Copyright
First published in hardback in Great Britain by HarperCollins Childrenâs Books 2013
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Derek Landy blogs under duress at
www.dereklandy.blogspot.com
Copyright © Derek Landy 2013
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Derek Landy asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
Illuminated letters © Tom Percival 2012
Skulduggery Pleasant⢠Derek Landy
SP Logo⢠HarperCollinsPublishers
Source ISBN: 9780007500925
Ebook Edition © FEBRUARY 2013 ISBN: 9780007512393 Version: 2014-11-04
This book is dedicated to Brendan Bourke.
I am brash, arrogant, egotistical and incredibly narcissistic. Brendan was none of these things. Brendan was nice, and modest, and friendly, and he didnât have one bitter bone in his body.
He was so completely weird.
He gave me my start as a writer and for that alone the world owes him an enormous debt of gratitude.
I may be the Greatest Writer Who Ever Livedâ¢, I may be the Golden God, but Brendan? Brendan was the Golden Godâs uncle.
t had seemed like a good idea at the time, hiding out at her old place in London. Only an idiot would return to a known residence, she figured, and since she wasnât an idiot, it would naturally follow that theyâd never think to look for her there. The fact that theyâd been lying in wait offended her more than anything else.
Tanith sprinted across the rooftop, boots splashing through a puddle as big as a lake, and leaped off the edge. The lane whipped beneath her and the night air stung her eyes. She collided with the building on the other side and clung there for a moment, then got her feet against the bricks and ran on, sideways. She jumped a string of windows one at a time, got round the corner and crouched there to catch her breath.
She hadnât seen Sanguine escape, but heâd probably just slipped through the floor and burrowed away. Of course, there was the distinct possibility that theyâd got to him before he could do that. If that had happened, heâd be dead by now. You didnât arrest someone like Billy-Ray Sanguine, she knew, someone who could escape from any cell and slip out of any restraint. You killed him when you had the chance. Tanith hoped he wasnât dead. He was useful to her.
She edged closer to the corner, had a peek round. The rooftops were clear. Sheâd lost them. Her hand, which had been gripping the hilt of her sword, relaxed, and she felt the reassuring weight of the blade return to its natural balance across her back. She straightened her legs and stood out from the wall, her blonde hair falling in front of her face as she looked at the cars passing below. The safest thing would be to get down to street level, hail a taxi or get the Tube. But in order to do that, sheâd have to dump her sword. Her coat was still lying on the floor of her apartment. She loved that coat. When she wore it, it concealed the sword. She loved her coat, but she was in love with her sword. She could no more abandon it than any other woman could abandon her own arm.
She turned, walked up the wall, made sure no one was waiting for her, and climbed on to the roof. If poor old Billy-Ray was dead, sheâd need to find someone to replace him, which wasnât going to be easy. He was a fully functional sociopath, which made him useful in all sorts of fun ways. And she had a plan. She needed him for her plan to succeed. It was a good plan, too. Sneaky. She was proud of it, and looked forward to seeing how it would work out. She really hoped Sanguine wasnât dead.
Tanith stopped moving. On the building opposite, a man stood. Dressed in grey, with a visored helmet and a scythe in his hands. He hadnât seen her yet. She stepped backwards, started to turn, saw movement out of the corner of her eye.
Another Cleaver, leaping at her, the blade of his scythe darkened with fire to stop it glinting in the streetlights.
Tanith threw herself back, felt the scythe whisper past her throat. The Cleaver landed and came forward and she rolled and got up, her sword clearing its sheath. She met the next swipe and kicked, but he twisted his body out of the way as he spun the scythe so that the long handle cracked against her head. Cursing, Tanith stumbled, swung wildly with her sword to keep him back. The scythe handle hit her knee and she howled, and barely managed to fend off the blow that would have separated her pretty head from her pretty body.