The sun came in through the three windows along the far wall and Valkyrie let the fire in her hand go out. She stood beside the steps and didn’t move. In the centre of the room a skeleton lay. Its clothes were shredded and hung off the frame that had been constructed to give the illusion of mass. From what she could see, the trouser-legs were empty and the skeleton’s right arm was missing. It lay on its back, its exposed ribcage dirty and covered in dust, and it didn’t move.

Something clutched at Valkyrie’s heart and wouldn’t let go. She made a sound, like a whimper, but when she tried to say his name, she couldn’t. Her first step was uncertain because her legs felt weak. She walked slowly, so very slowly, to the middle of the room.

“Hello?” she whispered. The skeleton lay on the ground and didn’t move.

“It’s me. I’ve come to take you back. Can you hear me? I found you.”

Not even a breeze stirred the ragged clothing.

She knelt by the skeleton. “Please say something. Please. I’ve missed you so much and I’ve worked so hard to find you. Please.”

She reached out to touch him, and Skulduggery Pleasant whipped his head to her and roared, “Boo!”

Valkyrie shrieked and scrambled back, and Skulduggery laughed hysterically, like it was the funniest thing he had ever seen. He was still laughing when she got to her feet, and when she glared at him, he laughed even harder. Eventually, with bouts of laughter still rattling his bones, Skulduggery propped himself up on the only elbow he had left.

“Oh, dear,” he said. “Now I’m deriving amusement from scaring my hallucinations. This can’t be good for me, psychologically speaking.”

“I’m not a hallucination.”

He looked up at her. “Yes, you are, my dear, but I wouldn’t worry about it. Being a hallucination is a state of mind, I always say.”

“Skulduggery, I’m real.”

“That’s the spirit.”

“No, I mean I’m really real, and I’ve come to take you home.”

“You’re an odd one. Usually my hallucinations do a lot more singing and dancing.”

“It’s me. It’s Valkyrie.”

“You’d be surprised how many figments of my imagination say that. You don’t happen to have an imaginary chessboard with you, do you? I’ve had a hankering to play for a while now, and since you’re an aspect of my personality, you’d probably be a worthy opponent.”

“How do I prove to you that I’m real?”