Skulduggery Pleasant (14 page)

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the shadow behind him would make it either morning or evening."

"Which one?"

"How should I know? It's behind him, so it might be morning."

"So what you're looking at is a painting of a man reaching for the Scepter, seeing everything, at a time when it is both the past and the present?"

"I suppose so. What does this have to do with the puzzle box?"

"Who painted it?"

She peered at the bottom corner. "There's no name, just a crest. A leopard and crossed swords."

Skulduggery raised the puzzle box for her to see what was carved into its base: a leopard and crossed swords.

"Right," she said, standing, "guessing games are over."

"That painting tells us that the painter, or the painter's family, can offer us a glimpse into the past, and that is what we in the profession call a clue. A clue is part of a mystery, a mystery is a puzzle. I hold in my hands a puzzle box."

Skulduggery's fingers played over the surface of the box, and Stephanie saw his head

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tilt. He pressed his two hands over opposite sides, making subtle rotations until something clicked. There was a noise, like the whirring of a motorized part, and the top of the box opened to reveal a blue gem-stone.

"Ah," Skulduggery said.

Stephanie peered closer. The gem was a little bigger than a golf ball. "What? What is it?"

"It's an Echo Stone," he said. "Very rare. Generally, it's used by people who are dying. They sleep with the Stone close by for three nights, and in doing so they imprint it with their memories and personality. It's given to loved ones to help comfort them through their grief, or to answer any lingering questions they might have, things like that."

"How does it work?"

"I'm not entirely sure," he said. "I've never seen one up close." He pressed a fingertip to the Stone, and it immediately started to glow. His head tilted again, and he sounded very pleased with himself. "Would you look at that? I'm such a genius."

"You just touched it."

"Still a genius, Stephanie."

She sighed.

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A moment slipped by, and then an old man faded up from nothing before them. Stephanie stepped back.

"Don't be alarmed," the old man said, smiling. He was wearing a robe and he had kind eyes. "I'm not going to hurt you, young lady. I am here to answer questions and provide whatever information I can to assist you in your ..." His voice trailed off. He was looking at Skulduggery. "My oh my. You're a skeleton."

"I am."

"As I live and breathe . . . figuratively speaking, of course, as I neither live nor breathe. But a skeleton, and a talking skeleton at that!"

"I am very impressive," Skulduggery said. "Who are you?"

"My name is Oisin, and I am here to answer whatever questions you may have."

"Well, that's good news, because we're looking for a few answers."

"How did you manage that, then?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Becoming a skeleton. That's a new one on me."

"Well, it's a long story."

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Oisin waved his hand. "Better not tell me. This Stone will work for only a short while before it needs to be charged. I don't have a lot of time to give you the answers you seek."

"Then we'd better start."

"Yes, we had better. Was it painful, though? Losing your flesh?"

"I, uh, I don't mean to be rude, Oisin, but aren't you the one supposed to be answering questions? Not asking them?"

Oisin laughed. "I admit, I'm a little too curious for my own good. On the other hand, I do have an in-depth knowledge of the stories of the Ancients, so in many ways, I'm the ideal candidate. Better suited to this than my colleagues, believe me. Before we get started, could I ask what century this is?"

"The twenty-first," Stephanie said.

"Twenty-first?" he repeated, laughing with delight. "Oh my! So this is what the future looks like, eh? Kind of... gloomy and cluttered. I always thought it'd be brighter, you know? So what's been happening in the world?"

"You ... you want us to tell you everything you missed?"

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"Well, not everything. Just the high points. What language am I speaking, by the way?"

Stephanie frowned. "English."

"English, eh? Marvelous. I've never spoken English before. How does it sound?"

"Uh, fine, I suppose. Does the Stone translate what you're saying?"

"Yes, it does. I could have used something like this on my travels, I'll tell you that much. It would have really impressed the ladies!" He started to chuckle, then stopped. "Not that I traveled far. Or at all. I don't trust boats, you see. If nature had intended us to travel across water, we would have been provided with fins."

"Can we ask you a question?" Skulduggery said. "Again, I don't want to be rude, but if the Stone runs out of power before we learn what we need ..."

The old man clapped his hands and rubbed them together. "Of course, my boy! Say no more! Ask me your first question!"

"You're an expert on the Ancients?"

"Yes, I am. I'm the one charged with the task of documenting their existence. It's a great

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honor, even if it does leave me with precious little time to travel. Not that I would, even if I could. But it'd be nice to have options, you know?"

"Yes . . . Anyway, we need to know about the Scepter. We need to know its power."

Oisin nodded. "The Scepter of the Ancients was created to destroy, and destroy it does. There is nothing that will not crumble to dust under its glare."

"Is there any kind of defense against it?"

Oisin shook his head. "No shield, no spell, no barrier. It can't be stopped, and it can't be destroyed."

"What about its power source?" Stephanie asked.

"A single crystal, a black crystal, embedded in its hilt, capable of channeling the energy that's poured into it."

"And can the crystal be destroyed?"

Oisin gave a little frown. "I've thought about this, actually. I know more about the Scepter than anyone else since the time of the Ancients, certainly more than any of my colleagues, and while there is no record of a weakness, we have translations of texts that suggest the crystal can be destroyed from within."

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"How?" Stephanie asked.

"I, um . . . I don't really know."

"Who created the Scepter?" Skulduggery asked.

Oisin puffed out his chest. "The Scepter was created by the Ancients, as a weapon to be used against their gods. For one year they toiled, out of sight and in darkness, so that the gods could not see what they were creating.'"

His chest deflated and he smiled. "That's a direct quote from one of the first texts we found. I found it, actually. The others were so jealous. That's probably why they didn't want me to be the one to answer your questions."

Stephanie frowned. "You're not supposed to be here?"

"We had a vote. I voted for me. No one else did. They're just jealous. They said I'd waste time, talk too much. So I stole the Stone and went away for a few days to imprint it with my consciousness. They can't imprint anything over it, you see. And now here I am." He beamed, then his whole body faded, became suddenly transparent, and his beaming smile vanished. "Ah. Time seems to be running out. If you have any more questions ..."

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"Who created the crystal?" Skulduggery asked quickly.

"Well, if you'll allow me to quote from the text that I discovered: 'The Faceless Ones created the crystal, and the crystal sang to the Faceless Ones when an enemy neared. But when the Ancients approached, the crystal was silent, and it did not sing to the Faceless Ones, and the Faceless Ones did not know it was taken.'"

"So their security system had a blind spot," Stephanie said.

"It looks that way," Oisin said, nodding. His image grew even fainter, and he held up a hand and gazed through it. "This is sort of unnerving."

"The Scepter has returned," Skulduggery said.

Oisin looked up. "What?"

"It was uncovered recently, then hidden again. We need to know how to find it."

"Oh my," Oisin said. "If the wrong sort of person takes possession of the Scepter . . ."

"It'll be bad, we know. Oisin, how do we find it?"

The old man vanished for a moment, then flickered back into sight. "I don't know, dear boy. Who hid it?"

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"My uncle," Stephanie said. "He realized it was too powerful for anyone to own."

"A wise man, it seems. Of course, a truly wise man would return it to the place he found it. Failing that, somewhere similar."

Skulduggery straightened. "Of course."

A smile popped up on Oisin's face. "Have I helped you?"

"You have. I know where it is. Thank you, Oisin."

Oisin nodded proudly. "I knew I could do this. I knew I could answer questions and not talk too much. That's what I told them. Right before they called for a vote, I said, 'Listen, I can--'"

And he vanished, and the Echo Stone stopped glowing.

Stephanie looked at Skulduggery. "Well?"

"Gordon followed the example of the Last of the Ancients and buried the Scepter deep within the Earth. It's in the caves."

"What caves?"

"Beneath Gordon's land is a network of caves and tunnels, stretching for miles in each direction. It's a death trap, even for the most powerful sorcerer."

"Why?"

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"There are creatures in those caves that feed off magic. It would be the safest place to hide the Scepter. I should have thought of it sooner."

Beneath Gordon's house, a world of magic and wonder she never knew was there. Bit by bit, she was seeing how close magic had been to her when she was growing up, if only she had known where to look. It was such a strange sensation--but what had Skulduggery told her when they were about to enter the Sanctuary? Better get used to that feeling.

Skulduggery closed his hand over the puzzle box and the top slid over, hiding the Echo Stone once again.

"Maybe Oisin has more information," Stephanie said. "How long does it take to recharge the Stone?"

"About a year."

She blinked. "Ah. Well . . . okay then, that's probably a little too long. Still, who knows what else he could help people with? I'm sure it'll be invaluable to, you know, folks who are interested in history. Historians, like."

"Actually, we can't tell anyone we were here."

"You could tell Ghastly. I'm sure he'd forgive the little trespass if you told him what we'd found."

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"Not really. See, this is his family's chamber. It's a sacred thing. Our being here is inexcusable."

"What? You said this was just like a storage shed. You didn't say anything about it being sacred."

"Now you know why I have difficulty keeping friends."

Skulduggery put the box back where he had found it. Stephanie was still staring at him.

"Is this disrespectful?" she asked. "Is this like dancing on someone's grave?"

"A little worse than that," he admitted. "It's like digging up that grave, taking out the body, rifling through its pockets, and then dancing on the whole thing. It's a little more than disrespectful."

"Then yes," she said as he walked over, "I can see why you have difficulty keeping friends."

Skulduggery waved his hand and every candle in the chamber flickered out. They were plunged into darkness. Stephanie opened the door and peeked out. The corridor was long and silent and empty. She stepped out and Skulduggery followed, closing the door behind them.

They crept along the corridor, up the stone steps, and out the wood-and-iron door. They

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moved quickly through the gallery. The corners were the worst, as they were always expecting a vampire to round them just as they approached. They were nearing the main hall when Skulduggery held up his hand.

Ahead of them, crouching in the middle of the corridor, was a vampire.

Stephanie stopped breathing. Its back was to them, so they moved backward, careful not to make a sound. They were just turning when Stephanie saw something out of the corner of her eye. She clutched Skulduggery's arm.

The other vampire was approaching from the opposite direction.

They sank behind a marble pillar, trapped. Across from them was an archway leading into another section of the gallery, but Stephanie was pretty sure that even if they made it through without being seen, they'd be cut off. Their only way out was back in the main hall, with the harness, but their chances of making it without being torn to pieces were getting slimmer with every moment. Skulduggery had his powers, and he had his gun, but she knew he didn't hold out much hope that he'd be able to fend off one of those creatures, let alone two.

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He turned to her, hand raised. One finger, pointing at her, then pointing at the ground. Stay. The same finger, pointing at himself, then pointing at the arch. Go.

Stephanie's eyes widened and she shook her head, but now that finger was at his mouth, pressed against his teeth. If he'd had lips, she knew, his finger would be on them. She didn't want to agree to this--she didn't want to, but she knew she had no choice.

He took his gun from his jacket and passed it to her, gave her a nod, then immediately sprang up and lunged for the arch.

The vampire approaching from behind saw him and broke into a run. The vampire up ahead turned and sprang off its haunches, and Stephanie shrank back as it passed the pillar and took off through the archway, joining the hunt for the intruder.

The gun was surprisingly heavy in her hand as Stephanie crept out and started running for the main hall. Her footsteps echoed loudly in the dark corridors, but she didn't care--the only thing going through her mind was the fact that she needed to get out. She took each

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corner quickly, knowing the threat was behind her, and every time she took a corner, she let herself glance back.

Empty corridor. Nothing coming for her. Not yet.

She was approaching the main hall. Just a few more turns and she'd be there. She tucked the gun into her coat--she'd need both hands to strap herself into the harness. She turned the next corner and skidded to a stop.

No. No, this couldn't be right.

She looked up at the blank wall, her eyes wide. This couldn't be right. This wall should not have been here.

She'd taken a wrong turn. She'd taken a wrong turn in this stupid gallery, and now she didn't know where she was. She was lost.

She turned away from the dead end, wanting to scream at herself in frustration. She hurried back the way she had come, glancing through every arch and doorway she passed, looking for something she recognized. Everything looked the same in the gloom. Why weren't there any signs? Where were the signs?

There was an intersecting corridor up ahead. Could that be it? She tried remembering