Playing with Fire (Skulduggery Pleasant, Book 2) (9 page)

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 . . ."

"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

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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

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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

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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."

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"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?"

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"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."

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"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?"

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"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."