Free Death Bringer by Derek Landy Page A

there was anything here,” the shopkeeper said, “then how did you find us?”
    â€œWe’re sightseeing.”
    â€œSightseeing,” the shopkeeper said, “or spying?”
    â€œSpying? On you? Why the hell would we spy on you? You’re a lunatic with a crummy little store who seems to have a pathological need to not sell anything to his customers.”
    â€œI’m sorry,” said the shopkeeper, “I can’t understand your ridiculous accent.”
    â€œ My accent?”
    â€œIt is quite silly.”
    â€œSo you can’t understand me?”
    â€œNot a word.”
    â€œThen how did you understand that ?”
    â€œI didn’t.”
    â€œYou didn’t understand what I just said?”
    â€œThat’s right.”
    â€œYou understood that , though.”
    â€œNot at all.”
    The American glowered. “I swear to God, I will reach across this counter and I will punch you right in the mouth.”
    â€œUh,” Valkyrie said, “I think we should all calm down a little. Sir, as you may have guessed, this isn’t the friendliest town in the world. You go to any other town in the area, I can guarantee that you will be greeted with the biggest smiles you’ve ever seen. But they do things differently here.”
    â€œWe just stopped off for some soda for my kids. And I’m not leaving until this guy takes my money and gives me my change.”
    â€œPlease,” Valkyrie said to the shopkeeper, “take his money.”
    The shopkeeper lowered his eyes to the money on the counter. His lip curling distastefully, he placed a finger on the note and dragged it to the till.
    â€œYou’re a piece of work, you know that?” the American asked. The shopkeeper ignored him, and spilled a few coins on to the counter. With a sigh, he looked up. “Happy?”
    The American stuffed the change in his pocket then picked up the drinks. “I heard the Irish were especially friendly.”
    â€œThat was before anyone ever came here,” the shopkeeper told him. “Now we’re exactly as friendly as everyone else.”
    The American narrowed his eyes, but managed to restrain himself from slipping further into the argument. “I’m going to walk out of here. Someone as rude as you, you’re not worth my time.”
    The shopkeeper didn’t respond. He had gone back to looking up at the ceiling.
    Valkyrie escorted the American to his car. “I’m really sorry about that,” she said. “I’ve been visiting this town for almost a year now, and they still don’t like talking to me, either.”
    Skulduggery walked over, a bright smile on his fake face. “Hello there!” he cried. “Everything OK?”
    The American frowned suspiciously, but Valkyrie nodded to him. “Just the shopkeeper being rude again, that’s all.”
    â€œAh,” Skulduggery said, “yes. Very rude man, that shopkeeper. All’s well, though? No harm done? Excellent.” He crouched at the car window and looked in. “What a lovely family you have. What a charming family. They’re all lovely. Except for that one.” His finger jabbed the glass. “That one’s a bit ugly.”
    The American stepped towards him. “What? What did you say?”
    â€œOh, don’t worry, I’m sure his personality makes up for his face.”
    Valkyrie jumped between them, keeping the American back. “He didn’t mean it,” she said quickly. “My friend is not right in the head. He just says things. Bad things. I’m really very sorry. You should probably go.”
    â€œNot before this creep gives my kid an apology.”
    â€œOh, God,” Valkyrie muttered.
    â€œHave I offended you?” Skulduggery asked. “Oh, dear. I really am sorry.”
    â€œDon’t apologise to me ,” the American snarled. “Apologise to my son.”
    â€œWhich one? The