Among the nicer names that people called them, nihilists was one. He didn’t mind that label, though his was a brand of nihilism that neither Kierkegaard nor Nietzsche would ever have truly recognised. He saw himself as a fundamentalist existentialist, harbouring deep-seated psychopathic and genocidal tendencies. All he wanted to do was be responsible for the destruction of the world and everyone in it – himself included.

But until that opportunity presented itself, he was content to sit in mortal bars and ponder the pointlessness of life.

“Vincent Foe.”

He turned his head slightly. The woman who had spoken was small, with wild brown hair.

“I know you?”

“We’ve met.” The woman smiled.

“Sorry. I don’t recognise you.”

“You wouldn’t,” said the woman. “This body is new. Well, new to me. A rental, shall we say? I was recently evicted from the body I’d been using. I found this one and, while it’s not perfect, beggars can’t be choosers.”

The mortals in the bar drank and chatted and paid not one whit of attention to Foe and the woman.

Foe studied her face. She looked sick. She was sweating badly and her eyes were bloodshot.

“And what do you want with me?” he asked carefully.

“If you could possibly tear yourself away from working for China Sorrows, I have a job for you which will probably result in the imminent destruction of the human race.”

Foe narrowed his eyes. “What did you say your name was?”

“I’m the one they’re all scared of,” said the woman. “I am Darquesse. Are you interested?”

Foe didn’t want to appear too eager, so he took his time before shrugging and saying, “Yeah. Maybe. What’ve you got in mind?”

33

MISADVENTURES IN BABYSITTING

osing Dexter Vex and Dai Maybury to the Remnants was a serious blow. Part of Valkyrie wanted to stay in the Bentley when the call came through, to return to Roarhaven with Skulduggery while all of this was going on, but another part, a stronger part, wanted to be home. She was glad she’d listened to it. The moment she walked through that front door, she felt lighter, better. Happier. And now here she was, raising her eyebrows at her father.

“I have babysitting advice for you,” he told her while he put on his coat. “I made this mistake once and your mother has never let me forget it. This is invaluable, and I learned it the hard way. You ready?”

Valkyrie stood with her back to the roaring fire, and grinned. “I’m ready.”

“Do not lose the baby,” her dad said. “Do not. Understand? Also, the term babysitter is misleading, because neither can you sit on the baby. I sat on you once when you were really small, but thankfully your head just popped back to its original shape once I noticed. You were under there for a few minutes, actually. I was surprised you were even alive.”