.

unless you have magic on your side, Stephanie thought to herself.

      “Beryl called,” her father said. “She said you’d just been to see her.”

      Stephanie nodded. She couldn’t have noticed that the brooch was missing already, could she? “I felt like going around, seeing how everyone was. I think, you know, Gordon’s death has made me value the family we have left, or something. I think it’s important that we stay close.”

      He looked at her, a little startled. “Well, that’s… that’s a really lovely thing to be able to say, Steph, it really is. It’s a beautiful sentiment.” There was a brief pause. “I don’t have to go round, do I?”

      “No.”

      “Oh, thank God.”

      She didn’t like lying to him. She had made it a point, years before, to be as honest as she could where her parents were involved. But things were different now. She had secrets. “So what else did Beryl say?”

      “Well… she seems to think she saw you with Skulduggery Pleasant yesterday.”

      “Yeah,” Stephanie said, as casually as she could, “she told me. That’s weird.”

      “She thinks you’ve fallen in with the wrong crowd.”

      “You should hear her, Dad, the way she talks about him, and she doesn’t even know him. She probably thinks I’m part of a cult or something…”

      “And are you?”

      She looked at him, appalled. “What?”

      Her father sighed. “Beryl has good reason to think that.”

      “But it’s insane!”

      “Well, insanity runs in the family.” She could see something in his eyes, a reluctance, but also a resignation.

      “My grandfather,” he said, “your great-grandfather, was a wonderful man – us kids loved him. Me, Fergus, Gordon, we’d sit around and he’d tell us all these fantastic stories. My father, however, didn’t have a lot of time for him. All the stories he was telling us, he’d told my father when he was a kid. And when my dad grew up, he realised it was all nonsense, but my granddad refused to see it. My grandfather believed… He believed that we were magic.”

      Stephanie stared at him. “What?”

      “He said it’d been passed down, this magic, generation to generation. He said we were descendants of a great sorcerer called the Last of the Ancients.”

      The sound of the sea faded to nothing, the sun dimmed and the beach vanished, and the only thing that existed in the world was her father, and the only sounds were the words he was speaking.

      “These stories, this belief, has followed the family for centuries. I don’t know how it began or when, but it seems like it’s always been a part of us. And now and then, there have been members of our family who have chosen to believe it.

      “Gordon believed. A rational man, an intelligent man, and yet he believed in magic and sorcery and people who never age. All the stuff he wrote about, he probably believed in most, if not all, of it.

      “And because of this, he got involved in things that were… unhealthy. The people he mixed with, people who fed into his delusions, who shared his madness. Dangerous people. It’s a sickness, Steph. My granddad had it, Gordon had it… and I don’t want you to get it.”

      “I’m not mad.”

      “And I’m not saying you are. But I know how easy it is to be swept away by stories, by things that you wish were real. When I was younger, I believed. I believed even more than Gordon did. But I stopped. I made a decision to live in the real world, to stop indulging this, this curse that has plagued us. Gordon introduced me to your mother and I fell in love. I put it all behind me.”

      “So you think Gordon was part of a cult?”

      “For want of a better word, yes.”

      She remembered the look on her father’s face the first time he had encountered Skulduggery, in Mr Fedgewick’s office. It had been a look she had never seen before – suspicion, mistrust, hostility – and it had passed as quickly as it had appeared. Now she understood why.

      “And you think, what, that I’m part of the cult now?”

      He gave a gentle laugh. “No, I suppose I don’t. Not really. But what Beryl was saying, it got me thinking. In the last few days, sometimes there’s a distance in your eyes I haven’t seen before. I don’t know what it is. I look at you now and you’re my little girl. But I’ve been getting the feeling that… I don’t know. Recently, it seems like you’re somewhere else.”

      Stephanie didn’t dare respond.

      “I just wish you’d talk to someone. You don’t have to talk to me because you know how much I babble, but your mother… You could tell her, you could tell us, anything. And as long as you’re honest with us, you know we’d help you in whatever way we can.”

      “I know, Dad.”

      He looked at her and for a moment she thought he was going to shed a tear, but then he wrapped an arm around her and kissed her forehead. “You’re my little sweetheart, you know that?”

      “I know.”

      “Good girl.” He got off the boulder. “I better get back to work.”

      “See you later.” He looked at her, gave her a smile and walked back off the beach.

      Stephanie stayed where she was. If it was true, if the family legend was true, then this was, this was… Actually she didn’t know what this was. It felt important, though. It felt big. She left the beach and waited by the road, and when Skulduggery arrived in the hideous Canary Car she told him everything her father had said.

      Mr Bliss turned the brooch over in his hands. “Are you sure this is it?”

      Mr Bliss was in black and Skulduggery was wearing a dark blue pinstriped suit that Ghastly had finished working on that very morning, along with a crisp white shirt and a blue tie. They were standing in the shade of the Martello tower, a centuries-old ruin that stood atop the grassy cliffs along Haggard’s coast. Far below them, the sea whipped at the jagged rocks.

      “I’m sure,” Skulduggery said. “See how the pin folds back, actually becomes a makeshift handle? That’s our key.”

      Stephanie tried her best not to be intimidated by Mr Bliss’ presence, but whenever he glanced at her she looked away. She hadn’t objected when Skulduggery told her that Mr Bliss would be accompanying them into the caves, but she hadn’t exactly jumped for joy either.

      “Thank you for calling me,” Mr Bliss said, handing the brooch back to Stephanie.

      “We need all the help we can get,” Skulduggery admitted, “although I was surprised when you made yourself available.”

      “Serpine has become extremely powerful, much more so than anyone realises.”

      “You almost sound afraid of him.”

      Mr Bliss paused for a moment. “I don’t feel fear,” he said eventually. “When you no longer have hope, the fear evaporates. But I do respect his power. I respect what he can do.”

      “If he gets to the Sceptre before us, we’re all going to see what he can do firsthand.”

      “I still don’t get it,” Stephanie said. “If he gets the Sceptre, OK, he’s unstoppable, but how can he use it to bring back the Faceless Ones?”

      “I don’t know,” Skulduggery replied. “In theory, the ritual could be known to no more than two people in the world – I wouldn’t even know who to start threatening.”

      Mr