Valkyrie turned sideways and slammed her foot down on to Smoke’s knee with such force that she heard the sickening snap-crunch of bones breaking. Smoke screeched and fell, clutching his leg, rolling over and screeching some more.

Someone grabbed her hair, yanked her head back and she went stumbling. It was Nero, cursing at her, hissing in fury, and she twisted, took hold of his jacket with one hand and rammed the other into his throat. He staggered, gasping, his eyes wide, and her knee sank into his belly. She hammered a fist down on to the base of his skull when he folded over and he dropped, and she kicked him in the head.

Omen and Byron rolled across the ground, Omen trying to talk him out of it the whole time.

Valkyrie turned to Skulduggery as he hung his hat on the rotary dryer.

“I don’t want to fight you,” she said.

“Of course you don’t,” he replied.

He darted forward and she moved, absorbing the blow on her upper arm.

He circled her. “The fourth time we met, you fainted. Do you remember how I caught you? That’s where our friendship began, with you in my arms. That’s how it’ll end.”

“Third,” she said.

“Sorry?”

“It was the third time we met. We’d only spoken twice up until that point, at the wake and the reading of the will.”

He shook his head. “We had met years earlier, when you were just a baby. This was before things got strained between your parents and Gordon, and he was babysitting and I visited. You were adorable.”

“I still am.”

He laughed. “There you go,” he said. “A flash of the old Valkyrie.”

He tried to grab her and she swatted his hand away, moving to his right as she did so.

She could see Omen and Byron throwing punches, bloodying each other up.

“Remember that wig you used to wear?” she asked. “Before you got the façade?”

“I still have it.”

“Seriously?”

“It’s a good wig.”

“It’s a terrible wig. It’s way too fuzzy.”

“Fuzzy was in that year.”

“Did Ghastly approve?”

“I can’t recall.”

“That’s a no.”

He laughed, reached for her, then whipped his hand up when she went to block, catching her with a backhand across the face. She stumbled, hand to her stinging cheek, blinking back sudden tears.

“Help!” Smoke roared. “Somebody help me! I need medical attention!”

“I think you’ve damaged my friend,” said Skulduggery.

“He’s not your friend,” Valkyrie said. “I’m your friend. Dexter and Saracen, they’re your friends. Ghastly was your friend. Smoke—”

“Smoke’s a bad influence,” Skulduggery said. “He’s that child your mother always warned you about, the one who brings out your worst side.”