Cover

Title Page

Dedication

Dedication

This book is dedicated to my nieces. Girls, none of you were born when Skulduggery Pleasant first appeared. But since you’ve arrived, no one in our family wants to talk about the writer any more. Now all they want to talk about are the damn babies. All of a sudden, no one wants to cuddle me, and for that I blame you.

But, I suppose you have your good points. It’s because of you that Valkyrie has a little sister, after all. You’re all mildly cute, reasonably adorable, and you make me laugh when you fall over.

So this book is dedicated to you, Rebecca and Emily, Sophie and Clara and

(insert names of any more nieces or nephews that might sprout up between now and when they’re old enough to read this).

I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I am your favourite uncle. And you probably prefer me to your parents, too.

(I’ve met your parents. I don’t blame you. They’re rubbish.)

Epigraph

Epigraph

“Good and evil are so close as to be chained together in the soul.”

Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde (1941)

Prologue

Prologue

he closing do or made the candlelight dance, waltzing and flickering over the girl strapped to the table. She turned her head to him. Her face, like every other part of her, was decorated with small, pale scars, symbols painstakingly carved into her flesh over the course of the last few months. Her name was Melancholia St Clair. She was his secret. His experiment. His last, desperate grasp for power.

“It hurts,” she said.

Vandameer Craven, Cleric First Class of the Necromancer Order, esteemed Scholar of Arcane Languages and feared opponent on the debating battlefield, nodded and patted her hand. She had entered into this arrangement with the kind of zeal that only the truly greedy can muster, but recently her bouts of annoying self-pity were becoming more and more frequent. “I know, my dear, I know it does. But pain is nothing. Once our work is done, there will be no pain. You have suffered for all of us. You have suffered for all life in this world, in this universe.”

“Please,” she whimpered, “make it stop. I’ve changed my mind about this. Please. I don’t want it any more.”

“I understand,” he said sadly. “I do. You’re scared because you don’t think you’re strong enough. But I know you’re strong enough. That’s why I picked you, out of everyone. I believe in you, Melancholia. I have faith in your strength.”

“I want to go home.”

“You are home.”

“Please…”

“Now now, my dear girl, there’s no need for begging. The Surge is a beautiful, wondrous thing, and it should be cherished. You’ve taken your next step. You’ve become who you were always meant to be. We all go through it. Every sorcerer goes through it.”