Cover

Dedication

This book is dedicated to cover artist
extraordinaire, Tom Percival.

For most people, the cover is the reason they pick up
a book in the first place. The amount of correspondence
I get proves this, as people go on and on about how the
cover caught their eye, made them want to read about a
skeleton detective, how the covers are the best things ever,
how the covers blah blah blah…

I think it’s a generally agreed upon fact that I could draw the
covers if I really wanted to. I have the
raw talent, I have the eye, and I have that one year of art college under my belt.

And I think Tom knows this, which is why he pushes
himself to excel each and every time, why he pushes
himself to make these books stand out from the
others on the shelf. The threat I pose is important.
The threat I pose is a good motivator.

Keep pushing yourself, Tom. My time is coming.

P.S. You’re welcome.

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Dedication

One

The man with the unfortunate face stood in the aisle…

Two

Through the gaps in the books, Ryan could see someone…

Three

The skeleton’s jaw moved when he talked, but he had…

Four

Deacon Maybury’s apartment was trashed.

Five

Ryan spun, grabbed Francine, tried to drag her with him,…

Six

On the way to see Crasis, they stopped off so…

Seven

They drove into Dundrum Town Centre and parked in the…

Eight

Ryan backed away. “You’re crazy.”

Nine

Valkyrie stepped in front of Ryan, and Skulduggery straightened his…

Ten

With Skulduggery’s guidance, Ryan dismantled the Doomsday Machine. He rendered…

That’s NOT all folks!

Also by Derek Landy

Copyright

ONE

The man with the unfortunate face stood in the aisle between the Science Fiction section and Crime, and he seemed to be trying to blend in with the bookshelves. He wasn’t doing a particularly good job of it. When an old woman shuffled too close, he snarled at her – actually snarled – and the old woman yelped like an injured puppy and hurried away as fast as her little old legs would carry her. People weren’t used to snarling, not in a public library. For as long as he’d been coming here, Ryan certainly hadn’t witnessed any snarling. Until today, of course.

He watched the man out of the corner of his eye, watched him whispering with his companions. They were an odd bunch. The snarling man was the biggest – arms like tree trunks, black matted hair completely failing to hide a face that was in no way attractive.