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.

He looked at her. 'In order to finish, I'll have to have defeated six Infected, Dusk, and Vengeous himself.' Yeah. So?' The Infected I can manage.' She frowned. 'And Vengeous? I mean, you can beat him, right?' Well,' he said, "I can certainly try. And trying is half the battle.' What's the other half?' He shrugged. 'Hitting him more times than he hits me.

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

She’s not… She’s not datin’ the skeleton, is she? How would that be even possible, let alone… nice? He’s got no skin, or lips, or… or nothin’.

So what does that actually mean?' 'To be honest, Ghastly, I haven't a bull's notion.' 'Elder Bespoke should be addressed by his full title,' Tipstaff said. 'Of course,' Skulduggery said. 'To be honest, Your Highness, I haven't a bull's notion.

You're late,' he said. 'I'm beautiful.' 'You're always beautiful.' 'I'm always late too.

This is your one chance. Tell me where the key is." "Okay." Serpine raised an eyebrow. "Really?" "No, only joking. Do your worst.