A waiter with dirty fingernails offered her a glass of wine on a silver tray. She politely declined, and as the waiter disappeared in the crowd she frowned after him. Dirty fingernails, at a function like this? She shrugged, letting it go. In one of the rooms there was a small orchestra, whose music drifted throughout the house at a perfect pitch. No one had to raise their voice to be heard.

Everything in here positively glowed. Valkyrie was glad the dress Skulduggery had bought her was so beautiful – it was a match for the others she saw.

Skulduggery handed his hat and scarf to a woman who smiled and took them away. Valkyrie stayed by his side. They passed through to the next room, and Skulduggery did his best to tell her who everyone was. She recognised a lot of the names.

Everyone, it seemed, knew Skulduggery, but not all of them liked him. For every smile they got, there was at least one scowl.

“As you can see,” Skulduggery said quietly, “I’m very, very popular.”

“I can tell.”

Gordon stood by his Echo Stone, chatting to a group of people who laughed at whatever story he was telling. He saw Valkyrie and waved, his eyes sparkling, then returned to his story. She grinned.

Ravel came over, shook Skulduggery’s hand and kissed Valkyrie’s cheek. “You look stunning,” he told her.

She smiled back at him. “Not so bad yourself, Grand Mage.”

He laughed, then caught sight of a group of foreign sorcerers standing nearby, and sighed unhappily. “I must go,” he said. “The curse of this job is that I have to mingle. Just when you meet someone interesting, you’re called away by someone mundane.”

Ravel moved off, and Ghastly arrived to take his place. “Sorry I’m late,” he said. “I’d trouble getting in. My disc wasn’t working right, and I’d barely passed the gates before I was surrounded by Rippers.”

“Oh Elder Bespoke, that’s dreadful,” Valkyrie teased. “Didn’t they know who you were?”

He looked at her. “You’re making fun of me, aren’t you?”

“Not Valkyrie, Your Lordship,” Skulduggery protested. “She wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I hate you,” Ghastly muttered. “I hate you both. Oh, we have a surprise guest.”

Skulduggery’s head tilted. “We do?”

Ghastly nodded ahead of them, and the crowd parted to reveal a man with short blond hair, his face lighting up when he saw them. He looked young and fit and healthy – no more than thirty years old, wearing his tuxedo with the bow tie undone and the top buttons of his shirt open.

Skulduggery stepped forward to clasp this man’s hand in his, as if they were old friends.

“It’s been too long,” Skulduggery said.

“It has at that,” the newcomer replied. His eyes left Skulduggery and found Valkyrie.

“Hi,” she said. “I’m—”