Dekisme

3. A Little Embarrassing
After a couple of hours of fruitless research, Valkyrie re-entered Erskine’s office to find Conall grinning over a flame he had just produced. It was a little sinister but she couldn’t help but smile at Skulduggery Pleasant’s very first attempts at magic.
“Hey,” she said gently. The tone of her voice didn’t work though; he immediately snapped his palm shut and stared up at her.
“It’s alright, you can do it again,” she said, nodding in what she hoped was an encouraging way. Conall looked uncertain before snapping his fingers and conjuring a tiny flame.
Valkyrie smiled. “That’s very good. Now I’m here to ask you a few questions.”
“Okay.”
She went to sit crossed-legged in front of him.
She had learnt how to question minors a year ago during the Augello Case. A set of four year old Italian triplets had been found looking over the dead body of a mortal steel tycoon in an abandoned hotel lobby. They had been stubborn to cooperate; the language barrier didn’t help and the constant confusion between the triplets was grating to the say the least. And so Valkyrie Cain learnt how to be patient and kind voiced to make them feel comfortable (consequently also being taught how to speak some Italian by Skulduggery who, of course, could rattle it off fluently). Blanca, Valentina and Alessandra Augello had turned out to be the body-morphed forms of the killers, 100 year olds of the same names, but that was beside the point. Her skills with children had grown, she had become partly bilingual and had been allowed to spend a month in Italy, tanning. Oh, how she tanned. Win, win, win as far as she was concerned.
“Do you understand where you are?” she began calmly.
Conall nodded. “Yes. Er-er-ersk… Mr Ravel ex-explained it t...

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...the hideous half of her face. It was a very rare occasion when someone noticed her for the rather attractive right side of her head but she had got used to it. Not bitter at all.
“Who are you?” he whispered, “What do you want with me?”
She smiled “My name is Elvira Dekisme,” she said, “And I would like to borrow your pass-key.”
Without further ado, she stuck a boot through his chest. It ripped straight out the other side with a squelch, hitting the ground messily. Grimacing at the state her shoes were, she tore her foot back out and rifled through the inside pocket of his suit jacket. Sure enough, in the only pocket he hadn’t checked was the little golden disc that would grant her access to the Sanctuary, the disc that all agents were issued with.
She dragged the body across the spindly road separating the Sanctuary from the murky lake and threw it into the water.