“I’m not worried about it. Why should I be worried about it? I don’t even care. I don’t even know the guy. Why are you so intent on setting me up with someone all of a sudden? Haven’t I made enough of a mess of this kind of thing already?”

“You have,” Skulduggery conceded. “But everyone needs a hobby.”

They moved towards raised voices, sliding through the gathered onlookers to see Arthur Dagan pinned to the ground by a small man with glasses.

“Caste,” Skulduggery said, “let him up.”

The small man shook his head. “Every time I let him up he flings himself at someone else.”

“I’ll kill you!” Arthur warbled, his face smushed into the floor. “I’ll kill you all!”

“I’ll take responsibility for him,” Skulduggery said. “Let him up, if you would.”

Caste sighed, and stood away. Arthur struggled to his hands and knees.

“Before you stand,” Skulduggery said, “know this. If you attack anyone, I’ll call in the Rippers. They’ll lock you up for the night and they won’t be gentle about it. When you stand, we will escort you to your car, and then your son can drive you home. If you agree to this, stand. If you don’t, you may as well lie back down.”

Arthur glared, then stood. “Very well,” he said. “But I can walk to my car without your assistance.” He swayed dangerously, and Skulduggery took his arm before he fell. “Unhand me!”

“Don’t be stupid,” Skulduggery said. Valkyrie walked on Arthur’s other side as they moved to the front of the house, but didn’t help. She didn’t think he’d appreciate it.

“The Requiem Ball,” Arthur said, spitting out the words. “Just another excuse to meet up and be smug and superior. If we had won, we wouldn’t hold a gloating party.”

“If you had won,” said Skulduggery, “we’d all be dead, yourself included.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re a heathen.”

“I was closer to the Faceless Ones than you could ever hope to be, Arthur. I was trapped with them for almost a year, and do you know what I learned in that year? That your gods are just as petty and spiteful and small as anyone I’ve ever met.”

“Your bones will burn for your insolence!” Arthur said, outraged. He tugged his arm free, would have toppled were it not for Valkyrie. He recoiled from her touch, and sneered. “And you, the god-killer. How do you think you’d fare against the Faceless Ones without the Sceptre of the Ancients, eh? Do you think it would be quite so easy to murder them now that your weapon has been destroyed?”

“No,” she said, frowning at him. “Obviously not.”

“The Dark Gods shall rise again,” Arthur promised loudly, and vomited. Both Valkyrie and Skulduggery pulled away instantly.

“Aw,” Arthur said, looking down at himself.