The workshop door opened and Skulduggery emerged. "Ryan," he said, "stop leaning on my car.

Her parents wanted her to find her own way in life. That’s what they’d said countless times in the past. Of course, they’d been referring to school subjects and college applications and job prospects. Presumably, at no stage did they factor living skeletons and magic underworlds into their considerations. If they had, their advice would probably have been very different.

He crouched at the car window and looked in. 'What a lovely family you have. What a charming family. They're all lovely. Except for that one.' His finger jabbed the glass. 'That one's a bit ugly.

Of course I want to kill you," said Skulduggery. "I want to kill most people. But then where would I be? In a field of dead people with no one to talk to.

They might be kittens," she said hopefully. "They're stalking us." "They might be shy." "I don't think it's kittens, Valkyrie." "Puppies, then?

I have sought you out to cure me.' 'To cure you of what?' 'Of this cursed affliction.' 'I cannot cure stupidity.' Scapegrace frowned.

Being a detective isn't all about torture and murder and monsters. Sometimes it gets truly unpleasant...The fate of the world may depend on whether or not you can bring yourself to visit your relatives.