“And how long did they stay together? By the end of it, everyone was betraying everyone else, because you all wanted to be the one to kill Valkyrie or Skulduggery or Thurid Guild... Your little club unravelled, Billy-Ray. Having a common goal is not always a good thing.”

“And you have the answer, I take it?”

She turned to him, smiling. He had his sunglasses off, and she looked into the dark holes where his eyes should have been. “Of course I do. The trick is to have everyone wanting something different – so that they’re all taking part for their own unique reasons.”

“Which means that we need to have something that each one of them wants.”

“And what do you think I’ve been doing these past few weeks? I’ve been collecting our incentives. Really, Billy-Ray, you’re just going to have to accept that I do know exactly what I’m doing.”

He laughed. “Oh I believe you, darlin’. You’ve been proving yourself to be quite the cunning little minx lately.” He shrugged. “I’m behind you all the way, and you know it. So Springheeled Jack is the first team member to be recruited, is he?”

“No, actually. We’re going to talk to an old friend of his first. Old friend of yours, too.”

Sanguine’s grin soured. “Aw, hell. Not him. You know he creeps me out.”

“Dusk is a harmless little puppy once you get to know him.”

“Dusk is a vampire. There ain’t nothing harmless, little or puppyish about him.”

Now it was Tanith’s turn to shrug. “Then he’ll be our rabid, bloodthirsty attack dog instead. Either way, he’s getting a cuddle. Does someone else want a cuddle? Someone who is in this room with me right now?”

“I hope you don’t think you can sway me from every argument with the promise of a cuddle.”

Tanith put on a sad face, and turned back to the window. “Shame,” she said.

A moment later she felt Sanguine’s arms wrap round her. “Just this once,” he said, and she laughed.

The vampires stood looking at the bones of the dinosaur and Dusk wondered what it would have been like to kill such a magnificent beast. Certainly it would have been more of a challenge than that posed by the mortals. He watched them hurry from exhibit to exhibit, either chasing after their squealing young or dragging them along behind, every sound they made amplified by the museum’s cavernous halls.

“The boy?” asked Isara.

“Dead,” said Dusk. “A year ago.”

Isara nodded. Apart from that, she didn’t move. No words slipped by her lips. No emotions slipped on to her face. Even her eyes were calm. But Dusk knew that inside her, twisting within her, were feelings alien to him. Love and loss and sorrow. The only feeling he could recognise was anger. And she had that, too.

“Did you kill him?” she asked.