by Derek Landy
“I’m… I’m afraid not.”
Ryan nodded. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t trust his voice not to break.
“You probably saved my life back there,” Valkyrie said. “That was a very brave thing you did.”
Ryan managed a smile. “Maybe it’s something you’ll remember me for.”
“I definitely think so.”
“I don’t feel very brave right now. To be honest, I kind of feel like crying.”
Valkyrie’s hand rested on his shoulder.
“I really don’t want to die,” Ryan said. He was crying now. He didn’t care. The only thing he cared about was that in a few moments he wouldn’t be here any more. He wouldn’t exist. They’d stopped Foe and the others from destroying the world, but Ryan’s world was ending just the same. “It’s not fair. How come Deacon gets to live and I don’t?”
“I don’t know,” Valkyrie said softly.
“Isn’t there anything you can do? Maybe Skulduggery can do something? Maybe he knows someone who can, who can block Deacon from coming back, or…”
“I’m sorry, Ryan,” Valkyrie said. She was crying too. This pretty girl with the single dimple when she smiled, she was crying for him. This pretty girl who would never go out with a guy like Ryan, not in a million years, was sitting here with her arm round him, and they were crying together.
He fought to control his sobs. When he could speak, he spoke quietly. “Could I have that kiss now?”
She looked at him. “Definitely,” she said, and leaned in. He turned his head slightly, didn’t know if he should close his eyes or keep them open, but when their lips met his eyes closed. His first kiss in fifteen years of false memories. His only kiss in fifteen hours of real life.
They parted. His head was clouded. His thoughts were fuzzy.
“I really like you, Valkyrie,” he managed to mumble.
“I really like you, Ryan,” she said back to him.
Ryan smiled and tried to kiss her again, this pretty girl with the dimple, what was her name again, Valkyrie, that was it, seventeen years old and cute as a button, the kind of girl who had never even noticed Deacon when he was that age. He grinned and leaned in and felt her hand against his chest, keeping him back, and then her eyes were narrowing.
“Ryan?”
“I’ll be whoever you want me to be,” Deacon said, and she hit him so hard the whole world spun.
She stood over him. “Get rid of that face,” she said. “Stop using Ryan’s face right now or I swear to God I’ll batter you.”
“OK!” he cried. “Just don’t hit me again!”
Deacon got to his feet, his jaw aching. “Ain’t that something?” he muttered, and at those words, the image around him flickered and withdrew, and suddenly he was back to his old self again.
Valkyrie’s eyes sparkled with tears. She was looking at him like she was going to hit him again anyway.
“I just want to thank you,” he said before she did. “I was in a serious bind and you, you came in and you really helped me. I was in over my head, I don’t mind admitting it. If it makes any difference, I never intended for the Machine to end up in enemy hands. The moment I sold the key, I was going to alert the Sanctuary and get an army of Cleavers in here to—”
“You risked the lives of everyone on the planet,” Valkyrie said, her voice tight.
“I did,” he said, nodding sadly, “and I truly regret that. It was stupid. It was short-sighted, and selfish. If I knew then what I know now, I would never have tried it. But we all make mistakes, isn’t that right? And I made a mistake. A terrible, terrible mistake that could have had untold consequences for—”
He didn’t even see the punch. He saw her shoulder shift and then he was toppling backwards. He hit the ground and his face felt three sizes too big. Good God, she hit hard.
“You better get up,” she said, standing over him. “The Cleavers are coming, and if you’re here when they arrive, you’ll get arrested too.”
He blinked. “You’re letting me go?”
“We’re letting Ryan go,” Skulduggery Pleasant said, walking up behind her. “Ryan was a friend of ours. He deserved better than to be you, Deacon.”
“I know he did,” Deacon said, rising slowly to his feet for the second time in the last sixty seconds. “I only hope I can make it up to him somehow, maybe by being a better person, by treating people with the same kind of—”
“If you want me to hit you again, you’ll keep talking like that,” Valkyrie said.
Deacon shut up. If looks could kill, he’d be skewered. “I know I did wrong,” he said, hanging his head. “I know I did. And I’ve already paid for it. My brother. My poor brother Dafydd. Foe thought Dafydd was me. He chased him and Dafydd… Dafydd fell into that wood chipper. He was always the clumsy one, was Dafydd. So, so clumsy…”
Valkyrie shoved him to get his attention, and when he looked up she leaned in. “If we ever hear of you doing something like that again, creating an innocent person just so you can hide behind them…”
Deacon held up his hands. “I won’t, I swear. I’ve learned my lesson. I was greedy, and selfish. But now I see that it was wrong to—”
“We don’t care,” Skulduggery said. “Run away before I shoot you.”
Deacon nodded, and started walking.
“He said run,” Valkyrie snarled, and Deacon did just that.
That’s NOT all folks!
Read on for an awesome competition, as well as deleted scenes from the first Skulduggery Pleasan book, chosen and introduced by Derek himself…
Deleted Scenes
When I got the idea for The End of the World it was pretty much as it is now. Skulduggery and Valkyrie, seen from a newcomer’s perspective, a good kid who develops a crush on our teenage heroine. Tragedy strikes, of course, as tragedy tends to do, punches are thrown, jokes are lobbed, and the sneaky, untrustworthy Deacon runs off at the end, free to get into more misadventures.
I had the idea, I wrote the story. I changed little bits, I edited it, and now it’s in your hands. How neat. How tidy. How unusual.
The books aren’t like that. The books you read (and hopefully you will read them, if you haven’t already, because they are by far the best books ever written) do not start out the way they finish. I might get done writing the first draft of a book, then completely change it for the second draft. Characters will be switched, some thrown out. Plots will be scrapped, replaced with something new. As much as possible I’ll keep scenes and chapters, but I’ll just… rearrange them a little.
My original draft of the first book, Skulduggery Pleasant, was twice as long as the published version. A lot of what I took out reappears in later books. For example, my original draft had Vengeous and Sanguine and Scapegrace playing important roles, plus a whole new subplot about Stephanie having a vision of her future. On the final page of the original version she learns the truth about her destiny, instead of how it is now, when she learns about it in the fourth book.
How different things would have been if I had kept this in. There are plenty of deleted scenes I could include here, but most of them would ruin future plot revelations for those who haven’t read the books (and you really should, they’re really good). So I’m going to concentrate on Valkyrie’s home life.
In the books, you see, Valkyrie – or Stephanie, as is her real name – has a reflection that steps out of the mirror and takes over her life. It goes to school, does homework and watches TV with the family while Valkyrie is off saving the world. But in my first draft, there was no reflection, so Valkyrie was always getting into trouble. This led to a major problem, since I wanted her home to be a refuge from conflict, and I wanted her relationship with her folks to be warm and funny and loving. Which is why I came up with the reflection.
But just as a hint of what it could have been like, here are a few excerpts from my original draft.
WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN BEEN, PART 1:
(This scene originally stood right before S
kulduggery and Stephanie break into the Vault.)
Skulduggery dropped Stephanie off at the entrance to Bayview and promised to contact her the moment he had figured out their next step. The night was drawing steadily in as she approached her house. She slotted her key in the door and twisted and pushed it open, and her mother was standing in the hallway, waiting for her. She wasn’t smiling. Her arms were crossed.
“Hi,” Stephanie said, closing the door behind her.
“Oh hello,” her mother responded. “Enjoy yourself?”
“Sorry?”
“Did you enjoy yourself this evening? Did you have a good time?”
“It was all right,” Stephanie said slowly.
“Oh that’s good. I’m glad.”
Her mother was glaring at her. Stephanie didn’t know where to look.
“Is everything OK?” she asked.
“We have visitors.”
As she spoke, Fergus and Beryl emerged from the living room. Beryl’s hands were clasped in front of her and she had a look of utmost piety on her face. Fergus didn’t quite manage to get the look of glee off of his. Stephanie looked back at her mother and waited.
“What were you doing in Mr Pleasant’s car?” her mother asked.
Stephanie’s thought process came to a sudden stop. Her mother was looking at her, her face angry but her eyes pleading, needing a reasonable explanation. Behind her, Fergus was almost cackling, while Beryl had a false look of deep concern.
“I wasn’t—” Stephanie began.
“Yes you were!” barked Fergus immediately. Then, with more control, “We saw you.”
“We saw you, dear,” Beryl echoed, shaking her head sadly. “We saw you yesterday in that dreadful car of his. It’s quite difficult to miss, the way it rattles. And then, just a few short hours ago.”
“They came and told me,” her mother said. “I had to hear this from Fergus and Beryl.”
“We didn’t think we had a choice,” Beryl trilled. “Stephanie’s almost like a daughter to us.”
“I got a lift from him,” Stephanie said. “So what?”
Her mother looked down. “Don’t lie to me, Steph,” she said quietly.
“I’m not lying.”
“Don’t lie to me!” She shouted it this time, her voice filling the hallway.
Stephanie could feel the anger building – not at her mother, but at Fergus and Beryl and their interfering. The only reason they were here was to get back at Stephanie for inheriting Gordon’s Estate, she was sure of it.
“Mum…” she started, but once again Fergus cut her off.
“What are you doing with him anyway?” he asked.
“It’s none of your business,” she snapped.
“We’re just looking out for you, dear,” Beryl said in that simpering voice of hers.
“Why were you in his car?” her mother asked. “Where did you go this evening? If I don’t get answers from you, I’m going straight to Mr Pleasant. I’m going to him anyway, but if you at least try to make me understand…”
“Mum, this isn’t a big deal.”
Beryl clucked her tongue sadly. “A poor innocent girl, falling in with the wrong crowd…”
Stephanie made a face. “Wrong crowd?”
“You don’t want to be associated with people like that, dear,” Beryl said.
“People like what?”
Beryl had a look of utter distaste as she almost spat the word. “Weirdos.”
“This is ridiculous,” Stephanie said, her jaw clenching.
“Then how come you won’t tell your mother where you’ve been?” asked Fergus.
“Because it’s none of anyone’s business!”
Her mother looked at her sternly. “Oh, I think this qualifies as my business. We don’t know anything about this Mr Pleasant. We don’t know what kind of a man he is.”
“And why doesn’t he show his face?” Beryl asked, her meddlesome curiosity betraying her serene ambivalence.
“Does he have something wrong with it?” Fergus persisted. “Is it deformed?”
Beryl shivered at the very mention of the word, and Fergus licked his lips in eagerness. Stephanie wanted to shout at them, to scream at them, but instead she closed herself off and said nothing. She looked at her mother and her mother looked at her.
“Go to your room,” her mother said, and Stephanie did so gladly. She didn’t even glance at Fergus and Beryl as she climbed the stairs, but when she got to her door she heard Beryl’s weed-thin voice saying “It’s not her fault, you know. It’s the music they listen to…”
WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN, PART 2:
(The following scene takes place after Stephanie has been poisoned, and so has been unconscious for over a day.)
Stephanie’s eyes suddenly widened. “What time is it?”
“A little past one,” Skulduggery said.
“In the morning?” she gasped.
Skulduggery hesitated. “In the next day,” he said.
“What?”
“You’ve been unconscious for twenty six hours,” China said kindly. “Your parents must be worried sick.”
After Stephanie had freaked out, they brought her a phone and stepped out of the room. Stephanie dialled her mother’s mobile and held her breath until the call was picked up.
“Steph?” came her mother’s frantic voice.
“Hi Mum,” she said nervously.
“Oh baby! Where are you? Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, Mum, I’m grand.”
“Where are you?” Then, louder; “Desmond! She’s OK!” Then, a little less loud; “Where are you?”
“I’m sorry I didn’t call.”
“What happened to you? We thought something terrible had happened! The police are organising searches and everything!”
Stephanie groaned to herself. “No, Mum, no need to search for me, I’m fine.”
“Then what happened?”
She heard her father’s voice, demanding to know what’s going on, and she heard a short tussle for the phone. Her mother’s voice came back to her. “What happened?”
Stephanie swallowed. “I fell asleep.”
“You what?”
“I just fell asleep.”
“Where are you? Where were you? We called all your friends.”
That must have been a quick thirty seconds, Stephanie thought to herself, then, hoping they hadn’t checked there;
“I was at Gordon’s house.”
“What were you doing?”
“I just thought I’d look around a little more. I fell asleep on the sofa. I’m really sorry.”
There was silence from the other end of the phone.
“Mum?”
“And why didn’t you call when you woke up?” Her mother’s voice was flat now, devoid of emotion. Stephanie closed her eyes. This was her mother really, really mad.
“I’m calling now.”
“It’s half one, Stephanie.”
“I’m sorry. I must have been really tired.”
“Well. Stay where you are, Desmond will be over to pick you up.”
“No, I’m not at Gordon’s any more, I’m in town. But it’s OK, I can get home—”
“You will stay where you are,” her mother repeated, “and your father will be over to pick you up. I’d do it myself, but I’m going to be far too busy calling our family and friends, telling them that you’re not dead. Oh, and I’ll probably tell the police not to bother searching for your body in a ditch somewhere. I’m sure they’d appreciate that.”
“OK,” Stephanie said meekly.
Fifteen minutes later her father drove up and Stephanie got in the car, acting stronger than she felt. Her father was mad at her too, but it was an obvious kind of mad, and it was tempered by a relief he couldn’t hide. As they drove she glanced back and saw China’s car in the distance, heading in the opposite direction. Skulduggery had stuck around to make sure she was all right, like she guessed he would.
They got home a
nd Stephanie went to her room and waited for her mother. She sat in her swivel chair, but kept it very still. The door opened, and Stephanie did her best to ignore the fact that the temperature in her bedroom seemed to drop drastically.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with you lately,” her mother said, “I really don’t. You’re gone all day, you don’t get back till late, and all the stories Beryl tells me…”
“Mum, Beryl doesn’t like me.”
Her mother shook her head. “Don’t.”
“It’s true! Ever since I inherited the Estate they’ve been out to cause trouble—”
“It’s the inheritance, isn’t it?”
Stephanie looked up. “What?”
“Your behaviour has been changing ever since you gotthe inheritance. What, do you think you can play by your own rules now?”
“Mum, no, that isn’t it…”
“I think it is. Before this, you barely went out. You barely had any friends. You’d be in your room or you’d be down at the beach, and you’d hardly talk to anyone. We were getting worried about you, actually.
“And now look at you. This Tanith girl, those other people you’re hanging around with, the ones that are keeping you out all day. Who are they? I don’t know who they are. But they’ve definitely had an effect on you.”
“No they haven’t.”
“No? You’re still the same old Steph?”
“Of course I am.”
“The same old Steph wouldn’t do the things you’re doing. You’ve even changed the way you dress, you’re wearing those black clothes all the time. We wanted to see you come out of your shell, we’ve been wanting to see that for a long time, but we didn’t expect that the person that came out of that shell would be… would be you.”
Stephanie didn’t answer. She didn’t like this. She didn’t like being under constant attack, without the means to fight back. But she couldn’t fight back, she couldn’t argue, because she didn’t know what she might say in her anger. She had to sit here and take it.
“You need to think about what you’ve done,” her mother said. “Think about the people you’ve hurt, and the people you are hurting, and then decide if you think it’s worth it.”
