Armageddon Outta Here

I think you talk big,” said Pleasant. “I think you talk about death like it’s your friend. But if you really want to get acquainted, we can help you with that.

I am eternal. I am the night. I am the day. I am forever. And who are you?" "I'm Skulduggery Pleasant." "Oh, hell. (The Horror Writers' Halloween Ball)

Sanguine peered down at Bradley's body, and the huge bloody mess that was his chest. "If you still want his heart," he said, "I'm pretty sure I can see it from here. (Death and Texas)

Its roof sagged and let in water when it rained, its walls groaned and let in wind when it blew, and its doors creaked and let in hypocrites when it suited. There

Now quit your bellyaching and dance with me, you subaquatic fool. - Susan, to Gordon (The Horror Writers' Halloween Ball)

She's actually a friend of yours... Myosotis Terra. And you wouldn't know, actually. Or to be precise, you wouldn't remember. - Skulduggery (Myosotis Terra)

We call them groundsharks." Sanguine shook his head immediately. "That's a stupid name. Makes them sound like little shark fins slicing through the living room carpet." "I wanted to call them razorworms," said Persephone. "That's a damn sight better than groundsharks." (Eyes of the Beholder)

America has its own detectives. Some good ones, too. None as good as me, of course." "And that's the burden you bear with such humility.

And the officers in question admitted this to you, did they?” “Some of them did, yes. Though of course they’d never admit it in public.” “Oh, of course,” I said. “They’d been bringing him in for questioning for years, all related to various murders. They could get nothing to stick, until one of his People slipped up and got himself arrested. He told the cops everything. He told them more than everything. He told them about stuff so bizarre and insane that he had to be making it up, but within all that craziness he knew enough details about open murder cases that they were forced to take him seriously.” “So did they have enough to arrest Moon?” Chrissy took a moment to sip her drink. “It didn’t make any difference. Their key witness, who had agreed to testify and name Moon as the one who’d done all the killing, died in his cell the same night they went to search Moon’s house. He hanged himself with a sheet.” “How inconvenient,” I said, but Chrissy ignored me and continued. “You should know this part,” she said. “The cops have their warrant, knock on the door, don’t get an answer, and they break the door down. They find Bubba Moon’s body in the basement, lying in the middle of a circle, surrounded by occult symbols.” The