Gabriel was right. Fletcher usually tried to avoid thinking about it. A year ago, he would have been defiantly happy about being the last Teleporter; sure, other blokes had died, and that was all very sad, but the fact made him more important. More unique. And that would have been as far into it as Fletcher would have read.

But now... things had changed. He'd only asked Valkyrie about it once before Skulduggery was back, asked if he could join their small gang and help them solve crimes. After all, Valkyrie was twelve when she became Skulduggery's partner. But most of the time, Fletcher kept his misgivings to himself.

It wasn't quite as bad as Fletcher feared - at least, not yet. Skulduggery had been accommodating enough, if not outright friendly. But Fletcher wasn't a member of the group, and that became painfully obvious sometimes. That was making him lonely, more than being the only Teleporter in the world.

Fletcher kicked a pebble off into the grass, frustrated that anyone had seen it, even if - especially if - it was an angel. But something told him lying would be worse than just staying quiet.

"I'm fine with being the last Teleporter." No one said you had to listen to your instincts. "It's fun."