Temper laughed. “You think the kid here is my rescue team? He’s just a cheeky little guy who sneaked out past his curfew. No, no – my rescue team is comprised of people you’ll probably have heard of. You want to know who’s coming next?”

“I’m all ears.”

Temper grinned. “Skulduggery Pleasant, Valkyrie Cain and a whole horde of Cleavers.”

“That so?”

“It is. Coming straight here.”

“My, my,” said Lethe. “Sounds like I’m in trouble.”

“Now, you’re good,” Temper said, “I’m not denying that. But Skulduggery? Skulduggery is—”

“Ours,” said Lethe. “Skulduggery is ours, Mr Fray. You’ve been out of the loop, so I’m going to break this to you gently. My colleague, Mr Smoke, came into contact with your skeletal friend. Physical contact. And you know what happens once my colleague, Mr Smoke, comes into physical contact with someone, don’t you? You know that first-hand, am I correct?”

Temper’s grin faded. “Bull.”

“Not bull, Mr Fray.”

“Smoke turned me, but he can’t turn Skulduggery. That stuff doesn’t work on him. His mind can’t be read, his—”

“My colleague’s ability has nothing to do with the mind, Mr Fray, and it’s got everything to do with the soul. So I am in the unfortunate position of being the one to tell you that not only is your friend no longer your friend, but that this fictitious rescue team you have imagined coming to free you is … Well, it’s just not. So I’ll give you a moment to let that sink in.”

Temper didn’t say anything in response.

“Has it sunk in yet?” Lethe asked. “I think it has. By the look on your face, I think it has. Which brings us back to the act of killing you both. Now, I forget – little spy, did you say you wanted to die before or after Mr Fray here?”

“After,” Omen said, his mouth dry.

“That’s right,” said Lethe, clicking his fingers. “That’s right. Thank you. I get confused sometimes.”

He lunged and Temper grabbed him, turned him, tried to trip him, but Lethe buckled his leg and flipped Temper over his hip. For a moment, Lethe’s back was to Omen, and all of a sudden Omen was throwing himself on to him. Everything he’d ever known about fighting flushed from his mind and he hung on, clung on, eyes wide with panic, and then Lethe twisted and hit him and Omen was tumbling down the concrete steps.

He sprawled on to the ground, the right side of his face throbbing numbly. He turned his head. From his vantage point, he could see Lethe and Temper from the chests up. The fight flowed quickly. Temper was not winning.

He heard a woman laugh. “Oh, oh!” came Razzia’s voice. “Can I have a go? Can I, please?”