(To avoid the Skulduggery-trapped-in-an-alternate-dimension thing, the story takes place between books two and three. Thank you for your time, please R&R. P.S. Sorry for the drabble of a prologue.)

Oh God. This is gonna hurt, Valentine thought as he fell towards black pavement. He braced himself as best he could, but his head absorbed most of the impact. The skeleton and his companion, a young girl, had followed him in the drop, but had the luck of not landing on their faces, and the air itself to slow their decent. In his inner monologue, Valentine sighed. Elementals are always so hard to deal with. He rolled on to his back and tried to sit up as his pursuers walked to the site of his landing.

"Note to self:" he said aloud, "next time, land on feet."

"Would you like to come with us now?" the skeleton asked, stooping over him.

Valentine reached into his coat and pointed a Luger in the skeleton's face. "I won't hurt either of you, just tell me who you are and why you're after me."

"Fair enough. I am Skulduggery Pleasant, the world's greatest skeleton detective-"

"Never heard of you," he said, returning the gun to its pocket.

"Odd..."

"So who's she, Mr. Pleasant?" he said, nodding in the direction of the girl, "Do you have a fan club or something?"

She made an indignant face. "I'm Valkyrie Cain-"

"She's my apprentice... of sorts," Skulduggery finished.

"Right. And the two of you were chasing me why?"

"You've been charged with murder."

"Oh yes? Where?"

"Russia."

"Impossible. I was banned from entering Russian territory after that time I...is that not in my file?"

"Honestly, you have no file."

"Really? Well, yes, the entirety of Russia has a restraining order on me. I performed a spell incorrectly."

"And?"

"Seems I made every toilet in the country explode violently."

Valkyrie giggled. Valentine grinned, pointed at her and drew a symbol resembling an eight in the air. "You have quite a cute laugh, Miss Cain..."

"Skul- Skulduggery," Valkyrie said between giggles, "I think he's tic- tickling me."

"Please stop that, Mr...er..."

"Valentine," he responded, snapping his fingers and leaving Valkyrie gasping for breath.

"Is that first or last name?"

"Only name."

"Only?"

"Yes. It's just 'Valentine'."

"Right then. Even if you have been exiled from Russia, you'll need to be arrested temporarily for basic questioning. Do you plan to come quietly?"

"Definitely. You two seem very fun. And plus, I've never seen Ireland's Sanctuary. And plus, no handcuffs...right?"

"As long as you don't make them necessary."

"Wonderful. You have a car, or are we walking?"

Valentine followed them to a Bentley Continental and climbed into the back seat.

"Seatbelt, Mr. Valentine."

"No offense, but I fell two stories and landed in a parking lot, on my face. I can't imagine anything a seatbelt would prevent would hurt me."

"Trust me," Valkyrie told him, "Just do it. He's neurotic about that."

"Fine." Valentine's seatbelt clicked.

As they drove through the night, Valentine asked, "When we're done with this, could you take me to a tailor named Ghastly Bespoke?"

"Well, he's at the Sanctuary, actually."

"Oh Really?"

"Yes, he's a statue."

"...Dammit."

"Anyway, we won't be going to the Sanctuary."

Valentine raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"We no longer work with them."

"Told you not to antagonize Guild..." Valkyrie mumbled.

"Wait. So now, I've been arrested by rogue vigilantes in a country I'm unfamiliar with?"

"Well, yes, in a way," Skulduggery explained.

"Joy. Fine then, I'm going to try to sleep off the concussion I most likely have," Valentine said, slumping in his seat.

For the first time, Valkyrie stopped to examine him. His black trench-coat hid most of his body, though she found his bleach white hair strangely attractive.

"Skulduggery, how old is he?"

"Sixteen...no."

"No what?"

"You will not be dating suspected killers, Valkyrie."

"I didn't mean it like that, you goon."

"And you're sure about that?"

She paused. "Mostly..."