Scepter of the Ancients (10 page)

“They’re not exactly people.”

“So who are they?”

“It’s not so much
who
as
what
.”

“I swear, Skulduggery, you either give me a straight answer or I’m going to the biggest dog you’ve ever seen and making him dig a hole and bury you in it.”

“Oh, that’s charming, that is,” Skulduggery said, then made a sound like he was clearing his throat, though there was nothing to clear and no actual throat to clear it from. “Did you notice
the way they moved?”

“Very, I don’t know … gracefully. What about it? Are they dancers? The Vault has ballerina security guards?”

“They’re vampires,” Skulduggery said. “The Vault has
vampire
security guards.”

Stephanie made a show of poking her head out the window and looking up at the sky. “The sun’s still out, Skulduggery. It’s still bright.”

“Doesn’t matter to them.”

She frowned. “Doesn’t sunlight kill them? Doesn’t it turn them to dust, or make them burst into flames or something?”

“Nope. Vampires tan, just like you and me. Well, just like you. I tend to bleach.”

“So sunlight has no effect on them?”

“It binds them. It dampens their powers. During the day, they are for all intents and purposes mortal, but when the sun goes down, their powers flare up.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“And the Vault employs two of them as their night shift. The ultimate guard dogs.”

“If sunlight doesn’t hurt them, I don’t suppose crosses will scare them off?”

“The best way to stop a vampire is with a whole lot of bullets, and since we don’t want to hurt anyone, this is that problem I was telling you about.”

“There must be a way to get by them. We could disguise ourselves as cleaning staff or something.”

“No one works when vampires are around—vampires don’t make a distinction between allies and prey. They can’t resist the bloodlust any more than a moth can resist a big bright light. They’re killers: the most efficient, deadly killers on the face of the planet.”

“Scary.”

“Yes, well, vampires aren’t known for being cute.”

“Well then, we’re going to have to come up with something really, really clever.”

Skulduggery paused, then shrugged. “I suppose I
am
good at that.”

S
KULDUGGERY TOOK
Stephanie home, and while she was lying in bed that night, finally drifting off to sleep, a young woman in London was hunkering down and peering into the darkness.

“Hello?” she said. “Anyone down there?”

The Thames was dark and rushing beneath her, but no one answered. She glanced at her watch, then looked around. It was seven minutes to midnight, and Westminster Bridge was empty except for her. Perfect.

“Hello?” she said again. “I need to talk to you.”

A voice answered, “There’s no one down here.”

“I think there is,” she said.

“No,” came the voice. “No one.”

“I think there’s a troll down there,” the young woman said. “And I need to talk to him.”

A face rose up out of the shadows, small and wrinkled, with large ears and a shock of spiky black hair. Huge eyes blinked at her.

“What do you want?” the troll asked.

“I want to talk to you,” the young woman answered. “I’m Tanith Low; what’s your name?”

The troll shook his head. “No no, not telling. Not telling that.”

“Oh yes,” Tanith said, “trolls have only one name, isn’t that right?”

“Yes yes, one name. No telling.”

“But I can guess, isn’t that how it goes? If I guess your name correctly, what happens then?”

The troll grinned, showing lots of sharp yellow teeth. “You get to live,” he said.

“And if I get it wrong?”

The troll giggled. “You get eaten!”

“That sounds like a fun game,” Tanith said with a smile. “What time do you usually play?”

“Midnight, stroke of midnight, yes yes yes. When I’m
strong
.”

“And you pop out from under there at whoever’s passing, don’t you?”

“Three chances,” the troll said, nodding. “Three chances is what they get. Guess the name, don’t get eaten, get it wrong, come along.”

“Do you want to play it with me?”

The grin faded from the troll’s face. “Not strong yet. Need to wait, yes yes. Stroke of midnight.”

“
We
don’t have to wait, do we?” she said with a pout. “I want to play
now
. I bet I can guess your name.”

“No you can’t.”

“Bet I can.”

“No you can’t!” the troll said, giggling again.

“Come on up out of there, and we’ll see.”

“Yes yes, play the game.”

Tanith glanced at her watch and stepped back as the troll scampered up. Two minutes to midnight. He was small, up to her waist, with thin arms and legs and a bloated belly. His fingernails were hardened and pointed, and he was grinning in anticipation, though keeping his distance.

She let her coat fall open a little and smiled at him. “You’re a handsome little fellow, aren’t you? Are you the only troll in London?”

“Only one,” he said proudly. “Now we play! Guess the name, don’t get eaten, get it wrong, come along. Guess guess guess.”

“Let’s see,” she said, taking a step closer. The troll narrowed his eyes and stepped back, toward the edge of the bridge. She stopped moving. “Is your name Bollohollow?”

The troll roared with laughter. “No no, not Bollohollow! Two guesses left, only two!”

“This is harder than I thought,” she said. “You’re really good at this, aren’t you?”

“Best! Very best!”

“Not many people have guessed your name, huh?”

“
No one
.” The troll cackled. “Guess guess!”

“Is it … Ferninabop Caprookie?”

The troll whooped and hollered and danced, and Tanith moved a little closer.

“Not Ferninabop!” he laughed. “Not Caprookie!”

“Wow,” Tanith said, looking worried. “I’m not doing too well here, am I?”

“Gonna get eaten!”

“You eat a lot of passersby?”

“Yes yes, yum yum.”

“You gobble them all up, don’t you? They scream and cry and run away—”

“But I catch them!” The troll giggled. “Stroke of midnight, I’m big and strong and fast, gobble them up, gobble them all up! They struggle and wriggle and tickle inside me!”

“You kill a lot of people, don’t you?”

The troll nodded and licked his lips.

“I better get my last guess right then, eh?” Tanith said. “Okay, is your name … Rumpelstiltskin?”

The troll laughed so hard, he fell onto his back. “No no!” he managed to say between gales of laughter. “They always say that! Always get it wrong!”

Tanith took one more step and dropped her smile. The sword flashed from her coat, but the troll saw it just in time and squealed and rolled.

Tanith cursed and swiped again, but the troll dodged beneath her. She spun and kicked out, sending him sprawling. He scrambled to his feet, hissing and spitting at her as she advanced, and then, in the warm London night, the sound of Big Ben. Midnight.

Tanith lunged, but it was too late. The troll
skipped back as his shoulders hunched, and he snarled and started to grow.

“Nuts,” Tanith whispered to herself.

Muscles bulged in his arms and legs, stretching the skin so tight, it looked like it might split. She moved forward again, but he flipped back through the air, and when he landed, he was as tall as she was. His chest broadened and his neck thickened and still he grew, and still he snarled. His bones popped and he finished growing. He was now almost twice her size.

Facing down a fully grown troll was not what she had planned. She held the sword down by her leg and circled the creature.

“You cheated,” the troll said, his voice deep and guttural now.

“You’ve been a very naughty boy,” she said.

“Gobble you up. Gobble you all up, yes yes.”

Tanith shot him a smile. “Come and have a go if you think you’re hard enough….”

The troll roared and lunged, moving fast despite his size, but Tanith was ready. She slipped to the side and then past him, her sword opening up his thigh. He hissed in pain and swung a massive fist that slammed into her back. She hit the ground
hard. He went to stamp on her, but she rolled, coming up on one knee and bringing the sword from her side to her shoulder, and the blade found his arm.

The troll stumbled back, and she got to her feet.

“Gonna bite you,” the troll growled. “Gonna bite you into little pieces, yes yes.”

“The game’s not so much fun when you’re playing with someone who can fight back, is it?”

“
My
bridge,” he snarled. “
My
game.”

She smiled at him. “My rules.”

Another roar and he dived straight at her. She stood her ground.

One swipe of the sword took the fingers on his left hand. He howled in pain and staggered back, and she jumped. She planted her feet on his chest and swung, the blade flashing in the bridge’s lights as it took his head. The troll stumbled and she jumped off. The body hit the barrier and tipped backward into the river.

Tanith stooped to pick up the head and moved to the barrier. She turned as a man walked up. She had never met him before, but she knew who he was. He was tall and bald, and his face was lined and his eyes were a startling blue, the palest eyes
she had ever seen. His name was Mr. Bliss.

Mr. Bliss nodded toward the head in her hand. “Risky.”

“I’ve fought trolls before,” she said respectfully.

“I meant the risk you took with being seen.”

“It had to be done. This troll has killed many innocent people.”

“But that’s what trolls do. You can’t blame him for doing what nature intended.”

She didn’t know how to respond. Mr. Bliss smiled.

“I’m not berating you,” he said. “You’ve done a noble and selfless thing. That is to be admired.”

“Thank you.”

“You puzzle me, however. I have been keeping an eye on your progress over the last few years. It is unusual to find a mage, even an Adept like you, focusing as heavily on physical conflict as you have done. Yet you don’t seek power.”

“I just want to help people.”

“And that is what puzzles me.”

“My mother used to tell me stories about the war,” she said. “I think you may be forgetting some selfless acts of your own.”

Mr. Bliss smiled softly. “There is no heroism in
war; there are simply things that need to be done. The heroes come later. But I am not here to discuss philosophies.”

He looked at her with his startling blue eyes. “A storm is brewing, Miss Low. Coming events will threaten to turn the tide of power in this world, and so I have left my place of solitude and come here, searching for you. I have a need for someone of your ability and your outlook.”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“The sorcerer Serpine is about to break the Truce. If I fail in my endeavors, we will once again slip into war. I need you on our side.”

“It would be an honor,” Tanith said.

“We have much to learn from each other,” Mr. Bliss responded, bowing. “Make your way to Ireland,” he said, “and I will be in touch with you soon.”

She nodded and he walked away. Tanith threw the troll’s head into the Thames and, hiding her sword under her coat, walked in the other direction.

S
TEPHANIE WAS AWAKENED
the next morning by the stereo playing very loudly indeed. Her dad had been trying to tune into a news station and the volume knob had snapped off, so instead of a quiet little traffic report, the family was treated to Wagner’s “Ride of the Valkyries” at full blast. He had lost the remote control down the back of the sofa and hadn’t the first clue how to turn the stereo off. The music reverberated through the floor and in the walls. There was no escaping its sheer power. By the time her mother yanked the plug out of the socket, Stephanie was wide-awake.

Her mother poked her head in to say good-bye, and as her parents went to work, Stephanie threw on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. While she waited for Skulduggery to arrive, she thought about what would be a good name for her to take. Skulduggery had explained how the actual taking of a new name casts a seal around the old one—so if Stephanie took the name Crystal Hammer (she didn’t plan on it), then the name Stephanie Edgley would be instantly immune to any controlling spells. But while she went only by her given name, she was vulnerable.

If she was to have a new name, it would have to be a name she wouldn’t be embarrassed about in years to come. It would have to be something classy, and also something she felt comfortable with. He had told her about people who’d taken names like Razor and Phoenix, and how he wouldn’t advise anyone to take a name that seemed cool. He’d once been introduced to a woman who had put on a little weight over the years, and her hair was a bit windswept and she had spinach in her teeth, and he was told her name was Jet.
Jet
did not suit this woman, the same way
Razor
did not suit the short fat man who had taken that as a name.

She looked up from her desk as Skulduggery knocked. She opened the window.

“I thought girls were supposed to be tidy,” he said as he peered in.

Stephanie kicked some underwear under her bed and ignored the comment. “You okay out there?”

“I’ve been perched on worse roofs, believe me.”

“My parents have gone to work, you know. You could have used the door.”

“Doors are for people with no imagination.”

“Are you sure no one saw you? The last thing I need is for a neighbor to be passing and see you climbing up the side of the house.”

“I was careful, don’t you worry. And I have something for you.”

He gave her a short piece of chalk.

“Uh, thank you,” she said slowly.