Valkyrie stood there and waited for her to start making sense.

“There is a vegetable-plant hybrid we’ve been working on, modifying the genes and receptors, mutating the proteins and acids so that they are, in effect, neurotransmitters. Our work on the synapses alone has been quite illuminating.”

Valkyrie stood there and waited for her to start making sense.

“Anyway,” Synecdoche said, blushing, “we think we can install these hybrids into your old bodies and, with the help of some skilled Sensitives, transfer your minds into them.”

“That sounds great,” Thrasher said, a huge smile breaking out.

“Wait a second,” said Scapegrace. “You’re saying you’re going to … you’re going to put our thoughts into … into vegetable-plant hybrids?”

“Yes.”

“Are … are our brains going to be vegetables?”

Synecdoche hesitated again. “Kind of.”

Valkyrie couldn’t help it. She burst out laughing.

The operation took most of the night. Valkyrie spent that time sleeping or in the Ops Room, a brightly-lit space of monitors and weird-looking computers. In the centre was a long table displaying what appeared to be a highly detailed scale model of Roarhaven. It was only when it started to flicker slightly that Valkyrie realised it was a hologram. Little hologram people ran about on its streets. She even thought she recognised a few faces.

The room was buzzing with activity. No one needed her so she stayed at the back, in the dark. She took the Deathtouch Gauntlet from her jacket, and put it on a table no one was using. She left it there.

She was on her third cup of coffee when the doors opened and the two zombies walked in, grinning like conquering heroes.

One of Scapegrace’s teeth fell out, and he kicked it under a chair.

Skulduggery walked over to them. “This is a surprisingly brave thing you’re doing,” he said.

“I know,” said Scapegrace. “I’ve just been thinking that. I think I felt more heroic in the woman’s body. She was stronger and fitter and better and I just felt a lot braver speaking in her voice. My own voice is kind of nasal. Have you noticed that? How can my voice be nasal if most of my nose fell off years ago?”

“Don’t worry, Master,” said Thrasher, “I’ll be right behind you, every step of the—”

“Shut up,” Scapegrace said.

Thrasher looked bizarrely pleased as he said, “Sorry, Master.”

“This final test,” said Scapegrace, “is there any way I’ll be able to cheat?”

“Probably not,” Skulduggery said. He handed him a folded piece of paper. “This is a map. When Fletcher teleports you in, you’ll be at the bottom of stone stairs. Before you, the Necropolis. Follow these directions exactly and you’ll get to the square, where the Guardian waits.”

“Will he be expecting me?”