The Maleficent Seven. Derek Landy
Quoneel shook his head. “I said we kill people for a reason. If you chose to understand that as only killing the wicked, then how can I be held responsible?”
“But if we kill good people, then we can’t be good.”
Quoneel smiled. “We have a code. We have guidelines. We kill people who deserve death. But sometimes those who deserve death are not wicked people.”
“My brother would never kill an innocent person.”
“You don’t know your brother.”
“I know him better than you,” she said, anger flushing her face. “He’s good and he’s a hero and he helps people.”
“He helps people, this is true. As do we all. That is why we’re here, we knives in the shadows. To help people.”
“Then why did you make me kill an innocent person?”
“To see if you would. To see if you could. You passed that test. The first time is always the hardest. It will be easier from now on.”
“I’m not killing any more innocent people.”
Quoneel smiled again. “You haven’t killed any innocent people, child. That woman murdered her husband.” A long pause. “You look surprised. You think all murderers look like murderers? You think they plot and scheme and twirl moustaches? She poisoned her husband to be rid of him and to get his money. She deserved death.”
“What... what will happen to her children?”
“The mortals know how to deal with things like this. The children will be taken care of.”
The girl looked down at her plate. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Would it have made it easier to kill a murderer?”
The girl paused. “Yes.”
“Then what kind of test would it have been?” Quoneel asked.
Annis felt her heart surge in her chest. Her belly squirmed like it was filled with a hundred undigested snakes. She felt blood rush to her face and hoped desperately that she wasn’t turning blue. Was this it? Was this what so many of her screaming victims referred to as ‘love’? Was this what they felt for the names they cried out as she devoured them?
He was tall, dark, and handsome. He had a quality about him, a mysterious, brooding quality that she found intoxicating. She could stare into his eyes and be lost forever. He didn’t bother sitting. She saw that he wasn’t wearing shoes. Another thing to love about this beautiful creature, this thing, this Springheeled Jack.
Black Annis was a weird one. Sabine didn’t know what to make of her. She’d heard the stories, of course. Knew what Annis was capable of. But the stories she’d heard were of a wild woman with jagged teeth and jagged nails and impenetrable blue skin. The person seated across from her wasn’t blue. She was squat in both frame and face, and her long, untamed hair was streaked with grey. She was somewhere over two hundred years old and Sabine reckoned she could see every one of those years etched into the lines around her mouth and eyes and on her forehead and... good God, this woman’s lines had lines. She looked her age and then some, unlike sorcerers and certain other creatures who had a pleasing habit of retaining their youth. Like vampires.
Sabine didn’t like vampires. They were too still, like statues. And the way they moved was unnatural. No living thing should be that graceful. But there he sat, the vampire, with his beautiful face marred by a single scar. He wasn’t even breathing. At least, she didn’t think he was. It was hard to tell.
Her eyes drifted from Dusk to Springheeled Jack, a creature who couldn’t seem to stay still. When he was in his chair, the hardened nails of his long fingers beat a rapid rhythm against the tabletop, but only moments would pass before he was on his feet again, pacing up and down like he was waiting for someone to let him out of his cage. And he stank. His clothes, which looked like he’d robbed them off the corpse of a Victorian gentleman, were musty, and he smelled of stale body odour. His face was long and lined and his hair – when he finally took off that battered top hat – was lank and greasy. He’d only said a few words to her so far, but they were accompanied by breath so foul she thought she might gag. And he spoke in a London accent so ridiculous she thought he was having her on.
“Luv a duck,” he said, “is this meetin’ gonna come to bleedin’ order before or after we all die of old age?”
At the head of the table, Tanith sat and smiled. Billy-Ray Sanguine stood behind her with his square jaw and his sunglasses.
“Before we begin,” Tanith said, “I’d just like to tell you all how much I appreciate your help in this matter. I know you’re all going to receive a reward when it’s over, but I like to think that you’re helping me because you see a person who needs help, and out of the goodness of your hearts you decided to pitch in.”
The others looked at her, saying nothing. Undeterred, Tanith continued.
“What we have here is a mission. Missions are exciting. You should look on this whole thing as an adventure, and just have fun.”
Again, everyone looked at her. Like she was nuts.
Big, bright smile. “I have a friend who’ll be arriving sometime over the next year or so,” said Tanith. “She’s awesome, and she’ll do some pretty awesome things. But there’ll be a lot of people who will want to hurt my friend, and they’ll use four God-Killer weapons to do that.”
Sabine shifted in her seat. “Who’s your friend?”
“I’m glad you asked me that,” said Tanith. “Her name’s Darquesse and she’s lovely. You’ll love her, you really will. She’s so funny and nice and she’s great to hang out with.”
Sabine frowned. “Isn’t she the one they’re saying will destroy the world?”
“OK, Sabine, for a start, I don’t know why you’re being so negative about this. How about waiting until you’ve met her before you start judging her? Think you can do that? Secondly, it’s not destroying the world, it’s destroying some bits of the world. It’s like a sculptor chipping away at a rock until she gets it just right. That’s what Darquesse is going to do. That’s all I’m going to say about it right now, but I’m glad you asked because now the question has been answered and we can move on. Any more questions?”
Annis put up her hand.
“No questions till after,” said Tanith. “Where was I? Dexter Vex has assembled a group of seven sorcerers, including himself, from different Sanctuaries around the world – Frightening Jones, Aurora Jane, Wilhelm Scream, the Monster Hunters, and his old friend and Dead Men colleague Saracen Rue. I feel, in the interest