Skulduggery nodded, and Valkyrie followed him outside. Despite the gray skies, he slipped a pair of sunglasses into place above his scarf, hiding his eye sockets from passersby. If there were any passersby. The weather, it seemed, was keeping most sensible people indoors.

"Four victims," Skulduggery said. "All Teleporters. Why?"

Valkyrie buttoned her coat, struggling a little. Her black clothes had saved her life more times than she wanted to count, but every move she made reminded her that she had grown since Ghastly Bespoke made them for her, and she wasn't twelve anymore. She'd had to throw away her boots because they'd gotten too small, and buy a regular pair in an ordinary, average shop. She needed Ghastly to change from a statue back to a man and make her a new outfit. Valkyrie allowed herself a moment to feel guilty about being so selfish, then got back to business.

"Maybe Cameron Light, along with the other Teleporters, did something to the killer, and this is his--or her--revenge."

"That's Theory One. Anything else?"

6

"Maybe the killer needed something from them."

"Like what?"

"I don't know. Teleporter stuff."

"So why kill them?"

"Maybe it's one of those items where you have to kill the owner to use it, like the Scepter of the Ancients."

"And so we have Theory Two."

"Or maybe the killer wanted something that one of them had, so he was just working his way through the Teleporters until he found whoever had it."

"Now that's a possibility, and so becomes Theory Two, Variation B."

"I'm glad you're not making this needlessly complicated or anything," Valkyrie muttered.

A black van pulled up beside them. The driver got out, looked up and down the street to make sure no one was watching, and slid open the side door. Two Cleavers stepped out and stood silently, dressed in gray, faces hidden behind visored helmets. They each held a very long scythe. The last occupant of the van emerged and stood between the Cleavers. Wearing slacks and a matching blazer,

7

with a high forehead and a goatee beard pointing down in an effort to give himself a chin, Remus Crux observed Skulduggery and Valkyrie with a disdainful expression.

"Oh," he said, "it's you." He had a curious voice, like a spoiled cat whining for its dinner.

Skulduggery nodded to the Cleavers on either side of him. "I see you're going incognito today."

Immediately, Crux bristled. "I am the Sanctuary's lead detective, Mr. Pleasant. I have enemies, and as such, I need bodyguards."

"Do you really need them to stand in the middle of the street?" Valkyrie asked. "They look a little conspicuous."

Crux sneered. "That's an awfully big word for a thirteen-year-old."

Valkyrie resisted the urge to hit him. "Actually, it's not," she replied. "It's fairly standard. Also, I'm fourteen. Also, your beard's stupid."

"Isn't this fun?" Skulduggery said brightly. "The three of us getting along so well."