“What key?”
“The key to get the Sceptre maybe. We’re not sure. What we do know is that he tried to kill me twice to get it.”
Ghastly shook his head. “This isn’t your world.”
“I’m a part of it now.”
“You’ve just stepped into it. You’ve seen magic and sorcerers and a living skeleton and I bet you’re having great fun – but you haven’t the slightest idea what’s at stake.”
Skulduggery didn’t say anything. Stephanie got to her feet.
“You know what?” she said. “For me, this is an adventure. That’s what you’re saying, isn’t it? Well, you’re right. I do look at all this as a big adventure, and I’m fascinated and excited and thrilled by it all. I’ve seen amazing people do amazing things, and I’ve been amazed.” Her eyes hardened. “But don’t you dare, for one second, think that this is just a game to me. My uncle left me a fortune: he left me everything I could ever want. He did all that for me, but he’s dead now. So now I’m going to do something for him. I’m going to find out who killed him, and I’m going to do what I can to make sure they don’t just walk away from it. He’s got to have someone on his side.”
“This is insane!” Ghastly said, leaning forward in his chair. “The Sceptre’s a fairy tale!”
“I believe it exists.”
“Of course you believe it exists! You’ve been dragged into a world where you think anything can happen, but that’s not how it works. Your uncle involved himself in this and if what you say is true, he got killed for it. Are you so eager to do the same? You’re playing with fire.”
“Everyone plays with fire around here.”
“This hasn’t gone the way I was expecting,” Skulduggery said.
“There are rules for things like this,” Ghastly said, ignoring her and speaking to Skulduggery. “There’s a reason we don’t tell everyone we’re out there. She is a prime example of why.”
Stephanie’s anger flared and she knew she couldn’t talk now without her voice cracking and betraying her, so she dashed past Ghastly. She walked through the shop, unlocked the door and walked out on to the street. She could feel the anger twisting in her insides, making her fingers curl. She hated not being treated as an equal, she hated being talked down to and she hated the feeling of being protected. She didn’t much like to be ignored either.
Skulduggery emerged from the shop a few minutes later, hat back on. He walked up to her as she leaned against the Bentley, arms crossed and staring at a crack in the pavement.
“So that went well,” he said eventually. When she didn’t answer, he nodded and said, “Did I tell you how I first met Ghastly?”
“I don’t want to know.”
“Ah. All right then.” Silence drifted down like smog. “It’s not very interesting anyway. But it has pirates in it.”
“I couldn’t care less,” Stephanie said. “Is he going to help us or not?”
“Well, he doesn’t think it’s a great idea to have, you know, to have you with me on this one.”
“Oh, really?” Stephanie responded bitterly.
“He seems to think I’m being irresponsible.”
“And what do you think?”
“I have been known to be irresponsible in the past. It’s entirely plausible that it’s happening again.”
“Do you think I’m in danger?”
“Oh, yes. Serpine still believes you are in possession of whatever key he’s looking for. The moment he learns who you are or where you are, he’ll send someone else. You’re in – and I don’t think I’m exaggerating here – especially grave danger.”
“Then let’s be absolutely clear on this, OK? I can’t leave this. I can’t go back to my dull, boring, ordinary life, even if I wanted to. I’ve seen too much. I’m involved here. It’s my uncle who was murdered, it’s my life that was in danger and I am not about to just walk away. That’s all there is to it.”
“Well, I’m convinced.”
“So why are we standing around?”
“My question exactly,” Skulduggery said, unlocking the Bentley. They got in and the Bentley rattled to life at the turn of the key. Skulduggery checked the rear-view, then the wing mirrors, then remembered that he didn’t have any wing mirrors any more, and pulled out on to the road.
“So we don’t get to look at his family’s collection?” Stephanie asked as they drove.
“Ghastly is a good man, and a good friend, and precisely the kind of person you want on your side, but he is also one of the most stubborn people I know. In four days, once he has had time to think, he will change his mind, and he will quite happily let us see what we need to see, but until then we don’t have a hope.”
“Wouldn’t the books be in China’s library too?”
Skulduggery made a noise halfway between a laugh and a grunt. “China has been after those books for years, but they’re locked away where even she can’t reach them.”
“You know where they are?”
“In the Vault.”
“In a vault? So what?”
“Not a vault, the Vault. It’s a series of chambers housed beneath the Dublin Municipal Art Gallery, very well protected, where they don’t take kindly to trespassers.”
Stephanie took a moment then spoke. “Ghastly will change his mind in four days?”
“That’s how long it usually takes, yes.”
“But we don’t have four days, do we?”
“No, we don’t.”
“So you know what we have to do, right?”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
“We need to look at that collection.”
Skulduggery looked at her. “I knew you’d be good at this. The moment I saw you, I knew you had an instinct for this job.”
“So we break into the Vault?”
He nodded reluctantly. “We break into the Vault.”
The Dublin Municipal Art Gallery was situated in one of the more affluent parts of the city. A gleaming triumph of steel and glass, it stood alone and proud, its lush gardens keeping the other buildings at a respectable distance.
Stephanie and Skulduggery parked across the road as part of what Skulduggery was calling a preliminary stake-out. They weren’t going to break into the Vault yet, he assured her; they were just here to get some idea of what they were up against. They had just seen the gallery staff and a half-dozen security guards leave the building, their shift over for the day. Two people, a man and a woman, dressed in blue overalls, passed them on the steps and entered the gallery, locking the doors behind them.
“Ah,” Skulduggery said from beneath his scarf. “We may have a problem.”
“What problem?” Stephanie asked. “Them? Who are they?”
“The night shift.”
“Two people? That’s all?”
“They’re not exactly people.”
“So