147
" Six sorcerers were killed in a Dublin bar,” said Skulduggery, “three nights ago. The one witness we found who would talk said that a big man in a metal mask took them apart, and afterwards he spoke with a pathetic little zombie who cowered and wailed. That was you, am I right?”
“No,”Scapegrace said. He pointed at Thrasher, who was grabbing a lamp post and pulling himself up off the ground. “It was him.”
“Oh,” Thrasher said.
“We’ve let you wander around,” Skulduggery said, “because we reasoned you’re not that big a threat. We didn’t think you’d be too eager to recruit more members, not after your little horde went crazy the last time. But now you have proven yourselves to be a nuisance the world could do without.”
“Spare my master!” Thrasher wailed. “End my life, but leave my master alone! I beg of you!”
“I agree with him,” Scapegrace said.
Thrasher jumped between Skulduggery and Scapegrace. “Master, run! I’ll hold them off!”
“You couldn’t hold off a sneeze,” Scapegrace muttered.
“But I’ll die trying!”
Thrasher lunged at Skulduggery, who pushed him towards Valkyrie, who stepped sideways and tripped him as he passed. "
― Derek Landy , Mortal Coil (Skulduggery Pleasant, #5)
148
" Bet you never thought I’d save your skin.”
“What?”
“Just makin’ small talk. Got to distract myself from the pain, y’know? Life has a funny way of workin’ out, don’t it? Take your friend, for example. The sword-lady.”
“Tanith?”
“First time we met, we were tryin’ to kill each other, remember that? But every time subsequent to that there’s been a kind of a frisson between us.”
“A what?”
“Frisson. It’s French for … To be honest I don’t really know what it’s French for, but I know what it means in American. A sort of electrical undercurrent of emotion.”
“I know what frisson means, but I really don’t think Tanith would share your view.”
“You’re a kid. You don’t know the ways of menfolk and womenkind. All those threats she fires my way? That there is the mark of flirtation.”
“Oh, dear God,” Valkyrie said, the colour draining from her face. “You fancy Tanith.”
“I don’t fancy her, I—”
“You have a crush on Tanith. That is disgusting.”
“What? Why would it be disgustin’?”
“Because you’re a hired killer.”
“That don’t make it disgustin’, just makes it … unusual. Does she talk about me?
“Somebody shoot me.”
“What does she say? I’m a formidable foe, right? Does she say anythin’ in a kind of a more … wistful voice?”
“I don’t want to talk about this.”
“Does she ever say, ‘If only he were good …’?”
“Stop your talking. Stop it right now. Stop it. She has a boyfriend.”
His face fell. “Someone I know?” he asked morosely.
“He may have punched you a few times, yes.”
“She’s not … She’s not datin’ the skeleton, is she? How would that be even possible, let alone … nice? He’s got no skin, or lips, or … or nothin’. And he talks. Good God, he talks and he never shuts up.”
“It’s not Skulduggery.”
“Well then, who else could it …? It’s not the ugly fella, is it? It couldn’t be the ugly fella.”
“Don’t call him ugly.”
“It is him! But he’s all scars! I mean, I know I ain’t got no eyes, but once you get past that, you got my face. And my face is all right. Better’n his. His is a mess, like he was dropped head first into a blender as a kid. Seriously? She’s with him?”
“Seriously, and you’re not going to break them up. Not because you won’t try, but because you won’t be able to. Look, are you ready yet? Can we move now?”
“I’m ready,” he snapped. “But this conversation stays between us, understand? My romancin’ ain’t gonna work if she knows it’s comin’.”
“Believe me, I never want to speak to anyone about this ever again. "
― Derek Landy , Mortal Coil (Skulduggery Pleasant, #5)
