Skulduggery Pleasant: The End of the World (4 page)

T
hey drove into Dundrum Town Centre and parked in the multi-storey. Along the way, Skulduggery had pulled over three times to allow Ryan to pee. If Ryan had wanted Valkyrie to start thinking of him as older and more mature than he was, he knew he was not going about it the right way.

Once the Bentley found a place to park, they got out.

“How did you know it was here?” Valkyrie asked.

Skulduggery checked his façade in the wing mirror, then straightened up. “Simple detective work,” he said. “We’re going to need somewhere quiet to wait until everyone’s gone. We’ll search for the Machine tonight, dismantle it and then it’ll all be over.”

They started walking. “Shouldn’t we call in the Cleavers?” Valkyrie asked. “We’ll find it faster with a hundred people looking for it.”

“I’d prefer to approach this with a little more delicacy,” Skulduggery said. “The three of us should be fine.” He looked at Ryan. “Nervous?”

“A little,” Ryan admitted. “What if Foe and the others are waiting for us?”

“They might pay a visit to the Machine,” Skulduggery conceded, “but they’re not going to be lying in wait. They have no idea that we know it’s here.”

They passed from the car park into the mall. Valkyrie appeared to trust Skulduggery without hesitation, but Ryan was more cautious. Every time someone walked too close, he’d hop away, waiting for their image to flicker and drop, revealing Mercy or Obloquy or Foe. But the people in the mall seemed to be actual people, focused on their conversations or their shopping, and the only time they glanced at Ryan was when he stumbled awkwardly away from them.

Valkyrie raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re not very good at acting casual.”

“I forget how,” Ryan confessed, skipping away from a suspicious-looking two-year-old holding a balloon.

Skulduggery and Valkyrie walked up the travelator and Ryan followed, flinching away from an elderly woman with a wrinkled prune-face. They approached a stocky security guard.

“Excuse me, good sir,” Skulduggery began.

The security guard turned to them. “I’m a woman,” she said.

“And a fetching one you are too,” Skulduggery continued, smiling. “Which way to the security control room?”

The security guard frowned. “Why? What business do you have there? Who are you?”

“All good questions,” Skulduggery said, nodding, “and all questions I would love to answer. Unfortunately, we only have time for
one
answer, and since my question was the
first
and, let’s be honest, the most
important
question, I feel that it is the question that deserves an answer. So, your security control room?”

The security guard folded her arms. “Do you have the authority to be there?”

Skulduggery’s false face fixed her with a glare. “Do I have the authority?” he repeated. “Do
I
have the
authority
? Tell me, my dear, do I not
look
like I have the authority? Do I not
look
like the type of person who goes wherever he sees fit to go? Or do I look like the kind of person who needs
permission
to do the things that need to be done?”

“Uh,” said the security guard, her arms no longer folded.

Skulduggery loomed over her. “There are things in this world that would turn your hair
white.
Threats and dangers to your very way of life that would send you shrieking into the corner to tremble and sob. Someone needs to protect the world from these dangers and threats. Is that someone going to be you? Is it? Because if it is, my companions and I will leave, right now, and entrust to you our continued survival. But if you have doubts, if you think you might falter right when you are needed to make the ultimate sacrifice, then tell us now and step back, for saving the world is what we do, and we’re really very good at it.”

The security guard’s lip trembled, and she pointed to a door. “That way,” she said. “Turn left.”

Skulduggery clamped a hand on to her shoulder. “You are doing fine work,” he told her, and led the way to the door. When they were through he walked past the left turn, to a room at the end of the concrete corridor. Inside was a table and two chairs. Ryan reckoned this must be where they kept shoplifters while they waited for the cops to arrive.

“We shouldn’t be bothered in here,” Skulduggery said, closing the door behind them. His false face melted away as he looked at his pocket watch. “Three hours until closing. Make yourselves comfortable.”

He sat at the table and took off his hat. Ryan and Valkyrie remained standing.

“I still don’t understand why they want to destroy the world,” said Ryan. “Foe said he couldn’t see the point of life but, I mean, that’s a really
silly
reason…”

“They’re bad guys,” Valkyrie told him. “Villains. Some villains have proper plans. Others don’t. They’ve just been around for a few hundred years. Given enough time, a stray thought can become an obsession, and then a purpose. They’re nuts, Ryan. They’re actually insane people who all agree with one another.”

“Insanity fuels insanity,” Skulduggery said, nodding, “just as stupidity fuels stupidity.”

“Speaking of stupidity,” Valkyrie said, “I’m just going to ask this one more time and you better give me an answer, because I haven’t a clue how you worked it out. How do we know the Machine is here?”

A moment passed before Skulduggery spoke again. “Ryan told me,” he said.

Ryan looked at him. “I told you what?”

Skulduggery raised his head, and he looked at Ryan with those hollow eye sockets. “You told me the Machine was hidden in Dundrum. Completely unconsciously, of course. You tried to hide Dundrum on the map with your bottle of Coke, then you tried to distract us with a coughing fit.”

“Uh,” Ryan said, “what?”

“The drive over confirmed it. Stopping three times to relieve yourself? You were only delaying the inevitable.”

“No I wasn’t,” Ryan said. “What are you talking about? How would I know where the Machine was hidden?”

“And why would Ryan be trying to stop us from finding it?” Valkyrie asked.

Skulduggery hesitated. “Ryan, why haven’t you asked to go home?”

Ryan frowned, genuinely and completely puzzled. “What?”

“You haven’t asked to go home,” Skulduggery said. “You haven’t tried to
call
home to tell them you’re OK, even though they must be worried about you by now.”

Ryan glowered, angry at having to admit this in front of Valkyrie. “I’m… I’m running away.”

Valkyrie’s eyes widened. “What? Why?”

“It’s a long story.”

“No it isn’t,” said Skulduggery.

Valkyrie swatted the skeleton’s arm. “Skulduggery, shut up. Ryan, what’s wrong?”

“My… my dad died. My mum remarried. He’s an OK guy but… I don’t like being in that house. It reminds me—”

“No it doesn’t,” Skulduggery said.

“Stop interrupting!” Ryan shouted. “You don’t know what it’s like! You don’t know!”

“You don’t know either,” Skulduggery said. “I’m really sorry to have to tell you this, Ryan, but the reason you don’t want to go home is because there is no home to go to. Ryan, you’re not real. You don’t exist.”

Ryan stared at him. “What?”

“You’re Deacon Maybury,” Skulduggery said. “You’re a hiding place who thinks it’s a boy.”

R
yan backed away. “You’re crazy.”

“I am,” Skulduggery said. “I’m also right. Deacon planned this whole thing – as much as he could, anyway. He hid the key, faked his own death and then went to Crasis – called in that old favour. He told Crasis to make him look inconspicuous – someone Foe would never suspect of having anything to do with any of this.”

“Skulduggery,” Valkyrie said softly. “Are you sure?”

“Crasis only looked at Ryan twice in the whole time we were there. He wanted to tell us, but I expect he’d made a promise to stay quiet. Once his new image was in place, Deacon went to work on his own mind. He couldn’t take the chance that Obloquy would be able to read his thoughts. He had to disappear completely. He subdued his personality and replaced it with Ryan – a good boy. A decent person.”

“You’re wrong,” Ryan said. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but you’re wrong.”

“I wish I was,” Skulduggery said, “but I rarely am. Deacon planned to hide away until Foe lost his trail. Ryan, can you remember what you did this morning?”

“I got up,” Ryan said. “Had breakfast with my mum.”

“Again, I’m sorry to tell you, but that’s a false memory. The person you think is your mother doesn’t exist.”

Ryan had an ache, somewhere in his chest. “No. She’s my mum. She’s my mum and I love her.”

“I know you do,” Skulduggery said. “Deacon is very thorough. But there’s only so much a Sensitive can do to suppress a personality, especially when he works on himself. Cracks start to show much earlier. That’s why you were at the library today. Somewhere in your subconscious, you knew it was important. You knew exactly where to find that key.”

Ryan realised he was crying. He wiped away tears.

“When we were looking at the map, you knew we wanted to dismantle the Machine. Your subconscious didn’t want that. So it tried to block our way here.”

“You’re wrong,” Ryan said.

“I’m right. You know I’m right.”

“No. No you’re not. I know who I am.”

“Which is why you’re crying.”

“No,” Ryan said. “Shut up. Stop it. I know who I am. I’m me. What you’re saying is stupid. It’s ridiculous. I’d know if I wasn’t me. I’d know it.”

“No you wouldn’t. And I’m very sorry.”

They hadn’t spoken to him in three hours. They sat over there, at the table. Occasionally, he’d hear them talking softly. They were giving him space.

From somewhere outside, he could hear the announcements, alerting shoppers that the mall was closing. He imagined all the friends and families hurrying out, chatting and laughing and mothers dragging kids and kids wailing and crying…

Ryan remembered being a kid. He remembered his mum. And his dad. He remembered how much he loved his mum, and how much he missed his dad. He didn’t want to run away any more. He wanted to go home. But the more he thought about going home, the less real it became.

It was dark in the room when Valkyrie came over. She sat on the ground beside him, her back against the wall.

“Hey Ryan,” she said, her voice quiet.

“That’s not my name,” he told her. His own voice shook like it always did when he was emotional. At least, that’s what he remembered.

“I’m going to call you Ryan until I can’t call you Ryan any more,” Valkyrie said. “I don’t care about Deacon. I’ve never met him. I don’t know him. I know you, Ryan. And I like you.”

He nodded. Didn’t answer.

“We’re going to go looking for the Machine now,” she said. “We have a few hours before the cleaning crews get here. Skulduggery thinks dismantling the bomb won’t be a problem. Do you still want to do it?”

Ryan tried to see her pretty face in the gloom. “What would you do if I didn’t? Would you cut off my hand and dismantle it yourself? How do you know you can trust me? I’m Deacon, after all.”

“You’re still you.”

“There
is
no me.”

Her hand found his. Despite himself, Ryan’s heartbeat quickened. “We all have a side to ourselves that we don’t like,” she said. “Skulduggery has one. I have one. Now you have one. But you don’t have to be ruled by it. You can make your own choices, Ryan. Deacon wants to sell the Machine – to make some money and then leave the mess for someone else to deal with. You want to take it apart so that nobody can ever use it. You can choose to help us. You can choose to help
me
.”

“And me,” Skulduggery said from the other side of the room.

“Shut up,” Valkyrie said, not turning away from Ryan.

“Right,” said Skulduggery.

The ghost of a smile found its way on to Ryan’s lips. “If I do help you,” he said, “that would really annoy Deacon, wouldn’t it?”

“Oh,” said Valkyrie, “it would.”

Ryan liked that idea. It was the only way he could think of to have his revenge on a man who had snatched away a family and a life that were never real in the first place. But Ryan’s hurt was real. His pain was real. And for the next few hours, at least, Ryan himself was determined that he himself would be real.

“I have one condition,” Ryan said.

He saw the outline of Valkyrie’s head tilting to one side. “OK,” she said cautiously.

“If I do this, and I dismantle the bomb, can I kiss you?”

He felt her slow, slow smile. “We’ll have to see about that,” she said, and got up. She pulled him to his feet.

Skulduggery led the way out into the mall. The shops themselves were dark and shuttered, but the main strip of the mall was still lit. It was odd, being in a space designed for crowds and seeing it empty. It didn’t fit. It wasn’t right. It was, all of a sudden, incredibly lonely.

They walked down the deactivated travelator, no one talking. They reached the ground floor and Ryan wandered around, his hand held open in front of him. Skulduggery had insisted that once he got close to the Machine, he’d start to feel something. A buzzing, maybe. A tingle. Ryan had asked if it would be sore. Skulduggery couldn’t promise anything.

Valkyrie walked behind him. She pitied him. He knew she did. Of course she did. Who wouldn’t? He was a pitiful person who wasn’t even a person. He didn’t even know what he looked like, not really. He knew he wasn’t fifteen. He knew he was older. He wondered what colour hair he had. He wondered what his face was like. How his voice sounded. He wondered what his thoughts were like. The only thing he knew was that he wasn’t a very nice person – not really. Not truly. A nice person wouldn’t do something like this.

His hand tingled. Slight pins and needles. “I think we’re close,” he said. His words sounded weird in this place.

“It’s below us,” said Skulduggery, “built into the foundations. There’s an activation panel somewhere around here. Follow the buzzing.”

Ryan did as he was told, and led them to a section of the wall. Skulduggery tapped it with his knuckle. It sounded normal to Ryan, but Skulduggery obviously heard something that he didn’t. It must have been great to be Skulduggery – to always know what to do, to always know what needed to be done. Even in the false life Deacon Maybury had given him, Ryan had never known that kind of certainty.

“Why didn’t he make me better?” he asked as Skulduggery continued to tap.

Valkyrie looked at him. “What do you mean?”

Ryan’s laugh came out of nowhere and didn’t last long. “I mean, look at me. Why didn’t he make me cooler, or smarter, or better-looking? He was creating a whole new person, right? So why did he make him as rubbish as me?”

“You’re… you’re not rubbish, Ryan.”

“Yes I am. I’m fat and ugly and useless.”

“Skulduggery,” Valkyrie said, “tell him.”

Skulduggery stopped tapping the wall, and looked at Ryan. “Deacon made someone who would blend in with the background, someone too unexceptional to notice.”

Valkyrie shook her head. “You’re meant to make him feel better.”

“I’m about to,” Skulduggery said. “He made you unexceptional, Ryan. He made you normal. As normal as he could. And in doing so, he has single-handedly proven how exceptional normal people can be. When we were at Deacon’s apartment, you could have run and left Valkyrie and myself to fight them off ourselves. But you turned back. You turned back to help. You stood up to terrifying people who want to kill the world, who would snap you in two and tear you apart and not lose one wink of sleep over it, and you did so without training or magic. You did so because you are a good person, and you have true courage. You have the kind of courage Deacon Maybury himself never had. He made you the most normal boy he could, and he inadvertently made you so much better than he could ever hope to be.”

“Oh,” Valkyrie said, “well… OK, that’s better than I thought it was going to be. How are you feeling now, Ryan?”

Ryan looked at her. “I’m feeling pretty special, actually,” he said, and she laughed.

Skulduggery pressed his thumbs into the wall, and a large section slid to one side. Instead of the mass of wires that Ryan expected, however, there was a carving of the key in the centre of what looked like a complicated metal maze.

“Oh good,” Skulduggery said.

Valkyrie peered closer. “Is it going to be easy to dismantle?”

“Not in the slightest.”

“Do you think you can manage it?”

Skulduggery tapped his chin. “Only with an inordinate amount of luck.”

“So we should probably wait for an expert.”

“Good God, no,” Skulduggery said, jerking his head around. “Where’s the fun in that?”

“But… but if you get it wrong, we might all die.”

“Yes, that is true, but I probably won’t get it wrong.”

Valkyrie’s eyes flickered to Ryan, then back to Skulduggery. “You probably won’t?”

“The odds are in my favour.”

“Really?”

“Almost.”

“I vote we wait for an expert.”

“But that might take twenty minutes or
longer
, Valkyrie.”

“So? It’s not like it’s counting down or anything. We have all the time in the world.”

“And there’s no time like the present. Ryan, I’m going to need you to press your hand against the carving. I’ll guide you every step of the way from then on.”

Valkyrie’s tone was firm. “Skulduggery. We are calling this in and then we’re waiting for a bomb-disposal expert.”

“What will he know that I don’t?”

“About the disposal of bombs? Lots.”

Skulduggery waved a hand dismissively. “Bombs are simple things. They’re designed to go off. What we have to do in order to thwart the bomb is to
stop
it from going off. What could be more straightforward?”

Valkyrie’s fingers closed round Ryan’s wrist and she pulled him away. “We are waiting for an expert.”

“I think we should let him try,” said a voice from behind them. They spun, saw Foe and his gang walking up. Foe was grinning. “It might save us the bother of destroying the world ourselves.”