by Derek Landy
“Be sure to tip your waitress,” Valkyrie said to the rest of the patrons, joining Skulduggery on his way to the exit. Panthea came up behind her, handed over her jacket. Valkyrie slipped it on, gave Panthea a wink and left.
“That,” Panthea said once the door had closed, “was pretty badass.”
“You’re mad at me,” Valkyrie said as they left the bar.
“I’m not mad at you,” Skulduggery replied.
“I made the situation worse.”
“Reign didn’t know anything that could help us. We knew that was a possibility before we set foot in the place.”
“I nearly started a fight.”
“You did technically assault a man.”
Valkyrie scowled. “Not him. Panthea. I almost started a fight with Panthea. I wanted to. I wanted to smack someone.”
“You certainly managed that.”
She stopped walking. It was a cold February night. They were saying it might snow. “There’s something wrong with me,” she said.
Skulduggery turned to her. “Yes. You’ve got a serious case of humanity. I’m afraid there’s no cure.”
“I’m not joking.”
“Neither am I,” Skulduggery said, and put his arm round her, pulling her into his chest. “You’re coping as best you can with Alice’s situation, but you’re angry. Not with me, because no one could be angry with me, but with others. And yourself.”
“Is that what we’re calling it now? Alice’s ‘situation’?”
“What would you prefer to call it?”
Valkyrie didn’t know. She doubted she could find a pithy way to encapsulate the killing of her own sister and the subsequent damaging of her soul. She shrugged. “Alice’s situation is fine,” she murmured, sagging against him. “But how are we going to find Nye now? We found it back in September when we weren’t even looking for it – but now, when we need the bloody thing, it’s vanished off every radar we can think of.”
“We’ll find Nye because that’s what we do. We find things. Clues. Truth. Inappropriate humour at inappropriate times.”
“Trouble,” she said.
“Yes,” said Skulduggery. “We find trouble.”
“No,” said Valkyrie, stepping away from his hug and nodding ahead of them. “Trouble.”
A City Guard patrol car was parked in the next street over. Its engine was silent, its lights off. Beside it was a small shop. The door had been kicked open. Crashes came from inside.
They ran across the road. Skulduggery was first through the door, Valkyrie right behind him. She readied herself for a fight, an unpleasant part of her hoping that the cops were heavily outnumbered and tonight was the night when she’d get to cut loose. She had a lot of anxiety to work through.
Instead, they arrived to find three City Guard officers trashing the place in the dark.
Two men and one woman. The woman noticed them, and hissed to the others. They stopped what they were doing and turned. Valkyrie recognised one of them – Sergeant Yonder. She didn’t like him.
“Well,” said Skulduggery, “this should be good.”
Yonder didn’t say anything for a few moments. When at last he spoke, what he said wasn’t very convincing. “This is official City Guard business. You can’t be here.”
“We’re Arbiters,” Skulduggery said, stepping over the remains of a smashed shelf. “We can be anywhere we want to be.”
Yonder bristled. “Your jurisdiction—”
“Is absolute. That’s what you were going to say, wasn’t it? You two – identify yourselves.”
The woman squared her shoulders. “I’m Officer Lush,” she said.
“And I’m Officer Rattan,” said the third cop.
“And what exactly is going on here?” Skulduggery asked.
“We had a report of a break-in,” said Yonder. “We came to investigate.”
Valkyrie picked her way across the floor. “Did you find anyone?”
Yonder glared. “The suspects had fled before we arrived.”
“And the mess?”
“It was like this when we got here.”
“Who owns this shop?” Skulduggery asked, and their attention switched back to him.
“I don’t know,” said Yonder.
“Do you think perhaps it might be a mortal?”
Yonder shrugged.
“Because we’ve heard stories,” Valkyrie said, and they all looked at her. “You know all those pesky mortals from Dimension X?”
“The Leibniz Universe,” Skulduggery corrected.
She ignored him. “You know how they were all given the empty houses in the West District? That’s quite close to here, isn’t it? They’ve only been there for five or six months, but they’re already working hard to make a new life for themselves, away from Mevolent and all the nasty, nasty sorcerers from their home dimension. Well, we heard that there were some nasty sorcerers over here, too, and they were robbing these mortals.”
“Not robbery,” Skulduggery said. “Extortion.”
Valkyrie snapped her fingers. “That’s right. Extortion. Their little businesses would be targeted and threatened, and they’d have to pay these nasty sorcerers to not trash them.”
Yonder didn’t seem overly sympathetic. “That’s too bad,” he said. “Protection rackets are the bane of small business. Have these crimes been reported to the City Guard?”
“Well, that’s the problem,” Valkyrie said, passing Lush. “It seems the nasty sorcerers doing all this damage are City Guard officers. Like you guys.”
“That’s a serious accusation,” Lush said.
Valkyrie smiled at her. “I’m in a serious mood.”
Yonder’s radio barked to life for a moment. When it went quiet, he nodded. “OK, duty calls. You two have a good night.”
He went to walk out, but Skulduggery stood in his path.
Yonder narrowed his eyes. “You’re impeding a sergeant of the City Guard.”
“I’m just standing here.”
Yonder went to walk round him, but Skulduggery stepped into his path again.
“Now I’m impeding you. Did I ever congratulate you, by the way? On your promotion? Congratulations. Sergeant Yonder, Officers Lush and Rattan – you’re all under arrest. Surrender your weapons and we won’t have to hurt you.”
There was a heartbeat of silence, and then Yonder laughed, and looked at his friends and they laughed, too, as if Valkyrie and Skulduggery couldn’t read the intent in their eyes. Yonder went for his gun and Lush went for hers and Valkyrie punched her in the throat and shoved her back. Rattan had his gun out and he was aiming at Skulduggery, but Skulduggery was throwing Yonder to the floor and Rattan couldn’t get a clear shot so he switched targets, swinging the gun round to Valkyrie. Valkyrie’s hand lit up and lightning streaked into his chest, blasting him backwards and filling the air with ozone.
Still gasping, Lush pulled her gun and Valkyrie grabbed her wrist with one hand and punched her in the face with the other. She ripped the gun away, tossing it into the shadows, and Lush snapped her hand out and a wall of air took Valkyrie off her feet.
She hit the ground and rolled, looked up in time to dodge a fireball. Energy crackled around her body. The fine hairs on her arms stood up. Lush threw another fireball and Valkyrie straightened, holding out her left hand, her magic becoming a shield that the fireball exploded against. Lush ran for her gun, but Valkyrie caught her in the side with a streak of lightning that spun her sideways and sent her down.
Valkyrie pulled her magic back in and quelled it before it scorched her clothes. That was getting to be a problem.
Yonder was lying on his belly, his hands cuffed behind him.
“You can’t do this!” he raged. “I’m an officer of the City Guard!”
“Not for long,” Skulduggery said.
Yonder rolled on to his side so he could glare at him. “No one will believe you! Commander Hoc knows you’ve had it in for me from the beginning! He’ll take my side!”
&n
bsp; “He won’t have a choice,” Valkyrie said, walking over. “He’ll do what Supreme Mage Sorrows tells him to.”
Yonder snarled. “You’re so smug, aren’t you? You’re in with the Supreme Mage, so you get to strut around, doing whatever you want. Let me tell you, let me be the one to tell you – that time is coming to an end. You hear me? Things are going to change around here.”
Despite her worries, despite her anxiety, despite everything that had happened and everything she had done, Valkyrie looked down at Sergeant Yonder and found she still had the capacity to laugh at stupid people.
“Omen,” Miss Gnosis said, leaning forward, her elbows on her desk and her fingertips pressed together. “We need to talk about your future.”
Omen Darkly nodded. The office, filled with the morning sun, was nice and neat and smelled of some exotic spice that was not too pungent. Miss Gnosis had books everywhere. Her desk was packed full of stuff. She looked like she had a lot going on.
“Omen,” she said.
He looked up. “Yes?”
“Your future. How do you envision it?”
“I haven’t really thought about it too much.”
“I realise that,” Miss Gnosis said in that cool Scottish accent. She pushed a form towards him. “Do you know what this is?”
“It’s the SYA.”
“And what does SYA stand for?”
“Senior Years Agenda.”
“Very good.” Miss Gnosis sat back. “What age are you now, Omen?”
“Fifteen.”
“So you’ve got another two years of school after this one, and maybe two years after that before your Surge. Do you have any idea yet what discipline you want to specialise in?”
“Well, I … I mean, I suppose being an Elemental would be, you know …” He trailed off.
“Do you want to be an Elemental?” Miss Gnosis asked. “You don’t sound too enthused.”
“Yes, no, I mean, sure.”
“Is there anything else you’d rather be?”
Omen shrugged.
“Rack your brains, Omen. Is there any discipline other than Elemental magic that you would like to do for the rest of your life? Because that’s what we’re talking about here. The discipline you’re focused on when you have your Surge is the discipline you’re stuck with from then on.” She hesitated. “You do know how the Surge works?”
“Yes, miss.”
“Good, good.”
“Like, it’d be cool to be a Teleporter,” Omen said. “I’m always late for stuff and I get car sick on long journeys, so that would solve a lot of my problems.”
“Teleportation is one of the tricky ones,” Miss Gnosis replied. “You generally have to be born with the aptitude for it, like Never was.”
“Yeah, I know,” Omen said, a little glumly. “See, miss, the problem is I’m just not very good at most things.”
“Ah, Omen, don’t be so hard on yourself.”
“It’s true, though. I’m not. I’m no good at Energy Throwing or—”
“Proper names, please.”
“Sorry. I’m no good at Ergokinesis and I did want to be a Signum Linguist, but I just find it hard to understand all the letters.”
“Which is a problem when it comes to language,” Miss Gnosis said. “But you’ve still got time to decide. What I want you to do is come up with a list of seven disciplines – realistic disciplines – to take into your final two years of school. Then you can figure out which one you want to specialise in.”
“And what if I can’t?”
“Then you’ll still have two or three years after you leave in which to make your decision. You’re putting a lot of pressure on yourself to have this worked out, but do you want to know a secret? Nobody has it worked out. We’re all just playing it by ear. No one knows what the future has in store.”
“Auger knows.”
“Your brother’s situation is slightly different.”
“Sensitives know what’s in store.”
“No, they don’t,” Miss Gnosis said. “Sensitives can see a future – not necessarily the future. But what about that? What about becoming a Sensitive?”
Omen’s face soured. “We’re doing one of Miss Wicked’s modules right now.”
“And how’s that going for you?”
“She paired me up with Auger, because siblings have a strong psychic connection, and twins have an even stronger one.”
“I’m aware.”
“And we did that test, you know the one, where we sit opposite each other and I look at a card with a pattern on it and he has to, like, read that pattern in my mind, and then we switch? Auger got every single one right.”
“And how did you do?”
“I fell off my chair.”
“Oh.”
“I think it’s a balance thing. Miss Wicked says psychic stuff can upset your equilibrium, so … Anyway, today we’re going to try to talk to each other using only our minds.”
“You might be better at that.”
“I don’t see how.”
Miss Gnosis smiled. “Omen, come on. A little self-belief wouldn’t hurt, now, would it?”
“It’s just, we’re the only set of twins in the class, and Auger can do it all brilliantly, and I’m kind of holding him back.”
“I doubt he sees it that way.”
Omen gave a little grunt.
Miss Gnosis let him out a few minutes early, which allowed him to get to the toilets without being caught in the sudden crush of students. In fact, he had time to take the scenic route to his next class, past both the North and the East Towers. He descended the staircase in the main building, quickening his pace ever so slightly, and arriving outside his next class just as the bell rang.
Doors opened and each room vomited forth a never-ending torrent of teenagers dressed in either black trousers or skirts with white shirts and black blazers. A few of Omen’s fellow Fourth Years passed. Their blazers, like his, had green piping. He nodded to them. They ignored him. He shrugged.
He took his seat in the next class. Never came in, looking half dead from exhaustion, and sat next to him.
“You doing OK?” Omen asked.
“No,” Never said, gazing blearily at her desk. “Did we have homework to do?”
Omen took out his books. “Yes. You didn’t do it?”
Never gave a groan as an answer, and peered at Omen through one eye. “Why are you smiling?”
Omen shrugged. “It’s just very unusual to have you being the one who’s struggling while I’m doing all right, that’s all. Maybe it’s a sign that I’m finally getting my life in order, that I’m finally becoming the person I’m meant to be.”
“Or,” Never said, “this could not be about you, and actually be about me, and how hard it is to juggle being fabulous at school with being fabulous at having adventures. So, really, it could be either.”
“All those adventures taking a toll, are they?”
Never laid her forehead on the desk so that her hair covered her face. “I’m bruised. And battered. I get into fights now. Real, actual fights. Me. A pacifist.”
“You’re not a pacifist.”
“Well, no, but I hate fighting. I hate the pain aspect. Also the effort aspect. Fighting would be so much easier if you could do it from your phone, you know?”
“Damn these physical bodies.”
“Ah, now,” Never said, sitting up and flicking her hair back, “I wouldn’t go so far as to damn my physical body, Omen. I’m blessed with this form. See these cheekbones? I will never take these for granted. But I do ache. I mean, I can’t be expected to follow your brother into every single battle, can I? He’s the Chosen One. He’s got the strength and the speed and the skill. I just have the bone structure and the attitude.”
“Kase and Mahala aren’t Chosen Ones,” said Omen. “How do they do in these battles?”
“They’ve been doing this for longer,” Never countered. “They’re better at it than I am.”
�
��There you go,” Omen said. “You just have to give it time, and then you’ll be as good as they are.”
Never lolled her head back, and looked up at the ceiling. “Three days ago, we were fighting this guy, a Child of the Spider. Ever seen one of those people? They’re creepy enough in their human form, but when they change …”
“You actually saw him transform?”
“Oh, yes,” said Never. “It was gross. Like, seriously disgusting. He sprouted all these extra legs, his body contorted, his face became a spider face … and the sounds. Great Caesar’s Ghost, the sounds! Squelching and tearing and popping and more squelching … And, at the end of it, he’s twice as big as us, and a spider. A spider, Omen.”
“You’re not afraid of spiders, are you?”
“I tend to get slightly arachnophobic when they’re three times the size of me.”
“Understandable.”
“So, we were fighting this giant spider, and I realised I’d forgotten to do the biology homework.”
“You thought about biology when you were fighting a giant spider?”
“Well, yeah,” said Never. “It just popped into my head – the module where we studied insects and arachnids – and then we had that chapter on the Children of the Spider and how we still don’t really know how they came to, like, be spiders.”
“Yes,” said Omen, “I remember the lesson.”
“Do you?”
Omen hesitated. “No.”
“Thought not. Anyway, I asked Auger about the homework.”
“While you were fighting?”
“Oh, wow, no. I’ve still got a long way to go before I can have light-hearted discussions while trying not to die. I just don’t have the stamina. I’m out of breath the entire time. So I waited until after. And you know what he said?”
“He’d done the homework?”
“Well, yes, but do you know how he’d done the homework?”
“I would imagine by doing it in his spare time?”
“Will you please stop spoiling my stories by knowing what I’m going to say?”
“Sorry.”
Never sighed, and continued. “He did it at night. The previous night, after we’d sneaked back to our dorm rooms. Four o’clock in the morning and he’s making sure his homework’s done. The same with Kase and Mahala.”