“Oh, sure,” Valkyrie said, “I’ll take the big one, no problem.”

Foe stayed where he was, his eyes on Ryan. Behind him, Samuel sweated.

Mercy opened her mouth and Skulduggery ducked the stream of energy that carved a furrow across the wall behind him. He dodged behind a pillar, but the stream intensified, melting right through the pillar and taking Skulduggery’s hat off his head.

Obloquy pressed his hands to his temples and he squeezed, like he wanted to pop his own head open. Valkyrie staggered. She fell to one knee, bringing up her own hands like she was trying to shield herself. Ryan wanted to run and help, but now Foe was walking towards him.

“This doesn’t have to hurt,” Foe said.

Ryan turned, ran up the still travelator, swung around at the top and ran up the next one. He was halfway up when he started to seriously regret his choice. His legs were already screaming at him and his lungs were burning. He’d never been able to run for any length of time – not even in the school that he remembered but had never actually attended.

He glanced down, saw Skulduggery waving a hand and Mercy flying backwards. Valkyrie was on both knees now, with Obloquy standing directly over her. Darkness pulsed from the ring on her finger and Obloquy jerked back in shock. His psychic attack must have faltered, because Valkyrie immediately wrapped an arm around each leg. She pressed her shoulder against his belly and as she lifted she launched herself forward. Obloquy yelled as he hit the ground, Valkyrie on top, and Ryan saw her first headbutt go in before he reached the top floor and lost her to sight.

Staggering slightly, Ryan ran on, no idea where he was going or what he would do when he got there. The mall was terrifying at night. The few lights that were on cast the deepest shadows. Anyone could be hiding in those shadows.

Foe stepped out ahead of him and Ryan yelled and changed course and ran into a potted plant, tripped over it and sprawled on to the floor.

“I’d ask you to activate the Machine,” Foe said, walking up, “but I don’t have the time for an argument. So I’m going to be rude. I hope you don’t mind, me being rude. It’s nothing personal. I’m not going to kill you. Don’t think I’m going to kill you. I’m just going to cut off your hand a little bit. You might die from blood loss or trauma or shock – let’s not kid ourselves – but you will not die from me cutting off your hand. When you think about it like that, you have nothing to fear from me or my giant knife.”

Foe took a machete from his jacket.

Ryan crawled away on his hands and knees, panting too hard to get up.