"Mr Nadir, my name is Skulduggery Pleasant, and this is my partner Valkyrie Cain. We're here to-"

Whatever those cables were they must have been exercising his muscles as he slept, because there was no sign of atrophy as he lunged forward. He grabbed Valkyrie's arm and she cried out and he tried grabbing Skulduggery but Skulduggery just punched him. He staggered into the wall and Skulduggery cuffed his hands behind his back, then looked at Valkyrie as she rubbed her arm. "Are you OK?"

"Fine," she growled. "Just static electricity, gave me a little shock."

"What the hell is going on?" Nadir raged. "What is this? What are you doing to me?"

"We're actually helping you," Skulduggery told him. "You've been napping down here for the last fifteen years, Mr Nadir. You must be well rested."

"Fifteen years? What are you talking about with your fifteen years? I was just in my cell this morning!"

"I don't generally have much time for serial killers, so I'm going to explain this to you once and then immediately move on. You were sentenced to seven hundred years for multiple counts of murder. You were sent here, to this pretty shoddy gaol. When Mien took over as warden, he connected you to the building and began using you to shunt the entire facility through dimensions. It's the ultimate security system. No one can break in or break out because the prison travels to eight different realities every second, and it's all thanks to you. Are you with me so far?"

Nadir gaped at him. "Fifteen years?"

"Indeed. Now then, we are here for an entirely different reason but if you help us, we will ensure that you spend the remainder of your prison sentence, all six hundred and seventy-eight years of it, in the comforts of your duly-appointed cell. Understand?"

"Fifteen years?"

Skulduggery looked at Valkyrie. "Oh, dear. I think he might be brain-damaged."

The door burst open again and Mien ran in.

"You!" he cried. "What are you doing? You can't be here! This is a restricted area!"

"Valkyrie," Skulduggery said.

She walked up to Mien, and the prison warden turned his attention to her. "This is my gaol and when you are here you operate by my rules, and this is not-"

Valkyrie smacked her palm into his jaw and he went backwards, his legs giving out. He crumpled to the floor where she cuffed him, binding symbols glowing on the narrow shackles. "Mr Mien," she said, kneeling on his back, "you're under arrest for, uh..." She looked to Skulduggery for help.

"Improper use of inmates," he suggested.

"There you go," she nodded. "You have the right to remain unconscious."

Mien did not respond.

"Very well done," said Skulduggery. "What do you think, Silas? Do you think that was well done? How does it compare to the way you were arrested all those years ago? Tyren Lament, wasn't it, the man who arrested you?"

"Lament," Nadir said, and spat. "It's his fault I'm here. His fault I'm-"

Skulduggery interrupted him. "Actually, it would be your fault. You know, for killing all those people. Speaking of Lament, as we were, I need to know the names of his associates."

Nadir glared. "Go to hell."

"Silas, now really. Is that any way to speak to the person who has just liberated you from the void? Lament's colleagues. Who were they?"

Nadir licked his lips. "And what if I tell you? What do I get?"

"You get unhooked, Silas."

"You say I've been here for fifteen years? The last thing I remember is being in my cell. OK. OK, I'll help you, but in return you hook me back up."

Skulduggery tilted his head. "I'm sorry?"

"You hook me back up to this thing. Let me serve my sentence here. If you do that, I'll help you."

"See?" Mien said from beneath Valkyrie, his voice shaky. "He wants to be here..."

"Shut up," Valkyrie said. "He wants to be here because fifteen years went by and he didn't even notice it. But he wasn't sent to prison just so it could pass in the blink of an eye. He has to suffer."

"That's my condition," Nadir said. "I know a few of Lament's buddies. He called in three or four of them when he was hunting me. I can help you. I know what you need."

"OK," Skulduggery said, "you have a deal. Give me the names."

Nadir laughed. "Call me cynical, skeleton, but I don't trust you. I want this deal on paper and signed by the Grand Mage himself by the end of the day. And I want it on that special Sanctuary paper I've heard about, the kind that can only be written on by the Elders. You're not going to cheat me out of this."

Skulduggery was quiet for a moment. "We'll see what we can do," he said.

Nadir was sitting behind a desk when a Cleaver escorted them in three hours later. Skulduggery slapped the page down in front of him. Smirking, Nadir ran his finger along the embossed header.

"Official Sanctuary paper," he breathed, then laughed as he started reading. Valkyrie watched him. His lips moved, forming the words. When he'd finished, he looked up.

"It's already signed," he said. "I wanted the Grand Mage to sign this in front of me."

"That's not going to happen," Skulduggery said. "He's a busy man. Too busy to be visiting prisons. You know it's genuine only the Grand Mage can write on that paper."

Nadir tipped a finger to his lips. "And what about dear old Delafonte Mien? How is he going to be punished for his blatant abuse of power?"

"Mien is already in a cell in the Sanctuary. His punishment is yet to be decided."

"You be sure to throw the book at him, you hear me? I feel violated, Detective. Violated."

"I'll throw this table at you if you don't give us the names we're looking for."

Still smirking, Nadir lounged back in his chair. "Lament was a scientist, so he never went anywhere without his muscle to back him up Vernon Plight. That woman was with them too sometimes, the small one, the psychic. Lenka Bazaar, that's her name. And someone else."

"Who?"

"Can't remember."

Skulduggery reached for the contract but Nadir snatched it back. "Kalvin Accord! That was it! That's all I know."

Skulduggery looked at Valkyrie. "Vernon Plight is missing presumed dead. Same with Kalvin Accord, and I've never heard of this Lenka Bazaar."

Nadir shrugged. "That's not my fault. I fulfilled my side of the deal."

"Yes, you did," said Skulduggery. "There's no one else you remember? No one else they mentioned?"

"I wasn't really taking much notice of what they were saying in between hitting me. Those are the names I've got for you. That's all."

"OK. It's something to go on, at least. Cleaver, could you escort Mr Nadir to his cell, please?"

Nadir stared. "What? You said you'd hook me back up. You said you'd take me back to that contraption!" The Cleaver hauled him to his feet and shackled his wrists. "We had a deal! We have a contract!"

"Yes, we do," Skulduggery said, picking it up off the desk. "Unfortunately for you it's not binding."

"But the Grand Mage signed it! Eachan Meritorious himself signed it!"

"The Grand Mage did sign it," Skulduggery nodded, "but Eachan Meritorious is dead which you wouldn't have heard about, what with being hooked up to that thing for the last fifteen years. And unless Erskine Ravel, the current Grand Mage, signs this contract with his own name, well... It can hardly be considered a legal document, now can it?"

"You cheated me!" Nadir screeched as the Cleaver dragged him to the door.

"You're a serial killer, Mr Nadir," said Skulduggery, tearing up the page. "You deserve to be cheated."

offee. That's all she wanted right now. Just coffee. Sunday morning coffee. Lovely Sunday morning coffee. Just the thing to take her mind off the dull throb that was making her arm ache, right where Nadir had grabbed her the day before. Just the thing to take her mind off the mystery surrounding Argeddion and Lament. Coffee, in fact, was almost a wonderful enough experience to take her mind off the fact that her next port of call would be a murder scene.

Valkyrie didn't like murder scenes. The more she'd visited, the less she'd liked. If they were more along the lines of the murder scenes that her gran watched on TV, where elderly detectives tut-tutted around beautiful countrysides and manor homes, she might have changed her opinion. But the murder scenes she tended to visit belonged in horror movies or police procedurals, where the emphasis was on blood splatter and defensive wounds and, occasionally, finding the head.

Skulduggery had warned her that this morning's murder scene contained blood, and lots of it. But that was ages away. Skulduggery wouldn't be picking her up for another half an hour or so. If she were a mayfly, that would be practically a lifetime away. So here she was, in a nice bright coffee shop in town, standing in line like a normal person.

She gave her order, paid and stepped back to wait. A middle-aged woman in the queue behind her stopped rooting through her handbag long enough to look at the selection available and annoy the people behind her by taking ages to make a choice. She smiled at Valkyrie and Valkyrie smiled back politely. She looked like a nice enough person. She probably had a nice enough name, like Helen, or Margaret. Seven people stood behind Margaret, getting increasingly irritated. An eighth person walked in, joined the queue at the end. A big man in a long coat with a shaven head, looking straight at Valkyrie.

She met his gaze and he looked away. He was broad-shouldered. Looked strong. Margaret finally handed over her money and then stepped away to let the next person place their order.

"I always take so long," she said.

Valkyrie took her eyes off the big man. "I'm sorry?"

"To choose," Margaret said. "I always take so long to choose."

"Oh. I wouldn't worry about it."

"And I can always feel the daggers being stared into my back," said Margaret, chuckling. "I suppose I'm just not cosmopolitan enough for somewhere like this."

Valkyrie gave her another polite smile, then took her coffee from the girl behind the counter and went to an empty table by the wall. Weird woman, being all chatty to a complete stranger. She blew on the coffee to cool it down and let her eyes drift. The big man wasn't looking at her any more. Margaret was now chatting to the girl at the till. Music played. A young man sat by the window. He was dark-haired, heavyset, wearing a suit. Bad tie. He smiled at her. What was this, Be Nice To Strangers Day? She gave him a curt nod, which he mistook for an invitation. She groaned silently as he picked up his coffee and his pastry and approached.

"Mind if I sit?" he asked, a twinkle in his eyes.

"Something wrong with the table over there?"

"It's a lonely table. All the beautiful girls are at the tables over here." His smile widened and he sat. "Hi. I'm Alan."

"Hi, Alan."

"Can I get your name?"

Valkyrie. "Stephanie."

"Beautiful name for a beautiful girl. So, Stephanie, what do you do?"

Catch bad guys. Save the world. "I'm still in school, Alan."

He laughed. "No, you're not. Seriously? Wow. How old are you?"

"I'm seventeen."

"Seventeen. Wow. You look older. I don't mean you look old. You don't look old. Oh, God, I've probably insulted you now, haven't I?"

He really did like to laugh, this Alan.

"I just saw you sitting here," he continued, "dressed all in black, standing out from the crowd, looking like a girl who was worth getting to know. Are you a girl worth getting to know, Stephanie?"

"Nope," she said, "not me."

"I think you're being modest."

She took another sip of coffee.

"Well," he said, "in case you were wondering, I'm twenty. I work in Boyle Solutions, around the corner there. It's a pretty good job. Pays well."

"Good for you."

"I only started a few months ago but already my boss is lining me up for a promotion. I mean, here I am on a Sunday, on my way in for a few hours when everyone else is at home. They appreciate that kind of dedication, you know? In fact, there's this office thing, some kind of get-together, next week, and I was wondering if maybe, if you're not doing anything, you'd like to accompany me? It'd only be for an hour or two, but we could grab something to eat afterwards if you'd like."

"I don't think I'll be available."

"But I haven't told you what day it's on."

"That really doesn't matter."

Alan laughed. "Oh, I like you. I like your style."

"Excuse me," she said when her phone beeped. She took it out. She didn't recognise the number, but she read the message.

ONE OF THESE PEOPLE IS HERE TO KILL YOU.

She put the phone away, took another sip of her coffee. Alan sat there and smiled. Six people standing in line, the big man at the till. Margaret sitting in the corner. Another five people sitting around the shop. Four coffee shop employees behind the counter. Seventeen people in all.

"Good news or bad news?"

She looked back at Alan. "Sorry?"

"The text message. Good news or bad news?"

She shrugged. "Just news."

He leaned closer. "Really? You're not going to say it's from your boyfriend or something? Maybe use it as an excuse to get me to go away?"