he taxi driver peered out through the windscreen. "I know this place," he said. "This is where that writer lived. What's his name? Edgley."

Valkyrie gave a murmur of affirmation from the back seat. "I read his books, you know. Some of them. He wasn't the best, was he? I mean, he was OK. He was readable. He was no Stephen King, but he was fine. Didn't like the way he'd kill off his characters, though. That was never nice."

"Suppose not," Valkyrie muttered.

"He wrote those books about the army deserter, didn't he? Corporal Fleece, getting into all those mad adventures with the ghosts of dead wizards and whatever."

"Dead sorcerers," she corrected automatically.

"Same thing, isn't it? Did you read any of them? In the first book you meet him, you think he's the brave hero. But he's not. He's a selfish little coward. Didn't like that. It was funny enough, in its own way, but I didn't like it. I like my heroes to be, you know, good guys."

Valkyrie sat forward. "You can let me out here," she said. "I'll walk the rest of the way."

She paid the man and got out, then walked up the long driveway. She missed being able to call Fletcher, have him teleport her wherever she needed to go. He could be annoying, he could be very annoying, but he always smiled when he saw her, and it was like he'd been saving up that smile all day until they were together. She liked that feeling, as much as she hated to admit it. She liked being around someone who was genuinely happy to be around her.

It wasn't the same feeling she got when she was with Caelan. There was too much pressure there, too much expectation. He looked at her like she belonged to him, like they belonged together. He was handsome a he was so handsome a and he was smooth and dark and dangerous. But beyond that, there wasn't much to him. Valkyrie really didn't see that lasting. She needed someone fun, someone who could make her laugh, who could take her places she'd never been. If she didn't have anyone like that, then what was the point of being with anyone less?

Valkyrie let herself into Gordon's house, deactivating the alarm. She went through, pa.s.sing the rooms she normally visited, noting how clean everything looked and how fresh everything smelled. She pushed open the double doors into the ballroom, turned on the light. Brand-new chandeliers hung from the ceiling, sparkling like diamonds. The floor was polished, with tables and chairs stacked up on one side, ready to be set out. It was quiet right now, her every footstep echoing around the empty s.p.a.ce, and she tried imagining what it would look like filled with people. The last time the house had been full was at Gordon's funeral.

She climbed the stairs to Gordon's study where he'd done all his writing when he was alive. In here Valkyrie flicked the switch and the bookcase opened. She walked through into the hidden room. Gordon Edgley looked round, smiled, and held up a hand while he finished speaking.

"... it lunged, this thing of claws and fangs and muscle, and with a swipe, it opened the belly of the prison guard, spilling his entrails across the rough stone floor. Recording end." The electronic device on the table beeped, and Gordon grinned. "The new book is going really well."

She nodded appreciatively. "It sounds it."

"I dare say it's better than anything I wrote when I was alive. It has pathos. It has emotion. It has entrails. It has everything you could want in a posthumous bestseller, recently uncovered in a hidden archive. This is going to make you a lot of money, my dear niece. But then, what do you care about money? When have you ever cared about money?"

Valkyrie shrugged. "I'm sure it'll come in useful. Probably more for Mum and Dad than for me, though."

"And little sister," Gordon said. "Don't forget the new addition. I was thinking, I might write a book for younger readers when I'm finished with this one a give her something to read when she's a little older. Oh, the possibilities. To think, if it wasn't for you insisting that I reveal my existence to Skulduggery and the others, I'd be spending my days in the Echo Stone, waiting for you to drop by for a visit."

The stone lay in its cradle on the desk, the cradle itself standing on a symbol that China Sorrows had carved into the wood. It fooled the stone into thinking there was a living person in the room at all times, meaning Gordon's image could stay active. In this room he had voice-activated televisions and computers, gadgets of all kinds. He was loving this second chance at life.

"I like the chandeliers," said Valkyrie.

"You don't think they're too over the top? I was worried they might be. This is going to be a big night for me. This is the first time I get to meet most of these amazing people, and I don't want anyone to think I'm showing off."

"They're lovely."

"I'm glad you think so. There have been cleaning crews in here for the last few days, getting everything ready for Sunday. Do you have your dress picked out?"

"I don't know if I'm going."

Gordon frowned. "What? But you have to go. This is your house."

"It's your house, and you don't need me."

He looked at her. "Tell me what the matter is."

"I just had an interesting conversation with Fergus."

"Oh?"

"Why didn't you tell me that he knew about magic?"

Gordon blinked. "Excuse me?"

"I was giving the twins a lesson on the beach. He saw us, sent them away, started on a whole tirade about refusing to let me drag them into magic because magic had torn his family apart."

"Really?"

"Very really."

"That... that surprises me."

"It caught me a little off guard too. He gave me the whole family history on the subject."

"That must have been nice."

"It was a bonding moment."

"To be honest," Gordon said, "I thought he'd convinced himself that none of it was real. He did such a good job with your dad, I thought he genuinely believed it himself. Once we got into our twenties, you see, we never argued about actual magic. We argued about the weirdos and the freaks I a.s.sociated with, we argued about my lifestyle and my att.i.tude, but by then he had stopped using words like sorcerers. I didn't realise he was still... aware of it all."

"Well, he was, and he still is. He even has some himself."

"Fergus? Fergus has magic?"

"There's definitely something there," she said. "Without proper instruction he wouldn't be able to do anything more than generate a spark, but even so..."

"Even so," Gordon finished, "it shows he has magic. How I would have envied him if I had known while I lived."

"You don't envy him now?"

Gordon smiled. "I have so many other things to envy him for, my dear, such as living, that magic becomes insignificant. How did you leave it?"

"He told me not to teach the twins anything, and I agreed."

"That's it?"

"Pretty much."

Gordon shook his head. "That brother of mine is a riddle wrapped in a mystery wrapped in a cardigan."

"Oh, there is something else. He said he regrets not speaking to you for four years."

Gordon smiled sadly. "Mm. Well. Yes. Regrets. I've had a few. That's all very interesting, I have to say. All very interesting indeed. Do you have any other bombsh.e.l.ls to drop on me today? You may as well get it over with while I'm still partly in shock."

There was a single chair in the room, and Valkyrie slouched into it, crossing her legs. "I've got one or two. The least of which is that I've broken up with Fletcher."

"Oh, dear. Oh, dear me. Well, we knew this would eventually happen. Um... The important thing is to remember the good times, but not dwell on them... Dwelling leads to miserable thoughts and the playing of bad music. It is to be avoided at all costs. Fletcher... There will be another Fletcher, and another one after him, and another... It's not the end of the world, Valkyrie. You know what the end of the world looks like a by all accounts you're the cause of it."

He chuckled. She didn't. He stopped chuckling.

"He didn't dump me," she said. "I broke up with him."

"Oh," said Gordon, much brighter now. "Well, that is completely different! Excellent. Bravo. Well, not excellent. I liked the boy. He seemed nice. But obviously, you had a good reason for ending it."

"It just felt like the time. I was getting... bored."

"The death knell for many a mediocre relationship. I can't tell you how many beautiful women have broken up with me because they were bored. I can't tell you because it never happened. They all adored me."

"It was your humility, wasn't it?"

"I'm sure that had something to do with it. You're like me, Valkyrie. You're never going to be content until you find that one person, that one single person, who fills you with delight every time you hear their name."

"Did you ever find that person?"

He hesitated. "Yes. I did."

"And what happened?"

"Does it matter? What matters is you. You can't let this get you down."

"I wasn't. I'm upset about it, I suppose, but... There's other stuff happening too."

"There always is."

"Skulduggery kept a secret from me."

"I see. You think that was wrong of him?"

"No, not wrong, but it's a pretty big secret, and it's... it's bad."

"Is he still your friend?"

Valkyrie sighed.

"Has he moved against you in any way? Has he hurt you?"

"No."

"Then is he still your friend?"

"I suppose."

"This secret, how long has he had it?"

"Hundreds of years."

"Then it has nothing to do with you. It's quite simple, isn't it? He kept something from you, something about his past, and now you know it, and now you deal with it and move on."

She filled her cheeks with air, then blew it out. "It sounds really easy when you say it. It doesn't feel easy."

"Everyone has secrets, Valkyrie. I don't need to tell you that. So long as he hasn't used this secret to intentionally hurt you, however, I don't see the problem. Friends stick by each other. That's what they do."

She looked at him. "You are a wise and n.o.ble man, Uncle Gordon."

"And good-looking. You forgot good-looking."

"That's taken for granted."

"As well it should be. Now then, do you have any other problems I can help you with?"

"There's a vampire who's in love with me."

"Dump him. Any other problems?"

Valkyrie laughed. "Nothing I can't handle."

"In that case, be off with you. I have a book to write, characters to kill, and a party to plan."

Chapter 37.

The Wisdom of Leonard Cohen.

hastly checked his watch as he walked the corridors of the Sanctuary, resigning himself to the fact that, once again, it looked like he'd be spending the night in his office instead of going home. He yawned heavily as he rounded the corner, and saw Fletcher Renn sitting outside his door.

"Fletcher," Ghastly said.

The kid looked up. His jeans were tattered, his boots were scuffed, and his T-shirt was a faded advertis.e.m.e.nt for a band Ghastly had never heard of. It was the eyes, though, that marked him out as truly tired. The eyes, and the hair. Usually so meticulously untamed, tonight it hung long and flat and swept back off his forehead.

"Hi," Fletcher said. "I know it's late, but... And I'm sorry if you're busy."

Ghastly was always busy these days. He had closed his shop and embraced the duties of an Elder, letting his new responsibilities wash over his old life and consume him completely. "I have some free time," he lied. "What can I do for you?"

Fletcher got up slowly, stiffly, like he'd been sitting there for hours. When he didn't say anything, Ghastly spoke again.

"Where have you been?" he asked.