“Valkyrie, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but your friend is most likely dead.”
“Of course he’s dead. He’s a skeleton.”
“Well, for future reference, this is my serious face.”
“Can I just point something out?" Fletcher asked. "That is an awful plan. On a scale of one to ten - the Trojan War being a ten and General Custer verus all those Indians being a one - your plan is a zero. I don't think it is a plan at all. I think it's just a series of happenings that are, to be honest, unlikely to follow on from each other in the way in which everyone's probably hoping."
"Do you have a better plan?" Valkyrie asked.
"Of course not. I'm a man of action, not thought."
Valkyrie nodded. "You're defintely not a man of thought."
"Why are you in charge anyway? What do you know about organising something like this?"
"I have faith," Tanith said.
"As do I," said Ghastly.
Valkyrie smiled at them gratefully. "So you think the plan will work?"
"God, no," said Ghastly.
"Sorry, Val," said Tanith”
“So this," she said, "what's happening and what's going to happen, this isn't your fault. You can't control everything and not everything is your responsibility. At Croke Park you said something about how you don't want to drag me around after you so I can die beside you. I wanted to tell you then, but I didn't have the words and I didn't have the time. I'm here because I choose to be. You save my life. I save yours. That's how we work."
"Until the end."
"Until the end.”
“He stepped closer to her. "Thank you for saving me," he said softly, and wrapped the bones of his arms around her. Valkyrie smiled and hugged him back.”
“Her father sagged as relief spread through him. “I thought
something awful was happening.”
She frowned. “Something awful was happening. It could have
got stuck in my hair.”
“We don’t need a cure,” the other zombie said.
“That’s right,” Scapegrace nodded.
“We’re happy the way we are.”
“Happy with the power,” Scapegrace clarified.
“Very happy, just the two of us, and there’s nothing wrong with us either. It’s very natural in fact. Nothing to be ashamed of—”
“Thrasher,” said Scapegrace, “shut up.”
“We don’t do what we do for the glory or the fame or the credit; we do it for the quiet satisfaction of making the world a better place, saving the lives of innocents, and being better than you are.”
“I've always been a monster,' Scapegrace told her, 'but now, finally, my physical for reflects my inner darkness.'
'You smell terrible.'
'That's the smell of evil.'
'It's like rancid meat and bad eggs.'
'Evil," Scapegrace insisted.”
“He liked murder. Murder and long walks had been two of his favorite things when he was younger.”
“Everyone gets tortured these days. Skulduggery by Serpine, who then turned around and did that red right hand thing at you. Then Skulduggery was tortured again by the Faceless Ones. I figured it was my turn, you know? You're not part of the team if you haven't been tortured- that's what I always say. Well, I'll be saying that from now on anyway.”
“Skul-man!' he exclaimed as he rushed forward to shake his hand. 'Last I heard you were trapped on a dead world overrun by evil trans-dimensional superfiends!'
Skulduggery nodded. 'Just got back.”
“They're not going to arrest you,' Skulduggery said as they walked through the door. 'They might glare at you and say angry words, but they won't arrest you. Well, they might arrest you. There's a good chance they will. But the important thing is that I've done nothing wrong.'
'For once.”
“Seeing you with a face would be weird. Do you think you’d have hair?”
“Oh yes. Hair is a must.”
“Would you have a moustache?”
“Why would I have a moustache?”
“I’m not sure. What about your ears?”
“I’d have ears too, yes.”
“I can’t imagine you with ears.”
“My wife was saying to me just the other day how she's noticed a spring in my step lately. That was because I thought you were gone forever.'
'I missed you too, Thurid.”
“Stop hittin’ me!" he cried. "This is hardly fair, now is it? Two of you against me?"
“You’re the one who came at us with a gun,” Ghastly said, standing over him.
“But that was for a giggle,” Jack tried. “I wasn’t aimin’ at you, I swear.”
“He laughed and was about to retort when she grabbed his collar and pulled him into her. She clamped her lips around his mouth and mashed her face into his. He took a step back in surprise and she went with him, stepping in a patch of wet floor. Her legs went out from under her and flailed as she fell, whacking him in the throat on the way down. She looked up at him as he gagged and coughed, and from across the corridor she could hear Tanith laughing hysterically. "I think I need practice," Valkyrie muttered.”
“We've decided to get a pet," her dad announced... "Like, I don't know, a brother or a sister?”
“We can hold them off," Shudder said. "What do you think, Skulduggery?"
"Should be fun," Skulduggery responded. "Valkyrie here has never held off a horde of zombies before. It'll be a good experience for her."
"Oh, joy," she muttered.”
“We passed Clarabelle," Skulduggery said. "She drank from one of the test tubes she was holding."
Kenspeckle's head dropped. "That girl," he said. "One of these days she'll learn. I don't know what she'll learn, but she'll learn and it will be a good day."
"Is she in any danger?"
He started searching drawers. "Not really. Both tubes contain mineral water. You'd be astonished how many I've given her water and told her it was something else and not to drink it. She always drinks it though. Always. It's a compulsion.”
“I don't care how smart you are," Guild said. "Sanctuary experts have examined that bomb for decades and they still have no idea how it worked, let alone how to fix it in a single afternoon."
"Of course they don't, you damn fool. They didn't build the thing in the first place, now did they?" - Kenspeckle”
“For now Valkyrie remembered where she had seen that name before. In the Book of Names, in that final column. Next to Stephanie Edgley, next to Valkyrie Cain. Her true name. The only name that ever really mattered.
Darquesse.”
“You’ll know they’ve spotted us when they screech,” Skulduggery told her. The creatures screeched.”
“Tanith looked back to Valkyrie. "And Val, relax, OK? We've though of everything."
"Skulduggery told me once that only he thinks of everythings, but he doesn't do it very often because it spoils the surprise."...
"Easy as proverbial pie."
"Unless something goes wrong," Valkyrie said.
"Well, yes. Unless something goes horribly, dreadfully wrong. Which it usually does of course.”
“What's your name?" Scapegrace asked.
"Gerald," said the man.
Scapegrace pondered. Gerald the zombie just didn't have that fear-inducing ring to it. "I'm going to call you Thrasher," he said.”
“Have you ever heard of Remnants? - Skulduggery”
“I have faith,” Tanith said. “As do I,” said Ghastly. Valkyrie smiled at them gratefully. “So you think the plan will work?” “God, no,” said Ghastly. “Sorry, Val,” said Tanith.”
“I have faith,” Tanith said. “As do I,” said Ghastly. Valkyrie smiled at them gratefully. “So you think the plan will work?” “God, no,” said Ghastly. “Sorry,”
“The dream of peace, you understand, is a dream that comforts everyone except the soldier on the battlefield. He can't think about peace. He can't hesitate. The soldier lives in the war. In combat, war is his mother, his friend and his god. To believe in anything else is suicide.”
“I was changing my head. It feels good to have the old one back on. And now I have a spare, which is nice.”
“See you not the dawn after the dark night. The earth shudders, the lotus blossoms. The sun rises to please the world.”
“Forgiveness can get you places, I guess. But sometimes you need to light a fire.”
“You’ve just mentioned the price that has to be paid…Pride, freedom…Knowledge. Whether at the beginning or at the end, you have to pay for everything. Even courage, don’t you think? And don’t you think a lot of courage is needed to fight God?”
“He was shockingly easy to follow. The pressure of his hand, the step of his foot, the angle of his frame... it was like reading his mind. When he leaned right, they turned in perfect unison. He swept her across the gallery in a quick three, a dizzying pace. Gilded frames and glass cases and the window blurred in her vision, and Azalea spun out, her skirts pulling and poofing around her, before he caught her and brought her back into dance position. She could almost hear music playing, swelling inside of her.
Mother had once told her about this perfect twining into one. She called it interweave, and said it was hard to do, for it took the perfect matching of the partners’ strengths to overshadow each other’s weaknesses, meshing into one glorious dance. Azalea felt the giddiness of being locked in not a pairing, but a dance. So starkly different than dancing with Keeper. Never that horrid feeling that she owed him something; no holding her breath, wishing for the dance to end. Now, spinning from Mr. Bradford’s hand, her eyes closed, spinning back and feeling him catch her, she felt the thrill of the dance, of being matched, flow through her.
”Heavens, you’re good!” said Azalea, breathless.
”You’re stupendous,” said Mr. Bradford, just as breathless. “It’s like dancing with a top!”
“Why do all men have to suck? I knew you all sucked and still I stupidly fell in love with one of you. Why? Why would I be such a masochist? You pour your heart out to a man and what does he do? ‘Could you change the channel, babe?’ You’re all pathetically cold. You don’t care about anyone but yourselves! (Kat)”
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