He raised his hands and twin streams of flame enveloped Darquesse, and her laughter filled the air as Stephanie ran for the stairs. She shouldered the door open and jumped, the steps hurtling beneath her. She landed heavily, grunted, slammed against the wall and rebounded. She ran to the next set of stairs and jumped again. She nearly twisted her ankle when she landed this time, but she sprang up, stumbling, and jumped the third set of stairs. Her foot hit the last step and she went sprawling. She bit her tongue and banged her head and dropped the Sceptre.

Stephanie lay there for a moment, stunned, before a crash from above kick-started her brain. She got up, stuck the Sceptre under her arm and took the stairs three at a time with her left hand firmly on the banister.

She reached ground level. Black lightning dissolved a fire door and she was out on the street. She jammed the Sceptre into her backpack with the grimoire and sprinted on, barging past late-night revellers. Suddenly realising she had no idea where she was going, she dug out her phone, opened up Maps to figure out the quickest route back to the gallery. She found it. Five minutes away, at a run. She stuffed the phone in her pocket, started to move, then stopped at the sound of screeching car brakes. She turned slowly.

A taxi driver had come to an emergency stop, his headlights catching Darquesse in full glare as she walked slowly across the road. He slammed his hand down on the horn and Darquesse turned her head to him.

Stephanie ran.

There was a crash and a shriek of metal and then the driver was screaming and Stephanie ran and she ran and she ran. She forgot about the pain in her broken hand. She forgot about her burnings lungs, her tired legs, her aching muscles, the cuts and the bruises and the blood. She ran, because to do anything else would get her killed. She ran until she was alone. She ran until she came to a blue door, and then she staggered to a stop. She sucked in air and looked behind her. No more screams. Sirens, though. More than one.

Darquesse stepped out of the shadows beside her. “How far did you think you’d get?”

Stephanie stumbled, flattened herself against the door. She panted, sweating and panicked, while Darquesse stood there, calm and smiling.

“Skulduggery?” Stephanie managed to get out.

“I pulled his legs off,” said Darquesse. “Nothing too traumatic. I would have taken my time, but I didn’t want you to get too far with my little book. I’ve heard it’s quite a page-turner.” She held out her hand. When Stephanie didn’t move, she laughed. “Come on now. Do you really want me to take it from you? Wouldn’t it be easier for you to just give up, and hand it over?”