Kingdom of the Wicked

They worked together to free Nadir of the wires and cables holding him off the ground, and together they laid him on the floor.

Valkyrie stood quietly for a few seconds, and asked, “Can we wake him now?”

“Patience has never been your strong suit, has it?” He slapped Nadir’s face. “Excuse me. Excuse me, could you wake up now, please?”

Nadir moaned, and frowned, and Skulduggery slapped him again. His eyes snapped open and he looked at them, glared at them, and scrambled up.

“Mr Nadir, my name is Skulduggery Pleasant, and this is my partner Valkyrie Cain. We’re here to—”

Whatever those cables were they must have been exercising his muscles as he slept, because there was no sign of atrophy as he lunged forward. He grabbed Valkyrie’s arm and she cried out and he tried grabbing Skulduggery but Skulduggery just punched him. He staggered into the wall and Skulduggery cuffed his hands behind his back, then looked at Valkyrie as she rubbed her arm. “Are you OK?”

“Fine,” she growled. “Just static electricity, gave me a little shock.”

“What the hell is going on?” Nadir raged. “What is this? What are you doing to me?”

“We’re actually helping you,” Skulduggery told him. “You’ve been napping down here for the last fifteen years, Mr Nadir. You must be well rested.”

“Fifteen years? What are you talking about with your fifteen years? I was just in my cell this morning!”

“I don’t generally have much time for serial killers, so I’m going to explain this to you once and then immediately move on. You were sentenced to seven hundred years for multiple counts of murder. You were sent here, to this pretty shoddy gaol. When Mien took over as warden, he connected you to the building and began using you to shunt the entire facility through dimensions. It’s the ultimate security system. No one can break in or break out because the prison travels to eight different realities every second, and it’s all thanks to you. Are you with me so far?”

Nadir gaped at him. “Fifteen years?”

“Indeed. Now then, we are here for an entirely different reason – but if you help us, we will ensure that you spend the remainder of your prison sentence, all six hundred and seventy-eight years of it, in the comforts of your duly-appointed cell. Understand?”

“Fifteen years?”

Skulduggery looked at Valkyrie. “Oh, dear. I think he might be brain-damaged.”

The door burst open again and Mien ran in.

“You!” he cried. “What are you doing? You can’t be here! This is a restricted area!”

“Valkyrie,” Skulduggery said.

She walked up to Mien, and the prison warden turned his attention to her. “This is my gaol and when you are here you operate by my rules, and this is not—”

Valkyrie smacked her palm into his jaw and he went backwards, his legs giving out. He crumpled to the floor where she cuffed him, binding symbols glowing on the narrow shackles. “Mr Mien,” she said, kneeling on his back, “you’re under arrest for, uh …” She looked to Skulduggery for help.

“Improper use of inmates,” he suggested.

“There you go,” she nodded. “You have the right to remain unconscious.”

Mien did not respond.

“Very well done,” said Skulduggery. “What do you think, Silas? Do you think that was well done? How does it compare to the way you were arrested all those years ago? Tyren Lament, wasn’t it, the man who arrested you?”

“Lament,” Nadir said, and spat. “It’s his fault I’m here. His fault I’m—”

Skulduggery interrupted him. “Actually, it would be your fault. You know, for killing all those people. Speaking of Lament, as we were, I need to know the names of his associates.”

Nadir glared. “Go to hell.”

“Silas, now really. Is that any way to speak to the person who has just liberated you from the void? Lament’s colleagues. Who were they?”

Nadir licked his lips. “And what if I tell you? What do I get?”

“You get unhooked, Silas.”

“You say I’ve been here for fifteen years? The last thing I remember is being in my cell. OK. OK, I’ll help you, but in return you hook me back up.”

Skulduggery tilted his head. “I’m sorry?”

“You hook me back up to this thing. Let me serve my sentence here. If you do that, I’ll help you.”

“See?” Mien said from beneath Valkyrie, his voice shaky. “He wants to be here …”

“Shut up,” Valkyrie said. “He wants to be here because fifteen years went by and he didn’t even notice it. But he wasn’t sent to prison just so it could pass in the blink of an eye. He has to suffer.”

“That’s my condition,” Nadir said. “I know a few of Lament’s buddies. He called in three or four of them when he was hunting me. I can help you. I know what you need.”

“OK,” Skulduggery said, “you have a deal. Give me the names.”

Nadir laughed. “Call me cynical, skeleton, but I don’t trust you. I want this deal on paper and signed by the Grand Mage himself – by the end of the day. And I want it on that special Sanctuary paper I’ve heard about, the kind that can only be written on by the Elders. You’re not going to cheat me out of this.”

Skulduggery was quiet for a moment. “We’ll see what we can do,” he said.

Nadir was sitting behind a desk when a Cleaver escorted them in three hours later. Skulduggery slapped the page down in front of him. Smirking, Nadir ran his finger along the embossed header.

“Official Sanctuary paper,” he breathed, then laughed as he started reading. Valkyrie watched him. His lips moved, forming the words. When he’d finished, he looked up.

“It’s already signed,” he said. “I wanted the Grand Mage to sign this in front of me.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Skulduggery said. “He’s a busy man. Too busy to be visiting prisons. You know it’s genuine – only the Grand Mage can write on that paper.”

Nadir tipped a finger to his lips. “And what about dear old Delafonte Mien? How is he going to be punished for his blatant abuse of power?”

“Mien is already in a cell in the Sanctuary. His punishment is yet to be decided.”

“You be sure to throw the book at him, you hear me? I feel violated, Detective. Violated.”

“I’ll throw this table at you if you don’t give us the names we’re looking for.”

Still smirking, Nadir lounged back in his chair. “Lament was a scientist, so he never went anywhere without his muscle to back him up – Vernon Plight. That woman was with them too sometimes, the small one, the psychic. Lenka Bazaar, that’s her name. And someone else.”

“Who?”

“Can’t remember.”