Traffic [Valduggery, Skulduggery Pleasant Fanfiction]

Quotes

Stephanie woke up with the alarm, like she always did, shook off the dream, and put on her uniform. When she asked about the black car, Winnie had already forgotten about it.

Stephanie pulled over seventeen cars. She drank at the bar. She went home.

...

Alice had convinced Stephanie to come to the fair. Stephanie had groaned and complained, but it had been her who offered to drive and pay for the tickets. They giggled to one another and walked through cheap rides that tried to hide the fact with colorful paint.

It was Stephanie who had convinced Alice to ride. It was a huge contraption, towering over the fair, a weight on one end and four seats on the other. Alice said it was forty stories, and in the tilting light of the night, Stephanie could believer her.

Stephanie screamed with primal delight as they went end over end, her stomach near her ears. She pressed against the straps of the seat, weightless, and for a moment, the world became clear and ripped a scream out of her throat.

Alice puked in a trashcan, Stephanie joking next to her.

"'Let's go to the fair, Steph, it will be so much fun, Steph.'" Stephanie grinned and prodded Alice in the side.

"I didn't say we should fucking go on that!"

Alice perched on the trashcan, letting her gaze wander. Stephanie watched the ride start on another loop, imagined she could hear the screams of the four unfortunate souls.

"Steph, look."

A tent, small, discreet, out of the way. Palm readings.

"Really?"

"It's only ten bucks. And we can't ride anything else, and I certainly can't eat anything else. Come on. Come on."

Stephanie laughed in palm reader's face and stole her hand away.

"That's a quote from a book," she told them.

It still bothered her.

...

The black car was back. It whipped by her, and it took Stephanie a moment to realize it had even flown by. She turned on her lights and skidded out onto the road, the sounds of the radio and static fading into the background.

God, this guy was fast. And good.

Stephanie nearly lost control of her car making a hard right. She let out a panicked yelp as the trunk began to swing around, but she managed to get in back under control without slowing down too much. She grinned and gunned the engine.

The car had come late tonight, and the roads were deserted. It was just her and the black car, disappearing in and out of the street lights, barreling around hairpin turns and swerving into the other lanes and the sidewalk.

And then, the car braked. Stephanie laughed—she couldn't help it—and pulled over behind the car. She sat behind the wheel for a moment, waiting to see if the car would take off again. But it was still, glistening in the yellow lamplight.

Stephanie got out. She didn't really want to, but she did.

She strolled over and knocked on the window. The interior of the car was dark, and she couldn't see the driver. All she could make out was a hat pulled low, and what looked like a scarf around the man's mouth.

"I'm not sure why you pulled over," she began, "because you broke so many laws."

"How many?"

The voice struck a chord in her, and Stephanie frowned and tried to place where she had heard him before. It slipped around the edges of her memory.

"Well, I'm going to have to arrest you. So, uh, a fair amount."

"I don't think you can if you're not even sure what laws I broke."

"You broke twenty."

"I feel like you just made up that number."

"Maybe I did." Stephanie glanced at the car. "What type of car is this?"

He told her, and she listened to his voice and tried to remember—

"Have we met before?" she asked, bending down closer to the window. "I swear to God I've heard you somewhere before."

"I do commercials."

"No, you don't."

The man's silhouette shifted. "How do you know?"

Stephanie shrugged. "I just do."

There was a long moment of silence. "Your uncle and I were friends."

"Fergus?"

"No," the man said, and he almost seemed amused. "No, not Fergus. Gordon."

It struck Stephanie like a truck. "You were at the funeral."

"I was."

"And the will reading. Oh. Wow. Your name..."

"Skulduggery Pleasant," he said, a little too quickly. "Stephanie."

"I would love to chat but, you know, I'm supposed to be arresting you. I'm going to, in a second."

"No offense, Stephanie, but this is probably one of the worst arrests I've ever witnessed."

"I think I did okay. I mean, I caught you."

"I pulled over."

"After a persuasive car chase."

He laughed, and she found herself laughing along with him. They didn't say anything for a minute. Stephanie thought back to all those years ago, when she was twelve and grieving. Skulduggery Pleasant.

"Do you remember anything else?"

Stephanie looked at the dark driver's seat. "What do you mean?"

"Around Gordon's death. Anything..." He trailed off. "I really should get going."

"Right. Yes. What would I remember around his death?"

Skulduggery didn't answer for a moment. "I—" His phone rang. He pulled it out, checked the caller ID, but didn't answer. "I really should be off." He didn't move. "How are you?"

"I'm okay."

...

And your life is a long line of fine.