Playing With Fire

Chapter Nine THE HIDDEN ROOM

AFTER VALKYRIE hung up the phone, she used the library washroom to clean the dirt from her face. She dried her hands and watched them shake. Her hands always shook after a fight, as the leftover adrenaline took the opportunity to charge randomly through her.

Tanith was waiting for her outside, and together they walked down the stairs. They were headed over to Gordon's house, to see if her late uncle's office held any books on the Grotesquery, and they were leaving Bliss to help China restore some order to her apartment.

Valkyrie had never seen a brother and sister regard each other with as much wariness as they did.

"How did Skulduggery sound?" Tanith asked, breaking the silence.

"Angry," Valkyrie replied, "and worried. He's only okay when I'm attacked by people he knows. He'd never even heard of this Sanguine guy."

"Still, at least we know how Vengeous got out of his cell."

Valkyrie nodded. "That little tunneling trick is useful, all right. I just wish he wasn't using it to get me. I don't much like the idea of being a hostage. Doesn't sound like fun."

They emerged into the open air and approached Tanith's motorbike.

"So how's training?" Tanith asked.

"Good. Well, mostly good. There are a few moves I've kind of. . . mislaid."

"Mislaid?"

"Forgotten."

Tanith smiled. "When this is over, we'll run through it again. You'll get it, don't worry.

How're the parents?"

Valkyrie shrugged. "Parents are fine."

"Have you been going to school much?"

"Ah, Skulduggery makes me go whenever we're not in the middle of a crisis. But that's the great thing about having the reflection — I don't have to deal with all that."

Tanith pulled on her helmet, then flipped the visor up to give Valkyrie a strange look. "I wouldn't get too dependent on that reflection, if I were you. You may absorb all its memories so it feels like you're going to school, but you're not. You're on the outside, looking in at an important part of your own life." She swung her leg over the bike and settled into the saddle.

"You're thirteen, Val. You should be spending time with people your own age."

Valkyrie raised an eyebrow as she pulled the spare helmet down over her head. "People my own age don't fight monsters, Tanith. If they did, I'd be hanging out with them a lot more."

The first time Valkyrie had ridden on Tanith's bike, she had started off holding the sides of Tanith's coat, but as they picked up speed her hands had got closer and closer together, until finally her arms were wrapped tightly around Tanith's waist. Once she'd got over her initial fear

— that they were roaring along open roads and one bad turn would flip them to a painful and skin-shredding demise — she'd started to enjoy the sensation. Now she loved traveling by bike.

It was fun.

Tanith swerved through traffic and took bends at an alarming speed, and Valkyrie started to laugh beneath her helmet.

The ride got decidedly bounder as the bike turned off the road and took a trail. It was only Tanith's superior reflexes that saved them from hitting one of the trees that blurred past.

They burst from the tree line and shot up a small hill, leaving the ground for a few seconds and landing smoothly on a narrow road, then zipped over a humpbacked bridge. Moments later they were passing through the massive gate that led to Gordon Edgley's house.

Valkyrie still thought of it as her uncle's house. The fact that she had inherited it changed absolutely nothing.

Tanith braked and let the back wheel skid sideways a little, throwing up a small shower of pebbles. She cut off the engine and leaned the bike onto its kickstand. They got off and removed their helmets.

"Enjoy that?" Tanith said with a little grin.

Valkyrie grinned back, her eyes bright. "I keep telling Skulduggery he should get a bike."

"What does he say?"

"He says people who wear leathers, like you, should ride motorbikes. People who wear exquisite suits, like him, should drive Bentleys."

"He has a point." Tanith looked up at the house. "So are we going to go in?"

Valkyrie laughed, took the key from her pocket, and opened the front door. "I still find it hard to believe you're a fan."

They walked in. The hall was grand, with Gothic paintings on the walls. They passed through into the living room.

"Your uncle was the best writer ever," Tanith said. "Why wouldn't I be a fan?"

"You just, I don't know, you don't really strike me as being the type. It's like when your friend thinks that your dad is the coolest guy in the world, y'know? It just seems a little silly."

"Well, there was nothing silly about your uncle's writing. Did I tell you that one of his short stories was based on something that happened to me?"

"You told me. Many times."

"I never met him, but he must have heard about it somehow. Maybe Skulduggery heard it, and he told Gordon."

Tanith stood in the center of the living room, gazing around with a slightly wistful look on her face. "And this is where Gordon lived. This is where he wrote his masterpiece. You're a lucky girl, Val. What was it like, having an uncle like Gordon Edgley?"

"We're not getting into this conversation," Valkyrie said. "Not again." She went to the bookshelf, took down a book bound in black, and handed it to Tanith. Tanith bit her lip.

And the Darkness Rained upon Them was the last thing Gordon Edgley had written. It was set to be published in a few months, but Valkyrie had let Tanith read the advance copy. Every time Tanith was at the house, she devoured another few chapters until it was time to go. She loved coming here, and seized every chance she had to drop by.

Without another word spoken, Tanith took the book to the couch, curled up, and resumed reading.

Valkyrie tried not to laugh. She left the living room and climbed the stairs, crossing the landing to Gordon's study and closing the door after her.

Unlike the rest of the house, Gordon's study was a chaotic affair, a mass of straining shelves and piles of stacked manuscripts. She went to the bookshelf that covered the far wall, scanning the titles. This was where he had kept his research material. Very occasionally, Valkyrie would find books on magic in this room that she hadn't been able to find even in the library of China Sorrows.

Valkyrie traced her finger along the spines. If anyone had collected information on a being as bizarre and unique as the Grotesquery, it would have been Gordon. That was his kind of thing.

Her fingertip stopped on a thick, leather-bound book with no title on its spine. She'd seen it before but had never paid it much attention. She tried slipping it from the shelf, but it wouldn't budge. Frowning, she gripped it and pulled. It came out halfway and stuck, and then the wall started to move.

"No way," Valkyrie breathed, as the bookshelf swung open before her, revealing a room as black as night.

A secret room. An actual real, secret room.

Not bothering to subdue the excited grin that spread across her face, Valkyrie stepped in.

The room immediately lit up with candles.

Like the study, the secret room was lined with shelves, and on those shelves were objects both alien and familiar. Among those she could categorize were ornate music boxes, intricate statuettes, silver daggers, and golden goblets.

Before her was a table, and on that table a blue jewel, nestled in a golden claw centerpiece.

A faint light within the jewel started to glow as she stepped closer, and a man faded up from nothing on the other side of the room.

Portly. Wearing brown slacks and a matching waistcoat over a shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms. Sandy hair that perched on top of his head like a loose bale of straw, shot through with gray. He turned and his eyes widened when he saw her.

"Stephanie," he said, "what are you doing here?"

She stared. "Gordon?"

Her dead uncle put his hands on his hips and shook his head. "What are you doing sneaking around this house? I always said you were far too inquisitive for your own good.

Admittedly, it's a trait we share, but I for one am not above the occasional bout of hypocrisy to get my point across."

Valkyrie just stood there, mouth open. "Is that ... is that really you?"

He stopped, like he'd been caught out in a lie, and then he started waving his hands and bobbing his head from side to side. "This isn't me," he said. "This is all a dream. ..."

"Gordon, stop that."

"Go back the way you came," he continued, drawing out his words, "and try to wake up. . .

. Remember, this is all a dreeeammmm. . . ."

"I'm serious, Gordon; quit it."

He stopped bobbing his head and dropped his hands to his sides.

"Fine," he said. "Then get ready for a shock. Stephanie, the world isn't what you think it is.

There is magic here, real magic, and it is — "

"I know about the magic," she interrupted. "Just tell me what's going on. How are you here?"

"You know about the magic? Who told you?"

"Are you going to answer my question?"

"I suppose. What was it again?"

"How are you here?"

"Oh, well, I'm not. Not really. This isn't me. I mean, I am me, but I'm not. See the blue jewel? It's very rare; it's called an Echo Stone, and generally it's used — "

"I know about Echo Stones."

"You do?"

"People sleep with the Stone close by for three nights, and by doing so, they imprint it with their personality."

"Oh. Yes, you're quite right," he said, and looked a little disappointed. "It's generally used by the dying, to help their loved ones through their grief, or to answer any lingering questions they might have, things like that. For me, however, it was more like a writing aid."

"A writing aid?"

"I imprinted my consciousness onto the Stone. Or rather, the real Gordon imprinted me onto the Stone. He comes in whenever he's stuck on a plot point or when he needs a new perspective on a story, or when he just wants a conversation with someone who can actually challenge him, intellectually. We have some pretty interesting talks, let me tell you."

"That's . . . that's so . . ."

"Narcissistic?"

"I was going to say weird, but okay, we'll go with yours. How long do we have before it runs out of power?"

Gordon, the Echo-Gordon, shook his head, and gestured to the centerpiece that held the Stone. "When the Echo Stone is in its cradle, it's constantly recharging. I could stay out here forever — providing there was someone around, of course. It'd be pretty boring if it was just me.

"I have to say, Stephanie, while I welcome the chance to talk to you, and I would give you a hug only I'd pass right through you and that would be strange, Gordon himself is going to be a mite annoyed that you found your way in here."

"Um, actually ... I don't think he will be. Do you remember the last time you spoke with Gordon — the other Gordon, the real Gordon?"

His eyes narrowed. "Why? Stephanie, what's wrong?"

She hesitated. "My name is Valkyrie."

"Valerie?"

"Valkyrie. With a k. Valkyrie Cain. You left this house to me in your will."

He stared at her. "Oh. Oh no."

"Yes."

"Oh my God, I'm ... I knew, I mean, I knew I might be in danger, once I had the Scepter of the Ancients, but, but . . . Tell me the truth, okay? Just be totally, brutally honest, just tell me flat out. . . . Am I dead?"

"Yes."

He covered his face with his hands.

She waited for him to look up. When he didn't, she searched for words to fill the silence. "I understand that this must come as a shock. ..."

Finally, he raised his head. "How did I die?"

"Nefarian Serpine killed you," Valkyrie said, as gently as she could under the circumstances. "Well, killed Gordon. Killed you, I suppose. . . ."

"Serpine killed me? Then he has the Scepter! Quickly, Stephanie, we have no time to lose

— "

"Don't worry, he's dead. Skulduggery killed him last year."

"Oh," Echo-Gordon said, his impetus interrupted. "I see. You know Skulduggery, then?"

"He's been showing me the ropes."

"And the Scepter?"

"It's not a threat to anyone anymore."

"Did you solve the clues I left? The brooch, and the caves?"

"Yes, we did. That was very clever of you."

"The riddle was my idea," he said proudly. "Gordon, the real Gordon, just wanted to leave clear instructions in case anything bad happened to him, but I convinced him to do it all in a riddle. It gives the whole thing an extra flair, don't you think?"

His lower lip quivered for a moment.

"Are you okay?" asked Valkyrie.

"Not really. I'm the memories of a dead man. I'm struggling to find the purpose of my existence. Was there uproar? When I died, I mean? Was there a national day of mourning?"

"Uh . . . not a day, I don't think. ..."

He frowned. "But I was a bestselling author. I mean, I was loved. What about a minute's silence, observed throughout the country?"

Valkyrie rubbed her arm. "A minute? I'm not sure if, you know, if it was an official minute, but I'm sure I noticed that people were ... quieter than usual. ..."

"What about sales?"

"Oh, well, your last two books went straight back into the top ten."

"What about my last book? What's happening with that?"

"The release date is three months away."

"That'll sell well," he said, stroking his chin. "That ought to sell really well, now that I'm dead."

"There were loads of people at your funeral," Valkyrie said. "Lots of people crying, saying how great you were, saying how much you'll be missed."

Echo-Gordon digested this, and nodded. "I will be missed. And I was pretty great." His face suddenly turned sour. "Was Beryl there?"

Valkyrie laughed. "Yes she was, and she was doing her best to squeeze out some tears and get all the sympathy."

"Never liked that woman. I always thought Fergus could do better. Not much better, mind you — the man has the personality of a wet towel. But anyone would be better than Beryl. Oh, Gordon left them a boat in the will, didn't he? How did they like that?"

"Fergus went all quiet and Beryl started squeaking."

Echo-Gordon laughed and clapped his hands. "Oh, I wish I could have been there. That would have certainly been something to see. We have some family, eh?"

"You're telling me. In fact, there's a family-reunion tomorrow night."

"Really? Oh, that's wonderful! Will you bring me?"

"Uh, what? Gordon, you're dead."

"Just put the Stone in your pocket, then leave me in an empty room so I can gaze out at all the Edgleys and laugh. Or maybe I'll pretend to be a ghost, and haunt Beryl."

"That's incredibly mature of you, but I don't think I'll be going. Saving the world tomorrow night."

"Ah, of course. But if you change your mind."

She grinned. "I'll bring you, I promise. So, what is this room? What are all these things?"

All of a sudden his chest puffed out. "These, my dear niece, are objects of great magical and historical relevance. The items you see on the shelves around you are so rare, many a collector would kill to get their hands on them. And I mean that, quite seriously. There is a woman — "

"China Sorrows?"

"You've met her, then. Yes, China. If she knew about the existence of this little hoard, she would stop at nothing to get it."

"Probably wouldn't be a good idea to mention it to her, then."

"You know, I was in love with her for quite some time."

"Everyone's in love with China."

"Ah yes, but my love was stronger, and true. I think she knew that, and I think, in her own way, she loved me as much as I loved her. Or, loved Gordon as much as he loved . . . no, as much as I loved . . . she loved Gordon as much as I loved her. Or something."

"Are . . . are you sure you're okay?"

"Just having a small existential crisis, nothing to worry about." He paused, seemed to reflect for a moment, and then brightened. "So Skulduggery has taken you under his wing, has he? You'll be safe with him. He's one of the good guys."

"Yes, he is. I'm learning all kinds of magic, and he's teaching me to fight.... It's dangerous, but I'm having a great time."

"I used to help him out on a few cases, you know. Nothing big, just a few mysteries every now and then. I wasn't really a throwing-punches kind of action hero, though. I was more into the research, tracking down things, people. So what are you working on now?"

"We're trying to track down this nut job who escaped from prison, Baron Vengeous."

"Vengeous?" Echo-Gordon said. "He's out?"

"We think he wants to bring the Grotesquery to life."

Echo-Gordon's eyes bulged. "The Grotesquery? That is quite unfair! I've been meaning to write a book about that whole thing, and now I'm dead!"

"That is very unfair," she said, nodding in agreement. "So do you know anything about it?"

"A little, I suppose. I don't have any books about it, but I know that it was put together from bits and pieces of some quite impressive creatures. I didn't think it was possible to bring it to life, though."

"We're trying to figure that out too."

Echo-Gordon shook his head in awe. "Astounding. Genuinely astounding. It's got a stinger, apparently, from a Helaquin, and parts of a Shibbach were grafted on. From what I've read, Baron Vengeous had to rearrange its insides entirely, give it a whole new set of internal organs. The heart he gave it, from a Cu Gealach, is on the right side, and lower than usual, about here." He gestured to his own ribs.

"If it does come back, would destroying its heart be enough to kill it?"

"Oh yes. Kill it stone dead."

"Then . . . that's how we kill it, right? Simple."

"Not quite. Because most of it is comprised of a Faceless One, it will heal quickly. The stronger it gets, the faster it will heal, until it suffers no injuries at all. It would take an awful lot to damage the Grotesquery while it's at full strength, I'm afraid. Have you found it yet?"

"No, we don't even know where to start looking."

"You should ask the Torment."

"Who?"

"A few years ago, I heard a rumor that a man called the Torment might know where the Grotesquery is hidden."

"The Torment? Not, like, Joey Torment, or Sam Torment? An actual the?"

"An actual the, yes. He's probably dead by now, if he even existed at all. It was just a rumor. You should ask Eachan Meritorious if he knows him."

"Um, actually, Meritorious is dead. So is Morwenna Crow. Sagacious Tome, too, but he betrayed the others, so I'm not sorry he's dead."

"Oh dear. Meritorious and Crow? That's a lot of people dead. Is there anyone who isn't dead?"

"Uh . . . Ghastly Bespoke is a statue."

"Well, that's something, at least."

Valkyrie glanced at her watch. "I better go. Tanith's waiting downstairs."

"Tanith?"

"Tanith Low."

"Oh, I've heard of her. Never actually met her, but I've heard of her. You know my tale

'The All-Night Horror Show,' from my short story collection? That was inspired by something I heard about her."

Valkyrie smiled. "I think she'd be delighted to know that."

Echo-Gordon gazed fondly at Valkyrie. "You're suited to all this, you know. I helped Skulduggery for a time until I realized I didn't like putting my life in danger. Sometimes I regret taking a step back. But you ... I always knew you'd be cut out for this adventuring lark. It's why everything was left to you in the will."

"Thanks for that, by the way. It's . . . amazing."

"Think nothing of it. How did Serpine die, anyway?"

"Painfully."

Echo-Gordon grinned. "Oh good."

The Bentley pulled up outside Gordon's house just as Valkyrie was closing the door.

"Are you all right?" Skulduggery asked as soon as he got out.

"I told you on the phone, I'm okay. Tanith arrived just in time to save the day."

Skulduggery looked at Tanith. "Thank you."

"Val had it handled," Tanith said with a shrug.

"How did your top-secret sneaky business go?" Valkyrie asked, eager to change the subject.

Skulduggery hesitated. "This is a sensitive subject."

"We're all friends here, aren't we? So where'd you go?"

"Well, I... I broke into the Sanctuary."

"I'm sorry, you what?"

"What you were saying earlier, about how Thurid Guild is like a politician with people to please. It got me thinking. So I broke into his private chambers. I had a hunch."

Tanith stared at him. "That's . . . that's pretty dangerous, Skulduggery. If the Cleavers had caught you . . ."

"I know. It would have been an interesting fight. But I had to risk it, really. I was curious."

"About what?" asked Valkyrie.

"There may be reason to believe that Thurid

Guild was involved in Vengeous's escape."

"Involved how?" Valkyrie asked, her eyes narrowing. "Is he a traitor?"

"My illicit investigation is just beginning. It's too early to — "

"Just like Sagacious Tome," Valkyrie interrupted. "And China!"

Skulduggery tilted his head. "China is not a traitor."

"But she used to worship the Faceless Ones, didn't she?"

"Well, yes, but we've all done things we're not proud of."

"Even you?"

Skulduggery looked at her but didn't say anything.

"How could a traitor be elected as the new Grand Mage?" Tanith asked, and he shook his head.

"These are my suspicions, nothing more. I liberated some files belonging to the Grand Mage — "

"Liberated?"

" — and I'll need some time to go over them. Until then, Thurid Guild is innocent until proven guilty. That said, obviously we still don't trust him. That would be silly."

"Sure," Tanith said.

"Absolutely," Valkyrie said.

"All right then, have either of you managed to turn up anything that will help us?"

Valkyrie looked at Tanith, who suddenly looked down at her boots.

"I've been . . . reading."

"Research?" Skulduggery asked.

Tanith went a little red, and Skulduggery tilted his head.

"You've been reading Gordon's book again, haven't you?"

"It's a white-knuckle roller-coaster ride," she mumbled.

He sighed, and looked to Valkyrie. "And you?"

Echo-Gordon had asked her not to tell anyone about him, at least until he had grown used to the idea that he was the only version of Gordon Edgley left on the planet. Valkyrie had reluctantly agreed.

"I found something in one of Gordon's notebooks," she lied. "Apparently someone called the Torment might know where Vengeous hid the Grotesquery."

"The Torment?"

"I don't know if he's real or not." "He's real." "Do you know him?"

"No," Skulduggery said. "But I know someone who does."