“It won’t be a street,” Skulduggery murmured. “But it will be somewhere public. Somewhere densely packed. Like a…sports stadium.”

Valkyrie looked at him. “The All-Ireland Championship. My dad was trying to get tickets. But that’s today. It must have already started by now.”

“Good God,” Ghastly said in a quiet voice. “He’s going to kill 80,000 people live on air.”

Skulduggery turned to Fletcher. “Please,” he said, “tell me you’ve been to Croke Park before.”

“Of course,” Fletcher said. “The VIP area, mostly.”

“Perfect. That’s where we’re going.”

“And I’m coming with you,” snarled Guild.

44 REVENGE

44
REVENGE

Valkyrie was eleven years old the last time she’d been to Croke Park. Her father had taken her to the Dublin Kildare game. She had worn her blue jersey and shouted and screamed and cheered along with the thousands of other people in the stands. The sun had been beating down and she remembered it as a day when everyone around her was smiling and laughing. She’d been buzzing with positivity and had talked non-stop all the way home, a rare feat even back then. Her dad had promised to take her again, but they’d never got around to it.

They teleported on to a wide concrete ramp and immediately Valkyrie was hit by the roar of the crowd inside the stadium. Out here though they were alone, high up off the streets and looking out over Dublin. Fletcher led the way down to a set of doors just as they opened and a security guard came out.

“This is the Executive Area,” he informed them politely but firmly, in the tone of a man who had already dealt with dozens of people who had strayed from where they were meant to be. “VIPs only.”

“We are VIPs,” Ghastly smiled. His façade was up, covering his scars. He walked up to the security guard, reaching his hand into his pocket. “I have our tickets here somewhere. Say, you wouldn’t have seen some friends of ours, would you? An odd-looking bunch, with an old American man?”

“Haven’t seen anyone like that,” said the guard, waiting for the tickets to be produced.

“Pity,” Ghastly said and hit him, catching the guard as he fell. He laid the unconscious man on the ground then rejoined the others as they walked through the doors.

Cream walls and wooden floors, framed photographs and tasteful art. Everything in the VIP area was clean and new and nice and safe. The door to one of the Executive Boxes was open and Valkyrie could see past the people gathered inside to the huge windows that overlooked the stadium. It was packed to capacity – over 82,000 people cheering and singing and waiting to die.

“We’re going to need a Sensitive with us,” Ghastly said as they walked on. “We need someone with psychic abilities to sort through this crowd.”