The Killer In Black

So, Kallie asked me to write a Purple Roses story and this is what I came up with. I hope you enjoy. 

The Killer In Black: A Purple Roses Story

A giggle could be heard coming from a figure lurking in the shadows, as she perched on the wooden beam of the rafters. The timber creaked beneath her as she settled into a more comfortable stance, peering down from the rooftop at the group of people in the restaurant below.

The hushed murmur of whispered conversation floated up and the Thief In Black screwed up her face in concentration as she desperately tried to make out what they were saying.

“But you got to be surprise adopted last time we went out.” Thalia responded. “I haven’t had a go in ages!”

Octaboona frowned. “But I’m certain that this time, she has planned the most splendid kidnapping. There’s going to be a tea party and everything.”

Red spoke up. “I love tea. I absolutely have to be chosen! Don’t you agree Pyro?”

“Indeed, my love deserves only the best. Kallie provides the most amazing time.”

So we’re settled then?” Thalia said. “Red will have the honour of this evening’s visit from The Thief In Black?”

There came a chorus of ayes from around the table.

“As head of the Purple Roses my decision is final.” Skyril announced. “Red will be this month’s surprise adoptee.”

Red grinned and then glanced up at the rafters where she could see a pale face, still oblivious to the contents of their conversation.

Red cleared her throat and announced loudly “I’m just going to go to the bathroom. I won’t be a moment!” She stood up and the pale face beamed and swiftly withdrew from sight.

The Thief In Black giggled again and pointed dramatically towards the girl, with the beautiful flame red hair.

“I CHOOSE YOU! THERE IS NO ESCAPE FROM THE THIEF IN BLACK!” before vaulting off the oak beam and bouncing twice as she clambered unsteadily to her feet.

Red Waterfall sighed, looked at her watch and left the bathroom, making her way back to the table. Everyone looked up at her in confusion.

“Back so soon?” Skyril enquired. “Normally Kallista entertains for hours. It’s barely been twenty minutes. That’s not even enough time for a drop of tea, let alone a tea party. I’m disappointed. Kallista must have whisked you there and then back immediately.”

Red interrupted.

“But that’s the thing! Kallie didn’t kidnap me at all. I waited by the bathroom for twenty minutes. I thought maybe she’d gotten lost, or bumped her head or something. Where could she possibly be?”

Octaboona frowned again. “We all saw her leaving though. She had a girl with long red hair thrown over her shoulder. If it wasn’t you, then who could it be?”

Suddenly there came a wail from the table in the corner and a tall man, with bulging muscles and really cool hair came running over, wringing his hands.

“Master! Master! He’s gone! I tried to protect him, but the girl was too much for me.” He wailed again.

Thalia looked at the man incredulously. “Thrasher?”

Thrasher sniffed miserably.

“So the rumours are true. Nye really did successfully perform a brain transplant. But that would mean… that girl… is Scapegrace?”

Thrasher nodded.

“Nye gave Scapegrace the body of a woman?”

“My Master is still a fearsome warrior. You should fear him. You cannot keep The Killer Supreme under lock and key!”

“Shut up Thrasher.”

Everyone started gathering up their things. Skyril led the Purple Roses out of the restaurant, Thrasher following meekly behind.

 Vaurien Scapegrace was not amused. He was sitting in a chair, wrapped up in daisy chains, whilst a crazy figure dressed in black cackled and asked him how she liked her tea.

“I am not a woman! I am a man!”

The Thief In Black paused. “Red, oh my goodness, I never knew! One lump or two?”

“Two please.”

“Milk?”

“No thank you.”

“Red…”

“I am not Red! My name is The Killer Supreme!”

The Thief In Black looked at him worriedly.

“Are you sure you’re okay? You do look a bit different, now I think about it. Are you feeling ill? You look a bit ill. Or have you done something different with your makeup?”

Scapegrace stared at her.

“I do not wear makeup!”

“Yes... that might be it. You are still pretty either way.”

“Who are you? What do you do?”

“I am the Thief In Black!” she laughed. “No one knows my true identity!”

Scapegrace paled. What do you want from me? You cannot steal from The Killer Supreme! Not my thoughts, nor my wit nor my kidney!”

He closed his eyes and started humming in what he presumed was a meditative expression, waving his arms around his head, whilst making sudden jabs with his fingers.

The Thief In Black got up and Scapegrace quickly stopped, slumping back in the chair.

“Red, my dear… please tell me what is the matter. You look a little constipated. Did you not enjoy your tea?”

“The Killer Supreme found the tea perfectly adequate!” Scapegrace screeched.

“But my dear sister, you are not a killer. You are a Purple Rose. You fight the killers remember? I admit that you are of course supreme, but I do believe something is wrong. You are not in your usual mood at all.”

A sharp knock on the door distracted The Thief from her worries.

“The Purple Roses have sent out a rescue mission. They’ll never catch us though!”

However before she could free Scapegrace from his daisy chains, the door burst open and a tall man with a fine physique rushed in, followed by various members of the Purple Roses.

Thrasher ran to Scapegrace’s chair and started pulling at the daisy chains.

“Oh Master! Are you safe? Are you hurt? Here let me help you!”

“Idiot. I was enjoying some time away from you. With someone who can make good tea.”

“But Master, I make you tea all the time.”

“It’s horrible. It’s all watery without enough sugar. I bet you even put the milk in first. I hate milk. You always forgot that!”

“I’m sorry Master. You deserve only the highest standards. I try my best.”

Scapegrace turned away from him. “What do you say we forget about him,” he jerked a thumb at Thrasher, “and team up together? We could be The Thieves Supreme! No wait I’ve got it, the Killers In Black! We could be ladies of leisure,

Thrasher finally got the daisy chains undone. The Thief In Black turned away from them to stare at the other Purple Roses. She glimpsed Red and Pyro standing in the doorway and then turned back to look at Scapegrace.

“So… you’re… not Red then. I knew something was up. And I told you all about the Purple Roses too!”

The Thief smiled a crazy smile. “Don’t worry guys! I know just what to do!”

She turned back to Scapegrace and Thrasher who were looking at the frowning Purple Roses with concern.

“You asked me what I do. Not only am I the Thief In Black but I am also head of the Department of Bunnies!”

She started humming dramatically. “DUN DUN DUUUUUN!”

Her voice dropped to a whisper.

“Release the bunnies!”

From a cage in the corner of the room, a large white bunny ambled out, and started sniffing at Scapegrace’s shoe.

Thrasher reached down to stroke it, and it bit him on the hand.

“My hand!” Thrasher shrieked in pain.

The bunny hopped onto Scapegrace’s shoe and bit his ankle.

The duo suddenly collapsed unconscious.

“Sedative in the rabbit saliva.” Skyril murmured to Thalia. “It takes them by surprise every time.”

The Thief In Black bowed and then somersaulted out the window before running off into the night.

“ANOTHER SUCCESS FOR THE THIEF IN BLACK” the voice echoed back.

“Indeed, we have these two under our control.” Octaboona smiled. “We must eradicate their memories of The Purple Roses before handing them over to the Sanctuary.”

Red turned to Skyril and the two started discussing who would be surprise adopted next.

“I didn’t even get to have a go this time. She picked Scapegrace! By accident I grant you but Scapegrace!”

“A Purple Rose such as yourself should be prepared for all eventualities. You should have gotten into position on time.”

“I’d like to have seen you have done better.”

“I’m head of the Purple Roses. My decision is final.”

Lurking in the shadows by the window, The Thief In Black smiled at her friends, and started thinking about plans for a double surprise adoption.

Competitions are Awesome

YAY! I'M SO GLAD DEREK CHOSE ME AS ONE OF THE WINNERS.

Valkyrie groaned, and sat up. "I told you it was a trap," she said.
"No, you said it looked like it was a trap," Skulduggery corrected. "That's completely different."
He helped her up as a door opened behind them and Sadistica Tortura walked through, an unsettling smile on her lips.

Valkyrie stared uncomprehendingly. “This is Sadistica Tortura?”

Skulduggery nodded. “Indeed, this particular specimen of foulness and despicableness goes by the name of Sadistica Tortura.”

“But that name sounds really evil and horrifying!”

“To suit the monstrous depravity that stands before us”

“But she’s wearing pink.”

“Pink is the new black these days you know. The very mention of a fuchsia overcoat or a salmon cravat sends the most brave-hearted soul fleeing to a distant cave begging for mercy.”

“But pink hardly conjures up images of ruthlessness and brutality. It just reminds me of sickeningly cute puppies and rainbows and frolicking in meadows.”

“Well meadow frolicking aside, I never said that pink was a byword for evil and terror.” Skulduggery tilted his head inquiringly.

Valkyrie spluttered.  ‘sends the most brave-hearted soul fleeing to a distant cave begging for mercy’

“Undoubtedly. They’re fleeing from the dreadful fashion sense of anyone who would consider wearing a fuchsia overcoat.”

“But I was expecting... you know... torture or something.”

“The poor thing will be mentally scarred for life. If you don’t classify salmon knitwear as torture then I don’t know what is.”

Valkyrie sighed and changed tack.

“She looks suspiciously like a faerie. Small, gossamer wings, sparkling eyes and a toothy smile that is thoroughly unsettling.”

“Undoubtedly those are all due to the fact that she is a faerie.”

“But why would a faerie go by the name of Sadistica Tortura?”

“Why don’t you ask her?”

Valkyrie turned to the little sparkly figure who was now fluttering about at eyelevel.

“What’s up with the name, meadow frolicker?”

“Ah, I see your going with the tactful approach again.”

Valkyrie scowled and ignored him.

“Oh... umm... apologies if I’ve caused you any confusion” Sadistica squeaked. “But I didn’t want to choose the name Sadistica Tortura. I always dreamed of something sweet and romantic. Doris perhaps.”

Skulduggery looked on sympathetically.

“But... my stepmother has a cruel sense of humour and she does enjoy making my life miserable. As my legal guardian she had the final decision at my naming ceremony. And she gave me this absolutely ghastly name out of pure malice.”

“Well you don’t seem to be all that evil.” Valkyrie turned on Skulduggery. “What’s all this about then? We drove all the way here and then I waited for hours in the rain whilst you tried to figure out if this was a trap.  And now I see that it isn’t a trap after all?”

“No, no it merely looks like it’s not a trap.” Skulduggery corrected. “That’s completely different.

“See here she comes now.”

A dark twisted maelstrom with cruel eyes and an unbecoming sneer strode into the room.

“Hello stepmother” Sadistica mumbled.

“And what’s her name?”

“Something truly spine chilling” whispered Skulduggery.

“Agatha.”

The Convocation of Professors on Grey Thursdays

Well. This fanfic is based on the Edge Chronicles series. The series takes place in a place called the Edge, a vast land that protrudes out and you can fall of the Edge. Anyway there is a giant Forest on one end called the Deepwoods and a floating rock tied to the Edge with a chain on the other. A city of spires was built on the rock. It is called Sanctaphrax. Another city was built beneath the rock called Undertown. In between the forest and the cities is a giant bog called the Mire. The Ege is home to thousands of weird speices of animal and plant. Many are intelligent. That's a pretty good introduction. Oh. Sanctaphrax is a city of learning but there was a schism between the Sky and Earth scholars. The Earth scholars were banished from Santcaphrax. Also fourthlings are basically the equivalent of humans. Finally the paragraph in italics is a quote from the first book 'The Curse of the Gloamglozer' and was the paragraph that inspired this whole story.

Enjoy!

The Convocation of Professors on Grey Thursdays

The mobgnomes looked at one another and shrugged. One of them screwed his finger into his temple. ‘Sky-touched’, he muttered.

‘As crazy as a square circle’, another added.’ The quality of speakers you get on the Viaduct Steps these days is really going downhill.’

They turned as one and trooped off together, ignoring the cries of the academic. ‘Stop! Wait a minute!’ he called after them. ‘I haven’t yet told you about the scandal of the Moon Observatory, or how the disappearance of seven fogprobing apprentices was hushed up- or what really goes on at the Convocation of Professors on Grey Thursdays...’

‘Come back!’ the academic screamed at the distant backs of the bunch of mobgnomes. ‘Oh never mind.’ he sighed and turned to go. Suddenly he felt a tap on his shoulder and he turned to see a tall individual standing in front of him. He was dressed in ill-fitting academic’s robes. A silver nose-piece could be seen glinting from within the folds of his baggy hood. The sunlight gleamed upon the ancient ceremonial object with its ornate curlicues and fine filigree mesh, sending a dazzling silver light into the eyes of the academic.

‘I couldn’t help but overhear...’ the soft silky voice whispered. ‘But did you mention the Convocation of Professors on Grey Thursdays?’

The academic gulped. ‘I... I did yes.’

‘Do tell me your tale’ the sinuous voice hissed. ‘Oh... oh no... not here. Why don’t we go somewhere a little more... discreet?’

The academic shivered. He didn’t like the way the hooded figure had said the word discreet. He sounded so sinister. Yet this was Sanctaphrax, the spire city of subterfuge and intrigue, whispers and lies. And he did love a good gossip.

‘Very well. Do you have a place in mind?’

‘Oh yes. Oh yes indeed. I think you’ll find it quite... personal. A very personal place indeed!’ He smiled a small thin smile. ‘This way.’

Kal Pendrix sighed and then burst into a run. Today was Grey Thursday of all days and as a recently initiated professor she really couldn’t afford to be late for the convocation. Especially, she thought dreamily, as Ambros would be there. He was the most adorable little oakelf, with those enormous dark orbs for eyes and the long pointed ears. And he’d be wearing that hooded purple cloak too. Although he was currently the Sub Dean of the Institute of Ice and Snow, it was reckoned that he would be offered the position of Next Most High Academe, after the place became vacant. Kal shivered, she’d heard of the rumours that Linius Pallitax, the Most High Academe of Sanctaphrax, had upset the mistsifters and they were planning his murder.  Then the Professors of Light and Darkness would be anointed as Most High Academe leaving the position of Next Most High Academe open for Ambros. Kal furrowed her forehead as she tried to understand the complicated system of academics but gave it up almost instantly with the dismissive word ‘politics’. It was particularly unusual for a Deepwooder to have risen to the position of academic. Mostly the academics were fourthlings like her. The Deepwooder were seen as inferior and stupid, even worse than the earth librarians whose role it was to study them. And as she was musing on how Ambros had managed to become a sky scholar, she bumped into Seftus Leprix, the Sub Dean of Mistsifting and Head Professor of the Convocation on Grey Thursdays. His distinctive smell of wood camphor and tallow alerted her to his presence.

‘Professor! What are you doing in such a hurry? I thought the Convocation began in five minutes. Surely you’d be there already.’

‘I lost track of time. The Ostafan calibrators were displaying a rather unusual...’ he trailed off.

‘Anyway... Miss...’ he waited for her name.

‘Kal. Kal Pendrix.’

‘Miss Pendrix’, he continued. ‘I must be on my way. The Convocation, you know...’ he mumbled distractedly.

‘Of... of course’ Kal muttered puzzled.

 By this point they had reached the doors of the Loftus Observatory and they hurried inside, Kal taking a sumpwood bench near the back of the hall and Seftus making his way to the floating lectern.

The hooded figure with the silver nose piece closed the door behind them. The academic looked around at the simple room, with two wooden chairs surrounding a small table covered with a crimson cloth and a small platter of sweets.

‘Sit down, sit down. Care for a sugared delberry bonbon?’ the hooded figure inquired in a welcoming tone.

‘Don’t mind if I do’

‘So you were saying? About the Convocation?’

‘Oh yes it’s a juicy story if I do say so!’

‘Sounds fascinating’

‘Now those professors are a scheming bunch. Always trying to get one up on all the others. They tell us that the convocation is to discuss recent weather patterns. They say that they discuss the cycles of the moon and their effect on a certain specimen of snowflake. They give us rubbish about biannual wind storms and Ostafan calibrations! But I have it on the highest authority that at the Convocation of Professors on Grey Thursdays they are scheming to devise a plan. A plot to murder the Most High Academe of Sanctaphrax!’

He paused dramatically but the effect was ruined by chewing noises as he reached for another sugared bonbon.

‘And here is how they plan to do it!’

‘See that giant hourglass?’ Ambros turned towards Kal as she shuffled along the sumpwood bench. ‘It has a lovely crimson colour. They filled it with powdered bloodoak amongst other things. Extremely difficult to obtain due to the fact that the bloodoak tree has a nasty habit of eating all that comes near it. But it makes for a lovely timepiece.’ He frowned. ‘Rather dangerous though. I’ve heard that powdered bloodoak is extremely volatile when it comes into contact with moisture. Especially when added to ground delberry leaves like they did with this. It makes you wonder, who would design such a thing? Any Deepwooder could tell you of the potential catastrophe just waiting to occur. Well the hourglass is firmly sealed.’

He turned back to face the floating lectern. ‘Now hush, the Sub Dean is about to speak!’

Kal poked him playfully. ‘But you’re the talkative one Ambros!’

‘I don’t know what you’re on about’, he mumbled red faced. ‘This is your first Convocation, if I recall. Generally they’re rather tedious. A little talking is required to make it bearable.’ He groaned. ‘Not another lecture on cloud formation again!’

‘And then they place the bloodoak mixture into the bottom of his daily glass of dandelion juice. When he pours the juice KABOOM! He dies.’ He cleared his throat. ‘And so obvious too! It’s in the very name. Grey Thursdays. Don’t you know of the significance of the first Grey Thursday?’

‘Do remind me’

‘Grey Thursday was the day that our first Most High Academe has that terrible accident with the woodwasp eggs! Somehow he ingested them. He was stung to death from the inside out!’

‘How very terrible!’ the hooded figure exclaimed. ‘Siphoning off valuable bloodoak from the hourglass! How will it measure time accurately now?’

‘And the Most High Academe will be dead!’

‘Yes that’s terrible too!’

The academic ran his finger round the empty bowl and licked the sugar from his fingers. ‘Those bonbons were really delicious!’

‘Glad you enjoyed them. Afraid I don’t have any more.’

‘I’m sorry, I don’t think I quite caught your name.’

‘Oh my name is Seftus. Seftus Leprix. Sub Dean of Mistsifting. And head... of the Convocation of Professors on Grey Thursdays’, he uttered nastily.

 The academic gulped.

‘I’m afraid I can’t have you going around spreading that story. It’s far too accurate a tale. I should know.’

The academic tried to rise from his chair. Yet his limbs would not obey him.

‘A little bit of paralysing venom in the sugar’. Seftus sneered.

‘I do hope you enjoyed your woodwasp eggs. You certainly ate so many!’

The academics eyes bulged.

‘Now I do hope you’ll excuse me. I have a special drink to prepare.’

‘At last. I was getting so bored’ Ambros mumbled.

Kal Pendrix was snoring softly. He nudged her.

‘Huuh? Whaaa?’ she mumbled. And then

‘Anvil low, anvil high, anvil wide, anvil rising’

‘So you were listening to the lecture then?’ Ambros teased. She shoved him playfully and then turned to look at the other professors. They were all making their way to a smaller chamber situated behind the floating lectern.

‘What’s going on?’

‘They seem to be holding the secondary meeting.’

‘What’s that?’

‘I don’t know. Fourthlings only.’

‘So you’ve never been?’

‘All the more reason for you to go. Find out what it’s all about.’

‘Okay.’ She beamed. ‘I’ve never been to a top secret meeting before!’

‘Well you have fun now’

‘Will do!’

And with that Kal Pendrix joined the throng of professors making their way to the secondary meeting.

The academics’ eyes snapped open. He was bathed in sweat, his skin dripping and his worn robes soaked right through. But he was cold. Bitterly cold. His fingers and toes were so frozen he could barely feel them, and yet inside, his belly was on fire, churning and convulsing. And then there was the pain...

He had never known anything like it. It wrenched and wracked his stomach, like a thousand red-hot needles that stabbed and slashed, twisting his guts into knots.

‘Woorgh!’ he groaned. ‘Aoouurgh...’

Spasm after spasm of intense pain drove through him, folding him up double as it cramped and branded.

He groaned with utter misery. The pain grew more intense than ever. All at once, he doubled up violently again, his chin on his knees, as a fiery convulsion erupted inside him. The pain was so bad, it felt as if his belly was about to explode.

The searing pain inside him grew more and more intense. The academics’ vision clouded over. The fire surged up from his belly, into his throat...

‘Aaaargh!’ he screamed, twisting out of the chair and crumpling, open-mouthed, to the wooden floor like a gutted oozefish on a slab.

It took several moments before the convulsions ceased, the limbs stopped thrashing and the academic fell still. As a bright streak of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, a low buzzing sound came up from his throat.

The next moment, a single dark striped insect appeared. It rested on the academic’s swollen protruding tongue for a few seconds, its feelers quivering as it tasted the air. Then the tiny creature spread its glistening wings and, with a rasping buzz, took flight.

Another insect appeared in its place... and another, and another- until there was a thick stream of them, spewing out from the academic’s gaping mouth. Soon the room was filled with the sound of angry buzzing as the swarm of newly-hatched woodwasps swirled round the room, while the academic’s lifeless eyes stared sightlessly at the ceiling.

Kal Pendrix knocked loudly on the door of Ambros’ dwelling, sobbing loudly as she did so. Ambros was quick to open the door.

‘Kal! What in Sky’s name is the matter?’

‘It’s... it was the secret meeting. I never want to go to another one ever again!’

She clasped Ambros tightly around his waist and buried her head in his wrinkly shoulder. He patted her gently on the back, muttering ‘there there’ at regular intervals. Gradually her noisy tears ceased, she sniffed loudly and started to speak.

‘They... they... the professors... want... want to... they want to murder the Most High Academe!’

Ambros strengthened his hold on her.

‘Dear Linius Pallitax. They can’t murder him. His daughter Maris would be so distraught. She’s such a good friend. It was Linius who got me a place as an academic. We have to save him!’

A steely glint came into her eye. Ambros recognized that glint. It was a glint that meant my mind is made up and just you try and stop me.

‘Of course we shall Kal. Of course we will’

He furrowed his brow in thought.

‘But how will a fourthlings and an old oakelf foil the scheme of the entire Convocation?

‘KABOOM!’ A distant explosion came from the Palace of Shadows. Ambros sighed. ‘Linius has obviously made a mistake with one of his experiments again’. Secretly he thought that the plot to kill Linius was rather ingenious. A horrible one that had to be stopped but ingenious nonetheless. Linius was known for his playing about with the chemistry set he had recovered from the long lost Ancient Laboratory. Nobody batted an eyelid at the frequent explosions that were often heard from the direction of the Palace. It was easy enough to make people believe that the Most High Academe had died in a tragic accident- caught by the blast of a particularly large explosion. ‘If only he hadn’t decided to find out what it was that made bloodoak bark that particular shade of crimson’ they’d sigh.

Or more likely the reaction would be, ‘Stupid old fool playing around with those chemicals and whatnot. All his talk of equal rights and rubbish. Good riddance’

The academics of Sanctaphrax were a vicious backstabbing bunch. They didn’t approve of equality.

Ambros had a plan. Like all good plans it was simple, easy to follow and had a high probability of failure and probable death. Ambros chose not to think about that part. What they had decided to do was to apply for the position of cook and scullery maid. When the Most High Academe came down for his drink of dandelion juice, they’d switch the glass laid out by Seftus Leprix, who according to Kal, would smuggle in the bloodoak by disguising it as a new pick me up from the taverns of Undertown, with another glass filled with powdered cherry blossom. Then the deadly glass would be disposed of and the Most High Academe would be saved.

Kal groaned as she tugged at the frilly bonnet that Ambros insisted she wear. ‘You have to look the part you know?’ He himself was dressed in a tall chef hat and a fake moustache.

‘But I look ridiculous!’ she mumbled.

Linius answered the door. He was missing an eyebrow and his long beard was slightly singed.

‘How can I help you?’

‘We are the new cook and scullery maid you asked for.’ Ambros replied.

‘Oh excellent!’

‘I’ll let Thelma tell you the routine.’

‘Thelma?’

‘The housekeeper.’

Ambros nodded.

‘Kitchen’s that way!’

Ambros and Kal followed the direction he pointed in and soon came to the door of the kitchen. They entered to see a short plump woodtroll, busy baking something or other.

‘Who on earth are you two?’ she inquired sternly.

‘The new cook and scullery maid’

‘But we didn’t apply for a cook and a maid’

‘Linius appointed us himself’

‘I’ll thank you to call him the Most High Academe. And you mustn’t listen to him, he’s far too busy with his work to really notice the domestic matters. I’m housekeeper and I can assure you I’d know if we needed a cook and a scullery maid’.

Ambros spied a glass with a red powder sitting in the bottom.

‘Um, what’s that?’

‘That? This is a gift from Seftus Leprix. Some new pick me up from Undertown. He sent it round this morning’. She looked at them.

‘The Most High Academe suffers from a lot of stress and exhaustion’

Kal winked slowly at Ambros who suddenly let out a screech of pain and started hopping up and down.

‘Are you quite alright?’

Ambros continued to hop, and added an arm flail or two.

Meanwhile Kal had crept up to the counter and was switching the two glasses around.

‘I’m sorry, I stubbed my toe on the table leg.’

‘Well if that’s the case I’m going to have to ask you two to leave. I have spiced scones to prepare.’

Kal froze and gestured to Ambros to distract her a little longer.

Ambros started coughing loudly.

‘Terribly... hemhem... sorry... awoof!... my asthma... is playing up.’

Kal slunk back to his side with a small smile on her face.

‘We do apologise for the inconvenience we’ve caused. We’ll be on our way immediately.’

And so speaking the two figures slunk out of the Palace of Shadows.

‘Seftus Leprix!’

‘Ambo!’

‘It’s Ambros’

‘Yes yes of course.’

‘Would you like to pop in for a drink?’

‘I’m in a bit of a rush’

‘Oh just a quick one. I’ve just got this new cherry cordial.’

‘Oh I suppose I could pop in for a short while.’

‘Excellent. I live just over there.’

Ambros opened the door and pulled up a chair.

‘Do sit down. I’ll be back with the cordial’

He placed a glass in front of Seftus.

‘Just add water’

Seftus frowned. ‘What did you say this cordial was?’

‘Cherry’ Ambros called from the other room. He came back into the room a jug of water in hand.

‘As a matter of fact it’s bloodoak you horrid bitch!’ And with those eloquent words he threw the jug of water into Seftus’ face and ran to reach the cover of the dining room table- an ancient and more importantly solid piece of furniture.

KABOOM! The water landed in the glass and Ambros shook as the table was pelted with shards of wood, lumps of metal and the squishy remains of Seftus Leprix.

Later that afternoon, just as the sun was beginning to descend, Ambros knocked on the door of Kal Pendrix’s abode.

‘If it isn’t too much bother, my house was destroyed in an explosion, cause unconfirmed. Do you think I could live with you?’

‘Oh Ambros!’ Kal beamed. ‘I thought you’d never ask!’

‘Is that a yes?’

‘Of course it is you adorable silly thing.’

‘Of course it is’ he repeated to himself quietly.

And then he repeated it again this time with a smile.

‘Of course it is.’ 

A Convivial Christmas

Ok. So Mar-Chu I am your Secret Santa! I made a whole blog thing and then never did anything with it because I was in Poland for a lot of the time. Didn't really think it through. But I wrote you this short Christmas story. Again sorry it isn't longer but I didn't have much time. I hope you enjoy it anyway :)

A Convivial Christmas

March Pathway screamed with delight as she walked into the room. A giant Christmas tree stood in the corner, festooned with streams of tinsel, brightly coloured baubles, and had a little statuette of a mad axe wielding murder on the top. On closer inspection she also found half of a stuffed owl (at least she hoped it was stuffed) hidden behind a cluster of baubles. Which were all gold or red and painted with faces with horrible tortured expressions.

“I’m never letting Mir decorate the tree ever again!” March exclaimed.

Outside the sky was full of snowflakes spiralling gently down, blown hither and thither in the strong breeze. The walls were decked with holly and a bunch of mistletoe hung innocently above the door. March eyed it warily and then quickly backed away telling herself that “it was infested with Nargles”. Most probably.

As March waited for her friends Thalia and Mir to come downstairs she decided to have a quick look at the many presents and packages that had been placed under the tree. One of them in particular caught her eye. It was huge to begin with, a giant box covered in brightly coloured wrapping paper. It also seemed to be moving slightly and March swore that every now and then the box would snort impatiently. And it was addressed to her with love from Mir. 

“What’s taking them so long?” March thought. “It’s already three o’clock in the morning!”

Several excited shrieks could be heard from behind the door which suddenly burst open and two blurs zoomed into the room, flailing arms and screaming “MERRY CHRISTMAS!”

The blurs slowed down enough for March to make out some faces. It was of course, Thalia and Mir.

Mir was jumping up and down and babbling something that March couldn’t quite hear.

“Mar! Mar! Mar! Can we open the presents already! And then can we get something to eat? I’m staaaarving!”

“Oh and also open my present first! I just know you’ll love it!”

The present gave out a particularly angry snort and Thalia back away cautiously.

“Umm... this present. It isn’t dangerous is it?”

“Noooo?”

Mir shook her head and tried to smile angelically. Instead she managed a smile that would have made even the little mad axe wielding murder statue want to run as far away as possible.

March slowly approached the box. The box backed away slowly until it hit the wall.

“Oww!” cried the box.

March pulled off the wrapping paper and opened the box. Her jaw dropped.

Mir smiled her crazy smile.

Thalia held her hands over her eyes.

“Do you like it? Its Skulduggery’s long lost brother! A half unicorn that can do elemental and adept magic! And he’s called Clarabelle!”

Indeed the half unicorn did have a collar around his neck with a little metal tag saying “My name is Clarabelle! If lost please DO NOT return me to my owner/brother Skulduggery. I am an incredible pain to be with and he’s tried to get rid of me for years. Yes I may look cute but I really am very annoying!”

March was speechless.

Mir started prancing around the room asking “Do you like him? Do you like him? Do you? Well? Well?”

 “Is it safe for me to take my hands off my eyes yet? And I’m wondering. You said he was half unicorn. So what exactly is the other half?

March tore her gaze away from the creature’s sparkly pink hind legs and long silky tail and gulped.

“It appears that is half cannon too.”

Clarabelle swivelled his turret around and snorted again. A few sparks were emitted.

Thalia groaned and peeked at him.

“This is supposed to be cute?”

Mir grinned and nodded.

“You just have to ignore the top half and voila! Cute!”

“But... but it’s monstrous! No wonder Skulduggery never mentioned him. He must be ashamed to have something like that in the family!”

Clarabelle spoke suddenly. “Hey hey hey enough of the insults! I may not be the most aesthetically pleasing view but I am a cancorn! The last of a great and noble race! I still have feelings!

“You can talk?” March wondered. “But how? You don’t even have a mouth!”

“Adept magic remember?” said Mir

“Any other things I should know about it?”

“Oh I nearly forgot!” Mir shouted. “He can SING!”

March slumped.

“Oh please no. Tell me he doesn’t sing. Tell me it’s not true.” she whispered in a haunted voice. “I dread to think what the sound of a cannon singing would be like.”

“Oh it’s dreadful! Absolutely appalling!” Mir whispered back gleefully.

Right on cue Clarabelle burst into song.

“ Siiilent niiight! Hooollllyyyy niiiiiight!” The sound was indescribable. The voice wobbled up and down, cheerfully disregarding such minor things as tune or key. It sounded like the screech of metal against metal, or perhaps the noise of a donkey in a blender.

March covered her ears and yelled above the horrendous racket.

“MIIIIIR! I’M GOING TO KILL YOU!”

Mir ran out of the room laughing hysterically, March hot on her heels.

Thalia sighed and muttered to herself.

“I wish that this wasn’t a normal Christmas.”

A Birthday Dilemma

TODAY IS KALLISTA'S BIRTHDAY!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!

HAPPY SWEET SIXTEEN!

And so to celebrate I wrote you this story. I hope you enjoy it. Have a fantastic day my love.

A Birthday Dilemma

The Purple Poet set down his quill and stared lovingly at the pages of parchment, where the ink had danced its way across them in a flourish of carefully crafted words. He breathed in deeply, inhaling the scent of his craft. And then he looked up into the eyes of his love, a beautiful girl with cornflower blue eyes and hair as black as a raven’s wing. He smiled at her and handed her the poem, grinning wider as her eyes widened in joy. Octaboona leaned in to kiss her graceful cheeks and her perfect lips. Kallista closed her eyes and-

Joseph opened his eyes and stared blankly at the ceiling. He rolled over in bed, getting tangled in the duvet. He groaned and pulled the cover over his head, trying to regain the wonderful feeling of the distant dream. “If only it was real” he mumbled before sitting bolt upright in bed, banging his head on the low ceiling as he did so. “Ow!” he cried. And then he screamed with joy. It was a sunny, cold day in the middle of November, a few months into his gap year. He’d spent all the previous summer working as a waiter to earn enough money. And then he’d had the good fortune to win first prize in a prestigious poetry competition. The summer had been spent with his family touring Europe, the last holiday that they would have together. And so this year was the year he embarked on his Blogger Tour of the World. The year would be spent travelling the world and visiting his many blogger friends. It was going to be a wonderful year. A year to look back on when old and grey and sitting besides the fire. He was going to see the beauty of nature, the ingenuity of humanity and best of all experience it with true friends. And the first stop he was making was a little town in the north of Michigan.

Joseph smiled and started jumping up and down. He was unbelievably excited. After a long plane journey he was finally here. He looked at the thousands of cherry trees that grew along the shore of the peninsula, each overloaded with pinky-white blossom, petals of beauty and fragrance. And as the wind blew in from the southern shores of Lake Michigan, the cherry blossom swirled and danced in a miniature shower, coating Joseph’s hair and shoulders with them.  He grinned and knocked on the door of a nearby house. A teenage girl came to the door, smiling in an absent minded kind of way. She blew a strand of hair out of her face, adjusted her glasses and looked up from her bare feet.

Joseph cleared his throat and in a voice trembling with happiness managed to speak a few words.

 “Kallista it’s me Octaboona!”

She stared at him blankly for a while and then said

“I think you’ve got the wrong house, there’s no one called Kallista here.”

“So that’s how you’re playing it is it?”

“Excuse me?”

“Michelle, look I know it’s you!”

“I don’t know you! And how do you know my name?”

Her voice lost its casual, lost tourist friendliness and started to rise in pitch and shrillness.

“But it’s me! Joseph! The Purple Poet! Octaboona Ambrosius?” He frowned. “We’ve known each other on Derek Landy’s blog for over three years! My favourite colour is purple and I write poetry remember?

He cleared his throat and started to recite:

“A goddess amongst human kind

With skin as pale as snow

Whose eyes of ice stared harshly down

At all that lay below”

Michelle showed no sign of recognition.

Joseph started on another poem.

“As we danced in the moonlight

We suddenly knew

Our love for each other

Was real and true”

Michelle began to back away.

“How can you not remember? Kallista’s Feast? Gossamer Threads?”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know who you are! And you’re creeping me out here. I mean calling me an evil goddess and saying that you love me. We’ve never even met let alone danced in the moonlight!”

“But I came especially for you. You’re 18 today! We were going to celebrate!”

“How do you know my birthday? Are you a stalker? Stop stalking me! Leave me alone!”

“But... we’ve been married on the blog for two years! I love you!”

“You’re a freak! A weird romantic crazy freak!”

Tears were pouring down Joseph’s face.

“And what’s with the ridiculously obvious fake names? Kallista? Octoobana? Those are some really stupid names!”

“Why are you doing this? Don’t you remember me? What about Skulduggery Pleasant? And Derek Landy?”

“Is that some Scottish name?”

“No it’s an Irish author. He’s your favourite.  He writes about a skeleton detective.”

“Sounds boring”

“What’s happened to you?”

“Well some crazy freak believes he’s married to me. And he knows all about me. Are you a paedophile? That’s just low. Disgusting. I mean I have a son!”

“Benjamin, I know. You made me his godfather remember?”

Michelle’s face turned stony. “You stay away from me! Don’t you dare come near my child!”

She suddenly screamed for her dad. But no one came.

Her voice turned sad. “No one loves me. No one has ever been there for me. Not my parents not anyone. They just don’t care.”

“I care! I love you! Something’s wrong. I’m going to help. Somehow I’ll do it.”

 Michelle’s face was vacant as she slammed shut the door.

“Your poetry sucks!”

That stung. Badly.

Many miles away two people sat hunched over a screen watching the confrontation, ignoring the frenzied bustling of scientists behind them”

“MAF 42 successfully implemented.”

“Octaboona’s identity confirmed.”

“Subject is definitely him”

“All three names known?”

“Check”

“Favourite colour?”

“Check”

“Knowledge of blog events during the last three years?”

“Check”

“Recited accurately from one of his poems?”

“Check. Two in fact”

“DNA analysis?”

“Confirmed. This person is definitely Octaboona Ambrosius”

“Yet he should already have been subjugated along with his brother”

“It appears that he is rouge”

“Secondary subject?”

“No recognition of Ambrosius at all”

“Excellent”

The two figures continued to talk amidst flashing screens, blogger profiles, and the clamour of many white coated figures. And in a large glass tank behind them, a red warning light flashed. The ninja leprechaun army still had one active member. The hunt was on.

Joseph sat down and cried. It had all gone terribly wrong. Kallista was supposed to be overjoyed, they’d hug and talk and go out for dinner. Kallista would have ordered the most ridiculous things in a very posh tone. “I’d like to order one broccoli and gorgonzola muffin and a glass of your best diet water please.” He could almost see the expression on the waiter’s face. She was going to accompany him on his travels to meet his blog friends; they would have one shining year together. He fully expected to have at least one chase with police cars. Yet she had brutally turned him down.  She didn’t even remember him. And she had insulted his poetry. Joseph would have to travel alone.

He smiled a small sad smile as a line of poetry passed through his head.

“Better by far you should forget and smile.

Than that you should remember and be sad”

 “Christina Rossetti” Joseph identified the poet immediately.

“If only it were so. Trust fate to twist it around.”

“What’s the point anymore?” he thought.

“Maybe if I can tell them what’s wrong they’ll be able to help me?” he pondered.

Yet as the weeks went by it became obvious that this problem was far worse than it seemed. None of the bloggers recognized him. In fact they all displayed savage hatred towards him. Skyril had thrown the chocolate chip cookies he made at him. Ann Marie threatened to run him over with her tractor and screamed at him to stay away from her children. Mar, Mir and Thalia chased him away with a frying pan. And Lizzy shot him in the shoulder with the Pink. His tour of Britain and Australia bore similar results. Quinnera and Bryony pelted him with mangoes whilst yelling “butt trumpet!” at him. Hellboy told him he didn’t care that they shared a name and to leave him alone. He decided not to visit Dragona as he wasn’t sure if he’d survive that encounter. And when he returned home he found Pyro and Chan sitting on his bed and glaring at him with hatred. “You’re no brother of mine!” still rang in his ears. Wherever he went, the bloggers had been transformed, all knowledge of Skulduggery Pleasant erased with a feral hatred replacing it. It suddenly dawned on Joseph.

“Someone has managed to eradicate the ninja leprechaun army. They’ve left our Golden God almost defenceless. Something terrible is going on. Someone is going after Derek Landy...”

It was a beautiful evening in Dublin. The cool wind blew and the river Liffey gleamed wetly in the blackness. The streets glowed warmly and Derek Landy was out for a stroll. He chuckled as he walked over the Ha’penny Bridge, the words “Troll below?” etched into the stonework.  He turned towards St. Stephens Green and started whistling “The Girl from Ipanema” Suddenly three masked strangers loomed up out of the shadows and wrapped a handkerchief soaked with chloroform around Derek’s face. He attempted to fend them off using Krav Maga, but he was already feeling drowsy. Suddenly the blackness rushed upon him and he dropped to the ground unconscious. The last thought to enter his mind was “Some ninja leprechaun army they are.”  

Michelle sighed and slumped against a wall as she listened to her dad lecturing her on time wasting. “What were you doing answering the door and chatting all day? Don’t you realise you have the lawn to rake of leaves and you still haven’t made the beds! And who’s going to make dinner? You really don’t think do you? Instead you just spend time talking to strangers!”

Michelle longed to interrupt, to tell him that she had been harassed by some freaky boy and wouldn’t a little comfort be nice? Maybe even a hug? But no, she thought bitterly, all they do is complain.

“And the shame you could bring on the family! How many boys must you see before you realise they don’t love you.” He tailed off obviously too embarrassed to mention something.

“Now dinner! Go! Now!”

Derek groaned and opened his eyes. He blinked blearily and tried to clear his head. “Where am I?” he muttered.

“The primary subject is in a conscious state” reported a white clad scientist.

Derek looked around, wondering who had kidnapped him. The only people he could see were a group of white coated scientists and a six year old boy who sat looking imperiously down from the lofty heights of a blue armchair covered with pictures of spider man.

The six year old boy cleared his throat and announced dramatically “We meet at last!”

Derek looked at him questioningly. “Err... and who are you?”

 “I am your mortal enemy! The bringer of your doom!”

“Seriously?”

“Uh huh!”

“That’s so lame. No one has mortal enemies anymore!”

The little boy consulted a brightly coloured book labelled “How to be a Scary Super-villain”

“Enough of your grovelling!”

“I wasn’t grovelling; I was questioning your villain sense”

“Silence!”

He pointed a chubby finger at Derek and motioned for quiet.

“As I was saying I am the bringer of your doom! I have successfully kidnapped you, deactivated your pathetic insert name of army here, and left you entirely at my mercy!”

“My ninja leprechaun army?”

“No your insert name of army here!”

“But my army is named the ninja leprechaun army.”

The boy’s top lip wobbled.

“If you don’t mind me asking who’s the real mastermind here? I mean it must take an enemy of great cunning to defeat my ninja leprechaun army. You’re just a six year old boy...”

“Six and three quarters actually!”

“Hardly very threatening though.”

The boy scowled.

“I am the mastermind around here!”

“Well.... ok. I guess we can pretend for now.”

“I am!”

“Yes dear. Now my next question...”

“I’m the one asking the questions around here!”

“As I was saying, how did you manage to deactivate my ninja leprechaun army?”

“Using my Mind Altering Fungus Prototype 42”

“A mushroom?”

“Fungus!”

“It’s a mushroom!”

“Fungus sounds better!”

There was a short silence.

“Mushroom” Derek whispered.

The boy’s face was growing red.

“Ok. So somehow you used a magic mushroom to take over the minds of my minions... and then chloroformed me and took me to your... what do you call this place?

The boy consulted his book.

“My top secret underground lair”

“But it has windows letting in sunlight. We’re obviously above ground.”

“Underground lair!”

“I’m sorry, but that name’s just ridiculous.”

“You can talk”

“Excuse me?”

“Well you have a ridiculous.... umm.... name!”

“Derek Landy?”

“Yes. Totally ridiculous.”

“Very rude of you, not introducing yourself...”

“The name is Spookygeddon Scary-boy III”

“Did you come up with that all by yourself?

Spookygeddon nodded.

“I guessed as much.”

  “Stop talking would you? I’m about to announce why I kidnapped you!”

“I’m listening.”

“Sssshhhhhhhhh!”

Derek placed a finger on his lips and nodded mock-seriously, a chuckle threatening to break out.

“I have kidnapped you, Master Landy, because I am your number one fan!”

Derek looked confused.

“You have no means of escape. This top secret underground lair is 100% escape proof! No one can enter of exit without my knowledge or permission!”

It was at that moment that a tall figure wrapped in a gleaming purple cloak burst through the door proclaiming “It is I, Octaboona! I have come to rescue you!”

Several hours previously Joseph had just visited Darkane Claw. The visit was short and culminated in a chase through the streets of Dublin. For a girl with local knowledge of the city who trained daily for athletics competitions it was hardly surprising that it took a short time to catch up with him and push him into the river Liffey. And so it was that floating miserably downstream Joseph washed up beneath the Ha’penny Bridge and overheard the commotion above. He emerged dripping from the river just in time for him to see Derek being bundled into the back of a van. A peculiarly familiar van at that. Suddenly he made up his mind. There was one person who hadn’t abandoned him. One person who needed his help. And so Joseph stood and yelled into the night. “My name is Octaboona Ambrosius! I shall not let my friends go! I live to serve my Golden God! IT’S NOT OVER YET!” And thus reinvigorated Octaboona chased after the van.

“But how did you know I was here? Derek asked?

“Because this is where George was most likely to be.” Octaboona pointed to the little boy.

“You know this guy?”

“I’ve known him for years.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“I was best friends with his brother. We even went out for a few months. Then we broke up and he went over to the dark side.” Octaboona nodded sadly. “They just make better cookies than I do.”

Derek looked up sceptically.

“He was suffering from a broken heart?”

Derek continued to stare.

“Alright alright, I’m not the best judge of character.”

So he’s the mastermind behind this?

Well... not really. He’s actually spending the weekend in Paris.

“Romantic holiday?”

“No, he needs to buy some components for his Death Star.”

“Ahh.” Derek nodded understandingly.

“But he did develop the mind mushrooms.”

“Mind altering fungus!” a small voice shrieked.

And then. “How did you get past the guards?”

“What guards?”

George pointed to a bunch of papers. Octaboona looked through them. “Schematics for lair, growth solution for mushrooms, addresses of ninja leprechaun army.”

He sighed.

“Oh George. You’re supposed to insert the sulphuric acid pit here not there.” He pointed to a rectangle labelled guard room. “The guards will have been dissolved.”

George looked in horror.

“You... you mean they’re dead?”

“I’m afraid so.”

George screamed and then vomited over the side of the armchair.

Derek and Octaboona looked on in a mixture of pity and disgust.

“What I still don’t understand is why George kidnapped me?”

“Or for that matter exactly how.”

Octaboona walked over to one of the scientists and examined his fingernails.

“As I thought. Completely blue. He’s under the control of the mind fungus. They must have been conditioned by his brother. George found these plans and ordered them to build the lair and to travel the world infecting the ninja leprechaun army. It was only a matter of luck that I wasn't infected myself. I guess my tour around the world saved me from being infected. They must have gotten Pyro just after I left."

“So he used a bunch of hypnotised scientists to achieve his plan, I get that. That explains how this whole thing happened. But I still don’t understand why?”

George piped up. “Because I’m your number one fan!”

Derek frowned.

“And you’ve always ignored me! I went to your signing! You only signed one of my books. You didn’t give me a hug. You said you were under time restrictions but how couldn’t you make time for your number one fan?”

“And all those competitions I entered. I didn’t win one! Not one!” he sobbed.

George sniffed loudly and looked back at his book.

“So these are my conditions! I want you to give me a hug! I want you to write me into a Skulduggery book. In fact I want to marry Valkyrie. He thought for a moment. And Tanith!”

Derek sighed.

“And then you’ll let me go?”

“Sure!”

Derek reached out a hand.

“Shake?”

They shook hands.

“And you have to be my slave for a whole day!” George gabbled quickly before letting go of his hand.

Derek groaned. Octaboona laughed.

“Caught out by a six year old!”

Derek deigned not to respond.  

 Octaboona’s face turned serious.

“What about my friends George?”

“What... what about them?”

“Well you’ve filled them up with hatred for me. You’ve taken away their love of Skulduggery. Hundreds of lives have been twisted by that mushroom. What will you do about that?”

George mumbled.

“Shan’t.”

“What did you say?”

“Shan’t. You took my brother away from me! It was always Joseph this and Joseph that and isn’t he wonderful? He stopped thinking of me. He wouldn’t read me stories at night. He didn’t care about me at all!”

“But he never read you stories before we went out. He’s evil? Remember?”

George sulked.

“And you’re still being mean to him! Just because he dumped you!”

“Well what about those Death Star components?”

“It’s a model, idiot. You can’t make a real Death Star.”

Octaboona sulked.

 “Darth Vader did. And he’s still evil. He developed that mushroom. Made plans for an evil lair”

George thought for a moment.

“Oh yeah... but still. Not letting your friends free.”

Octaboona sighed.

“Look, I’ve had enough of this now. I’m not going to talk to you any longer. Derek and I we’re leaving. Six year olds just don’t make particularly effective villains.”

And then he walked over to a giant red button protruding from the floor and stepped on it.

The tank containing the sickly white fungus suddenly burst into flames.

“Wasn’t that a bit too easy?”

“He’s a six year old villain. Of course he’s going to have an obvious self destruct button somewhere! Like I said, not very hard to defeat.”

 “Well I suppose you have a point”

And so saying, Octaboona and Derek walked out of the compound.

George sat amidst the ruins of his “underground” lair muttering darkly into his sleeve.

“You may have bested me this time Octaboona but I shall have my revenge!” He started on an evil laugh but was interrupted by the arrival of his mother.

“Come on George, you’ve played enough today. It’s bedtime!”

“Oh mummy. Five more minutes?”

“No dear.”

It was a sunny day in a small town in the north of Michigan. Joseph approached the door and knocked. A teenage girl answered it.

“Michelle?” he spoke hesitantly.

“OOOOOCCCCCCCTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTAAAAAAAAAAAAAAABBBBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNAAAAAAAAAA!!!”

The sound of her voice echoed loudly across the lake, startling a flock of birds out of the cherry trees and causing ripples to spread across the deep blue water.

The girl grinned widely and gave him a giant hug and a noogie.

“Call me Kallista my dear boy!”