Valkyrie jumped between them, keeping the American back. “He didn’t mean it,” she said quickly. “My friend is not right in the head. He just says things. Bad things. I’m really very sorry. You should probably go.”

“Not before this creep gives my kid an apology.”

“Oh, God,” Valkyrie muttered.

“Have I offended you?” Skulduggery asked. “Oh, dear. I really am sorry.”

“Don’t apologise to me,” the American snarled. “Apologise to my son.”

“Which one? The ugly one?”

“Whichever one you were talking about.”

“It was the ugly one,” Skulduggery confirmed.

“Stop calling my kid ugly!”

Valkyrie elbowed Skulduggery in the ribs. “Apologise this instant,” she said through gritted teeth.

“Of course,” Skulduggery said, and leaned down to the window. “I’m very sorry!” he said loudly so they could hear. “Sometimes I say things and I’m not aware that I’m saying them until it’s too late. It’s entirely my fault. My sincerest apologies for any offence caused.” He straightened up.

The American finally dragged his eyes off Skulduggery. “This,” he said, “is the nastiest town I’ve ever been to.”

“I couldn’t agree with you more,” Valkyrie said.

He glared at Skulduggery one final time, then got into the rental car and drove off.

“What,” Valkyrie said, “was that?”

Skulduggery tilted his head. “What was what?”

“You called his kid ugly!”

“Did I?”

“It just happened twenty seconds ago!”

“Oh. I didn’t notice, to be honest. My mind was elsewhere. I’m sure I was joking, though. And I’m sure he knew I was joking. It’s all fine. It was an ugly kid, though. Did you see it? It’s like it had two half-finished faces pushed together. Still, all that’s in the past. I do hope they come back. They seemed nice. Come along.”

He walked towards the Sanctuary. Valkyrie hurried to catch up.

“Are you feeling OK?” she asked.

“Me?”

“You.”

“I suppose I’m feeling a little discombobulated. A little out of sorts. But I’m fine. I’ll be fine. Why are we here?”

She frowned. “We’re meeting with the Elders about Melancholia.”

He snapped his fingers. “Yes! Excellent. Good. So we are. Marvellous.”

The Bentley was parked outside an ugly building of concrete and granite. The Sanctuary was round and flat and low, and squatted beside the stagnant lake like someone had dropped it from a great height. It had one main entrance and three hidden exits. No windows. No paint. No frills. Inside it was just as frugal, stone walls and curving corridors flowing in a concentric pattern to the middle. Cleavers stood guard and sorcerers and officials went about their business. No matter the weather outside, it was always cold in the Sanctuary.

The Administrator met them when they entered. “Detectives Pleasant and Cain, the Council is waiting for you.”

Skulduggery nodded. “Lead the way, Tipstaff.”