Skulduggery Pleasant Part 9

"I'm sorry for your loss," Ghastly said. "I really am. I respected Gordon. He knew there was magic in the world, and he wasn't seduced by it. He just wanted to observe and to write about it. That takes a strength that I hope has been pa.s.sed on to you."

111.

Stephanie didn't answer. Skulduggery didn't look at her.

"But," Ghastly continued, "to say that his death has something to do with a legend that has been pa.s.sed down from generation to generation, and that has changed with each telling, is just nonsense. He had a heart attack. He was mortal. He died. That's what mortals do. Let him have his death."

"I think my uncle knew where the Scepter is, or he had it, and Serpine killed him, and now Serpine knows where it is, and that's why he wants the key."

"What key?"

"The key to get the Scepter, maybe. We're not sure. What we do know is that he tried to kill me twice to get it."

Ghastly shook his head. "This isn't your world."

"I'm a part of it now."

"You've just stepped into it. You've seen magic and sorcerers and a living skeleton, and I bet you're having great fun--but you haven't the slightest idea what's at stake."

Skulduggery didn't say anything. Stephanie got to her feet.

112.

"You know what?" she said. "For me, this is an adventure. That's what you're saying, isn't it? Well, you're right. I do look at all this as a big adventure, and I'm fascinated and excited and thrilled by it all. I've seen amazing people do amazing things, and I've been amazed." Her eyes hardened. "But don't you dare, for one second, think that this is just a game to me. My uncle left me a fortune--he left me everything I could ever want--he did all that for me, but he's dead now. So now I'm going to do something for him--I'm going to find out who killed him, and I'm going to do what I can to make sure they don't just walk away from it. He's got to have someone on his side."

"This is insane!" Ghastly said, leaning forward in his chair. "The Scepter's a fairy tale!"

"I believe it exists."

"Of course you believe it exists! You've been dragged into a world where you think anything can happen, but that's not how it works. Your uncle involved himself in this, and if what you say is true, he got killed for it. Are you so eager to do the same? You're playing with fire."

"Everyone plays with fire around here."

She felt Skulduggery at her side.

113.

"This hasn't gone the way I was expecting," she heard him say.

"There are rules for things like this," Ghastly said, ignoring her and speaking to Skulduggery. "There's a reason we don't tell everyone we're out here. She is a prime example of why."

Her anger flared and she knew she couldn't talk now without her voice cracking and betraying her, so she barged past him. She walked through the shop, unlocked the door, and walked out onto the street. She could feel the anger twisting in her insides, making her fingers curl. She hated not being treated as an equal, she hated being talked down to, and she hated the feeling of being protected. She didn't much like to be ignored, either.

Skulduggery emerged from the shop a few minutes later. He walked up to her as she leaned against the Bentley, arms crossed and staring at a crack in the pavement.

"So that went well," he said eventually. When she didn't answer, he nodded and said, "Did I tell you how I first met Ghastly?"

"I don't want to know."

114.

"Ah. All right then." Silence drifted down like smog. "It's not very interesting, anyway. But it has pirates in it."

"I couldn't care less," Stephanie said. "Is he going to help us or not?"

"Well, he doesn't think it's a great idea to have, you know, to have you with me on this one."

"Oh, really?" Stephanie responded bitterly.

"He seems to think I'm being irresponsible."

"And what do you think?"

"I have been known to be irresponsible in the past. It's entirely plausible that it's happening again."

"Do you think I'm in danger?"

"Oh, yes. Serpine still believes you are in possession of whatever key he's looking for. The moment he learns who you are or where you are, he'll send someone else. You're in--and I don't think I'm exaggerating here--especially grave danger."

"Then let's be absolutely clear on this, okay? I can't leave this. I can't go back to my dull, boring, ordinary life, even if I wanted to. I've seen too much. I'm involved here: It's my uncle who was murdered, it's my life that's in danger, and I am not about to just walk away. That's all there is to it."

"Well, I'm convinced."

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"So why are we standing around?"

"My question exactly," Skulduggery said, unlocking the Bentley. They got in, and the Bentley rattled to life at the turn of the key. Skulduggery checked the rearview, then the side mirrors, then remembered that he didn't have any side mirrors anymore, and pulled out onto the road.

"So we don't get to look at his family's collection?" she asked as they drove.

"Ghastly is a good man, and a good friend, and precisely the kind of person you want on your side, but he is also one of the most stubborn people I know. In four days, once he has had time to think, he will change his mind, and he will quite happily let us see what we need to see, but until then we don't have a hope."

"Wouldn't the books be in China's library too?"

Skulduggery made a noise halfway between a laugh and a grunt. "China has been after those books for years, but they're locked away where even she can't reach them."

"You know where they are?"

"In the Vault."

"In a vault? So what?"

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"Not a vault, the Vault. It's a series of chambers housed beneath the Dublin Munic.i.p.al Art Gallery, very well protected, where they don't take kindly to trespa.s.sers."

She took a moment, then spoke. "Ghastly will change his mind in four days?"

"That's how long it usually takes, yes."

"But we don't have four days, do we?"

"No, we don't."

"So you know what we have to do, right?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

"We need to look at that collection."

He looked at her. "I knew you'd be good at this. The moment I saw you, I knew you had the instinct for this job."

"So we break into the Vault?"

He nodded reluctantly. "We break into the Vault."

The Dublin Munic.i.p.al Art Gallery was situated in one of the more affluent parts of the city. A gleaming triumph of steel and gla.s.s, it stood alone and proud, its lush gardens keeping the other buildings at a respectable distance.

Stephanie and Skulduggery parked across the road as part of what he was calling a 117.

preliminary stakeout. They weren't going to break into the Vault yet, he a.s.sured her; they were just here to get some idea of what they were up against. They had just seen the gallery staff and a half dozen security guards leave the building, their shift over for the day. Two people, a man and a woman dressed in blue overalls, pa.s.sed them on the steps and entered the Gallery, locking the doors behind them.

"Ah," Skulduggery said from beneath his scarf. "We may have a problem."

"What problem?" Stephanie asked. "Them? Who are they?"

"The night shift."

"Two people? That's all?"

"They're not exactly people."

"So who are they?"

"It's not so much who as what."

"I swear, Skulduggery, you either give me a straight answer or I'm going to the biggest dog you've ever seen and making him dig a hole and bury you in it."

"Oh, that's charming, that is," Skulduggery said, then made a sound like he was clearing his throat, though there was nothing to clear and no actual throat to clear it from. "Did 118.

you notice the way they moved?"

"Very, I don't know . . . gracefully. What about it? Are they dancers? The Vault has ballerina security guards?"

"They're vampires," Skulduggery said. "The Vault has vampire security guards."

Stephanie made a show of poking her head out the window and looking up at the sky. "The sun's still out, Skulduggery. It's still bright."

"Doesn't matter to them."

She frowned. "Doesn't sunlight kill them? Doesn't it turn them to dust, or make them burst into flames or something?"

"Nope. Vampires tan, just like you and me. Well, just like you. I tend to bleach."

"So sunlight has no effect on them?"

"It binds them. It dampens their powers. During the day, they are for all intents and purposes mortal, but when the sun goes down, their powers flare up."

"I didn't know that."

"And the Vault employs two of them as their night shift. The ultimate guard dogs."

"If sunlight doesn't hurt them, I don't suppose crosses will scare them off?"

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"The best way to stop a vampire is with a whole lot of bullets, and since we don't want to hurt anyone, this is that problem I was telling you about."

"There must be a way to get by them. We could disguise ourselves as cleaning staff or something."

"No one works when vampires are around-- vampires don't make a distinction between allies and prey. They can't resist the bloodl.u.s.t any more than a moth can resist a big bright light. They're killers: the most efficient, deadly killers on the face of the planet."

"Scary."

"Yes, well, vampires aren't known for being cute."

"Well then, we're going to have to come up with something really, really clever."

Skulduggery paused, then shrugged. "I suppose I am good at that."

Chapter Nine.

The Troll Beneath

Westminster Bridge 120.

Skulduggery took Stephanie home, and while she was lying in bed that night, finally drifting off to sleep, a young woman in London was hunkering down and peering into the darkness. "h.e.l.lo?" she said. "Anyone down there?" The Thames was dark and rushing beneath her, but no one answered. She glanced at her watch, then looked around. It was seven minutes to midnight, and Westminster Bridge was empty except for her. Perfect.

"h.e.l.lo?" she said again. "I need to talk to you." A voice answered, "There's no one down here."

121.

"I think there is," she said.