“See,” Scarab said, “we were planning to use the Hollow Men in our grand finale, but seeing as how you found our base here, we’ll just have to improvise a little. So we’re going to head off now and no doubt we’ll meet again to, you know, hit each other or whatever it is people like us do nowadays.”

“It’s still hit each other,” Sanguine told him.

“Well, there you go. You can’t beat the classics.”

“You can try and stop us,” Sanguine said, “but I have a feelin’ you’ll be just a tad busy fending off the army of Hollow Men that are about jump out at you.”

At that, a section of wall opened up and a single Hollow Man stumbled out and stood there. Sanguine pursed his lips. A moment passed.

“Awkward,” he murmured.

Another wall slid open and Hollow Men poured out, dozens of them, and Sanguine clapped his hands in delight and then disappeared from view with his father.

Valkyrie stood beside Skulduggery and Ghastly, and they clicked their fingers and threw balls of fire. The flames caught the skin of the Hollow Men, taking a few seconds to burn through, and ignited the gases within. And still they came, dozens of them, swarming into the hall.

“The Cleavers are on their way,” Skulduggery said, “but we don’t have time for this. Anton, we need them taken down fast.”

Shudder nodded. He closed his eyes and his fists clenched. Then a head pushed through his chest.

Valkyrie stepped back in shock. The head was hazy, like a ghost, and it was Shudder’s head, only different. The hair was longer and it had pointed teeth. It snarled as it pushed its way out. Its shoulders came next, then its arms, then its clawed hands. It was dressed in the same shirt and black jacket as the real Shudder. It stayed where it was for a moment then opened its eyes, which were narrow and black. It saw the Hollow Men, its face contorted with effort and it lunged, trailing a blurred stream of light and darkness from its torso back into Shudder’s chest. It flew to the nearest Hollow Man and slashed, its claws solid enough to rip through the papery skin.

It moved on, the stream that connected it to Shudder lengthening, and it screeched as it went, tearing and ripping through the Hollow Men as they swiped at it. It looped and curled, swooped and whirled, the stream crossing over and under itself. This ghostly Shudder, this gist, was relentless. With each pass its visage became fiercer, and it was no longer so hazy, so transparent. It looked demonic. It looked evil.