So. This is it. The last chapter. Hope you guys have enjoyed it!
P.S Look out for the sneaky Hunger Games AND Doctor Who references!
Thrasher watched as the black 1954 Bentley R-Type Continental pulled smoothly into the drive and giggled quietly to himself. Master would be so proud. He'd remembered Pleasant's address from when Master had tried to sell it to the highest bidder and made his way there all by himself. He'd even found himself a weapon. The Skeleton Detective got out dressed in casual shirtsleeves, braces and trousers announcing:
"What? Bow ties are cool." Cain got out next, one eyebrow raised.
"You look like geography teacher."
Weighing the large stick in his hand, Thrasher watched them enter the house and waited until the door swung shut behind them. Careful not to make any noise, he rose from his hiding place and crept over to the door. Thrasher moistened his lips and stretched his free hand out towards the handle. The door opened silently and Thrasher could hear snippets of conversation.
"Valkyrie, you check over there, I'll see what I can find in here."
"… What're we looking for again?"
He tiptoed down the corridor. There was a loud creak from underfoot. Thrasher froze.
"Hey, Skulduggery, is this what you're looking for?"
"No… that's the DVD remote…"
Thrasher let out a mental sigh of relief. They hadn't noticed. He continued to the door frame, raised the stick above his head and jumped into the room.
"HAH!" He shouted, "Prepare to meet your doom, enemies of-" Thrasher looked around, the room was empty. "The Zombie… King…?" Thrasher felt a bony hand bear down heavily on his shoulder.
"Do carry on," Pleasant said, "I wouldn't want to interrupt." His partner, Cain, rose up from behind the television set, waving a black remote.
"Ah, you found it!" Beamed Pleasant.
"But-but… How?" Whimpered Thrasher, looking crestfallen.
"It was easy, really," Explained Pleasant, patting Thrasher's shoulder, "I-"
"-We." Cain chipped in,
"Saw you trying to hide in the bushes, and I-"
"-We."
"Heard you coming down the corridor."
"Oh." Sniffed Thrasher. Cain folded her arms, looking annoyed.
"Skulduggery, how come he gets a big stick, but I don't?" She whined.
"What?"
"You said you'd buy me a big stick for Christmas." She pouted. Pleasant paused momentarily before snatching the stick from Thrasher and tossing it over to Cain, who caught it in one hand.
"Early Christmas present." He said simply.
"Thanks…" Cain set down the remote and took a few practise swings with the stick. Skulduggery tilted his head at a satisfied angle.
"I think we ought to pay dear Vaurien a visit." He mused aloud, turning his head to look at Thrasher. Cain grinned.
Thrasher gulped.
"Another foot massage, Master?"
Scapegrace waved his hand dismissively. "No thank you, Clobber. I have important matters to attend to…"
"Oh, okay." With a vague but happy smile on his face, Clobber left the room, leaving a trail of orange hairs in his wake. Scapegrace sighed. Ever since Clobber had started malting it was like having some grotesque cat around the place. Thrasher hadn't malted like this, but he hadn't offered foot massages either…Scapegrace seated himself at an old work bench and opened a new box of car fresheners. He buried his face in it, even though his sense of smell had long since deteriorated.
Although he tried not to, Scapegrace found himself thinking about Thrasher constantly. Where was he? Was he okay? What if-
Oh, no, Vaurien. Not going there. Nope.
He buried his face deeper into the box of air fresheners, squeezing his eyes shut. He could be anywhere. With anyone. He could be-
Nuh-uh.
Scapegrace felt a hand tap his shoulder. "Uh, Master?"
Scapegrace sat up and slammed his fists down on the bench.
"What is -"
"That is mahogany!" cried Clobber, looking horrified. Scapegrace exhaled loudly through his nose.
"What is it, Clobber?" he asked, looking irritated. Clobber flinched.
"There's, uh, some people at the door." Scapegrace frowned. He never had visitors. Ever. Slowly, he made his way to the front door and eased it open gingerly. Skulduggery Pleasant and his partner, Valkyrie Cain, stood at the door. Cain was beaming and Scapegrace decided that if Pleasant had a face, he would be beaming too. Between them stood Thrasher, shivering.
"Thrasher?" Scapegrace squeaked, "What- I- Why-?"
"Thrasher took a little, uh, detour." Said Cain, smiling widely.
"Yes," said Pleasant, "He managed to get lost, you see, and we thought –" he coughed, "We thought that we better, um, bring him… home." Cain pushed Thrasher through the door and they both turned quickly and started walking back to the Bentley.
"D'you think he knows about the air freshener stuck to his forehead?" whispered Cain loudly, stifling giggles. Pleasant straightened his bow tie, but didn't say anything. Scowling, Scapegrace tore the air freshener from his forehead and watched as the car disappeared down the road before turning his attention back to Thrasher. Thrasher put a hand behind his head and looked embarrassed.
"I thought… that if I… got rid of the… the bad people… the ones who don't like you… then you'd like me… again." Scapegrace looked stunned.
"I'm sorry." He said, "I shouldn't have said those things…" there was a silence. "Come on." Said Scapegrace finally. "I'll draw a picture for you to colour in."
"Yay!" beamed Thrasher. Scapegrace slammed the door behind him and, with Thrasher at his heels, went off to find some paper.
FIN