Skulduggery Pleasant

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John and Barbara.

Dad — this is for your bizarrely unwavering support and unflinching faith.

Barbs — this is for that look on your face when I told you the good news.

I owe you absolutely everything, and y'know,

I suppose it's entirely possible that I feel some, like, degree of affection toward the two of you. .

. .

Gordon Edgley's sudden death came as a shock to everyone — not least himself. One moment he was in his study, seven words into the twenty-fifth sentence of the final chapter of his new book, And the Darkness Rained upon Them, and the next he was dead. A tragic loss, his mind echoed numbly as he slipped away.

The funeral was attended by family and acquaintances but not many friends. Gordon hadn't been a well-liked figure in the publishing world, for although the books he wrote — tales of horror and magic and wonder — regularly reared their heads in the bestseller lists, he had the disquieting habit of insulting people without realizing it, then laughing at their shock. It was at Gordon's funeral, however, that Stephanie Edgley first caught sight of the gentleman in the tan overcoat.

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