Skulduggery Pleasant

Chapter Six A Man Apart

His clothes were ragged and charred, but his skin had been untouched by the fireball that had enveloped him at Gordon's house. She glimpsed his face as she was dragged through the yellow beams of the Bentley's headlights, a face that was twisted in anger and hatred, and then she was lifted and slammed onto the hood of the car that had hit them. His hands had her collar bunched, his knuckles digging into her throat.

"You will die," he snarled, "right here and now if you do not give me that damned key."

Her hands were on his, trying to break his grip.

Her head felt light, blood pounding in her temples. "Please," she whispered, trying to breathe.

"You're going to make me look bad," the man growled. "My master is going to think I'm a fool if I can't get one stupid little key off one stupid little girl!"

The street was empty around them. Shop fronts and businesses had closed for the night. No one was going to hear her. No one was coming to help her. Where was Skulduggery?

The man lifted her off the hood and slammed her down again. Stephanie cried out in pain, and the man leaned in, his right forearm pressed beneath her chin. "I'll snap your scrawny neck," he hissed.

"I don't know anything about a key!" Stephanie gasped.

"If you don't know anything, you're of no use to me and I'll kill you here."

She looked up at that horribly twisted face, and she stopped trying to pull his hands away and instead dug her thumb into the bullet hole in his shoulder. He screamed and let her go and staggered back, cursing, and Stephanie rolled off the car and ran to the Bentley.

Skulduggery was pounding at the door, but it had buckled under the impact, trapping his leg.

"Go!" he shouted at her through the broken window. "Get away!"

She glanced back, saw a figure loom up, and pushed herself away from the car. She slipped on the wet road but scrambled to her feet and ran, the man right behind her, clutching his injured shoulder.

He lunged. She ducked, caught a streetlight, and swung herself from her course, and the man shot by her and sprawled onto the pavement. She took off the opposite way, passing the two cars and running on. The street was too long, too wide, and there was nowhere she could lose him. She turned off into a narrow lane and sprinted into the shadows.

She heard him behind her, heard the footsteps that seemed to be moving much more quickly than her own. She didn't dare look back; she didn't want the fear that was lending her speed to suddenly sabotage her run. It was too dark to make out anything ahead of her; she couldn't see one arm's length ahead. She could be about to run smack into a wall and she wouldn't —

Wall.

She twisted at the last moment and got her hands up and hit the wall, then pushed away, kicking off without losing too much momentum, continuing around the corner. The man couldn't see in the dark any better than she could, and she heard him hit the wall and yell out a curse.

Up ahead was a break in the darkness. She saw a taxi pass. The man slipped and stumbled behind her — she was getting away. All she had to do was run up to the nearest person she could find, and the man wouldn't dare follow her.

Stephanie plunged out of the shadows and screamed for help, but the taxi was gone and the street was empty. She screamed again, this time in desperation. The streetlights tinted everything orange and stretched her shadow out before her, and then there was another shadow moving up behind. She threw herself to one side as the man barreled past, narrowly missing her.

The canal was ahead, the canal that flowed through the city. She ran for it, aware that the man was once again behind her and gaining fast.

She felt his fingers on her shoulder. The first touch was fleeting, but the second was a grip. His hand curled around her shoulder and tightened just as she reached the edge of the canal, and she managed to throw herself forward before he could drag her back. She heard a panicked shriek from behind and realized she had pulled him after her, and then the freezing water enveloped them both.

The cold stunned her for a moment, but she fought it and kicked out.

She clutched at water and dragged it down to her sides, just the way she had done countless times off the Haggard beach. Now she was moving up, up to where the lights were.

She broke the surface with a gasp and turned her head, saw the man struggling, flailing his arms in terror.

For a moment she thought he couldn't swim, but it was more than that. The water was hurting him, working through him like acid, stripping pieces of him away. His cries became mere guttural sounds, and she watched as he came apart and was silent and most dead.

She turned from the bits of him that floated to her and plowed through the water. Her hands and feet were already numb with the cold, but she kept going until his remains were far behind.

Shivering, Stephanie reached the edge of the canal and managed to haul herself out. Arms crossed over her chest, running shoes squelching with every step and her hair plastered to her scalp, she hurried back to the Bentley.

When she got there, the Bentley was empty. Stephanie hung back, out of the light. A truck passed, slowing when it approached the crash. When the driver didn't see anyone, he drove on.

Stephanie didn't move from her spot.

A few minutes later, Skulduggery emerged from the narrow lane she'd been chased down. He was walking quickly, looking up and down the street as he returned to his car. Stephanie stepped out of the shadows.

"Hey," she said.

"Stephanie!" Skulduggery exclaimed, rushing over to her. "You're all right!"

"I went for a swim," she said, trying to stop her teeth from chattering.

"What happened?" he asked. "Where is he?"

"Here and there." The light breeze was passing through her soaking garments. "The water kind of. . . took him apart."

Skulduggery nodded. "It happens."

He held out his hand, and she felt herself drying and saw the water drifting off her, collecting as mist in the air over her head. "You're not surprised?" she asked.

He moved the cloud away and released it. A faint shower fell to the street. "Certain types of Adept magic don't come cheap. As we saw at Gordon's house, your attacker had made himself impervious to fire, and was probably very proud of himself for doing so. Unfortunately for him, the cost of that little spell was that a large amount of water would be lethal. Every big spell has a hidden snag."

He clicked his fingers and conjured fire, and Stephanie started to feel warm again.

"Neat trick," she said. "You'll have to teach me it sometime."

With quite a bit of effort, Stephanie pulled open the car door. She wiped the broken glass from her seat, got in, and buckled the seat belt. Skulduggery went around the other side to his own broken window and climbed in behind the wheel. He twisted the key, and the engine turned, complained, and then came to life.

Her body was tired. Her mind was tired. Her limbs felt heavy and her eyes wanted to close. She dug her mobile phone out of her pocket — miraculously, the canal water hadn't ruined it. She pressed a button and the time flashed up. She groaned, then looked outside as the first light of the morning started to seep into the sky.

"What's wrong?" Skulduggery asked. "Are you hurt?"

"No," she said, "but I will be if I don't get back to Gordon's house. Mum will be picking me up soon."

"You don't look too happy."

"Well, I don't want to go back to that world — a boring old town with nosy neighbors and nasty aunts."

"You'd rather stay in a world where you get attacked twice in one night?"

"I know it sounds crazy, but yes. Things happen here."

"I'm going to see a friend later today, someone who might be able to help us out. You can come along if you want."

"Really?"

"I think you might have a real instinct for this line of work."

Stephanie nodded and gave a little shrug, and when she spoke, she fought hard to keep the sheer joy out of her voice. "And what about magic?"

"What about it?"

"Will you teach me?"

"You don't even know if you're capable of doing magic."

"How do I find out? Is there a test or something?"

"Yes, we cut off your head. If it grows back, you can do magic."

"You're being funny again, aren't you?"

"So glad you noticed."

"So will you teach me?"

"I'm not a teacher. I'm a detective. I already have a career."

"Oh, right. It's just — I'd really like to learn, and you know it all."

"Your flattery is subtle."

"But it's okay; if you don't want to teach me, that's okay. I suppose I could always ask China."

Skulduggery looked at her. "China won't teach you. She won't teach you because there is nothing that she does that is not for her own gain. You mightn't see it at first, you might think she's actually being nice to you, but you can never trust her."

"Okay then."

"Okay. So we're agreed?"

"We're agreed. No trusting China."

"Good. Glad we've got that sorted."

"So will you teach me magic?"

He sighed. "Dealing with you is going to be a trial, isn't it?"

"That's what my teachers at school say."

"This is going to be fun," Skulduggery said dryly. "I just know it."

Skulduggery dropped Stephanie off at Gordon's house, and half an hour later her mother's car splashed through huge puddles and Stephanie went outside to meet her. She managed to keep her mother's attention off the house, lest she notice that the front door was merely leaning against the door frame.

"Good morning," her mother said as Stephanie got into the car. "Everything okay?"

Stephanie nodded. "Yeah, everything's fine."

"You're looking a little bedraggled."

"Oh, thanks, Mum."

Her mother laughed as they drove back toward the gate. "Sorry. So tell me, how was your night?"

Stephanie hesitated, then shrugged. "Uneventful."