Death Bringer. Derek Landy

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Death Bringer - Derek Landy


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Chapter 24: The Temple Siege

       Chapter 25: The Vivid Dead

       Chapter 26: Terminal Two

       Chapter 27: Into the Temple

       Chapter 28: A Vile History

       Chapter 29: Who Knows What Darkness

       Chapter 30: Tenebrae

       Chapter 31: Fuel

       Chapter 32: A Bad Night in Haggard

       Chapter 33: Willow Hill

       Chapter 34: Valkyrie and Fletcher

       Chapter 35: Teaching the Twins

       Chapter 36: Confiding in Uncle Gordon

       Chapter 37: The Wisdom of Leonard Cohen

       Chapter 38: Back at the Window Again

       Chapter 39: Killing Craven

       Chapter 40: The End of the Death Bringer

       Chapter 41: Home Sweet Home

       Chapter 42: A New Mission

       Chapter 43: A & E

       Chapter 44: Mission Accomplished

       Chapter 45: The Nicest Town in Ireland

       Chapter 46: The Requiem Ball

       Chapter 47: This Evening’s Entertainment

       Chapter 48: Going Underground

       Chapter 49: The Pre-Emptive Strike

       Chapter 50: China’s Ally

       Chapter 51: Flirting Disastrously

       Chapter 52: All Fall Down

       Chapter 53: The Death Bringer Rises

       Chapter 54: Monster, Murderer

       Chapter 55: Tunnel Vision

       Chapter 56: Panic

       Chapter 57: Beheaded

       Chapter 58: The Main Event

       Chapter 59: Hero and Villain

       Chapter 60: Tattletale

       Chapter 61: My Twilight

       Chapter 62: They Walk Among Us

       Keep Reading …

       The Skulduggery Pleasant series

       About the Publisher

       Image Missing

      Image Missinghe closing door made the candlelight dance, waltzing and flickering over the girl strapped to the table. She turned her head to him. Her face, like every other part of her, was decorated with small, pale scars, symbols painstakingly carved into her flesh over the course of the last few months. Her name was Melancholia St Clair. She was his secret. His experiment. His last, desperate grasp for power.

      “It hurts,” she said.

      Vandameer Craven, Cleric First Class of the Necromancer Order, esteemed Scholar of Arcane Languages and feared opponent on the debating battlefield, nodded and patted her hand. She had entered into this arrangement with the kind of zeal that only the truly greedy can muster, but recently her bouts of annoying self-pity were becoming more and more frequent. “I know, my dear, I know it does. But pain is nothing. Once our work is done, there will be no pain. You have suffered for all of us. You have suffered for all life in this world, in this universe.”

      “Please,” she whimpered, “make it stop. I’ve changed my mind about this. Please. I don’t want it any more.”

      “I understand,” he said sadly. “I do. You’re scared because you don’t think you’re strong enough. But I know you’re strong enough. That’s why I picked you, out of everyone. I believe in you, Melancholia. I have faith in your strength.”

      “I want to go home.”

      “You are home.”

      “Please …”

      “Now now, my dear girl, there’s no need for begging. The Surge is a beautiful, wondrous thing, and it should be cherished. You’ve taken your next step. You’ve become who you were always meant to be. We all go through it. Every sorcerer goes through it.”

      She gritted her teeth as a spasm of pain arched her spine,


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