“So he’s a good guy?” Valkyrie asked. “Then why did he help Foe?”

“I don’t know,” Skulduggery said. “I suppose we’ll have to ask him.”

SIX

On the way to see Crasis, they stopped off so Ryan and Valkyrie could get something to eat. They each bought a Coke and a sandwich, but Skulduggery made them eat with their heads sticking out of the window to avoid crumbs being dropped. Ryan didn’t dare open his Coke in case it fizzed out over the seats, and by the time the Bentley pulled over, his throat was parched.

Skulduggery led the way to an old workshop in a quiet part of town. He knocked on the door and waited. When Robert Crasis opened the door, he looked at Skulduggery and Valkyrie, but barely glanced at Ryan. He was a man in his sixties. He was tall, broad-shouldered. His hair was grey, his jaw coated in stubble.

“Can I help you?”

“Hello Robert,” said Skulduggery. “Mind if we come in?”

“Skulduggery?” Crasis frowned, peering at him. “Since when do you have a face?”

“It’s a relatively new addition. We’d like a word, if that’s OK.”

Crasis hesitated, then stepped back to allow them through the door.

They walked into a carpenter’s workshop, to the smell of wood shavings and varnish. It was a big space, no windows, lit in spots that allowed the darkness to soak in around the edges.

Skulduggery let his face melt away, and he took off his hat and looked around. “This reminds me of your place in Venice.”

“Before it was burned down,” Crasis responded. “Skulduggery, I don’t mean to be rude, but I was really hoping never to see you again.”

“You know why we’re here.”

Crasis shook his head. The muscles in his jaw tightened. “All I want is to be left alone. I’m out of that game, but people… people keep pulling me back in. After years of not being involved in any craziness, suddenly there’s one after another, when all I want to do is be a carpenter and grow old.”

“You want to get old?” Valkyrie asked, sounding surprised.

“Staying young isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,” Crasis said. “I’ve been young and strong and healthy for two hundred years. I’ve had to leave my home countless times to stop my mortal friends from wondering why I never seem to age. Then I met Sarah, and she became my wife, and suddenly I had someone I wanted to grow old with. So I stopped doing magic. Up until two weeks ago, I hadn’t done magic in nearly fifteen years. I went grey. Last month I noticed a bald spot. It was working. I was ageing again. But now? Now it’ll take years for me to age a day.”

“This last job you did,” Skulduggery said, “it was for Mercy Charient, wasn’t it?”