Ones.”

“Ex-follower.”

“That will make such a difference to the people with long memories.” Ravel sits back. Then he says, “Your friend Tanith is an interesting girl.”

Ghastly hisses as the sleeve bunched up under the needle. He corrects the mistake and nods. “That she is.”

“How long have you known her?”

“A few years,” Skulduggery says. “Not long. Bliss brought her in to help out against Serpine. She’s been a good friend to Valkyrie, and a good ally to the rest of us. And you, Erskine, are to stay away from her.”

Erskine laughs. “And why is that?”

He looks at Skulduggery and Skulduggery tilts his head, but says nothing. Erskine’s smile died away, and he glances over at Ghastly. “Oh,” he says. “Right. Sorry.”

Ghastly raises an eyebrow. “Sorry about what?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all. Tanith’s great, but she’s not my type. I mean, I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with her. She’s amazing. But, you know, not for… not for me, basically. For someone else, though, I’d say she’d be, uh, perfect. If, you know, if someone else liked her.” He changes the subject quickly.

“I was thinking, actually, about this Council thing. Maybe it won’t be so bad. It could be a new start for everyone. New Council, new Sanctuary… The slate wiped clean. I think it’s time you had a clean slate, Skulduggery.”

Skulduggery folds the newspaper and puts it down. “Meaning what?”

Erskine hesitates. “Whatever burden it is you’re carrying around, whatever you did during the war that was so terrible, maybe it’s time you let it go. It might be good for you, to reclaim your family crest. Sooner or later, you’ll have to forgive yourself and move on.” 

[Video 4]

Erskine clears his throat and conversations between the group of sorcerers standing in the room finish fading away. “I suppose we should start, then. Welcome, all of you. We’ve been through a lot in the last week, and I am immensely glad to see so many of you here tonight. We have lost friends and family, we have seen the whole country plunged into a nightmare we can only hope it will recover from – but of course, we don’t have the luxury of time in which to lick our wounds and grieve for the departed.

“We have a state of emergency. According to a trusted source in the German Sanctuary, in those few days when we were compromised, the international community, headed by the American Council, was about to swoop in and save the day. While it could be seen as reassuring to have such good friends around the world, the unfortunate fact of the matter is that if they did swoop in, they would never swoop out again.”

“Which means we need to consolidate our power as soon as possible,” Scrutinous says, “and that means choosing a new Council of Elders.”

“A vote,” says Shakra. “Now. Tonight. We need to show them we’re strong and decisive in the wake of what happened.”

“Erskine,” Skulduggery says, “I think the obvious thing would be to have you as the Grand Mage.”

Erskine frowns. “What?”

“I agree with Skulduggery,” Ghastly says. “You know how the game works. In fact, I’d say the internationals would actually find you better to work with than Corrival. You were his right-hand man for years – you share some of his views, but you aren’t nearly as extreme.”

Erskine rubs his forehead wearily. “And does it matter at all that I have absolutely no interest at all in doing this job?”

“Not really,” Skulduggery says. “Desperate times, desperate measures.”

“A vote,” says Scrutinous. “All those in favour.”

Ayes filled the room.

Erskine says. “Fine. And in that spirit of desperation, Skulduggery can be my first Elder.”

Skulduggery shakes his head. “Not a chance.”

“And how come you get to pass on the job offer and I don’t?”

“Because I’m me.”

“I have a suggestion,” says the Torment. Everyone looks at him. “We have already given you the Roarhaven facility to use as your new Sanctuary, which you have gratefully accepted. However, some of the citizens of our fair town have voiced misgivings. They feel that our good will has been taken advantage of.”

“Go on,” Ravel says, suspicion in his voice.

"It is our opinion that the Council of Elders should be comprised of three mages of firmly different sensibilities. For too long, the members of the Council have all thought the same way, held the same view, and clung on to the same prejudices. If Erskine Ravel is indeed elected Grand Mage, it is my feeling that the first of his Elders should be Madam Mist.”

Erskine actually recoils at the suggestion. “But… Madam Mist is a Child of the Spider.”

“As am I,” the Torment says. “You would dismiss us all because of this?”

“No, of course not, it’s just… Children of the Spider have always been reclusive. Even more so than the Necromancers.”

The Torment nods like a wise old man. “And it is time we changed our ways. Madam Mist would not only be a representative of the people of Roarhaven – and you would need their support for this Sanctuary to succeed – but she would also be a voice for the few, and the marginalised.”

“Everyone gets heard in the Sanctuary,” Erskine counters.

“And Madame Mist will ensure that valued tradition continues,” the Torment says. “Unfortunately, this is not open to discussion. If our request is denied, we will be forced to withdraw all assistance – this very building included.”

“You’re holding us to ransom,” Flaring says. “There’s no way we’d ever agree to that.”

“Excuse us for a moment,” Skulduggery says, drawing stares from everyone in the room. He walks to the side, followed by Erskine, Ghastly and Valkyrie.

“You can’t be serious,” Erskine whispers. “You can’t seriously expect me to work beside Mist.”

“It’s what they’ve been planning all along,” Skulduggery replies. “When they offered us this building, we knew there was going to be a hitch.”

“Mist is more than a hitch,” Erskine says.

“Your Council is going to need her in order to survive here.”

“If they planned this,” Valkyrie says, “then we’re just going along with their plan. How is that a good idea? This is the Torment we’re talking about.”

Skulduggery shakes his head. “Their plan was for Mist to be an Elder alongside Erskine, with Corrival as Grand Mage. But that isn’t the case any more. Now Erskine is the Grand Mage, and so whatever schemes they’ve come up with are going to have to change.”

“Then we need another Elder who’s on our side,” Ghastly says. “To make sure Mist is kept in line.”

“Yes, we do,” Skulduggery nods. “Which is why it should be you.”

Ghastly’s eyes widen. “Have you lost your mind?”

“Why not? You’re liked, you’re well-respected, and everyone knows about your bravery on the battlefield. This could be your chance to make a real difference.”

“I’m not a politician,” Ghastly says. “I’m a tailor.”

“You can still make my suits in your spare time, but we’re really going to need you to do this.”

Ravel nods solemnly. “Destiny is calling, my friend.”

“That’s not destiny, that’s you."

[Video 5]

Erskine is sitting on a formal chair, Ghastly to his left and Madame Mist to his right in similar chairs.

“Skulduggery Pleasant and Valkyrie Cain seek an audience with the Council,” Tipstaff announces, bowing before them. “Does the Council acquiesce?”

Ghastly sighs. “Is this really necessary?”

Tipstaff looks up. “Protocol must be followed, Elder Bespoke.”

“But they’re our friends.”

“That may be so, yet rules exist to guard us from chaos. This is a new Sanctuary, and protocol must be established and followed.”

“So we sit up here on these bloody thrones,” Erskine says, “and they stand down there? We can’t walk around or, I don’t know, grab a coffee while we talk?”

“If you want coffee, I’ll be more than happy to bring you some, Grand Mage.”

“I don’t want coffee,” Erskine grumbles. “Fine. OK. We’ll follow the rules. Skulduggery, Valkyrie, sorry about this.”

“No need to apologise,” Skulduggery says. “The whole situation is highly amusing, believe me. I like your robes, by the way.”

“I tried to redesign them,” Ghastly mutters, “but apparently, that’s not allowed, either.”

[Video 6]

Erskine is sitting in a chair in a concrete-grey room, on one side of a big table shaped like a toad. Ghastly sits to his right, Madame Mist to his left. All of them wearing robes.

Sitting across from them are two men. One wearing a similar robe; he's grey-haired, lined and old. The other is younger and in a neat suit.

“You’ve been having some problems with your sorcerers, we hear,” says the older man, his accent marking him as English.

“I’m afraid you’ve been misinformed,” says Erskine. “Our mages are all doing fine.”

The man's eyebrows rise slightly. “Oh! In which case, I apologise. It’s just that we’ve had reports of disturbances in practically every corner of the country. You’re saying these reports are inaccurate?”

“I’m not saying that at all,” Erskine says smoothly. “But the problems are not our sorcerers.”

“Ah yes, we heard that, too. Something is affecting the mortal population here, yes? Dreadful, dreadful business. If you need any help—”

“Thank you, but no,” says Erskine. “We have it under control.”

“Are you quite sure? I don’t mean to condescend, Grand Mage Ravel, but I have a lot more experience running Sanctuaries than you do, and there is no shame in accepting assistance when it is offered.”

“Thank you for clarifying,” Erskine says.

The young man clears his throat politely. "Unfortunately," he says, American accent a contrast to the older man, “things may not be so simple. The purpose of a Sanctuary is to oversee the magical communities and protect mortals from the truth. If even one Sanctuary fails in its obligations, the success of every other Sanctuary will amount to naught. To use a horribly overused phrase, the chain is only as strong as its weakest link.”

Madame Mist stirs. “And you are saying that we are this weak link?”

“Oh, heavens, no,” he says. “All I’m saying is that this Sanctuary has had more than its fair share of crises to deal with. Given the pressure you’ve been under, even the strongest link will strain.”

“So you are saying we’re the weakest link,” says Erskine. “I’m sorry, but who are you again?”

“Bernard Sult,” says the man. “I’m a Junior Administrator for Grand Mage Renato Bisahalani.”

“And why are you here?”

“Sult’s here to help,” says Strom, "You know the American Elders, they always think they’re far too busy to take care of things personally. But what he says is true. It’s not something we like to talk about, but the fact is that Ireland has been the source of a great deal of anxiety around the world. It’s in our best interests, of course, to make sure you’re strong enough to withstand anything that comes your way.”

“We don’t need to be propped up,” says Erskine.

Sult shakes his head. “I assure you, that’s not what we’re saying. But if everything that has happened here in the last ten years had happened somewhere else, say Germany, would you be confident in their ability to handle it alone? Or would you feel the need to lend some support?”

Erskine says nothing.

“The other Sanctuaries are worried,” Strom says. “They want reassurances that you are prepared and that you are capable. And so I am among the three they have elected to act as their representatives to—”

“I’m sorry,” Ghastly says. “What?”

Erskine's frowning. “They elected you? When? In what forum?”

“It was a private meeting,” he says, “where we all came together to voice our concerns.”

“Without inviting us.”

“We didn’t want it to seem like an attack. We wanted to voice our opinions, not intimidate you. During the meeting, the decision was taken to approach you with our concerns. Grand Mage Renato Bisahalani of the American Sanctuary, Grand Mage Dedrich Wahrheit of the German Sanctuary and I were elected, and it was decided that I should come here, representing the interests of the Supreme Council—”

Erskine laughs. “That’s what you’re calling yourselves? The Supreme Council? Well, that’s not intimidating at all, is it, Ghastly?”

“Sounds positively cuddly,” Ghastly responds. “So here you are, as the spokesman for the Supreme Council, to tell us what, exactly?”

“We’re not here to tell you anything,” says Sult. “We’re just here to offer our help should it transpire that you need it. As Grand Mage Strom was saying, the other Sanctuaries need reassurances.”

“That’s no problem,” Erskine says. “Go back and reassure them that everything is fine.”

Strom smiles sadly. “If only it were that easy. Erskine, we have been tasked with verifying, for an absolute fact, that you and your Sanctuary are ready for whatever happens next."

[Video 7]

“Isn’t this beneath us?” Erskine asks Ghastly as they walk through corridors. “This is probably beneath us. We’re Elders. We’re not supposed to look for things. We’re supposed to get things handed to us.”

“It amazes me how quickly you’ve become spoiled.”

“I never liked looking for things,” Erskine grumbles. “You remember looking for clues with Skulduggery? I always hated that. I never knew what was a clue and what wasn’t. I’d look at a room and see a room and he’d look at it and solve a mystery.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” says Ghastly. “You might not be as good a detective as Skulduggery is, but you’re good at other things. Like wearing a robe and complaining.”

“I’m amazing at those things,” Erskine says. “And I order people around really well. This morning, Tipstaff came over with a cup of tea and I told him no, I don’t want tea I want coffee. That was great. I really asserted my authority.”

“Did he go and get you a coffee?”

“No, he said he’d already made a pot of tea so I took the tea because, you know, he’d already made it, but my authority was still firmly asserted.”

Ghastly nods. “He’ll think twice before making tea again.”

“That he will, Ghastly my friend, that he will. What are we looking for, by the way?”

“Seriously? I gave you the file half an hour ago.”

“Yes, you did.”

“Did you read it?”

“No, I did not.”

Ghastly sighs. “It’s called an Accelerator. It’s a big machine type thing.”

“Great. What does it look like?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is that it?”

“No. That’s a wall.”

“It could be disguised.”

“You’re really not very good at looking for things, are you?”

“I’m good at looking for walls. Look, I found another one.”

They come to a junction and Ghastly stops walking, frowning down at a map. “This is odd. That corridor isn’t on the map.”

Erskine folds his arms. “Maybe it isn’t there.”

“Maybe the corridor isn’t there?”

“Maybe it’s an optical illusion. Or it’s like Schrödinger’s cat. Until you look at it, it’s both there and not there.”

“But we’re looking at it now, Erskine, and I’m pretty sure it’s there. It just isn’t on the map.”

Ravel shrugs. “It’s an old building. There are tunnels and secret passageways all over the place.”

“But the first thing we did when we moved the Sanctuary was send a team of mages down here to check for things like this. I’m holding the map they made.”

Erskine looks at him. “We sent a team of Roarhaven mages.”

“They left out this corridor on purpose,” Ghastly says, putting the map away. “Skulduggery was right. We can’t trust them. So what’s down here that they wanted to keep secret?”

“Hopefully, it’s the Accelerator, and not just some bathroom they wanted to keep private. We should probably get a squad of Cleavers to go down first, make sure it’s safe and clear of booby traps.”

“Yeah,” says Ghastly. “We probably should. We could go back up and sit on our thrones and drink tea while we wait.”

“Good idea. Safe, too. Tipstaff would approve.”

“He really would,” said Ghastly, and they both start down the corridor. The power apparently doesn't extend down here as they both hold fire in their hands to light the way. They look into a series of rooms without doors; those that weren't empty were stacked with building materials and supplies, everything covered with a thick layer of dust.

Erskine stops. “I think I’ve found it,” he says. They step into a large room. Most of it is empty space, as dark and as damp as the corridor outside. The Accelerator stands in the exact centre like a giant vase that had burst open from within. Its curved wall bent gently back, the jagged tips almost scraping the ceiling. The front section was open, allowing access into the thing itself, where a white disc rested on its base, forming a slightly raised platform. Circuitry ran like dull veins through the skin of the machine, which seems almost translucent under the flickering firelight.

Erskine knocks his fist against it. The sound suggests a strange mixture of metal and rubber. Ghastly steps through the opening, on to the white dais.

“Can’t see how to turn it on,” Erskine says, poking at things

Ghastly quickly steps out. “Let’s leave that to the scientists, OK? We’d probably break it if we tried.”

“I’m sure we could figure it out,” Erskine says, peering at it. “We’re intelligent enough. We may not be scientist-smart, but we’re smart in other ways. We’re street-smart, is what we are.”

“And what street is that, exactly?”

Erskine shrugs. “Probably one of the dumber ones, to be honest. Maybe you’re right. We’ll tell Skulduggery we found it, and Lament can come over and get it working.”

“That’s a really good idea, Grand Mage.”

“I sometimes have them.”

[Video 8]

Valkyrie and Skulduggery are standing in a small room with four large sigils engraved on the walls. The sigils are glowing and hazy images of Erskine and Ghasatly are standing before them, though the images are transparent, they sound like they're standing right there.

“Agreed,” says Skulduggery. “Erskine, you should take direct control from now on – the Cleavers take orders from the Grand Mage and that’s it. Mist has Roarhaven on her side. We need the Cleavers on ours.”

“But their numbers are still depleted,” Ravel points out. “If Mist is behind this and we go up against her, even with the Cleavers and whatever mages are loyal to us, we can’t be guaranteed of winning. We need more. We need an advantage.”

All three fall silent.

“We could ask the Supreme Council for help,” Valkyrie says.

“Let’s change the subject before I hit someone,” Ghastly says, and Ravel’s image immediately shifts away from him slightly. “What do we need to do to get this Accelerator working?”

“Lament will have to take a look at it,” Skulduggery says. “Can you get it shipped up here?”

Ravel shakes his head. “It can’t be moved. From what we understand, the Sanctuary itself acts as a kind of lightning rod. If you want to use it to power Argeddion’s cage, you’re going to have to bring the cage to Roarhaven.”

“OK,” says Skulduggery, “it shouldn’t take too much convincing to get Lament to agree to that. I also think Valkyrie’s ex-boyfriend will come in handy here.”

Erskine frowns. “The dead vampire?”

Valkyrie glares at him. “I think he means Fletcher.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“Caelan was never my boyfriend.”

“I didn’t mean to—”

“We don’t talk about Caelan,” Ghastly mutters.

“I’m really sorry, Valkyrie,” Erskine says. “Fletcher’s great. He’s wonderful. I’m sure he’d be delighted to help, and having a Teleporter here will certainly solve some problems. We’ll arrange that, we’ll get him over to you, start the ball rolling, as it were. Once again, sorry about bringing up the vampire.”

Ghastly shots him a look, whispering, “Why do you keep talking about him?”

“I can’t help it,” Erskine whispers back. “Now he’s all I can think about.”

“You realise,” Valkyrie says, “that we can hear you both perfectly well.”

Ghastly shuts up immediately. Ravel nods slowly. “Right. Righto. You sure you heard everything, now? Did you hear the bit where I complimented you and called you amazing?”

“I must have missed that part.”

“Oh, that’s a shame. That’s a real...” He looks off to his right, eyebrows raising. “What’s that? I’m needed elsewhere? Important business?”

Ghastly sighs. “There’s no one there.”

“Valkyrie, Skulduggery, we’ll talk with Fletcher and get back to you,” Ravel says, and glares at Ghastly as their images fade to nothing.
 [Video 9]

Erskine, Ghastly and a teenage girl that appears to be attempting the goth look approach a blue wall of energy, on the other side four people in robes hove a little off the ground, eyes closed.

One of the men smiles, though his eyes don't open. “Erskine,” he says. “Ghastly. Aren’t you two busy enough? Don’t you have a crisis to control?”

“We’re never too busy for old friends,” says Erskine. “We just thought we’d come down, see how you were, see if you needed anything. A snack. A magazine. Maybe a bathroom break.”

“You can’t stop Argeddion.”

“Who said anything about Argeddion? I didn’t even mention his name. I wasn’t even thinking about him. But since you’ve brought him up, Tyren, you are absolutely right. We can’t stop him. Not without your help.”

Tyren’s smile widenes. “You really think we’re going to lift a finger against him? After what we did? He deserves freedom.”

“Years ago, yes, he did. You made a mistake, and you weren’t the only one. Meritorious should never have agreed to your plan. But now? It’s too late. The point can be argued that you made him into exactly the kind of threat you feared, but I’m not one for assigning blame. That’s not how this Council of Elders works. We are all about redemption, though, and this is your chance to redeem yourself. Elsie O’Brien,” Erskine says, “I’d like you to meet Tyren Lament. Tyren and his friends have been infected with the same magic as you. Tyren, say hello to Elsie.” 

[Video 10]

It's something of a standoff; Ghastly, Skulduggery and Valkyrie stand a little behind Erskine, all of them facing a furious Quentin Strom and a man that's obviously his bodyguard.

“You didn’t allow me anything! I allowed you! I allowed you to fool yourselves into thinking you had a choice!” Strom took a breath. When he had his anger under control, he speaks again. “You are clearly unfit to serve as Grand Mage,” he announces, “and all three of you are unfit to serve on the Council of Elders. By the authority vested in me by the international community I am hereby taking command of this Sanctuary. You are relieved of your duties.”

Nobody moves for a moment.

Moving slowly, the bodyguard reaches for his jacket, and Skulduggery draws his revolver and points it at his face.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Skulduggery says.

The bodyguard raises his hands.

Strom’s eyes widen. “What you just did is illegal.”

“We’re in charge,” Erskine tells. “You think we’re going to roll over just because you tell us to? Who the hell do you think you are?”

“I am a Grand Mage, Mr Ravel, a title I earned because of hard work and dedication. Whereas you, on the other hand, are Grand Mage because nobody else wanted the job.”

“Whoa,” says Erskine. “That was a little below the belt, don’t you think?”

“None of you have the required experience or wisdom to do what is expected of you. I know you’ll find it hard to believe, but we didn’t come here to take control. We came here to help.”

“And now you want to take control anyway.”

“You have proven yourselves incompetent. And what are you doing now? You’re holding a Grand Mage at gunpoint?”

“Technically, Skulduggery is only holding a Grand Mage’s bodyguard at gunpoint. Which isn’t nearly as bad.”

“You all seem to be forgetting that I have thirty-eight mages loyal to the Supreme Council in this country.”

“And you seem to be under the illusion that we find that intimidating.”

“If I go missing —”

“Missing?” Erskine says. “Who said anything about going missing? No, no. You’re just going to be in a really long and really important meeting, that’s all.”

“Don’t be a fool,” says Strom. “You can’t win here, Ravel. There are more of us than there are of you. And the moment our mages get wind of what’s going on down here, the rest of the Supreme Council will descend on you like nothing you’ve ever seen.”

“Quintin, Quintin, Quintin... you make it sound like we’re going to war. This isn’t war. This is an argument. And like all arguments between grown-ups, we keep it away from the kiddies. You’ve got thirty-eight mages in the country? Ghastly, how many cells do we have?”

“If we double up we’ll manage.”

“Don’t make this any worse for yourselves,” says Strom. “An attack on any one of our mages will be considered an act of war.”

“There’s that word again,” says Erskine.

“This is insanity. Erskine, think about what you’re doing.”

“What we’re doing, Quintin, is allowing our people to do their jobs.”

“This is kidnapping.”

“Don’t be so dramatic. We’re just going to keep you separated from your people for as long as we need to resolve the current crisis. Skulduggery and Valkyrie are on the case. When have they ever let us down?”

Erskine turns to them, giving them a smile. “You’d better not let us down.” 

[Video 11]

“We may have a problem,” Ghastly says to Erskine and Saracen. It's evening and they're strolling through a campsite. “There are roadblocks up around Roarhaven. Our people aren’t being allowed in. No one inside is answering their phone.”

“The Supreme Council could have sneaked some people into Roarhaven,” says Saracen, “using Mantis as a distraction.”

Ghastly shakes his head. “Synecdoche said it was Roarhaven mages who stopped her. Whatever’s going on, the Supreme Council isn’t behind it.”

Erskine sighed. “It’s probably just some new piece of bureaucracy that Mist has introduced to ‘improve security’ since we’ve been gone. What do you want to do? You want to check it out? You could even take the nice doctor with you, and demonstrate how full of authority you are.”

Saracen nods. “That’s sure to impress her. It’d impress me.”

“See that? If it’d impress Saracen Rue, it’s sure to impress a lady.”

“Would the both of you just shut up about that?” Ghastly says. “With all this badgering about meeting a nice girl, you’re worse than my mother ever was.”

“Chicks dig scars,” says Saracen. “That’s all I’m going to say about it.”

“You’re a veritable font of wisdom, you know that?”

Laughing, Saracen wraps his arms round Ghastly and Ravel and slows their walk as he pulls them in. “Two men with knives ahead of us,” he muttered. “A third coming up on our left, a fourth on our right.”

Ravel grins, but speaks softly. “This is technically an army camp. Everyone has knives.”

“They’re waiting for us.”

“Maybe they’re fans,” Ravel whispers.

[Video 12]

A security feed cuts in. Madame Mist and a few others are facing off against Ghastly, Erskine and Anton, plus a whole army of Cleavers at their backs.

A man in black steps into view. He looked like a Cleaver, if they weren't wearing white.

There's a slight hiss and Madame Mist's voice comes from the speakers, “—but the Black Cleaver is still the same man who almost killed you six years ago,” she's saying. “I think it only fitting that he be here to witness your death.”

Erskine is the first one to move. But instead of moving against the Children of the Spider, he slips a knife from his sleeve and plunges it into Ghastly's back.

Ghastly falls and and Anton is sliced from shoulder to sternum. The Cleavers hacked at Anton with a detached ferocity, not affording him a moment’s mercy, not even when they take his head.

Ghastly is on his back by now, with Erskine crouching over him. “I am sorry, my friend,” Ravel says, Ghastly closes his hand around Erskine's wrist, tries to keep the blade away - but his strength is gone and Erskine easily disentangles himself and plunges the knife into Ghastly's throat. He chokes on his own blood as he dies.

There's a sudden silence. The Cleavers step away from Anton, their scythes dripping. Erskine stands slowly, looking at the knife in his hand.

Syc walks forward, peered down at Ghastly's dead body and laughs.

Erskine moves so fast it's almost scary. In an instant, Syc is on his knees with the blade that had killed Ghastly pressed into his throat. Portia cries out and the Terror and the Scourge move, started to grow, their arms and legs lengthening.

“Stand down!” Erskine roars. “Stand down or I’ll kill him and then I’ll kill every last one of you!”

The Terror and the Scourge stop growing, and after a moment they returned to their original forms.

“You let him go,” Portia says, her voice shaking with fury.

Erskine ignores her. He hauls Syc to his feet, and leans in. “You do not laugh at this man. You understand me? Compared to him, you’re nothing. You’re less than nothing. He was one of my friends, but you? You’re not worthy to even be killed by the same knife that’s marked with his blood.”

Erskine shoves Syc away from him, and Syc glares but retreats to Portia’s side.

Only Madame Mist seems to have kept her composure. “We’ve had reports from the battle at the Keep. Our forces have been decimated by Mantis and his army. Some are dead. Most are captured.” Erskine looks at her, something unreadable in his face.

“Good,” he says at last. “Skulduggery and the others?”

"Escaped,” says Mist. “Although Mantis has Valkyrie Cain.”

“OK. That should keep Skulduggery occupied for a while, at least. I want Vaurien Scapegrace rounded up. He helped us get in, so he’ll help others. Get Dacanay on it.”

“Of course, Grand Mage.”

“And get someone in to … clean up in here. I want these men given proper burials.”

“Of course.” Erskine looks down at Bespoke and Shudder, and walks out.