I'm placing you under arrest for murder, conspiracy to commit murder and, I don't know, possibly littering.

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?

Don’t kill me,” he sobbed as he lay there. “Oh God, please don’t kill me.” “If you had let me finish,” Skulduggery said, slightly annoyed, “you would have heard me say, ‘Come out, we’re not going to hurt you’. Idiot.” “He probably wouldn’t have said idiot,” Valkyrie told the sobbing man. “We’re trying our best to be nice.” The man blinked through his tears, and looked up. “You’re... You’re not going to kill me?” “No, we’re not,” Valkyrie said gently, “so long as you wipe your nose right now.

What?" she asked again. He pointed ahead of them. "See that?" "What, the snow?" "Beyond that." "More snow?" "Stop looking at the snow.

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?

Have you killed anyone?” she asked quickly. “What? Did you miss what I said, about turning murder into an art form?” “But you haven’t actually killed anyone yet, have you? I read your file.” He glowered. “Technically, yeah, all right, maybe I haven’t

Doesn't sunlight kill them? Doesn't it turn them to dust, or make them burst into flames or something?" "Nope. Vampires tan, just like you and me. Well, just like you. I tend to bleach.