“We’ll try to take him alive,” Skulduggery said, “but I can’t guarantee anything.”

Lillian staggered, as if slapped.

Valkyrie passed her. “Thank you for your assistance,” she said quietly.

“Stop!” Lillian cried. “He told me to contact you!”

They both turned. “Did he now?” Skulduggery asked.

Lillian clasped her hands to her bosom, as if praying. “He’s scared,” she said. “You’re right, he’s mixed up with some bad people. He told me that. He’s in a lot of trouble. He said when you went to arrest him, he panicked. He shouldn’t have done it, he’s sorry, but he’s managed to sneak away, and he wants to surrender.”

“So he spoke to you,” said Valkyrie, “told you to arrange all this, and told you to tell us about Ironfoot Road. Lillian, the moment we read your note, it sounded like we’d be walking into a trap.”

She looked horrified. “A trap?”

“How do you even know we’re looking for him? It’s not common knowledge. The only reason we didn’t break down your door is because Skulduggery has been watching you all night. We had been thinking you were in on it, that you were trying to lead us into an ambush.”

“No,” Lillian said, her eyes wide. “No. Goodness, no. I would never do that, and Richard … Richard is a good man.”

“And he’s waiting for us at Ironfoot Road?”

She nodded quickly. “Apartment 4. Just him. Nobody else.”

“We really want to trust you, Lillian.”

“Then trust me! I promise you, this is no trick!”

“Did he say anything else? Anything about some friends of his, about what they’re planning?”

“He said if they’re not stopped then everything will change. He mentioned a war.”

“What war?” Valkyrie asked.

“The war to come,” she said. “The war between sorcerers and mortals.”

29

Looking back on his life up to the previous night, Sebastian had come to the conclusion that he was, in fact, a pacifist, who just happened to get caught up in extreme acts of violence at regular intervals.

If he’d had his way, the last few years would have contained far less punching, kicking, destruction and death than they had, and he’d be a happier person for it. Then his nights could be spent reading books until his eyes grew tired, after which he’d fall into a comfortable bed and wouldn’t stir till morning.

Instead, he had spent the previous night on a rooftop, watching a small house on the edge of the Herbal District. He’d been led here from Bennet Troth’s house by the lumbering man in the coat and hat, the same lumbering man who had given that note to the kid, the same one who – Sebastian hoped – knew where Bennet’s wife was being kept.