Well... This was written for ages... I wasn't going to post it today, but here I am!
Libertied Insanity: It's okay! Thank you! Yes, I know right? Serpine deserves his paintings to get stolen, all of them, that son of a cow. Gordon's mansion?... Now that is an interesting take on it... But I don't think it will be (Gordon died some time ago in Haggard for some reason... Influenza!). That curse is amazing. Amazing. I can't use that anywhere, though -.- Serpine, you "batsard"!
Sebastian Castellen: Of course I'm going to continue! Most likely...! Aw, thank you! I love writing Skulduggery, he's such a snarky one - gives it so much lip.
Squishy: Van Gogh? Ah! I knew I was getting the idea of that painting from somewhere! They're going to steal... *dramatic music* Van Gogh's painting. Ahhh. Don't you just love Valkyrie and Skulduggery's friendship? It's amazing, though I'm probably going to change that soon.. Sometime..
Squishy, that is not how you make friends! But go ahead, I bet it'll be funny to see people's dumbfounded faces going "what the heck?!".
Heslen: ... You're logged on. Oh, and thank you! And you better update soon! I need to know how they escape, Valkyrie dashingly in pyjamas, and Skulduggery in a suit. That's the problem with fanfiction -.- Once I read something I like, I'm hooked and constantly looking for updates. I will not leave well alone!
Lionsandtrolls (I believe from the plea for Valduggery action): Don't worry, don't worry! Your womanising Skulduggery will come soon! Well.. Ish ish, I don't know how to write Skully as a womaniser.. I'll just write him really flirtatious (to Stephanie/Valkyrie obviously). There will be Valduggery action, but not like the *cough* Lord Vile *cough* and Valkyrie one *cough* Bahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha XDXDXDXDXD STILL smirking (I did tell you it was good, didn't I? 'Twas good!). Buuut... Knowing me and my reluctance to write romance... It will probably come very late in the story (what?! Don't give me that face! They've only known each other for a week and a bit! Murmurs: "yet Clace kicks of in one night with one look at some club" what? *looks around* Ignore me). But there will be eventual Valduggery! (Like all things in life.)
"Turn around slowly," the voice ordered. "That's ri- I said slowly! Good. Get on your knees, hands on your head."
Stephanie complied, seeing no other out. She didn't want her brains blown into oblivion, probably strewn across that expressive painting of sunflowers in a jar. What a painting that would be, she mused, covered in blood and all.
"That's good. Don't get up."A pair of boots appeared in her line of sight. They weren't stout, nor were they sturdy, not like Skulduggery's. They had smart-looking laces and the pieces of leather used to make the boots were stitched together beautifully. They were polished to such a degree that Stephanie could see her own face reflected back at her; she looked pale and drawn. Those boots were clearly bought for the aesthetic appeal and nothing else; they were pieces of art in their own right.
Stephanie lifted her trembling gaze off the beautifully constructed boots, up a pair of trousers, and along a torso wearing a heavy grey brocade coat of times gone by – probably Victorian, Stephanie thought, her knowledge of history being pitifully small. The coat was expensive, that much she knew; the gold buttons winked at her from their places on the fabric.
No matter, she pushed it from her mind, concentrating, instead, on the twisted face snarling horribly down at her. The face had green eyes and black hair; its lips were twisted in a sneer.
So this was Nathaniel Serpine. He could've been pretty, but for the sneer.
In his hand, Serpine held a gun with the barrel pressed against her forehead. It felt like a hole was behind burnt in her head where the metal touched her skin. "Make one wrong move, and this will end badly for you. Trust me." He talked almost amiably, but not quite, his tone bellying his facial expression as if there wasn't a gun in his hand and he hadn't just threatened to shoot her.
Stephanie kept stock-still, not daring to test this man's trigger-finger.
"Good. I see that we understand each other," Serpine said. "Now tell me why you're in my house, attempting to steal my paintings, my wonderful masterpieces." His mouth held traces of a smirk. Maybe he thought this was a game, a game where he already knew the outcome.
Stephanie kept silent.
The barrel of the gun pressed harder against her head. "What is your name, boy? Tell me your name."
He thought she was a boy. Good. Stephanie opened her mouth and stuttered a little.
"Sorry? I didn't quite catch that."
She didn't try and say anything this time.
"I see," said Serpine. "All you are good at is raising Cain. I should shoot you right here."
"N-no." Stephanie gulped.
Serpine narrowed his eyes. "So now you talk. Give me one good reason."
Stephanie tried to talk around the dryness in her throat. "B- Because I don't want to die today." No, not today, not like this - she never thought it'd end like this. She could feel hot tears burning the backs of her eyelids, but she refused to let them fall. Be brave.
The gun was still pressed against her forehead. "Not good enough, boy."
She saw his finger tighten on the trigger. 'Don't cry,' she thought. 'That's right, don't cry. Push back the tears. Show a stony heart.' It was better to go with her dignity intact and whole than to break down crying at his feet. She had to be brave. Be brave. She looked into the face of Nathaniel Serpine then closed her eyes, waiting for the shot that would end her life.
It never came. Instead she heard a yell - Serpine's yell.
Her eyes snapped open to see Serpine bent over, clutching his head, a grim looking Skulduggery behind him.
"Trasna ort féin!" Skulduggery swore. "Go and pick on someone your own size, you coward."
Stephanie snapped into action, her elbow coming up into Serpine's groin, and her hand chopping his wrist.
Serpine dropped the gun.
She backed against the wall, breathing heavily, as if she had just been running.
Skulduggery looked at her. "I'll take it from here." He stepped in front of Serpine, effectively blocking him off from rushing at Stephanie.
Serpine squinted at him then suddenly launched himself forward, fingernails raking down Skulduggery's cheek.
Skulduggery looked stunned for a moment, but then retaliated with a punch to the solar plexus.
Serpine doubled-over.
Skulduggery rammed an uppercut into his face then jabbed his throat. He grabbed the other man's head whilst he was gagging and brought it down viciously, slamming it onto his knee.
Serpine's green eyes rolled back into his head, and his head lolled to the side. He fell to the floor unconscious.
Skulduggery glanced at Stephanie. "Are you okay?"
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She glared at Serpine's boots. Walking on shaky legs, she made her way toward the slumped form of the defeated opponent. She looked at him there by her feet, unconscious, then raised her right leg backwards and swung with as much force as she could muster. Her foot slammed into his nose. It crunched and spurted blood in the most satisfying of ways. "Jerk," she muttered, bending down to haul his expensive looking brocade coat off him. It hadn't suffered much damage. She draped it over her arm. This wasn't the most honourable way to deal with a fallen opponent, but God-be-danged if she cared.
Skulduggery was looking at her, his head tilted oddly to once side. His mouth was compressed in a way that could have meant anger or amusement. Stephanie guessed that she did care to know which it was.
"You done?" he asked.
"I'm done," she replied. "God, that was so satisfying."
"I'm sure it was." He turned away, but not before Stephanie could see the small amused smile playing about his lips.
She fought a small smile of her own.
"Let us go from this place," he said.
They grabbed the paintings and made their way downstairs, out of the window.
Once outside, Stephanie slipped into the coat purely because she didn't want to carry it, and they ran down the lane towards the park, the wind roaring in their ears and threatening to take both their hats.
Stephanie's heart still pounded against her chest insistently, but she ignored it, concentrating, instead, on running.
Dexter, Erskine and Saracen were already there when they reached the lake; they each held two paintings.
Skulduggery nodded at them. "Not too much trouble?"
"Not too much trouble," Erskine replied. "Yourselves?"
"Some trouble," responded Skulduggery. He inclined his head to her. "She was held at gunpoint on the floor. Serpine's unconscious, with a bloody nose, but - luckily for him - not dead."
Stephanie felt the weight of three pairs of eyes trained on her.
"Are you alright?" Dexter asked. There was something in his voice, something different; it could've been concern, but then Stephanie didn't know this man, didn't know how he did sound when he was concerned. It could've been his amused tone for all she knew, but then she supposed it wasn't – she doubted he was that blasé.
"Of course I am." She forced a smile, tucking a few strands of hair back under her cap. Her hands were shaking she noted.
"That's good." Saracen smiled kindly.
"So what are we going to do now?" she asked, obviously wanting to change the subject. She didn't want to seem weak in front of these men, no. She wanted these men to respect her, and she didn't think that openly crying in front of them about nearly being killed when they must've had it much worse before was likely to earn her that respect.
"Now we take all these paintings to one Ms. China Sorrows," Dexter said. "You've met her I believe. Beautiful woman. Cold as ice."
Stephanie wrinkled her nose. "So we're moving paintings for the rest of the evening? Fun."
"Au contraire," said Skulduggery. "There is much to do tonight, little miss," his eyes twinkled as he said this, "for tonight, tonight we go out and celebrate."
There's to be a celebration :D
Lionsandtrolls! Oi! Mayhem! Can you guess how they're going to celebrate?
Warning: next chapter may contain slight (totally accidental, of course) implied Valduggery.
