Derek Landy - The Maleficent Seven

Copyright Copyright Dedication 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 About the Publisher

First published in hardback in Great Britain by HarperCollins Children’s Books 2013

HarperCollins Children’s Books is a division of

HarperCollins Publishers Ltd

77-85 Fulham Palace Road, Hammersmith, London W6 8JB

Visit us on the web at www.harpercollins.co.uk

Visit Skulduggery Pleasant at

www.skulduggerypleasant.co.uk

Derek Landy blogs under duress at

www.dereklandy.blogspot.com

Copyright © Derek Landy 2013

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

Derek Landy asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

Illuminated letters © Tom Percival 2012

Skulduggery Pleasant™ Derek Landy

SP Logo™ HarperCollins Publishers

Source ISBN: 9780007500925

Ebook Edition © FEBRUARY 2013 ISBN: 9780007512393

Version: 2014-11-04

This book is dedicated to Brendan Bourke.

I am brash, arrogant, egotistical and incredibly narcissistic. Brendan was none of these things. Brendan was nice, and modest, and friendly, and he didn’t have one bitter bone in his body.

He was so completely weird.

He gave me my start as a writer and for that alone the world owes him an enormous debt of gratitude.

I may be the Greatest Writer Who Ever Lived™, I may be the Golden God, but Brendan? Brendan was the Golden God’s uncle .

Contents

Title Page

Copyright Copyright Copyright Dedication 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 About the Publisher First published in hardback in Great Britain by HarperCollins Children’s Books 2013 HarperCollins Children’s Books is a division of HarperCollins Publishers Ltd 77-85 Fulham Palace Road, Hammersmith, London W6 8JB Visit us on the web at www.harpercollins.co.uk Visit Skulduggery Pleasant at www.skulduggerypleasant.co.uk Derek Landy blogs under duress at www.dereklandy.blogspot.com Copyright © Derek Landy 2013 All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books. Derek Landy asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work Illuminated letters © Tom Percival 2012 Skulduggery Pleasant™ Derek Landy SP Logo™ HarperCollins Publishers Source ISBN: 9780007500925 Ebook Edition © FEBRUARY 2013 ISBN: 9780007512393 Version: 2014-11-04

Dedication This book is dedicated to Brendan Bourke. I am brash, arrogant, egotistical and incredibly narcissistic. Brendan was none of these things. Brendan was nice, and modest, and friendly, and he didn’t have one bitter bone in his body. He was so completely weird. He gave me my start as a writer and for that alone the world owes him an enormous debt of gratitude. I may be the Greatest Writer Who Ever Lived™, I may be the Golden God, but Brendan? Brendan was the Golden God’s uncle .

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About the Publisher

t had seemed like a good idea at the time, hiding out at her old place in London. Only an idiot would return to a known residence, she figured, and since she wasn’t an idiot, it would naturally follow that they’d never think to look for her there. The fact that they’d been lying in wait offended her more than anything else.

Tanith sprinted across the rooftop, boots splashing through a puddle as big as a lake, and leaped off the edge. The lane whipped beneath her and the night air stung her eyes. She collided with the building on the other side and clung there for a moment, then got her feet against the bricks and ran on, sideways. She jumped a string of windows one at a time, got round the corner and crouched there to catch her breath.

She hadn’t seen Sanguine escape, but he’d probably just slipped through the floor and burrowed away. Of course, there was the distinct possibility that they’d got to him before he could do that. If that had happened, he’d be dead by now. You didn’t arrest someone like Billy-Ray Sanguine, she knew, someone who could escape from any cell and slip out of any restraint. You killed him when you had the chance. Tanith hoped he wasn’t dead. He was useful to her.

She edged closer to the corner, had a peek round. The rooftops were clear. She’d lost them. Her hand, which had been gripping the hilt of her sword, relaxed, and she felt the reassuring weight of the blade return to its natural balance across her back. She straightened her legs and stood out from the wall, her blonde hair falling in front of her face as she looked at the cars passing below. The safest thing would be to get down to street level, hail a taxi or get the Tube. But in order to do that, she’d have to dump her sword. Her coat was still lying on the floor of her apartment. She loved that coat. When she wore it, it concealed the sword. She loved her coat, but she was in love with her sword. She could no more abandon it than any other woman could abandon her own arm.

She turned, walked up the wall, made sure no one was waiting for her, and climbed on to the roof. If poor old Billy-Ray was dead, she’d need to find someone to replace him, which wasn’t going to be easy. He was a fully functional sociopath, which made him useful in all sorts of fun ways. And she had a plan. She needed him for her plan to succeed. It was a good plan, too. Sneaky. She was proud of it, and looked forward to seeing how it would work out. She really hoped Sanguine wasn’t dead.

Tanith stopped moving. On the building opposite, a man stood. Dressed in grey, with a visored helmet and a scythe in his hands. He hadn’t seen her yet. She stepped backwards, started to turn, saw movement out of the corner of her eye.

Another Cleaver, leaping at her, the blade of his scythe darkened with fire to stop it glinting in the streetlights.

Tanith threw herself back, felt the scythe whisper past her throat. The Cleaver landed and came forward and she rolled and got up, her sword clearing its sheath. She met the next swipe and kicked, but he twisted his body out of the way as he spun the scythe so that the long handle cracked against her head. Cursing, Tanith stumbled, swung wildly with her sword to keep him back. The scythe handle hit her knee and she howled, and barely managed to fend off the blow that would have separated her pretty head from her pretty body.