Skulduggery Pleasant: Books 1 - 12. Derek Landy

      “Open up!” came the man’s voice between the pounding. Stephanie got to her feet, staring through to the hall beyond the living room. She could see a dark shape behind the frosted glass around the front door. “Open the damn door!”

      Stephanie backed up to the fireplace, her heart pounding in her chest. He knew she was in here, there was no use pretending that she wasn’t, but maybe if she stayed really quiet he’d give up and go away. She heard him cursing, and the pounding grew so heavy that the front door rattled under the blows.

      “Leave me alone!” Stephanie shouted.

      “Open the door!”

      “No!” she shouted back. She liked shouting – it disguised her fear. “I’m calling the police! I’m calling the police right now!”

      The pounding stopped immediately and Stephanie saw the shape move away from the door. Was that it? Had she scared him away? She thought of the back door – was it locked? Of course it was locked… It had to be locked. But she wasn’t sure, she wasn’t certain. She grabbed a poker from the fireplace and was reaching for the phone when she heard a knock on the window beside her.

      She cried out and jumped back. The curtains were open, and outside the window was pitch-black. She couldn’t see a thing.

      “Are you alone in there?” came the voice. It was teasing now, playing with her.

      “Go away,” she said loudly, holding up the poker so he could see it. She heard the man laugh.

      “What are you going to do with that?” he asked.

      “I’ll break your head open with it!” Stephanie screamed at him, fear and fury bubbling inside her. She heard him laugh again.

      “I just want to come in,” he said. “Open the door for me, girlie. Let me come in.”

      “The police are on their way,” she said.

      “You’re a liar.”

      Still she could see nothing beyond the glass and he could see everything. She moved to the phone, snatching it from its cradle.

      “Don’t do that,” came the voice.

      “I’m calling the police.”

      “The road’s closed, girlie. You call them, I’ll break down that door and kill you hours before they get here.”

      Fear became terror and Stephanie froze. She was going to cry. She could feel it, the tears welling up inside her. She hadn’t cried in years. “What do you want?” she said to the darkness. “Why do you want to come in?”

      “It’s got nothing to do with me, girlie. I’ve just been sent to pick something up. Let me in. I’ll look around, get what I came here for and leave. I won’t harm a pretty little hair on your pretty little head, I promise. Now you just open that door right this second.”

      Stephanie gripped the poker in both hands and shook her head. She was crying now, tears rolling down her cheeks. “No,” she said.

      She screamed as a fist smashed through the window, showering the carpet with glass. She stumbled back as the man started climbing in, glaring at her with blazing eyes, unmindful of the glass that cut into him. The moment one foot touched the floor inside the house Stephanie was bolting out of the room, over to the front door, fumbling at the lock.

      Strong hands grabbed her from behind. She screamed again as she was lifted off her feet and carried back. She kicked out, slamming a heel into his shin. The man grunted and let go and Stephanie twisted, trying to swing the poker into his face but he caught it and pulled it from her grasp. One hand went to her throat and Stephanie gagged, unable to breathe as the man forced her back into the living room.

      He pushed her into an armchair and leaned over her and no matter how hard she tried she could not break his grip.

      “Now then,” the man said, his mouth contorting into a sneer, “why don’t you just give me the key, little girlie?”

      And that’s when the front door was flung off its hinges and Skulduggery Pleasant burst into the house.

      The man cursed and released Stephanie and swung the poker, but Skulduggery moved straight to him and hit him so hard Stephanie thought the man’s head might come off. He hit the ground and tumbled backwards, but rolled to his feet as Skulduggery moved in again.

      The man launched himself forward. They both collided and went backwards over the couch and Skulduggery lost his hat. Stephanie saw a flash of white above the scarf.

      They got to their feet, grappling, and the man swung a punch that knocked Skulduggery’s sunglasses to the other side of the room. Skulduggery responded by moving in low, grabbing the man around the waist and twisting his hip into him. The man was flipped to the floor, hard.

      He cursed a little more, then remembered Stephanie and made for her. Stephanie leaped out of the chair, but before he could reach her, Skulduggery was there, kicking the man’s legs out from under him. The man hit a small coffee table with his chin and howled in pain.

      “You think you can stop me?” he screamed as he tried to stand. His knees seemed shaky. “Do you know who I am?”

      “Haven’t the foggiest,” Skulduggery said.

      The man spat blood and grinned defiantly. “Well, I know about you,” he said. “My master told me all about you, detective, and you’re going to have to do a lot more than that to stop me.”

      Skulduggery shrugged and Stephanie watched in amazement as a ball of fire flared up in his hand and he hurled it and the man was suddenly covered in flame. But instead of screaming, the man tilted his head back and roared with laughter. The fire may have engulfed him, but it wasn’t burning him.

      “More!” he laughed. “Give me more!”

      “If you insist.”

      And then Skulduggery took an old-fashioned revolver from his jacket and fired, the gun bucking slightly with the recoil. The bullet hit the man in the shoulder and he screamed, then tried to run and tripped. He scrambled for the doorway, ducking and dodging lest he get shot again, the flames obstructing his vision so much that he hit a wall on his way out.

      And then he was gone.

      Stephanie stared at the door, trying to make sense of the impossible.

      “Well,” Skulduggery said, “that’s something you don’t see every day.”

      She turned. When his hat came off, his hair had come off too. In the confusion all she had seen was a chalk-white scalp, so she turned expecting to see a bald albino maybe. But no. With his sunglasses gone and his scarf hanging down, there was no denying the fact that he had no flesh, he had no skin, he had no eyes and he had no face.

      All he had was a skull for a head.

       4

      THE SECRET WAR

      kulduggery put his gun away and walked out to the hall. He peered out into the night. Satisfied that there were no human fireballs lurking anywhere nearby, he came back inside and picked the door off the ground, grunting with the effort. He manoeuvred it back to where it belonged, leaving it leaning in the doorway, then he shrugged and came back into the living room, where Stephanie was still standing and staring at him.

      “Sorry about the door,” he said.

      Stephanie stared.

      “I’ll pay to get it fixed.”

      Stephanie stared.

      “It’s