They turned off the light and climbed the stairs out of the dank mustiness of the cellar. They walked into the living room and a man in a suit, a suit that looked almost Victorian in design, turned to them.

He had black hair and thin lips and his right hand, which was skinless, glistened with blood and wet muscle, and before Stephanie could even register surprise Skulduggery was pulling the gun from his jacket. The man moved as gunshots filled the room, stepping to one side and waving his right hand.