Bedlam. Derek LandyЧитать онлайн книгу.
got issues. About everything that’s happened. I think I need to talk to someone.”
“You can talk to me.”
She smiled. “Thank you. But I think I have to talk to someone else. You’re … I don’t mean this in a bad way, but—”
“But I’m a part of the problem,” Skulduggery said.
“Yes. Sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’m a bad influence, and I always have been. You need a professional. China has a few on her staff at the High Sanctuary.”
Valkyrie looked at him. “I might make an appointment, so.”
He nodded. “That’s probably a good idea.”
“Would you ever consider it?”
He flicked the indicator and they overtook a slow-moving truck. “I’m too far gone, I’m afraid,” he said. “I have my demons, but they work to keep each other in check at all times. My mind is in a permanent state of finely tuned chaos that I would be loath to disrupt.”
“And you don’t think it’s too late for me?”
He angled his head towards her. “Your traumas have made you who you are, but they don’t define you. You can live with them, I have no doubt.”
Valkyrie nodded. She was satisfied with that. For the moment.
They got where they were going a little over an hour later. An operative from the American Sanctuary indicated the car on the other side of the street, the one Oberon Guile was sitting in. Valkyrie nodded her thanks to the operative, who ignored her, and drove off.
“I don’t think that guy appreciated handing this case over to us,” Valkyrie said as they parked. “Can we send him a muffin basket or something?”
“No.”
“Then can we get muffins?”
“Sure.”
They got out and Valkyrie crossed the road, approaching Oberon’s car with a bright smile on her face. She motioned for him to wind down the window, and as she reached the car Skulduggery slipped in the passenger side, gun levelled at Oberon’s midsection.
Valkyrie leaned in. “Hands on the dash, if you wouldn’t mind.”
“This is really not a good time,” Oberon said, complying. He was stubbly, and even better-looking in person, and he had a nice accent and a nice voice. It had an edge to it.
“Who are they?” Valkyrie asked. “The people in the house you’re watching?”
“I’m not watching anyone, Miss Cain,” Oberon said. “I’m just sitting here in my car.”
“You know who I am.”
“I may not be the most sociable of sorcerers,” said Oberon, “but I’ve heard of the Skeleton Detective and the girl who almost killed the world.”
“My nickname sucks.”
Oberon looked at Skulduggery. “You can put the gun away. I’m not your enemy.”
“I’ll decide what you are,” Skulduggery replied. “My partner asked you a question that you haven’t answered.”
Oberon drummed the dashboard with his fingertips. “The people in that house are of no concern to you. You want something – tell me what it is so I can get back to sitting here. But, Miss Cain, would you mind getting in the car? I’m trying not to draw attention to myself.”
Valkyrie got in the back, then scooted over so she could look at Oberon while they talked. His car was very clean.
“Bertram Wilkes,” Skulduggery said. “You were in his house last week.”
“So?”
“So why were you there?”
“Maybe I was his guest.”
“For you to be his guest, he would have to have invited you in. That would be rather hard to do, seeing as how he’s been missing for six months.”
“OK then, I broke in,” said Oberon. “He owes me money.”
“How much?”
“Few hundred.”
“Did you get it?”
“No.”
“When was the last time you spoke to him?”
“Well,” Oberon said, “how long did you say he’s been missing? Six months? So, let’s say that I haven’t spoken to him in six and a half.”
“Why are you lying to us?” Skulduggery asked.
“I don’t really see a reason why I should answer any questions at all, to be honest. I’m not part of your Sanctuary thing. You got no jurisdiction over me.”
“We can arrest you.”
“For what?”
“Obstructing an investigation. Wasting our time. Not being forthcoming.”
Oberon gave a little laugh. “That’s a crime now, is it?”
“We’re Arbiters,” Skulduggery said. “That means we can make up our own crimes.”
Oberon sighed and scratched his cheek.
“OK,” he said at last, “I’ll tell you the truth. But you gotta do something for me in return. You gotta help me raid that house.”
Valkyrie sat forward. “Who’s in there?”
“Bad guys,” he answered. “I think they might have my son. I haven’t been able to confirm that because there’s one of me and nine of them – but, with you two, I could probably make a go of it.”
“Why would they have your son?” Skulduggery asked.
“You know who Wilkes was, right? His job?”
“President Flanery’s personal aide.”
“My ex, Magenta, that’s Robbie’s mom, she’s a Sensitive, the kind that specialises in persuading people to do things, oftentimes against their own interests. That’s a very particular talent to have, and it’s one of the reasons we broke up. She’s not a bad person by any stretch, but I don’t think she could resist some small manipulations to get her way every now and then. That’s got nothing to do with anything, though.
“Four years ago, right after we split, she mentioned something about taking a job for a mortal politician – Flanery. It paid good money and it wasn’t overly time-consuming, so she could give Robbie the support and attention he needed. I wasn’t around much, so I got to see him at weekends and whenever I was back this way. It wasn’t perfect, but it worked.
“Magenta was used to convince senators to vote a certain way, to push judges to make favourable decisions, that kinda thing. She said Flanery had an advisor, a sorcerer.”
“Wilkes,” said Valkyrie.
“No,” said Oberon. “Wilkes came later. I don’t think Flanery knew that Wilkes was a mage. Or maybe he did, I don’t know – but his advisor was somebody else.”
“Where does your child come into all this?” Skulduggery asked.
A muscle flexed in Oberon’s jaw. “When Flanery started his bid for the presidency, he needed Magenta more and more. She resisted. She was talking about quitting. That’s when Robbie was taken.”
Valkyrie’s eyes widened. “Your son has been missing since before Flanery became president?”
“Three years now,” Oberon said. “Every two or three days, Magenta gets to spend a few hours with him. As I’m sure you know, I spent most of that time in a prison cell,