Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-five
Chapter Thirty-six
Chapter Thirty-seven
Chapter Thirty-eight
Chapter Thirty-nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-one
Chapter Forty-Two
Playing with Fire (Skulduggery Pleasant #2)
Derek Landy
This book is dedicated to my family — because otherwise I'd never hear the end of it. . .
Nadine — Warm, kind, and considerate, I am all of these things.
Audrey — The greatest thrill of your life is probably the fact that I'm your brother.
Ivan — Meaningless words such as "brilliant," "amazing," and "inspirational" have been used to describe me, but not nearly enough.
If any of you thought that there'd be something sincere or heartfelt in your dedications, allow me a moment to quietly laugh at you. ...
Because the heartfelt sincerity is reserved for my nana.
Chic, this book is also dedicated to you, for all the love and support you've shown me over the years. I love you much more than any of your other grandchildren do, I swear.
Chapter One
HANGING AROUND
VALKYRIE CAIN hit the parapet and tumbled, unable to stop herself, and with a panicked gasp she disappeared off the edge. The church tower stood high and proud, looking out over Dublin City. The night breeze was brisk and carried snatches of laughter from the street below. It was a long way down. A man in a tattered coat walked up to the edge and peered over. He smirked.
"This is insulting," he said. "Don't they know how dangerous I am? I am very, very dangerous. I'm a killer.
I'm a trained killing machine. And still, they send you. A child. "Valkyrie felt her grip on the ledge loosen. She ignored the goading of the man standing above her and looked around for something else to grab on to. She looked everywhere but down. Down was where the street was, where the long drop and the sudden stop was. She didn't want to look down. She didn't want anything to do with down right now.
"What age are you?" the man continued. "Thirteen? What kind of responsible adult sends a thirteen-year-old child to stop me? What kind of thinking is that?"
Valkyrie swung herself gently toward the tower, planting her feet against a small buttress.
The fear started to work through her, and she felt herself freeze up. She closed her eyes against the oncoming wave of paralysis.
The man was Vaurien Scapegrace, currently wanted in five countries for various counts of attempted murder. He hunkered down at the edge and smiled happily.
"I am turning murder into an art form. When I — When I kill, I'm actually painting a big, big picture, using blood and, and ... messiness. You know?"