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is his true name?”

      “Indeed it is. Something like that spreads like nothing you’ve ever seen. And just like that, Myron’s life, the life he had built up for himself, was over. He dealt in information and now anyone could use that name to control him, make him give up his secrets or lie to their enemies. His friends left. The woman he was living with walked out the very next day. His life fell apart.”

      “That’s terrible.”

      “I suppose it is. But taunting Mr Bliss – that was Myron’s mistake.”

      “But you stayed friends with him, right? With Myron? When everyone else abandoned him?”

      “To be honest, we were never really friends. And even if we had been, I wasn’t around in those days. I was sick of the whole thing. I was sick of the war and I just wanted it to be over. By the time I came back, and I heard what had happened, there wasn’t a whole lot I could do to help him out, even if I had wanted to.”

      “But you’re hoping that he still hears things, aren’t you?”

      “China is still recovering – she could have missed something important. We don’t have the luxury of waiting for her to get better, so yes, we’re forced to scrape the bottom of the barrel. And if there’s one place where Myron is at home these days, it’s the bottom of the barrel.”

      They got out of the car and Valkyrie followed Skulduggery through the broken gate and up the cracked path to the house. They peered in through the open door. The damp walls were covered with faded green wallpaper, bleached in places by the sun. The floor was bare, but the stairs were carpeted. Whoever had owned this house in the 1970s had obviously tried to match the stairs with the wallpaper, but the best they could manage was an ugly carpet the colour of bile. Skulduggery rapped his knuckles on the doorframe and Valkyrie heard movement from deep within the house.

      A moment later, Myron Stray appeared. He wasn’t too tall, wasn’t too slim, and wasn’t too good-looking. In fact, he wasn’t too anything. He was pretty average in a pale, unshaven kind of way.

      “Skulduggery,” he said. “You haven’t darkened my door in an age.”

      “I’ve been away.”

      “I heard. This must be Valkyrie Cain then.”

      Valkyrie smiled and held out her hand. Myron turned away.

      “Come on in,” he said.

      Valkyrie took an instant dislike to the man. They followed him into the kitchen. The table was a mass of pizza boxes and wine bottles, and dishes were piled up in the sink. Substances that may once have been food had long since dried and hardened to the plates, and each and every cup Valkyrie saw had fuzzy mould creeping over the brim. The air was stale, and flies tapped and buzzed against the grimy windows.

      “I like what you’ve done to the place,” Skulduggery said eventually.

      Myron took a can of beer from the fridge and cracked it open. “I always wanted someone to come up with a Mary Poppins trick, didn’t you? You know, just click your fingers and dishes wash themselves and the floor mops itself and all that stuff? It’d save me a bundle on housekeeping.”

      Valkyrie frowned. “You have a housekeeper?”

      “I was making a joke. This one’s not too smart is she, Skulduggery?”

      All pretence at being civil left Valkyrie’s face, to be replaced by open and obvious hostility.

      “Not like your last partner,” Myron continued, sitting at the table, “the one who died. How did he die again? I can’t quite remember.”

      “Horribly,” Skulduggery said.

      “He died screaming your name, didn’t he? Now here’s where things get a little fuzzy. When he was screaming your name, was he calling for help, or was he cursing you?”

      “A little bit of both I would imagine. Myron, I don’t appreciate you insulting my partner. I would have leaped to her defence, but Valkyrie is more than capable of fighting her own battles. Valkyrie? You can respond however you wish.”

      “Thank you,” Valkyrie said, smiling thinly. “In that case, we came here to ask you a few questions, Myron, and that’s what we’re going to do. You don’t mind if I call you Myron, do you?” He opened his mouth to utter a lazy reply, but she cut him off. “Thank you. I didn’t think you would. We need to know anything you’ve heard concerning Dreylan Scarab and any possible base of operations.”

      Myron looked at her for a long time. “I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

      “And I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist. I could continue calling you Myron, you see, or I could switch to your other name. What was it again? The name that makes you do anything you’re told?”

      Myron’s eyes turned hard and he looked at Skulduggery. “You promised me you would never use my true name against me.”

      “Yes, I did,” Skulduggery said, crossing his arms and leaning back against the wall. “And I won’t. Unfortunately, you were rude to my partner and friend, and she made you no such promise.”

      Valkyrie pulled a chair from beneath the table, wiped the seat and sat. “I read somewhere,” she said, “that you can protect your true name. Isn’t that right? There’s a way to seal it so it can’t be used against you? Why didn’t you do that?”

      Myron licked his lips. “It was too late,” he said stiffly. “That only works if you seal the name before it’s used.”

      “I see,” she nodded. “But you didn’t even know what it was, did you? And Mr Bliss did. And you annoyed him. I can’t possibly imagine how, seeing as you’re just so nice and polite, and such fun to be around.”

      Myron put his beer can on the cluttered tabletop and glared. “You want to know if I’ve heard anything? I heard about you. Both of you. Sensitives are talking and they’re saying that some freak called Darquesse is going to kill you. I for one can’t wait. Skulduggery, we’ve never really liked each other, and girl, I have certainly not taken a shine to you, either. If you ask me, the sooner this freak gets to you, the better.”

      “We heard about those visions,” Skulduggery said calmly. “But I wouldn’t sound too pleased about it, if I were you. Darquesse kills us, yes, but she kills everyone else while she’s at it. You may have missed that bit.”

      Myron rubbed the bristles on his jaw and didn’t respond.

      “We want to know where Scarab is hiding,” said Valkyrie.

      “I don’t know where. No one knows where. That bunch of psychos he has with him don’t let things slip to friends, because they don’t have any friends. Nobody knows where they are.”

      “We know that they’re in a castle somewhere,” Valkyrie said.

      “Well, why didn’t you say that at the start?” Myron snapped. “I didn’t pay this any attention when I heard it, but there’s been a lot of activity around Serpine’s old place recently.”

      “Serpine’s castle has been sealed off,” Skulduggery said.

      “Well, they must have found a way to unseal it then.”

      Skulduggery stood and put on his hat. He took a roll of cash from his coat pocket and left it on top of an upturned fried chicken bucket on the table. “Thanks for your help,” he said.

      “My pleasure,” grunted Myron.

      Skulduggery tipped his hat and walked out. Valkyrie got up to follow him.

      “Interesting people you hang around with,” Myron said, and she looked back at him. “Couple of bad habits you’re picking up too. Got a pretty smart mouth on you, don’t you?”

      “I suppose I do.”

      “Word

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