“She loves me,” Tane whispered. The others talked a bit more, discussed this and that, but Tane stayed on the ground and didn’t join in. He was alive. He was alive and he was going to stay alive, and he was going to enjoy living again. He suddenly had a mad urge for fishnchups. He poked his head up. “Anyone hungry?”

“I don’t eat, I’m afraid,” Skulduggery said, “and we really have to get going.”

Valkyrie smiled. “Thanks for the offer, though.”

Hayley looked at him and sighed. “Fine,” she said, “I’ll go get some grub with you. But you better not talk to me.”

He grinned, and Hayley helped him up.

The End of the World

This story is dedicated to cover artist extraordinaire, Tom Percival.

For most people, the cover is the reason they pick up a book in the first place. The amount of correspondence I get proves this, as people go on and on about how the cover caught their eye, made them want to read about a skeleton detective, how the covers are the best things ever, how the covers blah blah blah…

I think it’s a generally agreed upon fact that I could draw the covers if I really wanted to. I have the raw talent, I have the eye, and I have that one year of art college under my belt.

And I think Tom knows this, which is why he pushes himself to excel each and every time, why he pushes himself to make these books stand out from the others on the shelf. The threat I pose is important. The threat I pose is a good motivator.

Keep pushing yourself, Tom. My time is coming.

P.S. You’re welcome.

he man with the unfortunate face stood in the aisle between the Science Fiction section and Crime, and he seemed to be trying to blend in with the bookshelves. He wasn’t doing a particularly good job of it. When an old woman shuffled too close, he snarled at her – actually snarled – and the old woman yelped like an injured puppy and hurried away as fast as her little old legs would carry her. People weren’t used to snarling, not in a public library. For as long as he’d been coming here, Ryan certainly hadn’t witnessed any snarling. Until today, of course.

He watched the man out of the corner of his eye, watched him whispering with his companions. They were an odd bunch. The snarling man was the biggest – arms like tree trunks, black matted hair completely failing to hide a face that was in no way attractive.