We're not robbing him," Skulduggery said." But I'm afraid I have some bad news." "Is it Deacon?" Francine asked, her eyes wide. "It is." "Is he sick?" "It's a little worse than that." She gasped. "He's dying?" "He was briefly dying," said Skulduggery. "Now he's dead.

The end is now the beginning.

I cross the place where my heart used to be and hope to be even deader than I am now.

This isn't funny. She was almost killed.' 'I'm aware. You're waiting to see if I will get angry.' 'I already know you're angry. You're sitting very still and you're talking very quietly. You're getting ready to kill someone.' 'I just need a name.

The problem with living so long is that we get used to it. We watch the mortals age and wither and die around us, watch the world change and decay...but no matter the hardship or the pain or the sorrow we suffer, we choose to continue living. Out of sheer habit, I think.

You've been reading Gordan's book again, haven't you?" "It's a white-knuckle roller-coaster ride," she mumbled.

She had been a teenager once, and she knew that, despite the apparent contradictions, a person's teenage years lasted well into their fifties.