accompanying you?”
“That depends. Do you need your parents’ permission?”
Her parents wanted her to find her own way in life. That’s what they’d said countless times in the past. Of course, they’d been referring to school subjects and college applications and job prospects. Presumably, at no stage did they factorliving skeletons and magic underworlds into their considerations. If they had, their advice would probably have been very different.
Stephanie shrugged. “No, not really.”
“Well, that’s good enough for me.”
They reached the car and got in, and as they pulled out onto the road, she looked at him.
“So who’s this Serpine you were talking about?”
“Nefarian Serpine is one of the bad guys. I suppose, now that Mevolent is gone, he’d be considered
the
bad guy.”
“What’s so bad about him?”
The purr of the engine was all that filled the car for a few moments. “Serpine is an Adept,” he said at last. “He was Mevolent’s most trusted general. You heard what China was saying, about how she is a collector, how Gordon was a collector? Serpine is a collector too. He collects magic. He has tortured, maimed, and killed in order to learn other people’s secrets. He has committed untold atrocities in order to uncover obscure rituals, searching for the one ritual that he, and religious fanatics like him, have been seeking for generations. Back when the war broke out, he had this … weapon.These days he’s full of surprises, but he still uses it because, quite frankly, there is no defense against it.”
“What’s the weapon?”
“To put it simply, agonizing death.”
“Agonizing death … on its own? Not, like, fired from a gun or anything?”
“He just has to point his red right hand at you and … well, like I said, agonizing death. It’s a necromancy technique.”
“Necromancy?”
“Death magic, a particularly dangerous Adept discipline. I don’t know how he learned it, but learn it he did.”
“And what does the Scepter thing have to do with all this?”
“Nothing. It has nothing to do with anything.”
“Well, what is it?”
“It’s a weapon of unstoppable destructive power. Or it would be, if it actually existed. It’s a rod, about the length of your thighbone. … Actually, I think I might have a picture of it. …”
He pulled the car over and got out, went to the Bentley’s trunk, and opened it up. Stephanie had never been to this part of town before. The streetswere quiet and empty. She could see the bridge over the canal in the distance. Moments later Skulduggery was back behind the wheel and they were driving again, and Stephanie had a leather-bound book on her lap.
“What’s this?” she asked, opening the clasp and flicking through the pages.
“Our most popular myths and legends,” he said, turning on the interior car light so she could see. “You just passed the Scepter.”
She flicked back and came to a reproduction of a painting of a wide-eyed man reaching for a golden staff with a black crystal embedded in its hilt. The Scepter was glowing and he was shielding his eyes. On the opposite page was another picture, this time of a man holding the Scepter, surrounded by cowering figures, their heads turned away. “Who’s this guy?”
“He’s an Ancient. In the legends, they were the very first sorcerers, the first to wield the power of the elements, the first to use magic. They lived apart from the mortal world, had no interest in it. They had their own ways, their own customs, and their own gods. Eventually, they decided that they wanted to have their own destinies, too, so theyrose up against their gods, rather nasty beings called the Faceless Ones, and battled them on the land, in the skies, and in the oceans. The Faceless Ones, being immortal, won every battle, until the Ancients constructed a weapon powerful enough to drive them back—the Scepter.”
“You sound like you know the story well.”
“Tales around the campfire
“That depends. Do you need your parents’ permission?”
Her parents wanted her to find her own way in life. That’s what they’d said countless times in the past. Of course, they’d been referring to school subjects and college applications and job prospects. Presumably, at no stage did they factorliving skeletons and magic underworlds into their considerations. If they had, their advice would probably have been very different.
Stephanie shrugged. “No, not really.”
“Well, that’s good enough for me.”
They reached the car and got in, and as they pulled out onto the road, she looked at him.
“So who’s this Serpine you were talking about?”
“Nefarian Serpine is one of the bad guys. I suppose, now that Mevolent is gone, he’d be considered
the
bad guy.”
“What’s so bad about him?”
The purr of the engine was all that filled the car for a few moments. “Serpine is an Adept,” he said at last. “He was Mevolent’s most trusted general. You heard what China was saying, about how she is a collector, how Gordon was a collector? Serpine is a collector too. He collects magic. He has tortured, maimed, and killed in order to learn other people’s secrets. He has committed untold atrocities in order to uncover obscure rituals, searching for the one ritual that he, and religious fanatics like him, have been seeking for generations. Back when the war broke out, he had this … weapon.These days he’s full of surprises, but he still uses it because, quite frankly, there is no defense against it.”
“What’s the weapon?”
“To put it simply, agonizing death.”
“Agonizing death … on its own? Not, like, fired from a gun or anything?”
“He just has to point his red right hand at you and … well, like I said, agonizing death. It’s a necromancy technique.”
“Necromancy?”
“Death magic, a particularly dangerous Adept discipline. I don’t know how he learned it, but learn it he did.”
“And what does the Scepter thing have to do with all this?”
“Nothing. It has nothing to do with anything.”
“Well, what is it?”
“It’s a weapon of unstoppable destructive power. Or it would be, if it actually existed. It’s a rod, about the length of your thighbone. … Actually, I think I might have a picture of it. …”
He pulled the car over and got out, went to the Bentley’s trunk, and opened it up. Stephanie had never been to this part of town before. The streetswere quiet and empty. She could see the bridge over the canal in the distance. Moments later Skulduggery was back behind the wheel and they were driving again, and Stephanie had a leather-bound book on her lap.
“What’s this?” she asked, opening the clasp and flicking through the pages.
“Our most popular myths and legends,” he said, turning on the interior car light so she could see. “You just passed the Scepter.”
She flicked back and came to a reproduction of a painting of a wide-eyed man reaching for a golden staff with a black crystal embedded in its hilt. The Scepter was glowing and he was shielding his eyes. On the opposite page was another picture, this time of a man holding the Scepter, surrounded by cowering figures, their heads turned away. “Who’s this guy?”
“He’s an Ancient. In the legends, they were the very first sorcerers, the first to wield the power of the elements, the first to use magic. They lived apart from the mortal world, had no interest in it. They had their own ways, their own customs, and their own gods. Eventually, they decided that they wanted to have their own destinies, too, so theyrose up against their gods, rather nasty beings called the Faceless Ones, and battled them on the land, in the skies, and in the oceans. The Faceless Ones, being immortal, won every battle, until the Ancients constructed a weapon powerful enough to drive them back—the Scepter.”
“You sound like you know the story well.”
“Tales around the campfire
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