by Derek Landy
The man smiled. "And who might you be?"
"You first," Tanith said.
The man chuckled. "Very well. Billy-Ray Sanguine, master of all manner of unpleasant deaths and purveyor of cruel and unusual punishments, at your service."
"You're a hit man?"
"Not merely a hit man, darlin'. I am a hit man deluxe. I also do muscle-for-hire, and a nice little sideline in mercenary activities. I'm very, very
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expensive, and I'm very, very good. And you are?"
"The end of you," Tanith said.
Sanguine laughed. "Oh, I see. I often wondered what the end of me would look like. Never imagined it'd be somethin' quite so pretty."
Tanith reached into her coat and revealed her sword, still in its sheath. "Are you going to come along quietly, Mr. Sanguine, or do I have to hurt you?"
Sanguine's face fell. "Oh, come on! Look at the size of yours, and look at the size of mine! I just got this little razor here! That's hardly fair!"
"But your blade against an unarmed girl, that's fair?"
He hesitated, stepping back as she neared. "Seemed fair to me," he said, "at the time. At this juncture, lookin' back, perhaps it was a bit onesided. Twenty-twenty hindsight and all that."
She took off her coat and let it fall. The muscles moved beneath the skin of her arms. She slid the sword from its scabbard as she walked toward him.
"Ooh," he said. "Gettin' interestin' now."
Tanith lunged and Sanguine ducked, the sword whistling over his head. Tanith flicked her wrist, and the blade zipped back toward him, but he
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jumped out of range, giving a laugh.
"Now, this is fun! Two grown people, gettin' to know each other the old-fashioned way. Romance is in the air."
"You're not my type."
"You don't know what your type is, darlin'."
"I know you're not it. Mr. Sanguine, I've got some shackles with your name on them."
"Shackles can't hold me, pretty lady. I'm immune to just about every binding spell I reckon you ever heard of, and a few more you haven't. That's what makes me special."
"That and your psychopathic tendencies."
"Oh, those don't make me special. They just make me fun."
This time it was Sanguine who moved first, feinting right to draw the sword away, then skipping in, the razor slicing up through the air.
Tanith lifted her elbow, hitting his forearm and making him miss; then she kicked out at his knee and slashed back with the sword. Sanguine had to dive out of the way. He rolled awkwardly and came up, rubbing his knee.
"That hurt," he said with a smile.
"I can make this easy on you."
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"You gonna give me that sword of yours?" "No, but if you tell me what Baron Vengeous is planning, I'll let you walk away from this." He frowned. "But I drove here." "This is a one-time offer, Mr. Sanguine." "And very considerate it is too. Unfortunately I am a professional; I got paid to do a job, and I intend to do it-- I have a reputation to protect, after all. So how about this: You stand very still and allow me to kill you, and then I take the girl here and we go about our merry business. That sound good?"
"Afraid not."
"Darn. Ah well, back to basics, I guess." He smiled again, and stood with his feet together. Valkyrie watched the surface beneath him start to crack and break, and when it was loose enough, he sank straight into the ground and disappeared from view.
Tanith held the sword ready. The ground had closed up behind him, leaving only hundreds of little cracks to mark what had happened. Valkyrie kept very still.
The seconds ticked by. Tanith was frowning, probably wondering if her opponent had simply
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run off. She glanced at Valkyrie, about to speak, then the wall behind her crumbled and Billy-Ray Sanguine dived at her.
Tanith, for her part, seemed incapable of being taken by surprise and simply stepped away, her sword casually slicing Sanguine's forearm. Covered in dirt, he howled in pain and the razor fell to the ground. He danced back, trying to stem the flow of blood. Valkyrie looked at the ground beside her feet.
"Don't you dare," Sanguine warned, glaring at her with those black holes, but she paid no heed. She stooped and picked up the straight razor, and this infuriated him even further.
"What is it with you women?" he yelled, kicking at the air. "You come into our lives, you take every thin'! Throughout the years you got little pieces of me, of my very soul, and now? Now you got my damn straight razor! How am I supposed to kill people? How am I supposed to even shave?"
Behind Sanguine, Baron Vengeous strode in off the street and stood in the mouth of the alley. Valkyrie tensed.
"Get it done," Vengeous called out angrily.
"Yes sir," Sanguine responded, then lowered his
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voice. "See that? You're gettin' me in trouble with the boss. You better hand over the girl, right this second."
A side door opened, a door Valkyrie had never noticed before.
"Sorry," China said as she stepped out, "that's not about to happen." She had a fresh cut along her forehead but was otherwise unharmed.
A black Jeep pulled up beside Vengeous, and Dusk got out.
Valkyrie saw something, high above, a figure on the rooftop. For a moment she thought it was another of Vengeous's bad guys, and then the figure stepped off and dropped, and Mr. Bliss landed beside them. He straightened up.
Valkyrie saw the Baron scowl.
"Sanguine," he called out, "there are too many of them. We're leaving."
"Be right with you, Baron."
But Vengeous wasn't waiting. He got into the Jeep and Dusk got back behind the wheel, and they drove off.
Suddenly alone, Sanguine stopped glowering. He looked at his adversaries and licked his lips. He was still holding his injured arm, blood trickling
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between his fingers.
"What is Baron Vengeous planning?" asked Mr. Bliss, his voice terrible and quiet.
"I don't know," Sanguine said. "No wait, I'm lyin'. I do know, I'm just not tellin'."
Valkyrie watched him draw his feet together, and the ground beneath him started to crumble.
"Stop him!" she cried.
Tanith lunged, but it was too late. He sank down into the earth again.
"Damn," Tanith said, scowling. "Some 'hit man deluxe' he turned out to be. Nothing more than a sneaky little coward."
"I heard that!"
They tensed, ready to fight, looking down at the piece of broken ground-- and at Sanguine, who was poking his head up through the surface. They relaxed their stances.
"I am not a coward," Sanguine said hotly, looking up at them. "I have just been momentarily outclassed. It takes a man to admit when he is beaten."
"You must be very manly, then," Valkyrie said, which drew a glare from the American.
"No one likes sarcasm, Miss Cain. I've merely delayed my exit to promise you something. You
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took my straight razor, li'l darlin'. That I view as an unforgivable offense. So when the time comes, when you have served your purpose, I swear to you I'm gonna kill you f or free."
And with that, Billy-Ray Sanguine disappeared into the ground. Then he popped his head back up.
"Or at least half price."
And he was gone again.
Chapter Nine
THE HIDDEN ROOM
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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
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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?"
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"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-
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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."
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"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."
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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
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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
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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?"
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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."
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"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 . . ."