Last Stand of Dead Men. Derek LandyЧитать онлайн книгу.

      kulduggery whipped round. “You set us up?”

      Cassandra rolled her eyes. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.”

      Valkyrie joined Skulduggery at the window as a van pulled up and armed men jumped out.

      “I had another vision,” Cassandra explained.

      Valkyrie ducked out of sight. “And you’re only telling us now?”

      “I only told you at this point in the vision, too. If I’d given you any more warning, you might do something differently and you won’t walk away.”

      “So we win this?”

      “Yes,” said Cassandra. “Of course, now that you know the future, you might change it. Fortune-telling – it’s a tricky business.”

      Someone was shouting Skulduggery’s name.

      He grunted, took off his hat and handed it to Cassandra. “Keep this safe,” he said, and walked to the door. Valkyrie followed him outside. Nine men stood waiting.

      “Skulduggery,” said the man in charge, an American. “It’s been a while. You’re looking well for a dead man.”

      “The same could be said for you, Gepard. Mind me asking what it is you think you’re doing?”

      “Obeying orders. We’ve been instructed to take the two of you out.”

      “Attacking us will start a war.”

      “You haven’t heard? The war’s already started. Your side executed Bernard Sult live on the Global Link.”

      “That’s ridiculous,” Valkyrie said.

      “Afraid not. Those two Children of the Spider weirdos did it, not ten minutes ago. There’s a list of people the Supreme Council needs terminated. You two are at the top of that list.”

      “But we’re friends, aren’t we?” Skulduggery asked. “Or friendly, at the very least. We shouldn’t have to fight each other.”

      “I couldn’t agree more.”

      “Excellent. So what are the conditions of your surrender?”

      Gepard chuckled. “I’m afraid your advanced years and lack of a physical brain have led to some confusion. I have superior numbers on my side. The outcome of this day is not in any doubt – the only question is how much you want it to hurt.”

      “Do you know whose cottage this is? Cassandra Pharos’s. She’s already seen this happen. We win. You lose. Walk away.”

      Gepard shook his head. “You think I want to be here? You think I want to fight you? What the hell are Erskine and Ghastly thinking? The Supreme Council has a point, for God’s sake. They’re making sense. They don’t want to take over, they just want to help you maintain order.”

      “And to show us just how eager they are to provide this help, they’ve sent you over to kill a few of us. No, Gepard, this isn’t about maintaining order. The Supreme Council sees an opportunity to snatch up a Cradle of Magic and they’re seizing it with both hands. You may not want to admit this, but you are an invading force.”

      Gepard sighed. “You can’t win. You know that, right? So I’m giving you a chance. Walk away. The report I hand in will say you fought valiantly, but were outnumbered, so you had to retreat. You’re going to lose, but that doesn’t mean we have to fight.”

      “Actually,” Skulduggery said, “your report will detail an exciting battle of legendary proportions in which we prevail despite overwhelming odds. It will be quite a stirring read, I assure you. Many will be moved to tears.”

      “We fought Mevolent side by side.”

      “And now we’ll fight face to face.”

      Gepard looked at him for a long moment and, at his nod, the guns were raised.

      Skulduggery went one way, Valkyrie went another, diving behind Cassandra’s car as the air was filled with gunfire. She hated bullets. She much preferred it when they fired magical beams of energy. At least they were pretty and colourful. But bullets were too small and moved too fast to see. One of them could smack right into your head and you’d never know anything about it.

      One of the men had sneaked round behind the cottage. She saw him waddling behind an old tractor, trying to keep out of sight, and she pushed herself up and ran for him. He peeked out, saw her coming and his eyes widened. He jerked his gun-hand up, but she pushed at the air and he went backwards. She crashed into him as he tumbled, both of them fighting for control of the gun. She held it away from her and he fired – a gunshot so loud it almost deafened her. She hit with her elbow, again and again, and when she hit him hard enough to knock him out she hauled herself off, and realised she was holding his gun.

      Skulduggery was walking and shooting, his revolver in a two-handed grip. Bullets whipped by him and energy streams sizzled. He responded to each one in turn, firing methodically. Valkyrie saw a big guy go down, caught dead centre in the chest. A smaller guy opened up with eyeblasts. Skulduggery spun behind an old trailer, reloaded and leaned out, one-handed, squeezed off a shot that flipped the guy over backwards like some kind of acrobat. For Skulduggery, killing was easy.

      Valkyrie threw her gun down, clicking her fingers and summoning fireballs into her hands. She hurled them as she sprinted, keeping a man pinned behind a van. She was very calm as she moved to his position. She could feel the blood coursing and the energy flowing – she was practically high on adrenaline – but her mind was a calm place of practical things. One step after another. No panicking. Haste makes waste. Use the fireballs to get in close.

      The man stepped out and she whipped the shadows at him, sent them slicing into his arm. He dropped his gun and she clicked her fingers, threw a fireball at his legs, then seized hold of the air as he screeched and yanked him off his feet. He hit the cottage wall face first.

      She turned to see Skulduggery dismantle a fat guy with bad hair. He was unconscious even before he started to topple, and Skulduggery was already darting to his next target.

      Something thumped Valkyrie in the chest and she stepped back. Another bullet whizzed by her ear. A third struck her shoulder. She didn’t even know who the hell was shooting her. She should have ducked, dodged, done something, but instead she glared, searching for the shooter. She saw him, crouched and firing with a startled look on his face, wondering why she wasn’t going down. He shifted his aim and fired at her head, obviously figuring it out.

      Move, you stupid girl, said the voice in the back of her mind.

      She moved. He kept firing. Hitting someone in the head was not an easy thing to do. Hitting a moving target in the head was even harder. He emptied his gun and threw it down, fired an energy stream that missed, then ran at her. She ran at him. Dumb thing to do. He was a grown man. They collided and he flung her right over his shoulder. She crunched to the ground, tried to roll to her knees, but he grabbed her head from behind, dragged her backwards. Valkyrie wriggled and kicked, scratched at his hands, tried bending one of his fingers back. He let go and dumped her, dropped to his knee and his fist came down on her cheek. There was that moment of disorientation that comes with being hit hard, and then he was pulling her hair, lifting her painfully so he could slip an arm round her throat, the opening move to a neck-break.

       Let me out. I can help. Let me out.

      She