Skulduggery Pleasant: Books 10 - 12
Together for the first time, books 10, 11 & 12 in the biggest, funniest, most thrilling comedy-horror-adventure series in the universe: Skulduggery Pleasant! From number-one-bestselling author Derek Landy.ContainsRESURRECTIONMIDNIGHTand the to be revealed… Book 12!
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Resurrection, Midnight and Bedlam first published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Children’s Books in 2017, 2018 and 2019
Published in this ebook pack edition in 2019
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Text copyright © Derek Landy 2017, 2018 and 2019
Cover design copyright © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2017, 2018 and 2019
Cover illustrations copyright © Tom Percival
Skulduggery Pleasant™ Derek Landy
Skulduggery Pleasant logo™ HarperCollinsPublishers
Derek Landy asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of the work.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
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Source ISBNs: 9780008219581 (Skulduggery Pleasant: Resurrection), 9780008284602 (Skulduggery Pleasant: Midnight), 9780008295660 (Skulduggery Pleasant: Bedlam)
Ebook Edition © May 2019 ISBN: 9780008318208
Version: 2019-04-30
This book is dedicated to Yve.
Yve, our friendship is like a fine wine: it improves with age, is fragrant and ebullient, and it has aromas of mulberries and pencil lead and …
No. No, that’s not it.
Our friendship is less like wine and more like a journey. It has twists and turns and sometimes you lose the signal for the radio and find yourself driving around in circles thanks to the cheap sat nav you bought from that guy with the …
No, that’s not it either.
Our friendship is less like wine, and less like a journey, and more like a … a …
Listen, Yve, they’re going to print in the morning and I have to get this dedication done in the next few minutes but I really can’t think of anything that adequately describes our friendship so it’d be much easier if we just weren’t friends any more.
Really sorry.
In the nothing before the beginningthere was a thought. And the thoughtbecame the beginning.
Contents
A new beginning.
That’s what this was. A fresh start. He was going to deliver this one piece of information and then leave. He could go home, back to New York, or maybe Chicago, or Philly. Ireland didn’t suit him any more. He was done with it – and it, apparently, was done with him. He was OK with that. He’d had some good times here. He’d had some fun. He’d made some friends. But a new day was about to dawn. All Temper Fray had to do was survive the night.
The wall up ahead cracked. By the light of the streetlamps, the cracks spider-webbed. Any last vestige of hope that he’d just be able to walk out of here vanished with those cracks. Temper had seen this trick before. A redneck psycho called Billy-Ray Sanguine used to jump out at people as they passed, kill them before they blinked. Temper had met Sanguine once. For a hillbilly hitman, he’d been all right. Whoever this guy was, he was no Billy-Ray.
The wall spat out a skinny little runt who came at him with a big knife and a bigger snarl. Temper ignored the snarl for the moment, focused on the knife, batting it away and slamming an elbow into the runt’s mouth, dealing with the snarl almost by default. The runt went down, all flailing limbs and broken teeth, and Temper hurried on.
Yep. Things were going badly. But of course they were. Nothing ever went well for Temper Fray.
A motorbike came round the corner ahead of him, its single headlight sweeping the storefronts, and slowed almost immediately. Temper kept walking, keeping his head down, his hands swinging loosely by his sides. The guy on the motorbike wasn’t wearing a helmet, and he wasn’t looking at Temper. He was focused on the road, keeping his head straight. Just a guy on his bike, that’s all, going about his business. As he drew parallel, his right hand drifted into his jacket.
