Darquesse lunged sideways as Stephanie fired again, and Stephanie stood, trying to get a fix, but Darquesse was impossible to see in the dark, dodging between racks of suit jackets and disappearing behind partitions. Then Stephanie glimpsed movement, spun and fired and this time Darquesse dropped back, stumbled, turned to run and launched herself at the wall. She flew straight through it, leaving a gaping hole.

The Sceptre held in a hand slick with sweat and blood, Stephanie turned in a slow circle. Her right hand throbbed so badly it made her want to scream. Movement by the window outside and she jumped. Nothing there now. A glimpse out of the corner of her eye and she spun. Saw nothing.

She heard laughter.

There was a knock behind her, knuckles on glass, so loud and so sudden that Stephanie barked out a cry of surprise as she whirled.

Another knock on another window.

And another.

Knock after knock, Stephanie turning with each one, faster and faster, catching the briefest of glimpses of something blacker than night blurring by outside, and that laughter, that cruel, confident laughter. Stephanie raised the Sceptre, fired, again and again, trying to catch Darquesse as she passed, trying to anticipate, trying to match her speed, the black lightning disintegrating walls and windows and sections of floor and ceiling. A whole display cabinet full of ties went up in dust.

Stephanie spun one more time and stopped, her head buzzing, adrenaline snapping at her fingertips, fear biting at the corners of her mind. The window before her was in one piece. She saw her own reflection in the glass. She looked pale. She looked small and weak and terrified. She looked like a victim. Like prey.

Then she realised there was a face behind the face of her reflection, and it was smiling.

Darquesse burst through the window and her hand closed round Stephanie’s throat. Stephanie was lifted off her feet and she felt the fingers tighten and there was nothing she could do and she was going to die. Then the hand released her and she fell. She hit a display stand, scattering shoes as she rolled off. She rubbed her throat, gasping for breath, looked up as Skulduggery and Darquesse spun through the air and slammed into a wall.

Darquesse started to say something, managed to get out, “Now do you really think this was a good ide—” before Skulduggery headbutted her. Her head smashed back into the wall and Skulduggery headbutted her again and again, crunching bone, caving in her skull.

Not that a caved-in skull would stop Darquesse, of course. She ducked under Skulduggery’s arm and got behind him, wrapping her legs around his waist. She grabbed his head, went to twist it off, and Skulduggery flew backwards. Even before they hit the ground and separated, Darquesse’s face was already healed.

Skulduggery clicked his fingers.

“Stephanie,” he said. “Run.”