She showered in the bathroom that had been specially installed for her. As she did her make-up, she checked herself for scars and bruises. Apart from the bandage on her forearm there was nothing much to report. She would have liked to have gone to one of the Sanctuary doctors instead of making do with stitches and a bandage, but mortal problems meant mortal solutions. A physical injury that could be photographed and documented would help the Guards in their prosecution, whereas an injury that disappeared overnight would only help Valkyrie look better in her dress.

Not that she needed any help as far as that was concerned. The dress was long and slinky, strapless, silk and chiffon. Her shoes were gorgeous.

She stepped into the living room and Skulduggery, wearing the sharpest tuxedo she had ever seen, complete with black gloves and a white scarf, tilted his head to her.

“You’re late,” he said.

“I’m beautiful.”

“You’re always beautiful.”

“I’m always late, too.”

He put on his hat, black to match the tux, and they walked out of the house. He opened the car door and she slipped in.

They left Dublin City, heading north, passed the turn-off for Haggard and continued on to Gordon’s house. There was no one guarding the gate, but even so, Skulduggery slowed to a stop. He took their passkey from his pocket, a gold disc no bigger than his palm, and pressed it between his thumb and forefinger. Once it started to glow they drove on, and Valkyrie saw the symbols pulse on either side of the gate, nullifying the security measures. Gleaming cars were parked on both sides of the long driveway, and Valkyrie glimpsed figures standing in the darkness. Men and women, dressed similarly to Cleavers but in black, with twin sickles in sheaths on their backs.

“They’re Rippers,” Skulduggery said. “Cleaver-trained private security. Only the richest can afford them.”

They got out of the Bentley. Skulduggery had a stern word of warning with the valet, and they walked into the house.

Valkyrie imagined that this was what a high society party looked like – people in expensive clothes sipping champagne and laughing politely. The only difference was that, here and there, there were examples of the extraordinary – an otherwise sombre gentleman with green hair, a woman in a shimmering dress with shimmering skin, a man with claws, and of course the walking skeleton beside her. The richest and the most influential sorcerers in the world. Valkyrie could feel the power the moment she stepped in the door, and it made her insides tingle.