Skulduggery reached into his jacket, pulled out his revolver. Then he reached in with his other hand, to the other side, and pulled out an identical revolver. He thumbed back both hammers and fired. Twelve shots, hitting the Grotesquery with unerring accuracy, and then he dropped the guns and ran forward. Valkyrie saw something in his hand, a metal cylinder attached to a metal spike.

Skulduggery jumped, stabbing the spike into the area he'd been shooting. The Grotesquery took hold of him and flung him back, but the cylinder had a red light on top and it was flashing. The explosion sent Valkyrie to her knees, her ears ringing, spots dancing before her eyes. She looked back, hopeful, but the Grotesquery was standing there as if nothing had happened. A wound on its arm had opened for a split second, enough for a drop of black blood to leak out, but then it closed. Was it weakening?