The hole opened and Skulduggery lunged upwards, his jacket torn, his tie wrenched to one side. An unholy chorus of anguished cries followed him, and all at once there were a hundred hands reaching up from the darkness. Skulduggery rolled, got to his feet so he was standing beside the Validator.

“So this test is about facing your personal demons or something?” he asked. “Well, how about you face them instead?”

And he pushed the Validator, and the Validator toppled and the hands grabbed him and he vanished into the hole.

The hole closed up once again, and silence descended.

Skulduggery fixed his tie and buttoned his jacket, then he picked up his hat, dusted it off, put it on.

66

TABLE MANNERS

ventually, Valkyrie stopped hiding.

The Remnants knew they were there. Of course they knew. They couldn’t not know. So with her parents behind her, Valkyrie walked to the town square, where all the people were. Black lips. Black veins. They stood silently, watching her. Hundreds of them. Above their heads, more Remnants flitted. Thousands. But they didn’t swoop. They didn’t attack.

The crowd parted. Valkyrie and her parents walked right through. The path led to a restaurant. The door was held open by Dai Maybury. He didn’t say anything as they passed him.

Vex sat at a table in the corner, cutting into a bloody steak. The strap of the Sceptre bag crossed his chest. On the table beside him, within easy arm’s reach, was Alice, sleeping in her car seat.

Valkyrie’s parents started forward immediately, but Vex glanced up, black veins rising beneath his skin, and they froze. The veins faded, and Vex went back to his dinner. He speared a ragged bit of steak with his fork, popped it into his mouth, and chewed with his eyes closed.

“I was a vegetarian once,” he said, “for about two years, back in the late sixties. I’d met this girl, Sally, who you’d probably—”

“Give us Alice back,” Valkyrie said.

Vex opened his eyes. “Let me finish,” he said. He took a sip of wine, put the glass down, and continued.