by Derek Landy
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 they settled into silence. She let a few more moments drift by.
"What are you thinking?"
He gave a small shrug. "Lots of clever little things."
"So do you believe that the Scepter 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 Scepter 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 skeptic. So what's our next move?"
He 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 Scepter, and we also need to find out how to destroy the Scepter."
"Okay, so how do we do the first one?"
"We'll get the proof once we find the Scepter."
"And how do we find the Scepter?"
"We find the key."
"And how do we destroy the Scepter?"
"Ah," he said. "That'll be the little bit of crime that we'll have to embark on."
"Crime," she said with a smile. "Finally."
162
Chapter Eleven
The Little Bit of Crime
From their vantage point, parked across the road, they watched the vampires, once again in their blue overalls, walk up the steps and enter the gleaming art gallery. The vampires were chatting, and didn't look intimidating at all. A few minutes later the staff and day-shift security started to trickle out of the building. When every one of them was accounted for, Skulduggery reached into the backseat and brought the black bag into his lap.
"We're going now?" Stephanie asked, looking up into the evening sky. "But it's still bright."
"And that's precisely why we're going now," he said. "Twenty minutes from now, there'll be two full-fledged vampires prowling around in there. I want to get in, find out how to destroy the Scepter, and get out before that happens."
"Ah. Probably wise."
"Very probably."
They got out of the horrible Canary Car and crossed the street, then moved through the garden area to a tall tree behind the gallery. Making sure they wouldn't be seen, Skulduggery put the bag over his shoulder and started to climb. Stephanie jumped for the lowest branch, grabbed it, and started climbing up after him. She hadn't done anything like this in years, but climbing a tree was like falling out of one — -easy. The tree's limbs were long and strong, and they quickly came adjacent to the gallery's roof, which was ridged with a dozen skylights. Stephanie hoisted herself up onto a branch and sat there, regarding the large gap between building and tree with curiosity. It looked too far to jump.
"You sure I can't come with you?" Stephanie asked.
"I need you out here in case something goes terribly, terribly wrong."
"Like what?"
"Oh, any one of a number of things."
"Fills me with confidence, that," she muttered.
Skulduggery maneuvered himself onto the longest branch and then walked, bent legged and stooped over, along its length. His balance was unnatural. But there was still that gap. Without pausing, he sprang forward off the branch. He brought his arms up, and a tremendous gust of wind buffeted him over to the rooftop.
Stephanie promised herself that one day she'd get him to teach her how to do that.
Skulduggery looked back. "The gallery is outfitted with the most elaborate security system," he said as he opened the bag. "But because of the vampires, the alarms on the outer corridors are never set, so once I get by the main hall, it should be smooth sailing, as they say."
"As who say?"
"I don't know. People who sail, presumably." He opened the bag and took out a harness, which he started to strap himself into. He looked up at her. "Where was I?"
"I have no idea."
"Oh yes, my cunning plan. I need to access a control panel on the east wall. From there, I can disable everything. The floor is pressure-sensitive, so I'm going to have to stay off it, but that shouldn't be a problem for someone of my natural grace and agility."
"You're very impressed with yourself, aren't you?"
"Exceedingly so." He secured a thin wire onto a ventilation duct, looped it through his harness, and led it back to one of the skylights.
Stephanie frowned. "You're going to lower yourself down from here?"
"Yes. That's the fun bit."
"Right. But you're going to have to open the skylight, yes? Won't that set off an alarm?"
"Only a small one," he said with confidence.
She stared at him. "And wouldn't that be enough?"
"It's a silent little thing, hooked up to the nearby police station. Or it was hooked up. I passed by their transformer box before I collected you this morning. Oddly enough, it happened to short out at the exact same time. Something to do with a large amount of water mysteriously manifesting inside. I think they're baffled. They certainly looked baffled. ..."
"And your entire plan hinges on the hope that they haven't restored electricity yet?"
"Well, yes," he said after a slight hesitation. "But anyway ..."
He looked over at the setting sun, then looked back at Stephanie.
"If you hear any screaming," he said, "that'll be me."
He passed his hand over the lock, and it broke apart; then he opened one of the halves of the skylight and climbed over the side. She watched him disappear into it, and then heard a slight whirring as he used a handheld control to lower himself in the harness.
Stephanie sat back against the trunk, keeping an eye out for ... whatever she was supposed to be keeping an eye out for. Anything unusual. She frowned to herself, not entirely certain of what constituted "unusual" anymore, and then she heard an unsettling scraping noise. She looked up.
The wire Skulduggery had attached to the ventilation duct was slipping.
She watched in horror as it slipped again, getting closer to the edge, closer to slipping off entirely. She thought of the pressure-sensitive floor, thought about Skulduggery crashing down and setting off every alarm in the place and the vampires running in and catching him.
Although he didn't have any blood for them to drink, she was sure they'd be able to find some other ways to punish the trespass.
The wire slipped again, and Stephanie knew she didn't have a choice. She crawled along the same branch Skulduggery had jumped from, and it groaned beneath her weight. Skulduggery was nothing but bones, she reminded herself in an effort not to feel fat.
The gap was gaping. It was a gaping gap.
Stephanie shook her head — she couldn't make it. There was no way she could jump that. With a decent run at it, she might have had a chance, but from crouching on the end of an unsteady branch? She closed her eyes, forcing the doubts from her mind. It wasn't a choice, she reminded herself. It wasn't a question of whether she could jump, or would jump. Skulduggery needed her help, and he needed it now, so it was a question of when she did jump, and of what would happen then.
So she jumped.
She stretched out and the ground moved far beneath her and the edge of the building rushed at her and then she started to dip. Her right hand thudded against the edge and her fingers gripped it and the rest of her body slammed
into the side of the building. She almost fell, but she shot her left hand up to join her right and held on. She pulled herself up, little by little, until she could get an arm over the edge, and soon she was safe. She had made it.
The wire slipped again. It was about to snap from the duct, and then it'd all be over. She ran to it, got her fingers around the wire, and tried to tug it down again, but it was no use. She stood up, put the sole of her boot against the wire, and used all her weight to try and push it down, but she didn't make the slightest bit of difference. She looked around for something to use, saw Skullduggery's bag, and snatched it up. Nothing inside but more wire.
She grabbed the wire and dropped to her knees, tying a new piece to the wire already attached to the harness. Her father had taught her all about knots when she was little, and although she couldn't remember the names of most of them, she knew which knot suited this occasion.
With the new length of wire added, she looked around for something to secure it to. There was another skylight right in front of her. She ran to it, wrapping the wire around the entire concrete base and getting it tied off just as the first piece of wire shot off the duct. There was a sudden snap as the wire went taut again, but it stayed secure.
Stephanie hurried over to the open skylight and looked down. Skulduggery was hovering right above the floor, trying to stay horizontal after the sudden drop. The motion control for the harness was still in his hand, but both arms were outstretched for maximum balance, and he couldn't move himself back up.
There was a second control on the roof beside Stephanie, attached to the harness with a lead that twisted down around the wire through the skylight. Stephanie grabbed the control and jammed her finger against the up button, and Skulduggery started whirring upward.
When he was safe, he raised his head, saw her, and gave her the thumbs-up. He took over the controls, positioning himself next to the wall, by the panel that he had already opened.
Stephanie watched him flick a few switches, and then he spun himself gently. His feet touched the floor. No alarms went off.
He undid the latch on the harness and stepped out of it, then looked up. A moment passed, and he motioned for her to come down. Grinning, Stephanie recalled the harness, strapped herself in, climbed over the edge, and lowered herself. Skulduggery helped her unlatch it.
"I suppose I could do with some backup," he whispered, and she smiled.
The gallery was big and spacious and white. There were huge glass sections in the walls. The main hall was full of paintings and sculptures, artfully arranged so that it was neither cluttered nor sparse.
They moved to the double doors and listened intently. Skulduggery opened one of the doors, checked outside, and nodded to Stephanie. They crept out, closing the door behind them. She followed him through the white corridors, around turns and through archways. She caught him glancing out the windows as they passed. Night was coming.
They got to a small alcove, away from the main hub of the gallery. Within this alcove was a heavy wooden door, crisscrossed by a grid of bolted steel. Skulduggery whispered for her to keep watch and then hurried to the door, taking something from his pocket.
Stephanie crouched where she was, peering into the ever-increasing gloom. She glanced back at Skulduggery as he worked at picking the lock. There was a window next to her. The sun had gone down.
She heard footsteps and shrank back. The man in the blue overalls had appeared around the corner on the far side of the opposite corridor. He was walking slowly, like any security guard she'd see in a mall. Casual, uninterested, bored. She felt Skulduggery sneak up behind her, but he didn't say anything.
The man's hand went to his belly, and then he doubled over as if in pain. Stephanie wished she was closer. If he sprouted fangs, she'd hardly be able to see them from here. The man straightened up and arched his spine, and the sounds of his bones cracking echoed through the corridor. Then he reached up and grabbed his hair and pulled his skin off.
Stephanie stifled a gasp. In one fluid movement he had pulled it all off — hair, skin, clothes — and he was pale underneath, and bald, and his eyes were big and black. He moved like a cat, kicking off the remnants of his human form. She didn't have to be closer to see his fangs; they were big and jagged and hideous, and now she was quite content to be viewing them from a distance. These weren't the vampires she'd seen on TV; these weren't sexy people in long coats and sunglasses. These were animals.
She felt Skulduggery's hand on her shoulder, and he pulled her back a fraction, very gently, just before the vampire looked over. It moved away from them, down the corridor, in search of prey.
Stephanie followed Skulduggery to the door, and they passed through and closed it behind them. Skulduggery wasn't creeping anymore, but Stephanie didn't dare make a sound. He led the way down beneath the gallery, a flame in his hand lighting the steps. It was cold down here.
They were in an old corridor now with heavy doors on either side, and they walked until they came to a door with a crest etched into it — a shield and a bear. Skulduggery raised both hands and lowered his head and didn't move for almost a minute. Then the door clicked and they stepped in.
Chapter Twelve
Vampires
Skulduggery clicked his fingers, and candles flared up all around the chamber. There were books piled on books, and artifacts and statues, and paintings and wood carvings, and there was even a suit of armor to one side.
"This all has to do with the Scepter?" Stephanie asked in a whisper.
"It all has to do with the Ancients," Skulduggery answered, "so I'm sure there must be something about the Scepter in all this. I honestly didn't expect there to be this much. You don't have to whisper, by the way."
"There are vampires above us."
"These chambers are sealed. I broke the locking seal, but the sound seal is still in place. Did you know locking seals have to be dismantled every single time you want to go through, and then crafted again once you leave? I don't see what's wrong with a good old-fashioned key. That would certainly keep someone like me out. Well, until I knocked the door down."
"What's a sound seal?" she whispered.
"Hm? Oh. Even if they were standing outside the door and you were shouting at the top of your voice, they wouldn't hear you."
"Ah," she said, "okay then." But she still kept her voice low.
They started searching. Some of the books were about the legends of the Ancients, some took a more practical and analytical viewpoint, and some were written in languages Stephanie didn't recognize. A few of the books held nothing but blank pages, yet Skulduggery seemed able to read them, although he said they contained nothing of immediate interest.
She started rooting through a collection of paintings stacked in frames against the wall. A lot of them showed people holding the Scepter aloft and looking heroic. The paintings fell, and she stooped to push them back up. She looked at the painting in front of her, recognizing it from the book she had seen in Skulduggery's car: a man shielding his eyes from a glowing Scepter as he reached for it. This was the full painting, not the truncated little rectangle on a page. Skulduggery glanced over as she put the pictures back the way she had found them. She approached the suit of armor, noting the shield and bear etched into the breastplate.
"Family crest?" she asked.
"Sorry?" Skulduggery said, looking up. "Oh, yes. We don't have family names that we can keep, so crests serve as our only link to our ancestors."
"Do you have a crest?"
He hesitated. "I used to. I don't anymore."
She turned. "Why not?"
"I abandoned it, actually."
"Why?"
"You ask an awful lot of questions."
"When I grow up, I want to be a detective just like you."
He looked over and saw her grinning. He laughed. "I suppose you do share my penchant for raising Cain."
"Raising what now?"
"It's an old expression. It means 'to make trouble.'"
/> "Well, why can't you say making trouble? Why do you always have to use these words that I don't know?"
"You should read more."
"I read enough. I should get out more."
He held a small box up to the light, turning it over in his hands and examining it from every angle.
"What's that?" she asked.
"It's a puzzle box."
"Can't you play with it some other time?"
"The purpose of a puzzle box, its whole raison d'etre, is to be solved."
"What kind of raisin?"
"Raison d'etre. It's French for 'reason to be.'"
"There you go again. Why didn't you just say reason to be? Why do you have to complicate things?"
"My point is, leaving a puzzle box unsolved is like leaving a song unsung. It may as well cease to exist."
"There's a crossword in the paper my dad gets every single day. He starts it, makes up nonsensical words to fill in the blanks of the ones he doesn't know, and abandons the puzzle. I'll give you every paper we have lying about the house if you put that down and get back to searching."
"I've given up searching."
She stared at him. "And they say my generation has a short attention span."
"That painting you were looking at — notice anything strange about it?"
"There were a lot of paintings."
"The man reaching for the Scepter."
"What about it?"
"Did you notice anything unusual about it?"
She went over to the wall again and moved the frames one by one till she came to the painting he was talking about.
"Okay, unusual like how?"
"Describe it to me."
She moved the others out of the way so that she could take a better look. "There's this man, he's reaching for the Scepter, it's glowing . . . and that's it."
"Nothing strange about him?"
"No, not really ..." She frowned. "Well..."
"Yes?"
"The Scepter's really bright and he's got one hand shielding his eyes, but both eyes are wide open."
"So?"
"So if it's really that bright, you'd kind of expect him to be squinting, at least. Even if it is just a picture."
