Skulduggery Pleasant Read Online Free PDF Page B
Author: Derek Landy
clouded her vision and she felt
47
herself falling and the last thing she saw was Skulduggery Pleasant darting across the room toward her.
Stephanie awoke on the couch with a blanket over her. The room was dark, lit by only two lamps in opposite corners. She looked over at the broken window, saw that it was now boarded up. She heard a hammering from the hall, and when she felt strong enough to stand, she slowly rose and walked out of the living room.
Skulduggery Pleasant was trying to hang the door back on its hinges. He had his shirtsleeve rolled up on his left forearm. Ulna, she corrected herself, proving that her first year of biology class had not gone to waste. Or was it radius? Or both? She heard him mutter; then he noticed her and nodded brightly.
"Ah, you're up."
"You fixed the window."
"Well, covered it up. Gordon had a few pieces of timber out back, so I did what I could. Not having the same luck with the door, though. I find it much easier to blast them off than put them back. How are you feeling?"
"I'm okay," she said.
48
"A cup of hot tea, that's what you need. Lots of sugar."
He abandoned the door and guided her to the kitchen, and she sat at the table while he boiled the water.
"Hungry?" he asked when it had boiled, but she shook her head. "Milk?"
She nodded. He added milk and spoonfuls of sugar, gave the tea a quick stir, and put the cup on the table in front of her. She took a sip--it was hot, but nice.
"Thank you," she said, and he gave a little shrug. It was hard discerning some of his meanings without a face to go by, but she took the shrug to mean "Think nothing of it."
"Was that magic? With the fire, and blasting the door?"
"Yes, it was."
She peered closer. "How can you talk?"
"Sorry?"
"How can you talk? You move your mouth when you speak, but you've got no tongue, you've got no lips, you've got no vocal cords. I mean, I know what skeletons look like--
49
I've seen diagrams and models and stuff--and the only things that hold them together are flesh and skin and ligaments, so why don't you just fall apart?"
He gave another shrug, both shoulders this time. "Well, that's magic too."
She looked at him. "Magic's pretty handy."
"Yes, magic is."
"And what about, you know, nerve endings? Can you feel pain?"
"I can, but that's not a bad thing. Pain lets you know that you're alive, after all."
"And are you alive?"
"Well, technically no, but ..."
She peered into his empty eye sockets. "Do you have a brain?"
He laughed. "I don't have a brain, I don't have any organs, but I have a consciousness." He started clearing away the sugar and the milk. "To be honest with you, it's not even my head."
"What?"
"It's not. They ran away with my skull. I won this one in a poker game."
"That's not even yours? How does it feel?"
"It'll do. It'll do until I finally get around to getting my own head back. You look faintly disgusted."
50
"I just ... Doesn't it feel weird? It'd be like wearing someone else's socks."
"You get used to it."
"What happened to you?" she asked. "Were you born like this?"
"No, I was born perfectly normal. Skin, internal organs, the whole shebang. Even had a face that wasn't too bad to look at, if I do say so myself."
"So what happened?"
Skulduggery leaned against the counter, arms folded across his chest. "I got into magic. Back then--back when I was, for want of a better term, alive--there were some pretty nasty people around. The world was seeing a darkness it might never have recovered from. It was war, you see. A secret war, but war nonetheless. There was a sorcerer, Mevolent, worse than any of the others, and he had himself an army, and those of us who refused to fall in behind him found ourselves standing up against him.
"And we were winning. Eventually, after years of fighting this little war of ours, we were actually winning. His support was crumbling, his influence was fading, and he was
51
staring defeat in the face. So he ordered one last, desperate strike,
47
herself falling and the last thing she saw was Skulduggery Pleasant darting across the room toward her.
Stephanie awoke on the couch with a blanket over her. The room was dark, lit by only two lamps in opposite corners. She looked over at the broken window, saw that it was now boarded up. She heard a hammering from the hall, and when she felt strong enough to stand, she slowly rose and walked out of the living room.
Skulduggery Pleasant was trying to hang the door back on its hinges. He had his shirtsleeve rolled up on his left forearm. Ulna, she corrected herself, proving that her first year of biology class had not gone to waste. Or was it radius? Or both? She heard him mutter; then he noticed her and nodded brightly.
"Ah, you're up."
"You fixed the window."
"Well, covered it up. Gordon had a few pieces of timber out back, so I did what I could. Not having the same luck with the door, though. I find it much easier to blast them off than put them back. How are you feeling?"
"I'm okay," she said.
48
"A cup of hot tea, that's what you need. Lots of sugar."
He abandoned the door and guided her to the kitchen, and she sat at the table while he boiled the water.
"Hungry?" he asked when it had boiled, but she shook her head. "Milk?"
She nodded. He added milk and spoonfuls of sugar, gave the tea a quick stir, and put the cup on the table in front of her. She took a sip--it was hot, but nice.
"Thank you," she said, and he gave a little shrug. It was hard discerning some of his meanings without a face to go by, but she took the shrug to mean "Think nothing of it."
"Was that magic? With the fire, and blasting the door?"
"Yes, it was."
She peered closer. "How can you talk?"
"Sorry?"
"How can you talk? You move your mouth when you speak, but you've got no tongue, you've got no lips, you've got no vocal cords. I mean, I know what skeletons look like--
49
I've seen diagrams and models and stuff--and the only things that hold them together are flesh and skin and ligaments, so why don't you just fall apart?"
He gave another shrug, both shoulders this time. "Well, that's magic too."
She looked at him. "Magic's pretty handy."
"Yes, magic is."
"And what about, you know, nerve endings? Can you feel pain?"
"I can, but that's not a bad thing. Pain lets you know that you're alive, after all."
"And are you alive?"
"Well, technically no, but ..."
She peered into his empty eye sockets. "Do you have a brain?"
He laughed. "I don't have a brain, I don't have any organs, but I have a consciousness." He started clearing away the sugar and the milk. "To be honest with you, it's not even my head."
"What?"
"It's not. They ran away with my skull. I won this one in a poker game."
"That's not even yours? How does it feel?"
"It'll do. It'll do until I finally get around to getting my own head back. You look faintly disgusted."
50
"I just ... Doesn't it feel weird? It'd be like wearing someone else's socks."
"You get used to it."
"What happened to you?" she asked. "Were you born like this?"
"No, I was born perfectly normal. Skin, internal organs, the whole shebang. Even had a face that wasn't too bad to look at, if I do say so myself."
"So what happened?"
Skulduggery leaned against the counter, arms folded across his chest. "I got into magic. Back then--back when I was, for want of a better term, alive--there were some pretty nasty people around. The world was seeing a darkness it might never have recovered from. It was war, you see. A secret war, but war nonetheless. There was a sorcerer, Mevolent, worse than any of the others, and he had himself an army, and those of us who refused to fall in behind him found ourselves standing up against him.
"And we were winning. Eventually, after years of fighting this little war of ours, we were actually winning. His support was crumbling, his influence was fading, and he was
51
staring defeat in the face. So he ordered one last, desperate strike,
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