“Of course you don’t,” Skulduggery said, as he continued to sift the files in the cabinet. “Entirely my mistake.”

Valkyrie scowled and started sorting through the papers on the floor. She hadn’t been too interested in Ryan’s defence of his manliness. He couldn’t say he blamed her. She was a sorcerer who battled evil villains every other day. He was a chubby loser who needed girls to fight his battles for him. The only way he was going to change how she thought of him was to do something so brave and noble that she couldn’t fail to be impressed. He turned and screamed at a middle-aged woman who stood in the doorway.

The middle-aged woman was startled by the scream, but not half as startled as Ryan himself. It had been a surprisingly high-pitched scream this time, and to make matters worse, it resulted in Valkyrie leaping in front of him protectively.

“Oh,” said the middle-aged woman. She wore a floral dress and a cardigan. As middle-aged women went, she wasn’t particularly frightening.

Skulduggery walked forward, a new false face smiling broadly. “Hello there,” he said. “How are you on this fine day? Come in, come in. And you are…?”

“Francine,” the woman said, a little flustered. “I live down the hall… What are you doing in Deacon Maybury’s apartment?”

“You know Deacon?” Skulduggery asked. Valkyrie walked behind her, checked the corridor for anyone else, then stepped back in and closed the door.

“Well, yes,” said Francine, frowning at Valkyrie and then looking at Skulduggery. “He’s my neighbour and he’s a good man. If you’re robbing him, I must warn you – we don’t take kindly to that sort of thing here.”

“We’re not robbing him,” Skulduggery said. “But I’m afraid I have some bad news.”

“Is it Deacon?” Francine asked, her eyes wide.

“It is.”

“Is he sick?”

“It’s a little worse than that.”

She gasped. “He’s dying?”

“He was briefly dying,” said Skulduggery. “Now he’s dead.”

Francine’s mouth dropped open. “What? Deacon… Deacon is dead?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Oh no. Oh no, no, no.” She sagged, and Valkyrie caught her before she collapsed. “My Deacon… My poor Deacon…”

Valkyrie staggered over to the only upright chair, and dumped Francine into it.

“He was so strong,” Francine sobbed. “So proud. So much dignity. How did he die?”

“Wood chipper,” said Valkyrie.

Francine wailed again, pounding the table with her little fists. “Why?” she cried. “Why did you take him, Lord?”

Valkyrie looked at Skulduggery, and Skulduggery shrugged.

“Uh,” Valkyrie said. “I’m sorry for your, you know, your loss. I’m sure he was a great… I’m sure…” She faltered, and gave a shrug of her own. Ryan looked at Skulduggery, but he showed no signs of offering any real comfort to the poor woman.

“You obviously loved him very much,” Ryan said, surprising himself by stepping forward.