“Actually, I was going to ask that you go easy on me. I’m feeling kind of tender today.”
Serpine stood, opened his left hand in front of the detective. “This is your one chance. Tell me where the key is.”
“OK.”
Serpine raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
“No, only joking. Do your worst.”
Serpine laughed and his fingers started moving and the detective started screaming.
WHAT’S IN A NAME?
She dried herself with a spotless white towel, let the water gurgle into the drain and allowed herself to sag against the wall.
Her body may have been tired but her mind was alert and racing, surging with anger. She was still furious at herself for being unable to disobey China’s instruction. How could China have done that to her, to Skulduggery? After he had trusted her?
No, she reminded herself. He hadn’t trusted her. That had been Stephanie’s mistake, not his. And because she went to China before the Elders, or even Ghastly, now it could be too late to do anything. And it was all her fault.
What had Tanith Low called Stephanie? A warrior? That was laughable. No matter what Tanith had thought she had seen in her, she was wrong. There was nothing warrior-like about her. She ran straight into trouble without thinking, without one moment of hesitation. Not because she was brave or heroic, but because she was stupid. Because she didn’t want to be left out, because she didn’t want to wait. She didn’t have a plan, she didn’t have a tactic, all she had was a penchant for raising Cain.
It came to her then. Her eyes widened and she stood up straight, a new strength coursing through her limbs.
And just like that, China’s command over her was broken.
She needed Ghastly. She didn’t really know where he lived so she needed his address, and there was only one way she could think of to get it. She left the restroom, passing the window, realising that it was morning already. She crossed the hall to China’s apartment and knocked. No answer. She knocked again.
China wasn’t in. Stephanie looked at the door. Nothing special about it. She hadn’t noticed anything unusual about it on the other side either, no chains or bolts or extra locks. There could be a locking spell placed on it, and if there was then she’d be wasting her time, but she didn’t think there was. Skulduggery had said a locking spell needed to be dismantled every time a door is opened, then cast again. She doubted China would have the patience to do that on a daily basis.
Stephanie took a step back. An ordinary door. An ordinary, flimsy door. It was possible; she knew it was possible. She was tall and strong. This door was all that stood between her and saving Skulduggery. She had strong legs. Her legs were muscled, a swimmer’s legs. They were strong. The door was weak. She could do it. She had to do it. She had to save her friend.
Her boot slammed against the door. She kicked again… and again… and again… Her legs were strong. She couldn’t fail. Desperation lent her strength. The door was weak and it burst open.
She hurried in, moving right for where she had seen the address book. It wasn’t there. It wasn’t on the small table. Where was it?
She looked around. China had moved it. Where? Why? Had she known Stephanie would be looking for it? No, there was no way she could have predicted that. Then she had moved it for some other reason, some other ordinary, average reason. She had put it away; she had put it back. Yes, she had put it back in its usual place.
Where would China keep an address book?
Stephanie went to the desk, opening the drawers and rifling through them. Papers, letters, no address book. She turned, eyes scouring the room, aware that China could walk through that broken door at any time. She went to the shelves: no address book. Where?
She moved into the bedroom. There, on the bedside table, the address book. She snatched it up, finding the B’s, her finger moving down the page. Bespoke tailors. She memorised the address, dropped the book on the bed and turned to go.
“Hello, dear,” China said. She walked in and Stephanie stepped back, wary.
“I saw your handiwork outside,” China said. “What did my poor door ever do to you? Did you break anything else while you were here? A vase? A teacup perhaps?”
“Just the door.”
“Ah, well, I suppose I should be thankful for small mercies. Did you find what you were looking for, child?”
Stephanie tightened her fist. “Don’t call me that.”
China laughed. “That look in your eye is almost scary.”
“Have you done anything to help Skulduggery, or are you still too busy helping yourself?” asked Stephanie.
“He inspires loyalty, doesn’t he?” China said, an eyebrow raised. “You can’t be around our Mr Pleasant without liking him, without wanting to fight alongside him. You should have been there during the war, you know. You should have seen him then.”
“I just can’t understand how you’d betray him like this.”
For the first time since she’d known her, China’s eyes turned cold. “I haven’t betrayed him, child. I may have failed him, but I haven’t betrayed him. To betray is to act against. I just haven’t acted at all.”
“Whatever,” Stephanie said.
“Not interested in semantics?” China asked, her smile returning. “But of course not. You’re a straightforward kind of girl, aren’t you?”
“I’m leaving now,” Stephanie said as she headed for the door.
“Straightforward,” China continued, “but not too bright. Stephanie, would you be a dear and stop?” Stephanie stopped.
“I admire your courage, child, I really do. But rallying a cavalry to go after Skulduggery is just too risky. Too much could go wrong. Now sit in the corner there, like a good little girl.” Stephanie nodded and walked for the door.
“Stop,” China ordered. “I said the corner.”
Stephanie reached the door and looked back. China was frowning. “I don’t understand. How are you able to do this? Stephanie, answer me!”
“I’m
