Suddenly Saracen Rue looked old and tired, and Skulduggery Pleasant came into focus as what he really was – a genius, a killer, a tortured soul, and the only true dead man among them.

Fletcher appeared beside her. He peered at the baby. "Can it do any tricks yet?" "I'm still working on it. Want to hold her?" "God, no," Fletcher said laughing. "I'd drop it." "It's not an it, it's my baby sister. Go on, hold her. You won't make a mess of it, i swear. Only an idiot could drop a baby." "You always say I am an idiot." "But you're a special kind of idiot. Here." She passed Alice into his arms, and he stood there, rigid, a look of intense concentration on his face.

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

I would love to have a battle of wits with you, Bison, but I doubt it would be a fair fight.' 'Shut your face.' 'Exactly my point.

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.

So that plan worked out well.' Skulduggery, your entire plan consisted of, and I quote, "Let's get up close and then see what happens."' All the same,' he said, 'I think the whole thing worked out rather beautifully.

The end is now the beginning.