Читать книгу Skulduggery Pleasant: Books 1 - 3 - Derek Landy - Страница 24

tephanie was woken the next morning by the stereo playing very loudly indeed. Her dad had been trying to tune into a news station and the volume knob had snapped off, so instead of a quiet little traffic report they were treated to Wagner’s The Ride of the Valkyries at full blast. He had lost the remote control down the back of the sofa and hadn’t the first clue how to turn the stereo off. The music reverberated through the floor and in the walls. There was no escaping its sheer power. By the time her mother had yanked the plug out of the socket, Stephanie was wide awake.

Her mother poked her head in to say goodbye, and as her parents went off to work Stephanie threw on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. While she waited for Skulduggery to arrive, she thought about what would be a good name for her to take. Skulduggery had explained how the actual taking of a new name casts a seal around the old one – so if Stephanie took the name Crystal Hammer (she didn’t plan on it) then the name Stephanie Edgley would be instantly immune to any controlling spells. But while she only went by her given name, she was vulnerable.

If she were to have a new name, it would have to be a name she wouldn’t be embarrassed about in years to come. It would have to be something classy and also something she felt comfortable with. Skulduggery had told her about people who’d taken names like Razor and Phoenix, and how he wouldn’t advise anyone to take a name that seemed cool. He’d once been introduced to a woman who had put on a little weight over the years, and her hair had been a bit windswept and she had spinach in her teeth, and he was told her name was Jet. Jet did not suit this woman, the same way Razor did not suit the short fat man who took that as a name.

Stephanie looked up from her desk as Skulduggery knocked on the window. She opened it.

“I thought girls were supposed to be tidy,” he said as he peered in.

Stephanie kicked some underwear under her bed and ignored the comment. “You OK out there?”

“I’ve been perched on worse roofs, believe me.”

“My parents have gone to work, you know. You could have used the door.”

“Doors are for people with no imagination.”

“Are you sure no one saw you? The last thing I need is for a neighbour to be passing and see you climbing up the side of the house.”

“I was careful, don’t you worry. And I have something for you.” He gave her a short piece of chalk.

“Uh, thank you,” she said slowly.

“Go to your mirror.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Go to your mirror and draw this symbol on it.” He handed her a small card that showed an eye in a circle with a wavy line through it.

“What’s this for?”

“It’s to help you. Go on.”

She frowned, then went to the mirror.

“No,” Skulduggery said, “a full length mirror. Do you have one?”

“Yeah,” Stephanie said. Still with no clue why she was doing this, she opened her wardrobe and used the chalk to copy the symbol on to the mirror on the other side of the door. When she was done, she handed the card and the chalk back to Skulduggery. He thanked her, put them away and then looked at the mirror.

“Surface speak, surface feel, surface think, surface real.” He looked at her again. “Could you wipe the symbol off now, please?”

“What is going on? What are you doing? Did you just cast a spell on my mirror?”

“Yes. Could you wipe the symbol off?”

“Well what does the spell do?” she asked as she used her sleeve to erase the chalk.

“You’ll see,” he answered. “Are you wearing a watch?”

“My watch broke. I wore it swimming. I thought it was waterproof.”

“Was it?”

“As it turned out, no. Why do you need to know the time?”

“Oh, I don’t. Touch the mirror.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Why?”

“Touch it.”

Stephanie hesitated, then did as he said and reached out, touching her fingers lightly against the mirror. But when she pulled back, her reflection did not. She watched in amazement as her reflection blinked, as if awakening from a trance, then dropped its arm to its side and looked around. Then, very slowly, it stepped out through the mirror.

“Oh my God…” Stephanie said, moving back as the reflection joined her in the room. “Oh my God,” she said again, because she couldn’t think of anything else to say.

Skulduggery looked on from the window. “It will carry on with your life while you’re away, so you won’t be missed.”

Stephanie stared. “She’s me.”

“Not she, it. And it isn’t you, it’s a surface copy. It walks like you, talks like you, behaves like you, and it should be enough to fool your parents and anyone else it comes into contact with. When you return, it goes back into the mirror and the experiences and the memories it has made transfer to you.”

“So… so I can be in two places at once?”

“Precisely. It can’t spend too long in other people’s company or they’ll start to notice that things aren’t quite right, and it would never fool a mage, but it is ideal for your needs.”

“Wow.” Stephanie peered closer at the reflection. “Say something.”

The reflection looked back at her. “What do you want me to say?”

Stephanie laughed suddenly, then clapped a hand over her mouth. “You sound just like me,” she said through her fingers.

“I know.”

“Do you have a name?”

“My name is Stephanie.”

“No, a name of your own.”

Skulduggery shook his head. “Remember, it’s not a real person. It has no thoughts or feelings of its own: they’re all imitations of yours. It’s your reflection – that’s all it is. Operating instructions are as follows: it cannot change out of the clothes you’re wearing when you cast it, so make sure you’re not wearing anything with a logo or insignia. They’ll come out backwards. Make sure you’re not wearing a watch or a ring – they’ll appear on the opposite hand. Apart from that, it’s pretty simple.”

“Wow.”

“We should go.”

She turned to him, frowning. “Are you sure they won’t realise it’s not me?”

“It’ll stay out of other people’s way for most of the time and try to avoid any long conversations. Even if your parents corner it and bombard it with questions, they’ll just think you’re acting strange.”

Stephanie chewed her lip then shrugged. “I suppose jumping to the conclusion that it’s my reflection come to life is a bit unlikely.”

“You’d be surprised by how many things we get away with that fall into the category of ‘unlikely’. You ready to go?”

“I suppose I am.”

“Do you want to leave by door or window?”

“Doors are for people with no imagination,” Stephanie grinned and joined Skulduggery on the window sill. She took one look back. The reflection was standing in the middle of the room, perfectly still.

“Bye,” Stephanie said.

“Bye,” the reflection responded and tried a smile for the first time. It looked kind of eerie.

Stephanie climbed out and hung on to Skulduggery as he jumped, displacing the air beneath them to act as a cushion. They landed gently and made it to the end of the road without any neighbours seeing them, but when they reached the pier, Stephanie’s face fell. She stared in horror as Skulduggery marched onwards.

“What the hell is that?” she demanded.

“It’s my car,” Skulduggery answered, leaning against it with his arms folded. The sea breeze ruffled his wig beneath his hat.

She stared at him, at the car, and then at him again.

“What happened to the Bentley?” she asked.

His head tilted. “I don’t know if you noticed, but it was ever-so-slightly dinged.”

“And where is it now?”

“It’s getting fixed.”

“Right. That’s a good answer. Fixed is a good answer. But I don’t know, I’m kind of drawn back to my original question. What the hell is that?”

Skulduggery was leaning against a canary yellow hatchback with lime-green seat covers.

“It’s my replacement car,” he said proudly.

“It’s hideous!”

“I don’t mind it actually.”

“Well, you’re wearing a disguise, so no one will recognise you anyway!”

“That may have something to do with it…”

“When will the Bentley be fixed?”

“That’s the nice thing about living in a world of magic and wonder, even our most extreme car repairs happen in less than a week.”

Stephanie glared at him. “A week?”

“Not a week,” he said quickly. “Six days. Sometimes five. Definitely four. I’ll call him, tell him I’ll pay the extra…” She was still glaring.

“Day after tomorrow,” he said quietly.

Her shoulders sagged. “Do we really have to ride around in this?”

“Think of it as an adventure,” he said brightly.

“Why should I do that?”

“Because if you don’t you’ll just become really really depressed. Trust me. Now hop in!”

Skulduggery hopped in. Stephanie dragged her feet around to the other side and more kind of fell in. She squirmed down in the lime-green seat as much as she could as they drove through Haggard. There was a parcel in the back seat, wrapped in brown paper and tied with string. Beside that was a black bag.

“Is that the gear for breaking into the Vault?” she asked. “Is that where we’re going?”

“Well, to answer your first question first, yes. That bag contains all the equipment needed for a beautifully executed break-in. To answer your second question, no, that is not where we’re going. Before I get to introduce you to a life of crime, I get to introduce you to the Elder Mages.”

“Crime sounds more fun.”

“As indeed it is, though I would never condone crime in any of its forms. Except when I do it, naturally.”

“Naturally. So why are we delaying the fun? What do these Elder Mages want?”

“They’ve heard that I’ve been dragging a perfectly nice young lady into all manner of trouble and they want to admonish me for it.”

“Tell them it’s none of their business.”

“Well, while I do admire your moxie…”

“What’s moxie?”

“… I’m afraid that won’t work too well with these fellows. One thing you have to remember about the Elder Mages is that they’re—”

“Really old sorcerers?”

“Well, yes.”

“Worked that out all by myself.”

“You must be so proud.”

“Why do you have to report to them? Do you work for them?”

“In a way. The Elders pass the laws, and they have people who enforce the laws, but there are only a few of us who actually investigate the breaking of those laws – murders, robberies, a couple of kidnappings, the usual. And while I may be freelance, most of my work, and my money, comes from the Elders.”

“So if they want to wag their fingers at you…”

“I have to stand there and be wagged at.”

“So why do they want me to be there? Aren’t I the innocent young girl being led astray?”

“See, I don’t really want them to view you as the innocent young girl. I want them to view you as the rebellious, insubordinate, troublesome tearaway who has made herself my partner. Then maybe they’ll take pity on me.”

“Wait, do they even know I’m coming with you?”

“No. But they like surprises. Almost always.”

“Maybe I should wait in the car.”

“In this car?”

“Ah, good point.”

“Stephanie, we both know something serious is going on, but as yet the Elders have refused to consider that their precious Truce might be in jeopardy.”

“And why would they believe me and not you?”

“Because I go to them loaded with baggage. I have a history and, some might say, an agenda. Besides, tales of horror are always more effective coming from a lady.”

“I’m no lady.”

He shrugged. “You’re the closest I’ve got.”

Skulduggery had another surprise for her as they drove. He pulled into a fast-food place and nodded to the parcel in the back seat.

“What’s that?” she asked.

“What do you think it is?”

“It looks like a parcel.”

“Then that’s what it is.”

“But what’s inside it?”

“If I tell you, I deprive the parcel of its whole reason to be.”

She sighed. “And what is its reason to be?”

“To be opened, of course, and to reveal what it’s holding.”

“You are so annoying,” Stephanie muttered, reaching back and taking the parcel. It was soft to the touch. She looked at Skulduggery. “The clothes?”

“I’m saying nothing.”

“Ghastly made the clothes already? I didn’t think he was going to make them at all, not after, you know… the argument.”

Skulduggery shrugged and started humming. Stephanie sighed, then took the parcel. She got out of the yellow car and walked into the fast food restaurant, making her way to the toilets at the back. Once secured inside a cubicle, she pulled open the string and the parcel unfolded before her. It was the clothes. They were the deepest black, made of a material she had never seen before.

She got changed quickly, noting how perfectly everything fitted, and stepped out of the cubicle to admire herself in the mirror. The trousers and the tunic, a sleeveless garment with silver clasps, were pretty good by themselves, and the boots fitted as though she’d been wearing them for years. But it was the coat that completed the picture. Three-quarter length, shaped especially for her, made of a material so black it nearly shimmered. She resisted the temptation to leave her other clothes in the toilet, and instead wrapped them in the brown paper and left the restaurant.

“Surprise!” Skulduggery said when she was back in the Canary Car. “It’s the clothes!”

She looked at him. “You are so weird.”

Twenty minutes later they were walking into the Waxworks Museum. The building was old, in dire need of repair, and the street wasn’t much better. Stephanie didn’t say a word as they paid and went wandering through the dark corridors, surrounded on both sides by imitation celebrities and fictional characters. She had been here two or three times as part of school trips when she was younger, but couldn’t see the point of visiting now. They hung back from a small group of tourists until they were certain they were alone, and only then did Stephanie say anything.

“What are we doing here?”

“We’re here to visit the Elders’ Sanctuary,” Skulduggery replied.

“And are the Elders made of wax?”

“I like coming here,” he said, taking off his sunglasses and ignoring her question. “It’s very liberating.”

He took off his hat and wig and pulled the scarf from his neck. Stephanie looked around nervously.

“Aren’t you afraid someone might see?”

“Not in the slightest.”

“Well, maybe we should go and talk to the Elders then.”

“Good idea.”

Skulduggery moved to one side of the corridor and traced his hand over the wall. “Where is it?” he muttered. “Bloody idiots keep changing it…”

The tourists came back around the corner and Stephanie went to drag Skulduggery out of sight but it was too late – they had already seen him. A small American boy left his parents’ side and walked right up to him. Skulduggery was frozen to the spot.

“Who’s that meant to be?” the boy asked, frowning slightly.

Stephanie hesitated. Now the entire tour was looking at her, including the tour guide. “This is,” Stephanie said, racking her brains for a likely-sounding explanation, “this is Sammy Skeleton, the world’s worst detective.”

“Never heard of him,” the boy said, giving Skulduggery’s arm a poke. He shrugged and lost interest, and Stephanie watched the tourists carry on. When they were out of sight, Skulduggery swivelled his head to her.

‘“World’s worst detective’?” he asked.

She shrugged and hid her grin, and Skulduggery harumphed good-naturedly and went back to running his hand along the wall. He found what he was looking for and pressed inwards. A section of the wall slid open to reveal a hidden passage.

“Wow,” Stephanie said. “The Sanctuary is here? I used to come here when I was little…”

“Never knowing that beneath your feet was a world of magic and wonder?”

“Exactly.”

He tilted his head slightly. “Better get used to that feeling.”

She followed him in and the wall sealed shut behind them. The stairway downwards was lit by torches that flickered in their brackets, but the closer they got to wherever it was they were going, the brighter it became.

They emerged into the gleaming foyer of the Sanctuary. It would have reminded Stephanie of the lobby to a high tech company building – all marble and varnished wood panelling – were it not for the lack of windows. Two men stood guard against the far wall, hands clasped behind them. Dressed entirely in grey, with long coats and some sort of helmet with a visor that covered their entire faces, they each had a scythe, a wicked-looking blade on a one-and-a-half-metre staff, strapped to their backs. A slight man in a suit came out to greet them.

“Detective,” he said, “you are early. The Council is not ready to convene. I could show you to the waiting area, if you wish.”

“Actually, I might take the opportunity to show our guest around, if that’s all right.”

The man blinked. “I’m afraid access is strictly limited, as well you know.”

“I was just going to show my friend the Repository,” Skulduggery said. “The Book, in fact.”

“I see. Well, as Administrator of the Sanctuary, I would have to accompany you, naturally.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The Administrator bowed and spun on his heel, and led them down an adjoining corridor. They passed more people in grey uniforms as they walked. Stephanie was getting used to dealing with people with no eyes and no expressions, but there was something about them that unnerved her. Skulduggery, living skeleton though he was, was still fundamentally human, and yet these people, who merely wore helmets to hide their faces, seemed to her much more sinister.

“Who are they?” Stephanie whispered as they walked.

“Cleavers,” Skulduggery replied in a low voice. “Security guards, enforcers and army, rolled into one. Dangerous individuals. Be glad they’re on our side.”

She did her best not to look at them as they passed. “Where are we going?” she asked, trying to change the subject.

“I’m taking you to see the Book of Names,” Skulduggery said. “Some say it was created by the Ancients, but the truth is no one knows who really made it or how it was made. It lists the names of every person living on this earth: the given name, the taken name – when and if a name is taken – and the true name. Every time a baby is born, a new name appears in its pages. Every time someone dies, their name fades away.”

Stephanie looked at him. “So my true name is in that Book?”

“As is mine. As is everyone’s.”

“Isn’t that dangerous? If someone got their hands on that, they’d be able to rule the world.” She let a few moments pass. “And I felt ridiculous even saying that.”

The Administrator glanced over his shoulder as he walked. “Not even the Elders open the Book. It is too powerful – it can corrupt too easily. But they can’t find a way to destroy it – it can’t be torn; it can’t be burnt; it can’t be damaged by any means we have at our disposal. If the legends are true and the Book was created by the Ancients, then it stands to reason that only the Ancients could destroy it. The Elders, for their part, see it as their responsibility to protect it, to keep it away from prying eyes.”

They reached a set of double doors. The Administrator waved his hand and the heavy doors swung slowly open. They walked into the Repository – a large room with marble pillars – which, as Skulduggery explained, housed some of the rarest and most unusual magical artefacts in existence. They passed row upon row of shelves and tables, on which lay items so bizarre they defied description. The Administrator pointed out one of the strangest of these – a two-dimensional box that held wonders to sate the most jaded of appetites, but which only existed if approached from a right angle. In contrast to this clutter, however, was the centre of the room, which was empty save for a pedestal, and on that pedestal, a book.

“That’s the Book of Names?” Stephanie asked.

“Yes, it is,” the Administrator answered.

“I thought it’d be bigger.”

“It’s as big as it needs to be, no more, no less.”

“And it’s OK to leave it out in the open like that?”

“It’s not as vulnerable as you might think. When it was placed here, the security arrangements did cause the Elders some concern. How would it be protected? Guards can be overcome. A locked door can be unlocked. A wall can be broken. A shield can be pierced.”

“So, what? They decided not to bother?”

“Actually, they came up with a most ingenious defence. Willpower.”

“Sorry?”

“The Book is protected by the Will of the Elders.” Stephanie wasn’t sure if he was joking or not.

“See for yourself,” the Administrator said. “Take the Book.”

“Me?”

“You. You won’t be harmed.”

Stephanie glanced at Skulduggery, but he gave no indication as to what she should do. Finally, she just turned and started walking towards it.

Her eyes darted from one side of the room to the next. She thought about trapdoors and immediately started examining the floor she walked on. What form did willpower take? She hoped it wasn’t bullets or anything painful like that. She was mildly annoyed that she was even doing this, walking right into whatever trap the Elders had set up, and doing so willingly. For what? To prove a point that wasn’t even hers? She didn’t even want to take the Book. This whole thing was ridiculous.

She glanced back, saw the Administrator standing there with a placid expression on his face, obviously anticipating whatever was about to happen, whatever was going to pop out in front of her to stop her from taking their precious Book. She stopped walking. If he wanted the Book, he could get it himself. She turned and walked right back again. The Administrator peered at her.

“You didn’t take it,” he said.

Stephanie forced herself to remain polite. “No, I didn’t. But I’ll take your word for it that it’s well protected.”

“When you started walking, you wanted to take the Book, yes?”

“I suppose so.”

“And why didn’t you?”

“Because I changed my mind.”

“Because you didn’t want to take it any more.”

“Well, yes. So?”

“That is the Will of the Elders. No matter how badly you want that Book in your hands, the closer you get, the less you want it. It doesn’t matter if you want it for yourself, if you want it because you were ordered to take it or because your very life depends on it. With every step you take, your indifference towards the Book increases, no matter who you may be or what power you may have. Even Meritorious himself couldn’t get close to it.”

Stephanie looked at him, taking it all in. Finally, she had to say it, there was no way she couldn’t: “That’s very impressive.”

“It is, isn’t it?” The Administrator turned his head a little, as if hearing something. “The Council is ready for you now. Please come this way.”

They walked into an oval-shaped room and stood facing a large door. There was only one light source, from somewhere overhead, and the edges of the room remained in relative darkness.

“The Elders will be but a moment,” the Administrator said and walked quietly away.

“They always do this,” Skulduggery said. “Keep people waiting.”

“My headmaster does the same thing whenever someone’s called to his office. He thinks it makes him look important.”

“Does it work?”

“It makes him look late.”

The door ahead opened and an old man entered. He had short white hair and a tightly cropped beard, and he was tall, taller than Skulduggery. He wore a suit the colour of granite, and as he walked, Stephanie became aware of the shadows to his right. They seemed to shift and stretch alongside him, and she watched as more of them reached over from the corners of the room to join the mass. The shadows suddenly rose up from the floor and melted into an elderly woman in black. She fell into step beside the tall man and their footsteps slowed as they neared. A third person faded up from nothing, materialised right out of thin air on the other side of the tall man. He looked a little younger than the others and he wore a sky-blue suit, the jacket of which was struggling to contain his hefty paunch.

Stephanie looked at the Elder Mages and the Elder Mages looked at Stephanie.

“Skulduggery,” the tall man said eventually, his voice deep and resonant, “trouble follows in your wake, doesn’t it?”

“I wouldn’t say follows,” Skulduggery answered. “It more kind of sits around and waits for me to get there.”

The man shook his head. “This is your new partner then?”

“Indeed it is,” Skulduggery answered.

“No taken name?”

“No.”

“That’s something, at least.” The man shifted his focus to Stephanie. “I am Eachan Meritorious, Grand Mage of this Council. Beside me are Morwenna Crow and Sagacious Tome. Can I assume, because you have not yet picked a name, that you do not intend to involve yourself in our affairs for very much longer?”

Stephanie’s throat was dry. “I’m not sure.”

“See?” Skulduggery said. “Insubordinate.”

“You have been placed in dangerous situations,” Meritorious continued. “Surely you would prefer to go back to the safety of your normal life?”

“What’s so safe about it?”

“Ah,” Skulduggery chimed in. “Rebellious.”

“I mean,” Stephanie continued, “I could get knocked down crossing the road tomorrow. I could get mugged tonight. I could get sick next week. It’s not safe anywhere.”

Meritorious raised an eyebrow. “While this is true, in your normal life you never had to deal with sorcerers and murder attempts.”

The Elders were gazing at her with interest. “Maybe,” she admitted. “But I don’t think I can just forget about all this.”

Skulduggery shook his head sadly. “Troublesome.”

The woman, Morwenna Crow, took over. “Detective, you have petitioned the Council on numerous occasions concerning a supposed threat to the Truce.”

“I have.”

“And as yet you have failed to produce evidence.”

“This girl standing beside me is my evidence,” Skulduggery said. “Twice she has been attacked and twice her attacker has been after a key.”

“What key?” asked Sagacious Tome. Skulduggery hesitated.

“Mr Pleasant?”

“I believe the attacker’s master to be Serpine.”

“What key, detective?”

“If Serpine is ordering attacks on civilians, this is a clear breach of the Truce and the Council has no choice but to—”

“The key, Mr Pleasant, what does it open?”

Stephanie glanced at Skulduggery’s inscrutable visage and thought she could detect hints of frustration in the small movements he was making.

“I believe the key will lead Serpine to the recovery of the Sceptre of the Ancients.”

“I never know when you’re joking, Skulduggery,” Meritorious said, starting to smile.

“I hear that a lot.”

“You are aware that the Sceptre is a fable?”

“I am aware that it is thought to be, yes. But I am also aware that Serpine has been working on tracking it down, and I believe Gordon Edgley may have had it.”

“Nefarian Serpine is now an ally,” said Sagacious Tome. “We live in a time of peace.”

“We live in a time of fear,” Skulduggery said, “where we’re too scared of upsetting the status quo to ask the questions we need to be asking.”

“Skulduggery,” Meritorious said, “we all know what Serpine did; we all know the atrocities he has committed in the name of his master Mevolent, and for his own gains. But for as long as the Truce holds, we cannot act against him without good cause.”

“He has ordered the attacks on my companion.”

“You have no proof.”

“He murdered Gordon Edgley!”

“But you have no proof.”

“He is after the Sceptre!”

“Which doesn’t even exist.” Meritorious shook his head sadly. “I am sorry, Skulduggery. There is nothing we can do.”

“As for the girl,” said Morwenna, “we had hoped her involvement in all this would be minimal.”

“She’s not going to tell anyone,” Skulduggery said quietly.

“Maybe so, but if she takes one more step deeper into our world, it may be impossible for her to step out again. We want you to consider this carefully, detective. Consider what it would mean.”

Skulduggery gave a slight nod of acknowledgement but said nothing.

“Thank you for agreeing to meet us,” Meritorious said. “You may leave.” Skulduggery turned and walked out, Stephanie right behind him. The Administrator hurried over.

“I know the way out,” Skulduggery growled and the Administrator backed off. They passed the Cleavers, standing as still as the wax models above them, and climbed the staircase out of the Sanctuary. Skulduggery donned his disguise and they walked back to the Canary Car in silence. They had almost reached it when he stopped and turned his head.

“What’s wrong?” Stephanie asked.

He didn’t answer. She couldn’t see anything beneath his disguise. Stephanie looked around, paranoid. It appeared to be a normal street, populated by normal people doing normal things. Granted, the street had potholes and the people were scruffy, but there was nothing out of the ordinary. And then she saw him, a tall man, broad and bald, his age impossible to gauge. He walked towards them like he had all the time in the world, and Stephanie stood by Skulduggery and waited.

“Mr Pleasant,” the man said when he had reached them.

“Mr Bliss,” Skulduggery responded.

Stephanie looked at this man. He radiated power. His pale blue eyes settled on her.

“And you must be the girl who attracts all sorts of attention.”

Stephanie couldn’t speak. She didn’t know what she would have said, but she did know that her voice would have been thin and reedy if she tried. There was something about Mr Bliss that made her want to curl up and cry.

“I haven’t seen you in a while,” Skulduggery said. “I heard you’d retired.”

There was something peaceful about Mr Bliss’s eyes, but it wasn’t the calming kind of peaceful. It wasn’t a peaceful that comforted you and made you feel safe. It was another kind of peaceful, the kind that promised you no more pain, no more joy, no more anything. Looking at him was like looking into a void with no beginning and no ending. Oblivion.

“The Elders asked me to return,” Mr Bliss said. “These are troubling times, after all.”

“Is that so?”

“The two men who had Serpine under surveillance were found dead a few days ago. He is up to something, something he doesn’t want the Elders to know about.”

Skulduggery paused. “Why didn’t Meritorious tell me this?”

“The Truce is a house of cards, Mr Pleasant. If it is disturbed, it will all come down. And you are known for your disturbances. The Elders hoped my involvement would be enough of a deterrent, but I fear they have underestimated Serpine’s ambition. They refuse to believe that anyone would benefit from war. And, of course, they still think the Sceptre of the Ancients is a fairy tale.”

Skulduggery’s voice changed, but only slightly. “You think the Sceptre’s real?”

“Oh, I know it is. Whether it can do everything the legends claim, that I do not know, but as an object, the Sceptre is quite real. It was uncovered during a recent archaeological dig. As I understand it, Gordon Edgley had been searching for the Sceptre for some time, as part of his research for a book about the Faceless Ones, and he paid a substantial amount of money to gain possession of it. I imagine he worked to verify its authenticity, and once he had done so, he realised he couldn’t keep it. Nor could he pass it on. Gordon Edgley, for all his faults, was a good man, and if there was a chance that it did have the destructive capabilities we’ve all heard about, he would have felt that the Sceptre was too powerful for anyone to possess.”

“Do you know what he did with it?” Stephanie asked, finding her voice at last.

“I don’t.”

“But you think Serpine’s willing to risk war?” Skulduggery asked.

Mr Bliss nodded. “I think he views the Truce as having outlived its usefulness, yes. I imagine he has been waiting for this moment for quite some time, when he can seize all the power and plunder every secret, and invite the Faceless Ones back into the world.”

“You believe in the Faceless Ones?” Stephanie asked.

“I do. I grew up with those teachings and I have carried my faith through to this day. Some dismiss them; some view them as morality tales; some view them as stories to tell children at night. But I believe. I believe that once we were ruled by beings so evil, even their own shadows shied away from them. And I believe they have been waiting to come back, to punish us for our transgressions.”

Skulduggery cocked his head. “The Elders would listen to you.”

“They are bound by their rules. I have learned what I can, and I have passed it on to the only person who would know what to do with it. What you do next is up to you.”

“With you on our side,” Skulduggery said, “things would be a lot easier.”

A small smile appeared on Mr Bliss’s face. “If I have to act, I will.”

Without even a “Good day”, Mr Bliss turned and walked away. They stayed where they were for a few moments then got in the Canary Car and Skulduggery pulled away from the curb. They drove for a bit before Stephanie spoke.

“He’s kind of scary.”

“That happens when you rarely smile. Mr Bliss is, physically, the most powerful individual on the face of the planet. His strength is beyond legendary.”

“So he is scary?”

“Oh, yes, very much so.”

He drove on, and settled into silence. Stephanie let a few moments drift by.

“What are you thinking?”

Skulduggery gave a small shrug. “Lots of clever little things.”

“So do you believe that the Sceptre is real?”

“It certainly looks that way.”

“I suppose this is a big deal for you, huh? Finding out that your gods really existed?”

“Ah, but we don’t know that. If the Sceptre is real, its true history could have been mixed up with the legends. Its existence does not prove that it was used to drive away the Faceless Ones.”

“Funny. I wouldn’t have thought that a living skeleton would be such a sceptic. So what’s our next move?”

Skulduggery was silent for a bit. “Right, well, we’ve got to work out what we need. We’ve got to work out what we need, how we get it and what we need to get to get what we need.”

“I think I actually understood that,” Stephanie said slowly. The car went over a bump. “No, it’s gone again.”

“We need the Elders to take action, so we need proof that Serpine has broken the Truce. We need to find the Sceptre and we also need to find out how to destroy the Sceptre.”

“OK, so how do we do the first one?”

“We’ll get the proof once we find the Sceptre.”

“And how do we find the Sceptre?”

“We find the key.”

“And how do we destroy the Sceptre?”

“Ah,” he said. “That’ll be the little bit of crime that we’ll have to embark on.”

“Crime,” Stephanie said with a smile. “Finally.”