Skulduggery grabbed Valkyrie, pulled her behind him as he raised a hand. There was a whump, like a sudden explosion of flames, and a wave of energy hit Skulduggery’s shield of air and threw them both backwards. Valkyrie tumbled out through the window, the world tilting crazily, and then all too suddenly the ground crunched into her shoulder. She would have cried out if she’d had any breath left in her body. She turned over, trying to suck in air as she clutched her left arm.

Skulduggery sat up beside her. “Are you OK?”

She shook her head, and managed to draw in a single breath. He helped her to her feet.

She did her best to ignore the rising pain. “Didn’t think … Vitas could attack like that …”

“This one appears to be special.”

Melior’s door opened and Melior stormed out. He was wearing trainers now, the laces not yet tied, and was shrugging into a jacket.

Skulduggery drew his gun. “Stay right there, Richard.”

Melior barked out a mirthless laugh, and six people appeared around him.

At first, Valkyrie thought they were all Teleporters – they’d arrived at the same instant and none of them had been touching – but that notion fell apart the moment one of them, the woman in the tuxedo, extended her right arm. Her palm opened and a black tendril shot out, its barbed teeth closing round Skulduggery’s gun, yanking it from his grip. She smiled widely, her tongue between her teeth.

The man beside her had a black, braided goatee. The guy next to him had an Elvis haircut and wore a purple suit.

To Melior’s right were three men. The one furthest away was dressed in an ill-fitting suit and he wrung his hands nervously. Beside him was a handsome young man with shockingly bleached hair. He looked like a washed-out supermodel with a rock-star sneer. Valkyrie just knew he was the Teleporter.

The sixth member of the group was dressed head to foot in black rubber.

“Mr Lethe,” Skulduggery said, brushing dust from his jacket. “Good to finally meet you.”

The masked man held up a finger. “Just Lethe will do,” he said, his voice distorted. “It’s very good to meet you, too, Detective. I’ve heard so many stories. So many wild tales. You’ve had quite the life of adventure, haven’t you?”

“It’s not over yet,” Skulduggery said.

Lethe chuckled. “I fear it may be, actually. And beside you the Swathe of Destruction herself, Valkyrie Cain. Now your death, Valkyrie … your death will be special.”

Valkyrie stayed quiet. Her shoulder was dislocated and the pain was making her sweat, and she couldn’t be bothered engaging with this creep.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” said Skulduggery. “We only came here to chat to Richard. We’ve lost a friend, you see, and we were—”