This book is dedicated to you. Whether you are a Minion or a Skuttlebug or just, you know, a normal person, it’s because of you that I get to do what I love and laughingly call it work. I know some of you by name and some of you by sight (and some of you by smell, but let’s not get into that) but there are still countless others I have never met, and to all of you I say thank you for your support, your passion, and your lunacy.

And then the Necromancers pulled out their sub-atomic machine guns.

There's a clock on the wall. Press your hand against the face and turn it very slightly to the. Left. There'll be a click to tell you it's done." "Sounds easy enough." "Yes it does," said Sanguine. "Kiss for good luck?" "Maybe later," said Gracious. "How about a handshake?" Asked Donegan.

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

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.

This is stolen? We're in a stolen jet?" "Not stolen," said Donegan Bane from the co-pilot's seat. "Almost stolen," Grascious corrected. "Semi-stolen," said Donegan. "Quasi stolen," said Grascious. Aurora's frown did not turn upside down. "So is it stolen or not?" Donegan and Grascious hesitated. "Yes,"they both said toghether.

Absolutely. I would never have tripped. I'm far too graceful