Skulduggery Pleasant: Books 1 - 12. Derek Landy

me into a criminal.”

      “They won’t know we’ve been here,” Skulduggery promised.

      “And what about the annoying boy? Are you taking him with you?”

      “It might be safer if he comes with us.”

      Kenspeckle laughed. “Safer? Safer?”

      “Thurid Guild can’t be trusted. If he finds out who Fletcher is, he might turn him over to the Diablerie. He might be the Diablerie.”

      “Do you hear yourself? Do you? You’re delusional! You’re seeing enemies and conspiracies round every corner! You are endangering those around you with no thought to their wellbeing!”

      “The threat posed by the Diablerie is real, Professor.”

      “Then let the Sanctuary handle it. They have the resources. They have the Cleavers. You have a fourteen-year-old girl who puts her life on the line every time she’s with you.”

      Skulduggery turned and started walking. Valkyrie gave a hesitant smile to Kenspeckle and followed. But Kenspeckle wasn’t through. He stormed up to Skulduggery and grabbed his arm, swinging him around.

      “Do you not feel one iota of responsibility? Valkyrie was in a fight with a grown man less than two hours ago. Don’t you feel bad about what happened to her?”

      “But I’m OK,” Valkyrie said softly.

      “She could have been killed,” Kenspeckle continued. “Yet again, while out with you, she could have been killed. Would you have felt anything then?”

      “Let go of my arm, Professor Grouse.”

      “Think back to when you were a man, Skulduggery, to when you were flesh and blood, and tell me – do you remember ever actually having a heart or were you born dead?”

      Before Skulduggery could respond, Clarabelle ran into the corridor. “It’s gone!” she shouted. “The statue of Ghastly is gone!”

      Skulduggery ran, Valkyrie right behind him. They passed Clarabelle and sprinted for the chamber. Fletcher emerged from a room and had to jump to one side to avoid being knocked down.

      They burst through the doors and Skulduggery ran to the spot where the statue had lain. Valkyrie hurried around the edge of the chamber, hand trailing along the walls. Kenspeckle and Clarabelle rushed in and Fletcher followed.

      “Has anyone been in here?” Skulduggery demanded.

      “No one,” Clarabelle said. “What are you looking for?”

      “Cracks,” Valkyrie told her. She cast her eyes around for any sign that Sanguine had been in the room.

      “They have him,” Skulduggery said tightly. “The Diablerie. They got in here somehow and they took Ghastly. I don’t know how, but they did.”

      Tanith ran in, and even though Valkyrie hadn’t seen her in weeks, she was in no mood to smile. Tanith, on the other hand, seemed to be in a great mood.

      “Hey!” she said brightly.

      “Get your sword,” Skulduggery said, taking out his gun. “They may still be in the area.”

      “I lost my sword,” Tanith confessed. “And then I fell off a building. And I got stabbed through the hand.” She held up her right hand, which had a thick bandage around it. “Who might still be in the area? What’s going on?”

      “Ghastly,” was all Valkyrie could say.

      “I know!” beamed Tanith. “Isn’t it amazing?”

      Skulduggery turned his head sharply. “Isn’t what amazing?”

      Tanith’s smile faded and uncertainty clouded her eyes. “Um, Ghastly.”

      “What’s amazing about Ghastly? He’s missing.”

      Tanith frowned. “But I was just talking to him.”

      They stared at her, then heard footsteps, and they looked at the door and a man walked through. A man with a boxer’s build and a tailor’s clothes, with scars that covered his entire head and a smile that was weak but sincere.

      “Ghastly!” Valkyrie shrieked, embarrassingly high, and launched herself at him. He grunted with the ferocity of her hug, then laughed.

      “Out of the way,” Kenspeckle ordered, moving forward. “Let me see him.”

      Valkyrie bounded away and allowed Kenspeckle to examine his patient.

      “Do you remember your name?” he asked, shining a light into Ghastly’s eyes.

      “Yes, I do, Professor. My name is Ghastly Bespoke. I’m a tailor, my favourite colour is green, and I don’t have any pets.”

      “Does this hurt?” Kenspeckle asked and poked him in the face with a finger.

      “Ow. Yes.”

      “All right then.” Kenspeckle stood back. “You’re fine.”

      Without waiting for a response, he turned and strode out the door.

      “His bedside manner hasn’t improved,” Ghastly murmured.

      Skulduggery stepped in front of him. The two friends looked at each other.

      “Tanith told me I’ve been gone a little under two years,” said Ghastly.

      “That’s right.”

      “That’s a long time.”

      “It is.”

      “Not as long as it could have been, but still, a long time. You’re … you’re not going to hug me, are you?”

      Skulduggery considered it for a long moment. “Probably not,” he concluded.

      “It would just be weird,” Ghastly explained.

      “I understand.”

      “I’m OK with shaking your hand though.”

      “I’m not really comfortable with that.”

      Ghastly shrugged. “I get it, you like your space.”

      Valkyrie stared at them, unable to believe what she was witnessing, and then Ghastly’s grin broke out and she realised this was a guy thing. The two friends hugged and she smiled happily.

      Fletcher leaned over. “When is someone going to tell him that his head is all scarred?” he whispered, but she ignored him.

      Bespoke Tailor’s squatted on the edge of the dirty street like a mangey dog, too old and too dumb to move in out of the rain. The Purple Menace pulled up outside and Skulduggery and Ghastly got out, then pulled the seats forward to allow Valkyrie and Fletcher to climb out after them. Fletcher was doing a terrible job of trying not to stare at Ghastly’s scars, but his discomfort was amusing, so Valkyrie didn’t try to make him any more at ease.

      Tanith rode up and parked beside them. The rain dripped off her leathers as she swung her leg off the motorbike and removed her helmet, and Fletcher finally had something new to stare at. Valkyrie rolled her eyes.

      Ghastly nodded to a passing neighbour and got a quiet “Welcome back” in return. He opened the door of his shop and led them in. It was musty inside, but neat. Half-finished clothes hung on mannequins, and the walls were lined with shelves that held fabrics both familiar and exotic.

      “Did you dream?” Tanith asked, like it had been a question that had been bugging her on the way over.

      “I did not,” Ghastly said, going straight to the shelves, his hands running over the materials.

      “Nothing at all? You just have a blank space in your head where the last two years should be?”

      “The last memory I have is fighting the White