*Sheepishly* Sorry I haven't updated all week; I've been away. Anyway, it's here now.
I've got to say all you people going "Antonnnn!" really amused me, and I was shaking my head and saying "fangirls" when I realized that I loved Anton Freaking Shudder too! I love Anton Shudder!
DeadGirl19: Yes! Anton Frickin Shudder is coming up! Oh wait: DEAD MEN ALERT! DEAD MEN ALERT! And yes, Dexter Vex will be featuring in this chapter. I know how much you love Dexter *wink* Don't we all? I've planned half of it out, and so far I've got up to a mission where the Dead Men steal stuff and one nearly gets caught, after that I'm going to write fluffy-not-fluff plot development until I get to The Big Heist. I can't wait for that.
Iris Vhia: *awkward silence* I am flattered, I really am! But... *deep breath* Books will always be first and foremost in my heart! Thank you for the support!
Lionsandtrolls: Of course you're right. You cruel, cruel person, but yes, I read that part where you said you knew why authors like Landy made us all suffer, and I've got to admit everybody telling you they hate you and crap for something you find so funny must've been so satisfying! I'm not going to try that, though.
Squishy: Pull yourself together! It's only Anton... *pause to rethink* Did I just say that? Anton Shudder is absolutely AWESOME! I was reading that part where you were talking about Anton's gist, and I was thinking "OhCrapOhCrapOhCrapOhCrap! I haven't got a plan!" I completely forgot about his gist whilst writing the story, but I will think of something, I will! Oh Bejeezums, think, Brain, think!
Libertied Insanity: Yes, it is Anton! Wait- Your Anton? *squints suspiciously at you* No comment on that. I love how you typed it all in caps; I was reading it and trying not to grin at the pure fangirling it radiated.
The Midnight Inn's bar was near empty when Skulduggery and Stephanie arrived.
The bartender, who Stephanie guessed was also the innkeeper, was serving drinks, but looked up and smiled as they walked in. He was tall and his hair was long and black, tied back in a ponytail. "Can I get you anything, Skulduggery?" His eyes seemed older than the rest of him; they held a quiet sort of acceptance, not angry or sad, and yet not happy either. Stephanie fancied she could see the strength of his soul just through his eyes - it was strong, solid.
Skulduggery shook his head with a rueful smile. "I'm trying to stay sober today, Anton."
Anton tilted his head the tiniest of fractions and a snort sounded to their left. "Skulduggery, sober! Hear that, Dexter? He's trying to stay sober!" The man who had spoken was young with dark hair and dark eyes; Stephanie noted that he was little on the healthy side.
"I heard it, Rue," said a muscular blond who was grinning recklessly at Skulduggery. "Skul's gone and abandoned us and our alcohol drinking ways!"
"Well," said another young man with brown hair and golden eyes, "he must be trying to impress someone." He squinted behind Skulduggery at Stephanie. "Who's the new boy, Skul?"
Skulduggery narrowed his eyes ever so slightly.
The-man-named-Dexter rested his chin on his fist, his eyes dragging up and down Stephanie's body. "I didn't know you swung that way, Skully," he drawled. "Is there something you aren't telling us?"
Skulduggery opened his mouth. "Yes, of course, Dexter. I'm secretly seeing Saracen behind you back in the early hours of the morning. I'm sorry, Vex, but he's just sexier than you." Skulduggery smirked.
Dexter pouted, whilst the-man-named-Saracen rubbed his back soothingly. "There, there, Dexter. I can't help my sexiness, I'm afraid. Skulduggery was just a very charming devil."
"How easily you dismiss our love! You offend me, Saracen!" exclaimed Skulduggery.
"You traitor," Dexter mumbled, nursing his drink.
Saracen grinned. "See that, Anton? There you were, saying I couldn't get any ladies with my being too healthy, but look here." He pointed at Dexter then Skulduggery. "I got me a lady, two ladies in fact."
Anton grunted.
"If I didn't know any better, Shudder, I'd say you were jealous."
Anton just rolled his eyes. "Jealous of whom?"
"Jealous of Dexter, of course! I mean he gets me all to himself, and who wouldn't want a piece of this sexiness?"
Anton said nothing and merely stared, bemused.
Saracen grinned wider and his eyes flitted to Stephanie. "You're a girl, aren't you? Tell me I'm wrong."
Stephanie's frowned a little, but said nothing.
"I thought there was something odd about her," the man with the golden eyes exclaimed. "She's much too pretty to be a boy."
"See that, Ravel?" Saracen said smugly. "I know things."
"H- how?" Stephanie stuttered.
Saracen shrugged. "I just know things."
Stephanie frowned and opened her mouth-
"Don't bother," Dexter mumbled. "I've been trying to get it out of him for years, but he just won't tell me how he bloomin' knows things!"
Saracen tapped his nose. "Now where's the fun in that?"
"Up your arse," Dexter muttered into his drink.
The man-named-Ravel looked at Stephanie. "Do you have a name, Miss?"
Stephanie shook her head. "Not yet."
He gave her a dazzling smile. "Well, mine's Erskine. Care to sit and tell us your story?"
She looked over at Skulduggery who shrugged. "We're all thieves here." He paused. "Apart from possibly Anton; he's much too boring to contemplate coming with us."
Anton grunted. "Dealing with a reckless bunch of five year olds does not appeal to me. If you get caught, who's there to bail you out?"
Skulduggery shrugged. "I'm much too amazing to be caught; I'm not sure about those idiots over there, though." He jerked his head at Dexter and Saracen, who seemed in the midst of a childish debate about who was sexier.
Anton snorted.
Stephanie sat on the stool next to Erskine and smiled.
"Well, little lady, what have you got to tell us? A story perhaps? We love stories." His golden eyes lit up. "Go on, tell us a story."
Stephanie smiled hesitantly. "Well, I do have one story."
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Dexter and Saracen stop their argument to look at her, Skulduggery was resting on the counter, head tilted at a listening angle, and even Anton was subtly leaning in. She repressed a smile.
Stephanie started slowly, and just let the words pour out of her mouth, seemingly already perfectly sculpted. She told a story of a little girl who enjoyed her childhood, carefree, often amusing herself with beliefs of magic. She told of the games the little girl would play with herself, clicking her fingers and pretending to summon a spark, which grew into a fireball in her hand, and how she would pretend the wind answered to her, how it was at her very beck and call. She told of how the girl would pretend that the earth would latch onto her feet, spreading up her legs, turning her to stone, and how she imagined she could walk atop water. The magic, the magic was everywhere, and the little girl would spin and jump and run, thinking she could take on the world - her magic and her.
The story abruptly twisted. Stephanie told them of how all this magic, all these crazy imaginings, this whole world, was shut up, put into a box and burned the day the little girl's parents died and she was put into the orphanage.
She told them of how the little girl grew up under the harsh words and beatings of the matron, and how she dreamed of riding away in the night-time on a honey-coloured horse called Alice. Magic seemed to her like a distant fantasy full of crazy imaginings of a past life, a happier life- and it was, wasn't it?
She told them of how, one night, her dream of escaping came true, though not on a horse - on foot. The grown girl ran away with a charming thief to start a new life in a new city; nothing was heard by her home-folk from her ever again.
This was where she ended the story.
Erskine was staring at her. "Whatever happened to the girl?" he asked softly.
"Nobody knows," said Stephanie in a quiet voice.
Skulduggery looked at her with a peculiar sadness in his eyes. She wondered if she could see pity.
Anton smiled kindly at her, passing her a drink.
She wanted to say she didn't drink, she was too young.
"It's apple juice," said Anton gruffly.
Stephanie nodded mutely, taking a sip.
"Right," Saracen said, changing the subject before the girl cried – he knew she would, and Saracen Rue knew things, "what are our plans to steal Nathaniel Serpine's paintings next week, then?"
There you have it. There's going to be a theft... With the Dead Men! *sighs contently* This will be fun.
