“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.”
Ryan 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.