Copyright

First published in Great Britain by

HarperCollins Children’s Books in 2007

HarperCollins Children’s Books is a division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd,

HarperCollins Publishers

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

The HarperCollins website address is:

www.harpercollins.co.uk

Skulduggery Pleasant rests his weary bones on the web at:

www.skulduggerypleasant.co.uk

Derek Landy blogs under duress at

www.dereklandy.blogspot.com

Text copyright © Derek Landy 2008

Illuminated letters copyright © Tom Percival 2008

Skulduggery Pleasant logo™ HarperCollins Publishers

Skulduggery Pleasant™ © Derek Landy

Cover design © blacksheep-uk.com

Cover illustration © Tom Percival

Derek Landy asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of the work.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780007257058

Ebook Edition © ISBN: 9780007302123

Version: 2019-10-23

This book is dedicated to my family – because otherwise I’d never hear the end of it …

Nadine: warm, kind and considerate. I am all of these things.

Audrey: the greatest thrill of your life is probably the fact that I’m your brother.

Ivan: meaningless words such as “brilliant”, “amazing” and “inspirational” have been used to describe me, but not nearly enough.

If any of you thought that there’d be anything sincere or heartfelt in your dedications, allow me a moment to quietly laugh at you …

Because the heartfelt sincerity is reserved for my nana.

Chic, this book is also dedicated to you, for all the love and support you’ve shown me over the years. I love you much more than any of your other grandchildren do, I swear.

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter 1: Hanging Around

Chapter 2: Killer On The Loose

Chapter 3: Vengeous

Chapter 4: The Beauty, The Beast

Chapter 5: The Terror Of London

Chapter 6: Fireballs In The Park

Chapter 7: Unwelcome Visitors

Chapter 8: Billy-Ray Sanguine

Chapter 9: The Hidden Room

Chapter 10: The Armour Of Lord Vile

Chapter 11: The Terrifying Brain-Sucker Of London

Chapter 12: Barfight

Chapter 13: Roarhaven

Chapter 14: Springing Jack

Chapter 15: Point Blank

Chapter 16: The Switch

Chapter 17: Grave Robbing

Chapter 18: Old Enemies

Chapter 19: On The Run

Chapter 20: Under The Ground

Chapter 21: Donning Darkness

Chapter 22: Blood And Shadows

Chapter 23: Elephants And Bunnies

Chapter 24: Argus

Chapter 25: A Smattering Of Slaughtering

Chapter 26: Murder In The New Morgue

Chapter 27: Rise Of The Grotesquery

Chapter 28: Good Guys Convene

Chapter 29: Picking Up A Tail

Chapter 30: Fight

Chapter 31: The Edgley Family Reunion Thing

Chapter 32: Shadow Shards

Chapter 33: The Calm Before The Storm

Chapter 34: Unfinished Business

Chapter 35: Attack Of The Vampires

Chapter 36: Giant Spider Madness

Chapter 37: Tooth And Claw

Chapter 38: Those About To Die …

Chapter 39: Facing Vengeous

Chapter 40: Fight To The Death

Chapter 41: Billy-Ray Sanguine’s Erstwhile Employer

Chapter 42: Bad Things

Keep Reading …

The Skulduggery Pleasant series

About the Publisher

alkyrie Cain hit the parapet and tumbled, unable to stop herself, and with a panicked gasp she disappeared off the edge.

The church tower stood high and proud, looking out over Dublin City. The night breeze was brisk and carried snatches of laughter from the street below. It was a long way down.

A man in a tattered coat walked up to the edge and peered over. He smirked.

“This is insulting,” he said. “Don’t they know how dangerous I am? I am very, very dangerous. I’m a killer. I’m a trained killing machine. And still, they send you. A child.”

Valkyrie felt her grip on the ledge loosen. She ignored the goading of the man standing above her, and looked around for something else to grab on to. She looked everywhere but down. Down was where the street was, where the long drop and the sudden stop was. She didn’t want to look down. She didn’t want anything to do with down right now.

“What age are you?” the man continued. “Thirteen? What kind of responsible adult sends a thirteen-year-old child to stop me? What kind of thinking is that?”

Valkyrie swung herself gently towards the tower, planting her feet against a small buttress. The fear started to work through her and she felt herself freeze up. She closed her eyes against the oncoming wave of paralysis.

The man was Vaurien Scapegrace, currently wanted in five countries for various counts of attempted murder. He hunkered down at the edge and smiled happily.

“I am turning murder into an art form. When I – when I kill, I’m actually painting a big, big picture, using blood and, and … messiness. You know?”

Below Valkyrie, the city twinkled.

“I’m an artist,” Scapegrace continued. “Some people don’t appreciate that. Some people don’t recognise true talent when they see it. And that’s fine. I’m not bitter. My time will come.”

“Serpine tried to bring the Faceless Ones back,” Valkyrie managed to say. Her fingers were burning and the muscles in her legs were screaming at her. “We stopped him. We’ll stop you, too.”

He laughed. “What, you think I want the old gods to walk the earth once again? Is that it? You think Nefarian Serpine was my leader? I’m not one of those nutbag disciples, all right? I’m my own man.”

Valkyrie had one chance, but she needed to be calm to take advantage of it. Her powers, limited though they were, were Elemental – the manipulation of earth, air, fire and water. But at this stage of her training they didn’t work when she was panicking.

“So if you don’t want the Faceless Ones to return,” she said, “what do you want? Why are you doing this?”

He shook his head. “You wouldn’t understand. It’s grown-up stuff. I just want a little appreciation for who I am, that’s all. That’s not much to ask, is it? But of course, you wouldn’t know. You’re just a kid.” He shrugged. “Oh, well. Time to die.” He reached down to shove her.

“Have you killed anyone?” she asked quickly.

“What? Did you miss what I said, about turning murder into an art form?”

“But you haven’t actually killed anyone yet, have you? I read your file.”

He glowered. “Technically, yeah, all right, maybe I haven’t, but tonight’s the night. You’re going to be my first.”

She readied herself, controlled her breathing. “Find the space where everything connects,” she murmured.

Scapegrace frowned. “What?”

Valkyrie kicked upwards, taking her right hand from the outcrop and feeling the air against her palm. She pushed at it like she’d been taught, and it shimmered and hit Scapegrace, throwing him off his feet. Valkyrie clutched at the edge of the parapet, her legs swinging in open air. She grunted and pulled herself up, then flung her left arm across the edge and hauled herself the rest of the way. She got to her feet, her arms and legs trembling with the strain, and moved away from the edge. The wind whipped her dark hair across her face.

Scapegrace was already getting up and Valkyrie saw anger mottle his face. She clicked her fingers, generating a spark that she caught in her hand. She tried to focus, tried to build it into a flame, but Scapegrace was coming at her like a freight train.

Valkyrie jumped and thrust out both feet. Her boots slammed into his chest and he hit the ground again and went sprawling. He turned to her just as she lashed a kick into his jaw. His body twisted and he tumbled back, came up to his feet then lost his balance, fell again. He spat blood and glared.

“You little brat,” he snarled. “You uppity, sneaky little brat. You don’t know who you’re messing with, do you? I am going to be the greatest killer the world has ever known.” He stood up slowly, wiping his sleeve across his burst lip. “When I’m finished with you I’m going to deliver your mutilated, bloody corpse to your masters, as a warning. They sent you up against me, alone. Next time they’re going to have to send a battalion.”

Valkyrie smiled, and Scapegrace’s anger flared. “What the hell is so funny?”

“First of all,” she said, her confidence growing, “they’re not my masters. I don’t have a master. Second, they don’t need a battalion to take you down. And third – and this really is the most important point – whoever said I came alone?”

Scapegrace frowned, turned, saw someone walking up behind him, a skeleton in a black suit, and he tried to attack, but a gloved fist hit his face, a foot hit his shin and an elbow slammed into his chest. He fell in an awkward heap.

Skulduggery Pleasant turned to Valkyrie. “You all right?”

“I’ll kill you both!” Scapegrace howled.

“Hush,” Skulduggery said.

Scapegrace launched himself forward and Skulduggery moved into him, grabbed his outstretched arm and spun him around, then abruptly cut him off by slamming a forearm into his throat. Scapegrace flipped in midair, landed painfully. Skulduggery turned to Valkyrie again.

“I’m OK,” she said. “Really.”

Scapegrace had his hands to his face. “I think you broke my nose!” They ignored him.

“He talks a lot,” Valkyrie said, “but I don’t think he knows what all the words mean.”

Scapegrace leaped up. “I am the Killer Supreme! I make murder into an art form!”

Skulduggery hit him again and Scapegrace did a little twirl before falling.

“Vaurien Scapegrace,” he said, “by the power endowed unto me under the Sanctuary Rule of Justice, I am placing you under arrest for the attempted murder of Alexander Remit and Sofia Toil in Oregon, Cothurnus Ode and Armiger Fop in Sydney, Gregory Castallan and Bartholomew—”

Scapegrace tried one last desperate attack that Skulduggery cut short by punching him very hard on the nose. The Killer Supreme wobbled, collapsed and started crying.

he car was a 1954 Bentley R-Type Continental. It sliced through the quiet Dublin night like a black shark, gleaming and powerful. It was a beautiful car. Valkyrie had grown to love it almost as much as Skulduggery did.

They turned on to O’Connell Street, passed the Spire and the Pearse Monument. Scapegrace sat in the back and complained that the shackles were too tight. It was four in the morning. Valkyrie fought a yawn.

This time last year she would have been in bed, snuggled up and dreaming about … well, whatever it was she dreamed about back then. Things were a lot different now, and she was lucky if she could get a few hours sleep a night. If she wasn’t going up against crazies like Scapegrace, she was practising magic, and if she wasn’t practising magic, she was training to fight with either Skulduggery or Tanith Low. These days, her life was a lot more exciting, a lot more fun, and a lot more dangerous. In fact, one of the major downsides to her new life was that she rarely had sweet dreams any more. When she slept, it was the nightmares that came to her. They waited patiently, and they were always eager to play.

But that was the cost, she reasoned. The cost of living a life of adventure and excitement.

The owners of the Waxworks Museum had closed it down after the events of the previous year, and set up a new and improved version of the Sanctuary of the Elders in another part of the city. The new building stood quietly beside its neighbours, humble and drab, its front doors closed and locked and sealed. But Valkyrie and Skulduggery had never used the front doors anyway.

They parked in the loading area at the back and took Scapegrace in through the rear door. The corridors were dimly lit, and they walked past the lonely historical figures and cinematic icons that had been left to collect dust. Valkyrie traced her hand along the wall to find the switch, and the door slid open beside her. She led the way through and down the steps, her mind flashing back to the summer of the previous year, when she had stepped into the Sanctuary’s foyer to find it littered with dead bodies …

Today, however, there were no corpses in sight. Two Cleavers stood guard against the far wall, dressed all in grey, their scythes strapped to their backs, visored helmets pointing straight ahead. The Cleavers acted as the Sanctuary’s law enforcers and its army. Silent and lethal, they still gave Valkyrie the creeps.

The double doors to their left opened and the new Grand Mage, Thurid Guild, came out to them. He looked to be in his sixties, with thinning grey hair, a lined face and cold eyes.

“You found him then,” Guild said. “Before or after he managed to kill someone?”

“Before,” Skulduggery said. Guild grunted and gestured to the Cleavers. They stepped forward and Scapegrace shrank away from them. They took him firmly by the arms and he didn’t resist. He even stopped whining about his broken nose as they led him away.

Valkyrie looked back at Guild. He wasn’t a friendly man by any means, but he seemed especially uncomfortable around her, like he wasn’t yet sure if he should take her seriously. He tended to speak directly to Skulduggery, and only glanced at Valkyrie when she asked a question.

“A situation has arisen which requires your attention,” said Guild. “This way.”

Skulduggery fell into step beside the Grand Mage, but Valkyrie stayed two paces behind. Guild had taken over as head of the Council of Elders, but he still had to select the two sorcerers who would rule with him. It was a long and arduous process apparently, but Valkyrie suspected she knew who would be Guild’s first choice. He was a man who respected power, after all, and there were few more powerful in this world than Mr Bliss.

They walked into a room with a long table, and Mr Bliss rose – bald, tall and broad shouldered, his eyes a piercing blue.

“I have received some disturbing news,” Bliss said, getting straight to the point as usual. “It seems that Baron Vengeous has been freed from the confinement facility in Russia.”

Skulduggery was silent for a moment. When he spoke, he spoke slowly. “How did he get out?”

“Violently, from the reports we’ve been getting,” Guild said. “Nine Cleavers were killed, along with approximately one third of the prisoners. His cell, like all the cells, was securely bound. Nobody should have been able to use magic in any of them.”

Valkyrie raised an eyebrow and Skulduggery answered her unspoken question. “Baron Vengeous was one of Mevolent’s infamous Three Generals. Dangerously fanatical, extremely intelligent, and very, very powerful. I saw him look at a colleague of mine and my colleague … ruptured.”

“Ruptured?”

Skulduggery nodded. “All over the place.” He turned to Guild. “Do we know who freed him?”

The Grand Mage shook his head. “According to the Russians, one wall of his cell was cracked. Still solid, but cracked, like something had hit it. That’s the only clue we have at the moment.”

“The prison’s location is a closely guarded secret,” Bliss said. “It is well hidden and well protected. Whoever is behind this had inside knowledge.”

Guild made a face. “That’s the Russians’ problem, not ours. The only thing we have to concern ourselves with is stopping Vengeous.”

“You think he’ll come here then?” Valkyrie asked.

Guild looked at her and she saw his fist clench. He probably didn’t even realise he was doing it, but it signalled to Valkyrie loud and clear that he still didn’t like her.

“Vengeous will come home, yes. He has a history here.” He looked at Skulduggery. “We have already sent our people to airports and docks around the country, in the hope of preventing him from entering. But you know better than anyone how difficult the Baron is to … contain.”

“Indeed,” Skulduggery murmured.

“I think we can assume,” Guild continued, “that if Baron Vengeous is not already here, then he will be arriving shortly. You arrested him eighty years ago. I’m relying on you to do it again.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“Do better, Detective.”

Skulduggery observed Guild for a moment before answering. “Of course, Grand Mage.”

Guild dismissed them with a curt nod, and as they were walking back through the corridors, Valkyrie spoke.

“Guild doesn’t like me.”

“That’s true.”

“He doesn’t like you either.”

“That is mystifying.”

“So what about Vengeous? Is he bad news?”

“The worst. I don’t think he’s ever forgotten the time I threw a bundle of dynamite at him. It didn’t kill him obviously, but it definitely ruined his day.”

“Is he all scarred now?”

“Magic gets rid of most physical scars, but I like to think that I scarred him emotionally.”

“How about on the Evil Villain Scale? Ten being Serpine, one being Scapegrace?”

“The Baron, unfortunately, turns it all the way up to eleven.”

“Seriously? Because, you know, that’s one more evil.”

“It is indeed.”

“So we’re in trouble then.”

“Oh, yes,” said Skulduggery darkly.

he first thing Baron Vengeous did when he set foot on Irish soil was murder someone. He would have preferred to arrive without incident, to have stepped off the boat and disappeared into the city, but his hand had been forced. He had been recognised.

The sorcerer had seen him, picked him out in the crowd as he disembarked. Vengeous had walked away from the crowd, led the sorcerer somewhere quiet, out of the way. It was an easy kill. He had taken the sorcerer by surprise. A brief struggle and Vengeous’ arm had wrapped around the man’s throat. He hadn’t even needed to use his magic.

Once he had disposed of the body, Vengeous walked deeper into Dublin City, relishing the freedom that was his again after so long.

He was tall and his chest was broad, his tightly-cropped beard the same gun-metal grey as his hair. His clothes were dark, the jacket buttons polished to a gleam, and his boots clacked on the street-lit pavements. Dublin had changed dramatically since he’d been here last. The world had changed dramatically.

He heard the quiet footsteps behind him. He stopped but he didn’t turn. The man in black had to walk around him, into his line of sight.

“Baron,” the man said in greeting.

“You’re late.”

“I’m here, which is the main thing.”

Vengeous looked into the man’s eyes. “I do not tolerate insubordination, Mr Dusk. Perhaps you have forgotten.”

“Times have changed,” Dusk responded evenly. “The war is over.”

“Not for us.”

A taxi passed, and the sweeping headlights illuminated Dusk’s pale face and black hair. “Sanguine isn’t with you,” he noted.

Vengeous resumed walking, Dusk by his side. “He will join us soon, have no fear.”

“Are you sure you can trust him? I appreciate that he freed you from prison, but it took him eighty years to do it.”

Were Dusk any other man, this remark would have been the height of hypocrisy, as he himself had not lifted one finger to help Vengeous either. But Dusk was not any other man. Dusk was scarcely a man, and as such, loyalty was not in his nature. A certain level of obedience perhaps, but not loyalty. Because of this, Vengeous harboured no resentment towards him.

The resentment he harboured towards Sanguine on the other hand …

Dusk’s breathing suddenly became strained. He reached into his coat and fumbled with a syringe, then jabbed the needle into his forearm. He depressed the plunger, forcing the colourless liquid into his bloodstream, and moments later he was breathing regularly again.

“I’m glad to see you’re still in control,” Vengeous said.

Dusk put the syringe away. “I wouldn’t be much good to you if I wasn’t, would I? What do you need me to do?”

“There will be some obstacles to our work, some enemies we will no doubt face. The Skeleton Detective for example. Apparently he has an apprentice now – a dark-haired girl. You will wait for them outside the Sanctuary, tonight, and you will follow them, and when she is alone, you will fetch her for me.”

“Of course.”

“Alive, Dusk.”

There was a hesitation. “Of course,” Dusk repeated.

hey left the Sanctuary and drove across town, until they came to a street lined with ugly tenement buildings. Skulduggery parked the Bentley, wrapped his scarf around his jaw and pulled his hat down low, and got out.

“I notice you haven’t mentioned how I was thrown off a tower tonight,” Valkyrie said as they crossed the road.

“Does it need mentioning?” Skulduggery queried.

“Scapegrace threw me off a tower. If that doesn’t require mentioning then what does?”

“I knew you could handle it.”

“It was a tower.” Valkyrie led the way into one of the tenement buildings.

“You’ve been thrown off higher,” Skulduggery said.

“Yes, but you were always there to catch me.”

“So you’ve learned a valuable lesson – there will be times when I’m not there to catch you.”

“See, that sounds to me like a lesson I could have been told.”

“Nonsense. This way, you’ll never forget.”

Skulduggery removed his disguise as they climbed the stairs. Just as they reached the second floor, Valkyrie stopped and turned to him.

“Was it a test?” she asked. “I mean, I know I’m still new at this, I’m still the rookie. Did you hang back to test me, to see if I’d be able to handle it alone?”

“Well, kind of,” he said. “Actually, no, nothing like that. My shoelace was untied. That’s why I was late. That’s why you were alone.”

“I could have been killed because you were tying your shoelace?”

“An untied shoelace can be dangerous,” Skulduggery said. “I could have tripped.”

She stared at him. A moment dragged by.

“I’m joking,” he said at last.

She relaxed. “Really?”

“Absolutely. I would never have tripped. I’m far too graceful.”

He moved past her and she glowered then followed him to the third floor. They walked to the middle door and a slight man with large round spectacles and a bow tie opened it and let them in.

The library was a vast labyrinth of tall bookcases, one that Valkyrie had managed to get herself lost in no fewer than eleven times. It seemed to amuse Skulduggery no end whenever she found herself at a dead end, or even better, back where she had started, so she let him lead the way.

China Sorrows passed in front of them, wearing a dark trouser suit with her black hair tied off her face. She stopped and smiled when she saw them. The most exquisitely beautiful woman Valkyrie had ever seen, China had a habit of making people fall in love with her at first glance.

“Skulduggery,” she said. “Valkyrie. So good to see you both. What brings the Sanctuary’s esteemed investigators back to my door? I’m assuming it is Sanctuary business?”

“You assume correctly,” Skulduggery said. “And I’m sure you already know why we’re here.”

Her smile turned coy. “Let me think … a certain recently-liberated Baron? You want to know if I’ve heard any particularly juicy rumours?”

“Have you?” Valkyrie asked.

China hesitated, looked around and gave them another smile. “Let us talk privately,” she said, leading them out of the library and across the hall, into her luxurious apartment. Once Skulduggery had closed the door she took a seat.

“Tell me, Valkyrie,” she said, “how much do you know about Baron Vengeous?”

Valkyrie sat on the couch, but Skulduggery remained standing. “Not a whole lot,” she said. “He’s dangerous. I know that much.”

“Oh yes,” China agreed, her blue eyes twinkling in the lamplight. “Very dangerous. He is a fanatical follower of the Faceless Ones, and there is nothing more dangerous than a zealot. Along with Nefarian Serpine and Lord Vile, Vengeous was one of Mevolent’s most trusted generals. He was assigned to their most secret operations. Have you ever heard of the Grotesquery, my dear?” Valkyrie shook her head.

“Before he was caught, Baron Vengeous was given the task of resurrecting a Faceless One from the remains found in a long-forgotten tomb.”

Valkyrie frowned. “Is that even possible? Bringing one of them back to life after all this time?”

It was Skulduggery who answered her. “Bringing a Faceless One back whole proved to be beyond his abilities, so Vengeous combined the remains with parts and organs from other creatures, forming a hybrid, what he called a Grotesquery. But even then an ingredient was missing.”

China took over. “Two ingredients actually. First, he needed a Necromancer’s power to revive it and then, once it was alive, he needed something to keep it that way.

“When Lord Vile died, Vengeous thought he could harness Vile’s power. Vile was a Necromancer, a practitioner of death magic – shadow magic. It is the Necromancer way to place most of their power in an object, or a weapon or, in this case, his armour.”

“So if Vengeous wore that armour,” Valkyrie said, “he’d have all Vile’s power …”

“But he couldn’t find the armour,” Skulduggery said. “Lord Vile died alone, and his armour was lost.”

“What about the other missing ingredient? Did he find out what that was?”

China answered. “From what I have heard, yes. He did.”

“So what is it?”

“He knows. We don’t.”

“Ah.”

“Fortunately for us, and the world at large, Skulduggery was around to foil this plot before Vengeous could find the armour and retrieve this mysterious missing ingredient. He tracked the Baron to a known enemy hideaway and brought him to justice, in what became one of the most talked-about battles of the entire war. Skulduggery was badly injured in that fight, if I remember correctly.”

Valkyrie looked at Skulduggery and he folded his arms.

“This is a history lesson,” he said. “Why are we going over this?”

“Because,” China said with a smile, “I have heard that this final missing ingredient – whatever it is – has at last been recovered, or at least located, by the Baron’s associates.”

Skulduggery’s head tilted. “Who are these associates?”

“I’m afraid not even I know that.”

“So if Vengeous now has the missing ingredient,” Valkyrie said uneasily, “can he revive the, uh, the Grow Thing?”

“Grotesquery,” China corrected.

“And no,” Skulduggery said, “it’s impossible. He’d need Vile’s armour, which he doesn’t have.”

“But if he did, and he revived this thing, what would it do? Would we be able to stop it?”

Skulduggery hesitated for a split second. “The threat the Grotesquery would pose is a little bigger than that. Theoretically, it would be able to summon the Faceless Ones back to this world by opening a portal through realities.”

“A portal?” Valkyrie said, a little doubtfully.

“Yes, but the Grotesquery would have to be at full strength to do it and that’s not going to happen.”

“Why not?”

“A heart had to be provided for it, but the only one suitable was the heart of a Cu Gealach.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Cú na Gealaí Duibhe,” China said, “to give it its full Irish title. They do still teach you Gaelige in school, yes?”

“Yes, it means … it’s Black Hound of something, right?”

“Almost. Hound of the Black Moon. Terrible creatures. They’re virtually extinct now, but they were ruthless, savage things.”

“Ruthless, savage things,” Skulduggery said, “that were only ruthlessly savage for one night every few years, at a lunar eclipse. So no matter how much power Vengeous pumps into that thing, the Grotesquery will not be strong enough to open a portal until the Earth, moon and sun line up, which won’t be for another—”

“Two nights,” China said.

Skulduggery sagged and his head drooped. “Well, that’s just dandy,” he muttered.

Later, on the motorway back to Haggard, Valkyrie turned to Skulduggery. “So,” she said, “a legendary battle, eh?”

Skulduggery turned his head to her. “I’m sorry?”

“The battle between you and Vengeous, the legendary one. What happened?”

“We had a fight.”

“But why is it one of the most talked-about battles of the war?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe people had nothing else to talk about.”

“China said you were badly injured. Is that why you don’t like him? Because you were injured?”

“I don’t like him because he’s evil.”

“So it’s got nothing to do with him injuring you?”

“It’s because he’s evil,” Skulduggery said grumpily.

They stayed on the motorway for another five minutes, then took the slip road. The roads became narrower and curved between darkened fields and lone houses, and then orange streetlights appeared on either side and they were driving into Haggard. They reached the pier, and the Bentley stopped.

“Tomorrow’s going to be a big day,” Valkyrie said.

Skulduggery shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. If we can keep Vengeous out of the country, we’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“And if we can’t?”

“Then we have a whole lot to worry about, and I’m going to need you rested and alert.”

“Sir, yes sir,” she said, raising a mocking eyebrow. She opened the door and got out, and moments later the Bentley’s tail lights disappeared into the darkness.

Valkyrie stood beside the pier for a moment, watching the dark sea churn at the rocks and play with the small boats moored nearby. She liked watching the sea. Its power made her feel safe.

Back when Valkyrie Cain’s name had been Stephanie Edgley, she didn’t know much about life outside of Haggard. It was a small town, tucked into the east coast of Ireland, and things there were always so quiet and peaceful and so, so dull.

That all changed when Nefarian Serpine murdered her uncle. Gordon was a bestselling novelist, a writer of horror and fantasy, but he was also a man who knew the Big Secret. He knew about the subculture of sorcerers and mages, about the quiet little wars they had fought. He knew about the Faceless Ones – the terrible dark gods, exiled from this world – and the people who wanted them to return.

In the days that followed, she had met the Skeleton Detective and learned that she had a bloodline that could be traced back to the world’s first sorcerers, the Ancients. She was also faced with taking a new name. Everyone, Skulduggery had told her, has three names – the name they are born with, the name they are given, and the name they take. The name they are born with, their true name, lies buried deep in their subconscious. The name they are given, usually by their parents, is the only name most people will ever know. But this is a name that can be used against them, so sorcerers must take a third name to protect themselves.

And so Stephanie Edgley became Valkyrie Cain, and she started on the road to becoming an Elemental – she started to learn magic.

Valkyrie sneaked behind her house, stood directly beneath her window and concentrated. Until a few weeks ago, she had needed a ladder to climb up to her room, but every lesson with Skulduggery gave her more control over her powers.

She took her time, felt the calmness flow through her. She flexed her fingers, feeling the air touch her skin, feeling the fault lines between the spaces. She felt how they connected, and recognised how each would affect the other once the right amount of pressure was applied …

She splayed her hands beneath her and the air rippled and she shot upwards, just managing to grab the windowsill. She still missed it occasionally, but she was getting better. She opened the window and, grunting with exertion, pulled herself through. Moving as quietly as she could, she closed the window behind her and turned on the light.

She ignored the girl who sat up in her bed, the girl who was an exact replica of herself. She went to the door, put her ear to it and listened. Satisfied that her parents were sound asleep, Valkyrie shrugged off her coat as her replica stood up.

“Your arm,” it said. “It’s bruised.”

“Had a little run-in with a bad guy,” Valkyrie answered, keeping her voice low. “How was your day?”

“School was OK. I did all the homework, except the last maths question. I didn’t know how to do that. Your mum made lasagne for dinner.”

Valkyrie kicked off her boots. “Nothing strange happened?”

“No. A very normal day.”

“Good.”

“Are you ready to resume your life?”

“I am.”

The reflection nodded, went to the full-length mirror and stepped through, then turned and waited. Valkyrie touched the glass and a day’s worth of memory flooded into her mind as the reflection changed, the clothes Valkyrie was wearing appearing on it, and then it was nothing more than a reflected image in a mirror.

She sifted through the new memories, arranging them beside the memories she’d formed on her own. There had been a careers class in school. The teacher had tried to get them to declare what they wanted to be when they left school, or at least what they’d like to study in college. Nobody had any idea of course. The reflection had stayed quiet too.

Valkyrie thought about this. She didn’t really need a regular career after all. She was set to inherit Gordon’s estate and all his royalties when she turned eighteen anyway, so she’d never be short of money. Besides, what kind of career would interest her outside of magic? If she’d been in that class, she knew what she would have answered. Detective. That would have garnered a few sniggers around the room, but she wouldn’t have minded.

The main difference between her and her friends was not the magic, she knew, and nor was it the adventure. It was the fact that she knew what she wanted to do with her life, and she was already doing it.

Valkyrie undressed, pulled on her Dublin football jersey and climbed into bed. Twenty seconds later she was asleep.

dark shape flitted high above the streets of London, moving from rooftop to rooftop, spinning and twisting and cavorting in the air. He wore no shoes and his footsteps were light, his tread no more than a whisper, snatched away by the night breeze. He sang to himself as he moved, and giggled, a high-pitched giggle. He was dressed in black, with a battered top hat that stayed perched on his misshapen head no matter what acrobatic feat he performed. His suit was torn, old and musty, and his long-fingered hands were tipped with long, hardened nails.

He landed on one leg on the edge of a rooftop and stayed there, his lanky body curled. He looked down on to Charing Cross Road, at the people passing below him, at the cars zipping by. His cracked lips pursed, his small eyes moving, he browsed the selection on offer, making a choice.

“Jack.”

He turned quickly to see the young woman walking towards him. Her long coat was closed and the breeze played with her tousled blonde hair, teasing it across her face. And such a pretty face. Jack hadn’t seen as pretty a face in many a year. His lips parted, showed small yellow teeth, and he gave her his best smile.

“Tanith,” he said in a voice that was high and strained, in an accent that was a cross between East London and … something else, something unknowable. “You’re lookin’ ravishin’.”

“And you’re looking revolting.”

“You are too kind, I’m sure. What brings you to my neck of the woods?”

Tanith Low shook her head. “It’s not your neck of the woods any longer, Jack. Things have changed. You shouldn’t have come back.”

“Where was I gonna go? Old Folks’ Home? Retirement Village? I’m a creature of the night, love. I’m Springheeled Jack, ain’t I? I belong out here.”

“You belong in a cell.”

He laughed. “Me? In captivity? For what possible crime?”

“You mean, apart from murder?”

He turned his head so he was looking at her out of the corner of one eye. “That still illegal then?”

“Yes, it is.”

She opened her coat, revealing the sword against her leg. “You’re under arrest.”

He laughed, did a flip in the air, landed on his right foot and grinned at her. “Now this is new. You were always pokin’ your nose where it wasn’t wanted, always dealin’ out what you thought was justice, but you never arrested anyone. You a proper copper now, that it? You one of the constabulary?”

“Give up, Jack.”

“Bloody hell, you are. Consider me impressed.”

He dipped his head, looked at her with those small eyes of his. “What was it you used to say, before things got all rough and tumble? ‘Come and have a go—”

“If you think you’re hard enough.”

He grinned. “Do you?”

She withdrew her sword from its scabbard. It caught a beam of moonlight and held it, and she looked back at him without expression. “I’ll let you decide that.”

And Springheeled Jack sprang.

He flipped over her and she turned, ducking the swipe of hard nails, moving again as he landed, narrowly avoiding the return swipe and twisting to face him as he came at her.

He batted the sword to one side and his right foot went to her thigh, his toenails digging in, and he clambered up, kneeling on her shoulder. She grabbed his wrist to avoid the nails. She stumbled, unable to support his weight, but he jumped before she hit the rooftop, landed gracefully as she rolled to a crouch and then he dived at her again.

They went tumbling. He heard the sword clatter from her grip, and felt her foot on his belly as she kicked. He did a flip and landed, but her fist was right there, smacked him square in the face. He took a few steps back, bright lights dancing before his eyes. She kicked his knee, and he howled in pain, then there was a grip on his wrist and a sudden wrenching. He pushed her away, his vision clearing.

“You should be leavin’ me alone!” he spat. “I’m unique, me! They don’t even have a name for what I am! I should be on the Endangered Species list! You should be protectin’ me!”

“You know how they protect Endangered Species, Jack? They put them in a special enclosure, where no one can harm them.”

His face twisted. “Enclosure’s a fancy word for a cell, innit? And you’re not takin’ me anywhere near a bloody cell.”

And then it drifted up to them, the sound of a baby crying. Jack’s expression softened and he smiled again.

“Don’t even think about that,” Tanith warned.

His smile turned to a grin then a leer.

“Race you,” he said.

Jack ran to the edge of the building and then there was nothing beneath his feet but air, and the next rooftop swooped to meet him. He landed and ran on without missing a step. He glanced over his shoulder, saw Tanith Low trying to keep up. She was good, that girl, but this was something Jack was made for. He was the prince of London City. It let him go where it let no one else. He knew it like he knew his own face.

The baby’s cry came again and he changed direction, heading away from the busier areas, tracking it over the streets and the alleyways. His powerful legs propelled him through the darkness and he spun and dug his feet into brick. He ran sideways, the length of the building. He saw Tanith moving on a parallel course, jumping from rooftop to rooftop, trying to intercept him before he reached his goal.

One last cry from the baby and Jack zeroed in on an open window, high above street level. He made a series of small jumps, building his momentum. He saw Tanith out of the corner of his eye, sprinting to catch up. Too slow, he thought to himself. He leaped from one side of the street to the other and dived straight in, clearing the window and going for the crib.

But the crib held only blankets, and the room was dark and unfurnished, not like a baby’s room at all, and why had the window been open? It wasn’t warm enough to have the window open—

The baby’s cry, much louder, was coming from a small device that sat near the window.

It was a trap. She had tricked him.

He moved to the window, but she had walked up the side of the building and was climbing through.

“Out there,” she said, “in the open air, I didn’t have a hope of catching you. But in here, in a confined space? You’re all mine, ugly.”

Jack panicked, went to the door, but it wouldn’t budge; there was a sheen to it he could see, even in the darkness, and he knew it would withstand whatever he had to throw at it. He whirled. The only way out was the window- the window that Tanith Low now guarded. She laid her sword on the ground, and took off her coat. Her tunic was sleeveless and her arms were strong. She rolled her neck, loosening up her shoulders, and nodded to him.

“Now,” she said, “finally. Come and have a go if you think you’re hard enough.”

Jack roared and went for her and she kicked him. He swiped and she ducked, and smacked him across the jaw. He tried to flip over her, but the ceiling was too low and he bellyflopped into it, felt his breath leave him and crashed to the floor. After that, all that registered was a whole lot of fists and elbows and knees, and a wall that kept running into his face.

Jack collapsed. He breathed hard and groaned in pain. He stared up at the ceiling. He could see the cracks, even in the dark. Tanith stepped into view, looking down at him.

“You ready for your nice warm cell now?”

Jack whimpered.

alkyrie woke early. She took a pebble from her bedside table and sat on the floor, cross-legged. The pebble was flat and smooth in her hand. She focused on it like Skulduggery had taught her. She focused until she could feel the air on her skin, and she focused on how it all connected. Slowly, the pebble began to rise off her palm, held aloft by the air itself. A part of her still thrilled to see this, but she kept that part of her subdued. To use magic, she couldn’t afford to let anything ruin her calm.

And then that voice, drifting up the stairs like the whine of a dentist’s drill, and the pebble fell back into her hand. Muttering to herself, Valkyrie stood up and walked into the bathroom, her practice done for the day. She took a shower then pulled on her school uniform before heading down to the kitchen.

Her mother was there, and sitting beside her was Valkyrie’s shrill, sharp-featured aunt, Beryl.

“Morning,” Valkyrie said as she passed them, going straight for the cupboard.

“Hi, love,” her mother said.

“Good morning, Stephanie,” Beryl said primly.

“Beryl,” Valkyrie said in greeting.

“How is school going for you?”

Valkyrie poured some cereal into her bowl and added milk. She didn’t bother sitting. “It’s OK.”

“Are you studying hard? My girls are always studying. They get it from my side of the family, I have to say. It’s a valuable work ethic I’ve instilled in them.”

Valkyrie murmured and scooped a spoonful of cereal into her mouth, doubting the validity of just about everything Beryl had just said. Her aunt didn’t like her and Valkyrie didn’t like her aunt. Her aunt didn’t like her because Valkyrie had inherited her late uncle’s estate, and Valkyrie didn’t like her aunt, or her aunt’s husband Fergus, because they were dislikeable people.

Her father came in, dressed in smart trousers, vest and a tie around his bare neck. He winked at Valkyrie then noticed his sister-in-law.

“Beryl,” he said, utterly failing to hide his dismay.

“Desmond, good morning.”

“Beryl, what are you doing here? It’s not even 8 o’clock. You know I don’t like seeing you before I’ve had my first cup of coffee.”

Beryl laughed that hideous fake laugh of hers. “Oh Desmond, you’re such a messer! I’m just here to talk to Melissa, that’s all. We’ve got a lot to organise for tomorrow night.”

“Oh, dear God, the family reunion thing.”

“It’ll be wonderful!”

“But you’ll be there,” her dad said, puzzled, and Valkyrie nearly choked on her cereal.

Her mum looked up at him. “You forgot your shirt.”

“Oh, yes, the reason I’m here. I don’t have a clean one.”

“Behind the door.”

He turned, saw the crisp white shirt hanging on the coat hook and rubbed his hands together. He took it off the hook and put it on, sliding the collar up beneath the tie as he buttoned it. He didn’t like wearing ties – he owned a construction company so he’d always thought he’d be in work-boots and jeans. But every now and then he had to dress up and pretend – as he put it – to be civilised.

“So Steph,” he said, “looking forward to a great day in school?”

“Oh yes,” she said with mock enthusiasm.

“What do you think you’ll learn today?”

“I can’t begin to guess. Maybe how to subtract.”

He waved his hand dismissively. “Subtraction’s overrated. It’s like adding, only backwards. You’re not ever going to need it.”

“Desmond!” Beryl said sternly. “You shouldn’t take that attitude. Stephanie is at an easily-influenced age, and she needs to be taught that everything she learns in school is valuable. Joking around is all well and good, but some things just have to be taken seriously. How can you ever expect Stephanie to be responsible when all you ever do is set a bad example?”

“I don’t know,” he answered. “Luck, I suppose.”

Beryl sighed in exasperation and looked like she was about to give them a lecture. Valkyrie and her father both pounced on the same opportunity before Beryl could utter another word.

“I’m going to school,” Valkyrie said quickly, shovelling the last spoonful of cereal into her mouth.

“I’m going to work,” her dad said, only a millisecond behind.

Valkyrie slipped her bowl into the dishwasher and made for the door.

“But Desmond, you haven’t had any breakfast,” Valkyrie’s mother said with a frown.

“I’ll get something on the way,” her father said, following her out. They got to the hallway and Valkyrie turned for the stairs as her dad picked his keys up off the small table. They looked at each other and nodded their silent goodbyes. Then they both smiled, and he walked out and she went to her room.

Not for the first time, she wondered how her father would react if he knew that the family legends were true, that they were descended from the Ancients, that his grandfather and his late brother had been right. But she didn’t tell him. If he knew the truth, he’d try and stop her from going out every day, try to protect her from people like Serpine, and Vengeous, and whoever else wanted to kill her. Or worse, maybe he’d want to get involved. She didn’t think she’d be able to cope with her father putting himself in danger. She wanted her family to be normal. Normal was good. Normal was safe.

She closed the door then took off her school jumper and dropped it on the bed. She touched her mirror and a moment later her reflection stepped out. She had forgotten about the logo rule once and the reflection had gone to school with the school crest on the wrong side and the school motto written backwards. Valkyrie hadn’t made that mistake again. She waited until her reflection had pulled on the jumper then handed it her schoolbag.

“Have fun,” she said, and the reflection nodded and hurried out of the room.

Not for the first time, Valkyrie grinned to herself. She’d hardly been to school since Skulduggery had worked his magic on that mirror, yet she was up to date on all the classes, all the gossip, all the day-to-day workings of an ordinary, everyday, run-of-the-mill thirteen year old. Without having to actually set foot through a classroom door.

Sure, there were times when she wished she’d been there to experience something firsthand instead of reliving it through the reflection’s eyes. It wasn’t the same merely having the memories of, say, a joke being told, instead of actually having been around for the real thing. Just another price to pay, she reckoned.

Moving quietly, Valkyrie took off the rest of her uniform, hid it under her bed and dressed in the black clothes that had been made especially for her. She’d grown a bit since Ghastly Bespoke had designed them, but they still fitted, and for that she was thankful. They had saved her life on more then one occasion, and it wasn’t as if she could ask Ghastly to make her any more. In a fight with the White Cleaver he had used the earth power as a last-ditch defence and turned himself to stone. She hadn’t known him that well, but she missed him and she knew that Skulduggery did too.

She slipped into her coat and opened the window. She breathed deep and slow. Checking to make sure she wasn’t being watched, she climbed out on to the sill and paused there for a moment, focusing her mind. Then she slipped off the edge, displacing the air beneath her to slow her descent. It wasn’t graceful, and her landing was still a little too hard, but it was a lot better than it had been.

She hurried down the road to the pier. When she was younger she used to join her friends there. They used to sprint for the edge and leap as far as they could over the rocks right below them, splashing down into the sparkling water. Yes, it was dangerous, and yes, poor J. J. Pearl once shattered his knee on those rocks, but the danger gave the exercise a certain extra kick. These days, J. J. walked with a slight limp and she’d long since drifted apart from her childhood friends. She missed swimming though. She didn’t get to do a whole lot of that now.

The Bentley was waiting for her, parked beside a rusty old Fiat. It stood out by a mile – but then it stood out by a mile wherever it went.

“Good morning,” Skulduggery said when she got in. “Well rested, are you?”

“I had two hours’ sleep,” she said.

“Well, no one said being a great detective leading an action-packed life was easy.”

“You said it was easy.”

“I said it was easy for me,” he corrected. “Was that your lovely aunt’s car I saw outside your house?”

“Yeah, it was,” said Valkyrie, and told him about her brief run-in with Beryl.

“Family reunion?” Skulduggery said when she had finished. “Are you going?”

“And, what, leave you to stop the bad guys without me? No way. I’ll send the reflection in my place, thank you very much.”

“A reunion might be fun.”

“Right. Fun. Because I have so much fun with that side of the family. I wouldn’t mind so much if it was Mum’s side – I have a laugh with them. Dad’s side is just … weird, you know?”

“I do. Gordon spoke of them often. Never forget, however, that you’re weird too.”

She glared at him. “I’m not weird like that. I’m good weird. I’m cool weird.”

“Yes,” he said doubtfully. “Yes, you are.”

“Shut up. But anyway, all of Dad’s cousins will be there, with their families, people I hardly know and, of course, Beryl and Fergus and the Toxic Twins, and it’s pretty much going to be horrible, so there’s no way in hell that I’m going.”

“Well, that’s good enough for me.”

Skulduggery started the engine and Valkyrie sat low in her seat as he pulled out on to the road and started driving.

“So have you found out anything about Vengeous?”

“One of our people at the docks hasn’t reported in yet,” Skulduggery said. He was wearing his usual disguise – wide-brimmed hat, overlarge sunglasses, fuzzy wig and a scarf wrapped around the lower half of his face. “It might be nothing, but …”

“But Vengeous might already be here?”

“Well, yes.”

“That’s bad.”

“It’s not good.”

They were driving down Main Street and Valkyrie glanced out as they passed the bus stop. Five bored-looking teens stood in school uniform.

“My reflection’s not there,” she said with a frown.

“Maybe it got delayed.”

She shook her head. “It left before me.”

The Bentley slowed. “What do you want to do?”

“It’s probably nothing. It could have cut across the Green … although it should still have made it here by now. But no, it’s probably nothing.”

Skulduggery pulled over to the side of the road and tilted his head at her. “You use that reflection a lot more than is recommended,” he said. “You ought to expect some unusual behaviour every now and then.”

“I know …”

“But you want to go and look for it, don’t you?”

“I just want to check that everything’s all right. I’ll get out here, go through the Green.”

“I’ll turn around, head back to the pier, meet up with you there.”

Valkyrie nodded, made sure no one was looking and then got out of the car and ran between two buildings. She climbed the fence and dropped to the grass on the other side. The green was actually a small park, an oasis of trees and flowerbeds and a fountain, tucked behind Main Street. It was the site of many a game of football when Valkyrie was younger.

She could have been overreacting. Her reflection had probably met some people Valkyrie knew. In fact, Valkyrie herself could be the one to ruin things, by running straight into a situation that the reflection was handling with its usual efficiency. And then she heard her own scream.

Valkyrie left the main path, running towards the small clump of trees. Beyond the trees, near the fountain, there were two figures struggling. It was her reflection, trying to break free from a man in black.

“Hey!” Valkyrie shouted.

The man in black looked up. He was pale and oddly beautiful, and way too calm. “There you are,” he said. “I was almost fooled. Almost. But this one doesn’t feel fear. And I can smell fear.” He thrust the reflection from him, and it stumbled to its knees.

“Get to school,” Valkyrie told it. The reflection nodded, picked up the fallen schoolbag and ran past her through the trees, not even glancing back at the attacker.

Valkyrie glared. “Who are you? How did you find out where I live?”

“I followed you,” he said. “I lost you when you came into town, so I decided to wait around until you showed up again. I even made some new friends.”

Now she saw them, a young couple, walking towards her. She knew them. She didn’t know their names, but she’d seen them around, holding hands, laughing. They weren’t laughing now. They were pale, as pale as the man in black. They looked sick and there were bloodstains on their clothes. They watched her with dark, dead eyes. Valkyrie looked at the man in black, remembered the graceful way he had moved. “You’re a vampire,” she breathed.

“And you are Valkyrie Cain and you’re coming with us.”

She couldn’t fight them. There was no way she was even close to being ready.

So she ran.

The young couple were after her, sprinting, feet thudding on the grass. She kept ahead of them. She didn’t even have to look back, she could hear how close they were. But she couldn’t hear him. The man in black was running at her side, moving without effort. She tried to duck away, but he reached out a lazy hand, his fingers closing around her arm, and stopped suddenly. She jerked to a painful halt.

She swung a punch but he moved slightly and her fist connected with nothing but air. She tried to kick and he took a step, the expression on his face never going beyond bored, and he grabbed Valkyrie’s arm and twisted it behind her back and her knees hit the ground.

“The Baron wants you alive,” he said. “Bear in mind, he did not specify unharmed. Do not try to hit me again.”

“How about me?” Skulduggery said as he ran up behind him. “Can I hit you?”

The man in black released Valkyrie and turned, too late to stop Skulduggery’s fist from smacking into his jaw. He staggered and Skulduggery splayed his hand. The air rushed into the vampire and sent him backwards, head over heels. Instead of sprawling on to the grass, however, his body moved with an inhuman agility and he twisted sideways and landed on his feet.

“Detective,” he murmured.

“Dusk,” Skulduggery said. “It’s been a while. Still evil?”

The man called Dusk smiled. “When the mood takes me.” He gestured to the young couple. “Allow me to introduce you to my friends. I like to call them Minion One and Minion Two. You can decide among yourselves which one is which.”

The young couple attacked. Skulduggery dodged their clumsy grabs and threw them into each other’s way. Dusk blurred and in an eye-blink he was beside Valkyrie, pulling her to her feet.

Skulduggery lunged at Dusk and they went down, and Skulduggery lost his hat and scarf. Valkyrie stumbled back. Minion One, the male, snarled and came at her. He looked even worse close up. His eyes were dull and red-rimmed, and she could see the bite on his neck beneath his shirt collar. It wasn’t the dainty twin pin-pricks she’d seen in the movies- his neck had been savagely torn open. She could smell the dried blood on his skin. It smelled of copper.

For a moment she panicked. His hands were gripping her collar, forcing her back, and he was strong. His girlfriend, Minion Two, was right behind him, eager to inflict some damage of her own. Valkyrie made herself relax, remembering the drills she’d run with Skulduggery and Tanith, conditioning her body to relax when every part of her wanted to scream.

She allowed herself to be pushed back. Her left hand gripped Minion One’s wrist and her right hand came up between his arms to his face. She planted her left foot and dug in and twisted her hips into him, and Minion One collided with her and went over.

Minion Two snarled and punched and Valkyrie’s world rocked. She deflected the grab that followed, tried a lock that didn’t work then stomped on Minion Two’s knee and shoved her away.

She saw Skulduggery and Dusk. Now that he could no longer be taken by surprise, Dusk’s supernatural grace and athleticism were keeping him away from Skulduggery’s strikes. He swept out of range of the punches and kicks, and every hold Skulduggery tried, Dusk eased out of before it was even completed.

He kicked Skulduggery and moved backwards, and as he did so something fell from his pocket. He glanced at it and moved to retrieve it, but Skulduggery held out his hand and it flew into his grip. It was a syringe, filled with a colourless liquid.

Dusk shrugged. “You can keep it,” he said. “I’ve got plenty more.”

The Minions were regrouping. Valkyrie clicked her fingers, but failed to ignite a spark. She tried again, and this time she felt the heat of the friction. She focused, curled her hand, and let the energy pour from the centre of her body into her arm, into her palm. Then she took the spark and made it into a flame.

“Stay back,” she warned. The Minions didn’t answer. She didn’t even know if they were capable of answering.

The flame expanded into a ball of fire in her hand and she hurled it right at them. And then Skulduggery was shouting something and running forwards, his arms sweeping up, and a rush of wind hit the fireball and knocked it off course even as the flames extinguished. Then he was at Valkyrie’s side, holding her arm, walking backwards with her as the Minions stalked them.

“They’ve been infected,” he said, “but they’re not lost. Not yet. We don’t want to kill them.”

Dusk strolled after them. “It’s not their fault I chose them after all.”

Skulduggery glanced at her. “It takes two nights for an Infected to become a vampire. Until then, they’re innocent victims.”

“But in two nights,” Dusk added, “this will all be over.”

Skulduggery took out his gun, aimed it straight at Dusk. The Minions stopped and snarled. Dusk’s smile never left his face. “This is your chance to leave,” Skulduggery said.

“Why would we do that? You’re the ones backing away. You can’t kill my friends. You are losing this little altercation.”

Skulduggery thumbed back the revolver’s hammer. “I said we don’t want to kill them. I didn’t say we won’t.”

“If you fire that gun,” Dusk said, “you will have the whole town running to see what’s going on and you’ve dropped your disguise.”

“That’s the only reason I’m not putting you out of our misery right here and now.”

Dusk considered his options then shrugged. “Minions,” he said, “we’re leaving.” The infected couple snarled their displeasure, but did as they were told. They joined Dusk as he backed away.

Skulduggery didn’t lower the gun. “Tell Vengeous I expected more from him. Going after my colleague to get to me is the sort of thing Serpine tried. Tell him if he wants me then be a man and come and get me.”

“The Baron is an honourable man.”

“The Baron is a coward.”

Dusk smiled, but didn’t respond. Valkyrie stood by Skulduggery’s side, and they watched Dusk and his Minions fade into the cover of the trees.

he Hibernian Cinema stood like an old man, stoop-shouldered and grey-faced, squeezed in on either side by taller, broader and healthier buildings. Its façade was a decaying remnant of a forgotten time, and most of the vowels were missing from its name. Fifty years ago, this cinema had thrived, its Dublin audiences flocking to it every weekend. Skulduggery himself had first visited the Hibernian to see High Society, and he’d had a crush on Grace Kelly ever since.

He parked the Bentley in the lane at the back, and Valkyrie followed him in. The carpeted surroundings absorbed their footfalls. They passed framed posters for obscure movies starring dead actors. No paying customer had been in this building for decades.

The cinema was quiet, as usual, and empty. They walked down the steps between the rows of seats. The screen had a heavy red curtain in front of it, musty with age. As they approached, the curtain parted and the screen lit up, showing an old black-and-white film. The film showed a brick wall and an open door. The soundtrack was of a city at night. Valkyrie followed Skulduggery up on to the small stage and they walked to the door, their shadows falling on to the image. Then they walked through the screen.

They took the stairs that lay on the other side and gradually the artificial light swept the gloom away. They reached the top floor, where all signs of the old cinema had been replaced by gleaming corridors and laboratories. The owner of the Hibernian had spent a lot of time renovating the building, developing it into the magic-science facility he’d always dreamed about. Because of the delicate nature of the work done in all the various sections – the medical bay, the brand-new Morgue, the Theoretical Magic (R&D) Department – there were no windows, and the temperature was carefully controlled. Although he had the run of the entire building, shared only with his two assistants, the owner still chose to work in the smallest, darkest laboratory, and that was where they found him.

Professor Kenspeckle Grouse looked around when Skulduggery said his name. “You again,” he said in a voice that was not overflowing with warmth and hospitality. “What do you want?” Kenspeckle was a small, elderly man with a mass of white hair and very little patience.

“We have something for you, Professor,” Skulduggery said, showing him the syringe that had fallen from Dusk’s pocket. “We were wondering if you’d have time to analyse it.”

“Oh, as if I’m not kept busy enough as it is,” Kenspeckle said gruffly. “Valkyrie, I haven’t seen you in weeks. Staying out of trouble?”

“Not really,” Valkyrie admitted.

“Nor did I expect you to,” he said with an exasperated sigh. For all his crotchety behaviour and ill manners, the elderly scientist seemed to have a soft spot for Valkyrie. “So what has he dragged you into this time?”

“I haven’t dragged her into anything,” Skulduggery said defensively.

Valkyrie smiled. “Fights, kidnap attempts, more fights. Business as usual, you know how it is.” Skulduggery’s phone rang and he stepped away to answer it.

Now that Skulduggery was out of earshot, Kenspeckle let his voice soften in tone. “How is the shoulder from last month?”

“Much better,” she answered. “I was barely left with a bruise.”

Kenspeckle nodded. “I used a new mixture. The ingredients are a little harder to find, but for my favourite patients I like to make sure the healing process is as painless as possible.”

“I’m on that list?” Valkyrie asked, her smile growing wider.

Kenspeckle snorted. “You are the list.” Valkyrie laughed.

“Your partner certainly isn’t,” Kenspeckle continued, returning his attention to Skulduggery as his phone call ended. “Let me see that syringe.” Skulduggery handed it over.

“Where did you get it?”

“It fell out of a vampire’s pocket.”

Kenspeckle held the syringe up to the light, examining the liquid within. “Fascinating creatures, vampires. Two completely separate layers of epidermis, the upper layer of which regenerates when the sun comes up. Human by day, gifted with slightly enhanced speed and strength, but essentially mortal. But at night …”

Valkyrie nodded. “I know what they’re like at night.”

“Hmm? Oh, that’s right. You have firsthand knowledge, don’t you? How did you get that I wonder? Oh, yes.” He glared at Skulduggery. “Someone with absolutely no sense of responsibility dragged you in front of a vampire and almost got you killed.”

Skulduggery tilted his head. “Are you talking about me?” he asked innocently.

Kenspeckle scowled and went back to examining the syringe. “I’ve seen this before,” he said, “but only once. It’s a rare concoction of hemlock and wolfsbane. It would be used by a vampire to suppress his bestial nature at night.”

“Makes sense,” Skulduggery murmured. “Dusk is of no use to Vengeous if he loses control every time the sun goes down.”

Kenspeckle loosened his tie and undid his top shirt button. “I had a run-in with a vampire in my youth, and I barely escaped with my life. That’s why I carry this with me everywhere I go.” He showed them a glass vial that hung around his neck.

“Is that holy water?” Valkyrie asked, a little doubtfully.

“Holy water? No, no, no, Valkyrie. It’s sea water.”

“Right,” she said slowly.

“Holy water doesn’t work,” Kenspeckle explained, “and stakes through the heart won’t kill them. Decapitation is effective, but then decapitation is effective against most things. The one vampire legend that does have merit, however, is running water.”

Valkyrie frowned. “OK, and that seems to be the one legend I’ve never heard of.”

Skulduggery spoke up. “There’s an old myth that vampires can’t pass over running water, so they couldn’t cross a bridge that spans a river, for instance. Now, while crossing bridges doesn’t phase them in the slightest, the truth of the myth stems from salt water.”

“Vampires have an extreme allergic reaction to the stuff,” Kenspeckle said. “If ingested, it would swell a vampire’s throat, blocking its air passage. Which is why I carry some with me at all times.”

“But wouldn’t they have to swallow it?” Valkyrie asked.

“Well, yes …”

“And how would you get a vampire to swallow the water before it killed you?” Kenspeckle blinked and didn’t say anything.

“Never mind,” Valkyrie said quickly. “I’m sure, you know, you’d find a way. Like, you could throw the water into its mouth when it’s, uh, about to bite you.”

Kenspeckle’s shoulders slumped, and Valkyrie felt incredibly guilty that she had poked a hole in his plan. “Leave me,” he said a little mournfully.

“I’m sorry …” Valkyrie began, but he held up his hand.

“No need to apologise. I am a medical genius, a scientific genius, but obviously not a tactical genius. And to think, for the last 180 years I was unafraid of vampires because I had a vial of salt water tied around my neck. What an idiot.”

Kenspeckle shuffled off and Skulduggery patted Valkyrie on the shoulder. “Congratulations,” he said. “You’ve just reinstated a 300-year old neurosis. Our work here is done.”

Feeling absolutely terrible, Valkyrie followed him back the way they had come. They passed the two assistants in white labcoats, Stentor and Civet, wrestling in an empty room. Valkyrie had been here more times than she could count, and sights like this were not uncommon. The assistants waved, then got back to wrestling.

Valkyrie was the first one down the stairs, and she walked to the back of the screen and stepped through. She jumped from the stage, turned and waited for Skulduggery. She watched him pass through the image of the door, and a moment later the film flickered, the screen went blank and the gloom closed in. He left the stage and the curtains began to drift together behind him.

“Who was that on the phone?” she asked, trying to forget about what she had done to Kenspeckle.

“The Grand Mage,” Skulduggery said, “checking in on us once again. His eagerness to recover the Baron is making him quite … irritable.”

“He’s always irritable.”

“Obviously he’s decided to take it to new heights.”

“I wish Meritorious was still alive. He was a good Grand Mage. Guild is … He’s like a politician, like he’s got people to please.”

They left the cinema and walked into the bright sunshine, and Skulduggery didn’t say anything until they got to the Bentley.

“We’re supposed to meet Tanith at the library, so I’m going to drop you off there and meet up with you later, is that OK with you?”

“Where are you going?”

“Nowhere special. I just have some … things to do.”

“Why did you pause?”

“I’m sorry?”

“You paused. You have some … things to do. Why did you pause?”

“No reason, I just—”

“You’re up to something.”

“No—”

“Then why’d you pause?”

“Get in the car.” She got in. He got in.

“Seatbelt,” he said.

“Why’d you pause?”

His head drooped. “Because I’m up to something.”

“And why can’t I come with you?”

“Because it’s something sneaky.”

“Do you promise to tell me later?”

“I do.”

“Well, all right then.” She clicked her seatbelt into place. “Let’s go.”

Valkyrie went into the tenement building and climbed the stairs, passing a man who didn’t have a shadow. She got to the third floor just as China Sorrows crossed from the library to her apartment.

“Valkyrie,” China said. “How nice to see you again so soon.” The skirt she wore was a light green, and the jacket was of a green deeper than a thousand crushed emeralds. Her necklace was exquisite.

“That’s beautiful,” Valkyrie said, looking at it.

“Isn’t it? This necklace has cost two very fine men their lives. At times, I wear it in tribute to their sacrifice. Other times, I wear it because it goes with this skirt. Would you like to come in?”

“Sure,” Valkyrie said and followed China inside. She closed the door after her. She would never have admitted this, but Valkyrie adored China’s apartment. The carpet was lush and intricate, the décor was elegant and restrained, and it looked out over Dublin in such a way that the city seemed prettier and more romantic than it had ever been.

“Any new developments?” China asked, picking up a stack of letters and rifling through them.

“Not especially. I was attacked earlier though.”

“Oh?”

“By a vampire and his minions.”

“Can’t stand those things,” China said. “Once they bite, the infected person has two nights of mindless slavery to endure, and if they’re not treated, they become full vampires. Such a horrible condition. Did you happen to catch his name?”

“Dusk.”

“Yes, I know Dusk. He has a habit of holding grudges. I had an associate who crossed him. It took years, but Dusk finally managed to track him down and the death he provided was not a quick one. There was a lot of blood and screaming and …”

She caught herself, and smiled. “I apologise. I must confess to being in a very bad mood of late. Because of this Grotesquery business, everything I’ve worked so hard for – my library, my collections, my influence – all of it could be wiped out in the blink of an indifferent eye.”

“Along with the rest of the world,” Valkyrie reminded her.

“Yes. That would be unfortunate also.” China put the letters down. “Have you seen him yet? The Baron?”

“No. Not yet.”

China sat on the luxurious yet tasteful sofa. “An unusual man. He likes to think of himself as straightforward. He is anything but. He shares the same elitist attitude as Nefarian Serpine, but where Serpine was independent and self-serving, the Baron carried out his duties with a selflessness, and a blind and unwavering faith. What Serpine began, Vengeous seeks to finish. To him, the return of the Faceless Ones is the only thing that has ever truly mattered.”

“Sounds like you know him well.”

“Oh, I do. Didn’t Skulduggery tell you? I too used to worship the Faceless Ones.”

Valkyrie felt her face drain. “What?”

China smiled. “Obviously he didn’t tell you. Bliss and I were raised in a family that worshipped the dark gods. My brother rejected our family’s teachings at an early age, but it took me some time to do the same. While I worshipped, however, I joined a small group of like-minded individuals, of which the Baron was one. Remember when I told you that there is nothing more dangerous than a zealot? We were dangerous even by a zealot’s standards.”

“I … I didn’t know that.”

China shrugged. “I was young and foolish and arrogant. I’ve changed. I’m not foolish any more.” She laughed. Valkyrie forced a smile.

“And now,” China continued, “you’re wondering, once again, if I can be trusted. After all, when Skulduggery first told you about me, what did he say?”

“He … he said not to trust you.”

“Because I am not worthy of it, Valkyrie. I will endanger those close to me for my own advantage. I am not a nice person, my dear. I am not … one of the good guys.”

“Then why does he still rely on you?”

“Because he himself has gone through change and he is no hypocrite. He will not condemn me for my past actions, so long as I don’t revert to the person I once was. The war with Mevolent changed everyone who fought in it. We each saw things in ourselves that we would rather not admit to.”

“What did Skulduggery see?”

“Rage. His family was murdered in front of him, and when he returned from death, his rage came with him. For most, anger that fierce can burn only for so long. Skulduggery, being Skulduggery, is the natural exception. His rage stayed.”

“So what happened?”

“He disappeared. If you want my opinion, I think he saw what he was capable of and he knew he had a choice – to let that rage consume him, or to fight it. So he left. He was gone for five years. When he came back, the anger was still there, but there was something else – a realisation I think. A new purpose. He was able to joke again, which was a welcome return, for he is one of the very few men able to make me laugh. Soon after, we received word that Lord Vile had fallen, and then Skulduggery himself brought down the Baron, and Mevolent’s plans began to unravel.”

“Where did he go? For the five years?”

“I don’t know. We all thought he was dead. Dead again, you know. But he came back just when we needed him. That’s one thing you can count on him for – the nick-of-time rescue. He’s quite good at it.”

There was a knock on the door. They both stood, and from out in the corridor they heard a muffled voice and then a loud thump.

China looked at Valkyrie. “Go into the bedroom,” she said quickly. “Do not argue with me. Go into the bedroom and close the door.” Valkyrie did as she was told, but left the door open a crack – just enough to see through. She saw China pick up the telephone, and then the door to the apartment burst open and the slender man in the bow tie came flying through. He landed in a heap and didn’t move.

A figure stepped in. He looked to be in his fifties, with grey hair and a tightly cropped beard. His clothes were dark and vaguely militaristic, and his boots were polished to a gleam. He had a cutlass in his belt.

“Hello China,” he said. “It’s good to see you again.”

“Baron Vengeous,” China said slowly and put the telephone down. “I dearly wish I could say the same. Why are you here?”

“You mean you don’t know?”

“If you wish to return an overdue book, the library is across the hall. I think you will find the fine to be stern, yet reasonable.”

“I’m here for you, China. Within a few hours I will have Lord Vile’s armour and the final missing ingredient will be within my grasp. It’s time to take off this mask you wear, to end this charade. You need to take your place.”

“My place is right here.”

“We both know that’s not true. You could no more turn your back on the Faceless Ones than I could. I have seen your devotion.”

“My devotion, as you call it, has waned.”

Vengeous shook his head. “You have sworn your allegiance to the dark gods. You cannot simply change your mind.”

“I’m afraid I can, and I have.”

Through the crack in the door, Valkyrie could see the anger seeping into the Baron’s face. “You are their servant,” he said, his voice low and threatening. “If you will not uphold the vow you made on your own then I will do it for you. You will be there when the Faceless Ones return, even if it is just so you can be the first traitor they kill.”

He reached for her, and China put her left hand flat on her belly and flicked her right, and every piece of furniture in the room flew at Vengeous.

Valkyrie stared, open-mouthed, as tables and chairs and bookcases crashed into Vengeous at a terrible speed. They clattered to the floor and he staggered and fell, blood running down his face. China tapped her belly twice and gestured with her right hand, sending everything – the furniture and Vengeous – skidding across the floor and slamming into the wall. Then another tap of her belly and another whip of her hand and the furniture moved away, clearing a space around the Baron.

“You do not threaten me in my own home,” China said and sent the furniture hurtling back to him.

But Vengeous was quick and he lunged forward, eyes flashing yellow. The table that was coming directly for him suddenly exploded into a hundred thousand splinters and he dived through them, escaping the rest of the furniture that impacted on the wall behind him. He sent his hand into her chest and she pitched backwards. She hit the wall and fell to one knee.

Valkyrie gripped the door, about to fling it open, but China looked up at Vengeous and her eyes narrowed.

“As my words draw closed, the circle binds, secures you to your fate.”

Vengeous reached for her, but hit something, an invisible wall. He tried to back off but he only got a couple of steps before he hit another barrier. He looked down, looked at the elaborate carpet and saw the circle hidden in the design.

“Clever girl …”

“You didn’t think I would install some security measures?” China said.

“Very, very clever.” His eyes flashed yellow.

“That’s not going to work, my dear Baron. Symbols are my power. Your powers can’t break that shield. You can’t hurt me. But I can hurt you.” Vengeous looked down at the carpet again, at the hidden intricacies, symbols woven into the very fabric around the circle, symbols that were now pulsing with blue energy. Blood started to run from his nose.

“China,” he said, struggling to keep his voice even, “you don’t want to do this.”

“Who are you allied with?” she asked. “Who ordered you set free? Who is behind all this?”

He barked out a desperate laugh that was cut short by the pain. “You’ve chosen the wrong … side here, woman. I wish I could … I wish I could let you live to regret it …”

Vengeous dropped to the floor. “I wish I had the time … to make you beg … to make you plead with me. I would have … I would have made you scream …”

“Fine,” China said, crossing to the phone. “I suppose I’ll have to call in the professionals.”

“China …” Vengeous gasped.

She turned. “Yes, dear Baron?”

“You didn’t … you didn’t really think it would be that easy, did you?”

Dusk walked through the door. A man followed. The stranger had blond hair and wore a brown suit, a white shirt and dark sunglasses. His cowboy boots were old and scuffed, and he was grinning. The carpet at his feet frayed and split, and he sank downwards, disappearing into the floor. China dived for the phone, but Dusk darted in and shoved her back.

Valkyrie stared as the stranger’s hand burst up through the floor at Vengeous’ feet, grabbed him and pulled him down. The floor sealed up behind him and the symbols pulsed one last time then returned to normal.

A moment later Vengeous and the stranger stepped through the wall beside China.

“Your hospitality used to be so much better,” Vengeous said. His eyes flashed and China stumbled. Dusk picked her up.

“Don’t let her touch anything,” Vengeous told him. “She has symbols everywhere. Some are invisible. Some are even etched on to her body. Don’t let her touch anything.” Dusk grabbed both her wrists and wrenched her arms behind her.

Vengeous took out a handkerchief, used it to wipe away the rest of the blood. “I expected more from you, China. When you left us, I thought you’d be back. No one could do the things you’d done and then walk away. I didn’t think it was possible.”

She looked up at him, grimacing against the pain that was locking her arms straight behind her. “I found other interests. You can too. Stamp collecting, maybe.” Dusk twisted her arms and she gasped. The man in the sunglasses laughed.

Vengeous put the handkerchief away. “I can still be merciful, even if my gods are not. The girl, China. Valkyrie Cain. Tell me where she is, and I will let you live.”

“Skulduggery doesn’t care about her,” China said through gritted teeth. “She’s a hobby, nothing more. You won’t be able to get at him through her.”

“My mercy is on a timetable. Tell me where I can find her or I shall torture you until you beg to tell me.”

“OK,” China said, “OK, I’ll tell you.” She nodded to the bedroom. “She’s in there.” Valkyrie went cold, but Vengeous just shook his head sadly.

“China, I don’t like this side of you, these jokes.”

“I’ve been spending too much time around Skulduggery. You remember his jokes, don’t you, Baron? What else do you remember? You remember him arresting you?”

“I remember almost killing him.”

“Almost wasn’t enough,” China said and actually managed a laugh. “He’s coming for you, you know. I hope I’m there when he gets you.” Dusk twisted and China cried out in pain.

“Tell me where the girl is,” Vengeous said, “or I will have your arms broken.”

“Here I am,” Valkyrie said, kicking the door open as the fire flared in her hands.

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