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than I.

      “As an extension of that, scientists love to gossip. I heard about a colleague of an old friend of mine. This colleague, a man named Rote, was working on a project so secret he wouldn’t tell anyone what it was. But he discussed aspects of it with different people to get their advice and input. Purely by chance, some of these people got together, started talking about Rote and his odd questions. They each had a different piece of the puzzle, but when they put them together, it began to take shape. The project he was working on, the Accelerator, appeared to be a machine capable of boosting magic, amplifying it to an incredible degree.”

      “It may even correspond with Argeddion’s own discoveries about the source of magic,” Kalvin said. “Maybe Rote found a way to channel that power, to draw it out and use it.”

      “Unfortunately,” said Lament, “we don’t know enough to come to any definite conclusions.”

      “What were they going to use it for?” Valkyrie asked.

      “A hostile takeover. Every sorcerer around the world would get this massive boost of power, enough to turn bullets into dust and missiles into rainbows. Mortal civilisation would be overrun within weeks. Then the Accelerator would be shut down, power levels would return to normal, but the world would be completely different. Sorcerers would be the dominant race.”

      “I’ve seen what that’s like,” Valkyrie said. “It’s not fun.”

      “And this Accelerator exists?” Skulduggery asked.

      “I think so,” said Lament. “And I think it’s hidden somewhere in Roarhaven. Even if it’s half finished, we could work on it, bring it online.”

      “Why?”

      “Because it doesn’t have to be used for its original intention,” said Lament. “It could be altered, used to charge the Cube indefinitely. Skulduggery, you were talking about increasing the Cube’s power by two or three times? The Accelerator would increase it a hundredfold, and we wouldn’t even need the Tempest hooked up to it. Argeddion would never wake up, never escape. And if this Darquesse really is as powerful as everyone thinks she will be, she can be held in a Cube alongside him. We’re talking about a maximum security prison strong enough to hold gods.”

      “In that case,” Skulduggery said, standing up, “I think it’s time I made a phone call.”

      Valkyrie followed him to an empty room. His phone was in his hand but he didn’t dial.

      “What do you think?” he asked.

      “About what? The idea? I think it’s great.”

      “What do you think of building a prison that could hold you? This isn’t theoretical any more – if we go down this road, it’s a reality. We’ll be building a Cube for you, Valkyrie.”

      She shrugged. “That’s what we want, isn’t it?”

      He folded his arms. “Are you really going to stand there and tell me this whole thing doesn’t scare you?”

      She laughed. “What do you want me to say? ‘Don’t build a Cube for me?’ Then what? I kill everyone?”

      “All I want you to do is admit how you feel.”

      “What good is that going to do us?”

      “You need to be absolutely sure about your motivations for going along with this.”

      “So you want me to be honest? Because the two of us have always been really good with honesty, yeah? Because we’ve never hidden the truth from anyone? You know what? Fine. I don’t want a prison built for me, OK? I don’t want to sleep for an eternity in a Cube. I want to be free and stay free and be happy and alive. But I’m not going to get that chance.”

      “We don’t know that yet.”

      “Of course we do. My God, every time I give in and Darquesse comes out things start making sense. Nothing scares me and nothing worries me. I’m pure. I’m content. Do you know how wonderful that is? To feel that? And the more it happens, the harder it is to push it back down again. I... I like being Darquesse. I think I might like it even more than I like being me.”

      They looked at each other for the longest time, and then he took a single step and hugged her. He was cold and bony, but when she rested her head against his sternum, that didn’t matter.

      “Of course you do,” he said softly.

      She stepped back. “What?”

      “I told you,” he said. “Power is addictive. Why wouldn’t you love being that strong? Why wouldn’t you love being able to bring yourself back from the brink of death?”

      “It’s not just that. It’s the way I’m starting to think. It’s the thoughts I have. I don’t even realise I’m thinking them and then suddenly it hits me. It’s not that Darquesse is taking over, it’s... It’s that I’m becoming more like her with every single day that passes. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life in a Cube, Skulduggery, of course I don’t. But we need it. We need to build it.”

      “OK then,” he said. “Just as long as we’re both ready to admit what it might mean.” He dialled a number, put the call on speaker.

      “Finally!” Ghastly said when he answered. “You do remember I asked you to call in every four hours, yes? And that was twenty hours ago?”

      “I was going to call,” Skulduggery replied, “but I was too busy being brilliant. Tyren Lament says hello, by the way.”

      “They’re all there?”

      “All four of them, in a secret base built into the side of a mountain. You’d love it. It’s very James Bond.”

      “And Argeddion? He’s alive?”

      “He’s being kept in an artificially induced coma, yes. There might be a way to reinforce the cage that’s holding him, which should cut off whatever influence he’s having on the world. But in order to do this, we need another machine located somewhere in Roarhaven. Probably in the Sanctuary itself.”

      “What is it?”

      “It’s called the Accelerator. I’ll send you a file as soon as I have one, just to let you know what you’re looking for. It was part of the Roarhaven coup attempt, so it’s probably well hidden. It might not be wise to involve any Roarhaven mages in the search for it – or, in fact, any other mages at all, apart from Ravel.”

      “You’re sounding awfully paranoid.”

      “I have reason to be. In the wrong hands, the Accelerator could be the most devastating weapon the world has ever seen.”

      rand Mage, Elder Bespoke, I was wondering if I could have a word.”

      Ravel talked as he walked. “You, Mr Sult? Are we no longer important enough to warrant direct communication with Grand Mage Strom? Instead, they send a Junior Administrator to speak to us?”

      “We’d almost be offended if we cared,” said Ghastly.

      “My deepest apologies,” Sult responded. “I assure you, we mean no disrespect. It’s just, with the murder of Christophe Nocturnal in this very building, Grand Mage Strom has been advised to move to a more... secure location. But I am fully authorised to speak on behalf of the whole Supreme Council on all matters.”

      “They left you behind, then?” Ravel said. “They must really like you, to leave you in such dangerous territory.”

      Sult smiled politely. “They have faith that I will

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