Gordon Edgley's sudden death came as a shock to everyone - not least himself. One moment he was in his study, seven words into the twenty-fifth sentence of the final chapter of his new book, And the Darkness Rained upon Them, and the next he was dead. A tragic loss, his mind echoed numbly as he slipped away.

Right, well, we've got to work out what we need. We've got to work out what we need, how we get it, and what we need to get to get what we need.

Corrival looked around. 'So is this it? Is everyone here? Erskine, maybe you should start the ball rolling. I have places to go and things to do.' 'Me?' Ravel asked. 'Why do I have to start it? You're the most respected mage here. You start it, or Skulduggery.' Skulduggery shook his head. 'I can't start it. I don't like most of these people. I might start shooting.

We may need to focus here.' 'Right. Yes. OK. Turn around.' 'Are you going to throw something at me?' 'What? No, I'm getting out of bed.

Is he all scarred now? Magic gets rid of most physical scars, but I like to think I scarred him emotionally.

By the time they got to Denholm Street, day had been beaten back and the night was soaking through the city.

Just leave her alone. You're annoying her.' 'I'm not annoying her. She doesn't even know how to be annoyed. She's, what, a week old?' 'She's three months.' 'She's three months in our years, but what is she in baby years?