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The woman in black didn’t respond. Her cloak coiled around her.
“You would not kill me,” said Nye, its voice a little garbled. Its skin felt oily in her grip.
“I wouldn’t want to kill you,” Valkyrie corrected him. “I wouldn’t want to kill anyone. But, if your awesome bodyguard tries to kill me, I’ll kill you faster than your beady little eyes can blink.”
Nye made a small sound, like a laugh. “Then it seems that we have reached an impasse.”
“Not at all,” said Valkyrie. “An impasse implies that we’re evenly matched. But we all know that’s not true.” She glanced at the woman in black. “I dabbled with Necromancy. Did you know that? Solomon Wreath taught me a few things. So I know that you can shadow-walk. That’s what you did with Skulduggery, right? But I also know that the range for shadow-walking is limited – so he’s already on his way back here and he’s coming mighty fast. We only have a few seconds before he bursts through these doors, and when that happens … it’s not going to be pretty. All I have to do is wait, because time is on my side. But for you the clock is ticking. Can you hear that? The tick-tock in your head?”
“I am not going back to Ironpoint,” said Nye. “I only have a few years left in my life. I will not spend them in a cell. Whisper – kill her.”
“Whisper – wait,” Valkyrie said, tightening her grip. “Why is it always killing, huh? Why is it always fighting? Why is violence always the default position?”
Nye held up a hand to Whisper, even though the woman had not moved. “You offer an alternative?” it asked.
“Give me Quidnunc, and I’ll let you go before Skulduggery gets back.”
“I do not know where Quidnunc is,” Nye said. “But I do know one thing that could possibly lead you to him.”
“Did you tell this one thing to Abyssinia?”
“I did.”
“So we’d be playing catch-up.”
“Yes.”
Valkyrie considered her options, of which there were none. “OK,” she said. “Deal.”
“First, you must release me.”
“I don’t trust you enough to release you, Doctor.”
“Then you had better make a decision before the Skeleton Detective gets here, Miss Cain. Time is ticking away.”
Valkyrie almost smiled. She took her hand from Nye’s throat and stepped back as it stood. It turned, looking down at her, as Whisper came up behind it. Her cloak swirled around them both.
“Quidnunc suffers from liquefactive necrosis,” Nye said, and the shadows convulsed and Valkyrie was left alone.
“Huh,” she said.
The doors burst open and Skulduggery stormed in, gun in one hand and fire in the other. “Where are they?” he demanded.
“Gone,” said Valkyrie. “You just missed them.”
Skulduggery stood there for a moment, then shook the flames from his hand and slipped the gun back under his jacket. “That’s annoying,” he said. “Are you OK?”
She shrugged. “Grand. Quidnunc has, um, liquid active necrosis.”
“Do you mean liquefactive necrosis?”
“Let’s say that I do. What is it?”
“A form of organic rot that Mevolent had weaponised during the war.”
“That the same thing Tesseract had? So Quidnunc wears a mask, like him?”
“Perhaps,” Skulduggery said. “In any case, he will need the same serums that kept Tesseract alive, and those serums are hard to come by. If we find who makes them, we’ll find Quidnunc.”
“Cool. Although Nye told Abyssinia, y’know, about the liquid factor thing.”
“Liquefactive necrosis.”
“He told her about that, too.”
“Then we have no time to waste,” Skulduggery said, stalking to the door. He spun round. “Unless you’re hungry. Are you hungry? You haven’t eaten since noon.”
“I’m pretty hungry, yeah.”
“Then we’ll stop for pizza,” Skulduggery said, and marched out.
4 (#ulink_ad36f640-fb38-5a43-b712-05c24838dc80)
Education, Omen Darkly mused as he examined the test he’d just got back, may not have been the area in which he was destined to excel.
While Corrival Academy was indeed a school for sorcerers, that didn’t mean all the lessons were about throwing fireballs or shooting streams of energy out of your hands/eyes/mouth – although there was a fair bit of that stuff.
Mostly it was sitting at desks, reading textbooks and scribbling answers – pretty much the same experience Omen had had when he’d gone to a mortal school, back in Galway. A lot of the time, in fact, things at Corrival were worse. Because there were more subjects to cover – Omen not only had to study history and science, but also mortal history and mortal science – the school day was longer. PE wasn’t just about combat training and self-defence, as tough as those things could be – it was also about picking a sport and playing it, magic not allowed. Students were taught to be the best sorcerer they could be, but they were also taught how to live, behave and thrive in the mortal world. Which meant more work, more tests, and more opportunities to fall short.
Omen folded the test paper, hiding the big red E from view. It wasn’t that big a deal. It had been a difficult test – everyone said so, even the smarter kids. What chance did he have, really, when even the smarter kids were finding it tricky? Sure, they still technically passed, as did just about everyone else in his class, but he wasn’t a big believer in grades anyway. He preferred to get his education out there, on the streets. Where it mattered.
Omen chewed his lip. That said, his parents were probably going to kill him if they found out.
He stuffed the test paper down into his bag. That was one of the good things about Corrival being a boarding school, he supposed – less exposure to disapproving parental figures. Of course, there was a pretty fair chance that they wouldn’t actually care about a failed test. Omen had, quite by accident, cultivated a relationship with his folks that depended entirely on their low expectations. He sidled along in the background of their lives while their focus was on his twin brother, Auger – the subject of an actual prophecy, destined to face the King of the Darklands in a battle to save the world. In order to aid him in this battle, Auger had been born strong, fast and smart – not to mention naturally talented, extremely hard-working, courageous, decent, resourceful, charming, funny, tall and good-looking. Because being good-looking was obviously a vital quality in any self-respecting Chosen One.
Omen had missed out on being the Chosen One by virtue of being born second, so he didn’t possess any of Auger’s attributes. What he did have, however, was a plucky demeanour and a never-say-die attitude – but he didn’t really have them, either.
Life was one bitter disappointment after another. Sure, there had been glimmers of hope along the way. His best friend was pretty cool, for a start, and seven months ago he’d helped Skulduggery Pleasant and Valkyrie Cain stop an ancient evil from being reborn. Well, sort of.
No, he had helped. He had been right there, sharing in the adventure. He’d come away with the bruises to prove it. The problem was that the ancient evil hadn’t actually been stopped. Abyssinia, after all, had succeeded in coming back to life. Taking this into account, he supposed that meant he had helped Skulduggery and Valkyrie fail in their mission. Which may have explained why they hadn’t called on him since.
What made things worse was that word of his involvement hadn’t spread through the school like he’d expected. A few people knew a little of what happened, but it was as if his fellow students couldn’t be bothered to spread cool rumours about him. There were no whispers in the corridor as he passed, no wide-eyed stares, no clusters of girls giggling whenever he smiled. After a brief spell as an adventurer, he was returning to being that insignificant little speck of a boy he’d always been.
Unless he did something about it.
His stomach in knots, Omen went over what he was going to say once more in his head. He’d practised this conversation again and again, planning for all possible contingencies. A part of him wondered about the grade he would have got in the test if he’d devoted as much time to it as he had to rehearsing how he’d ask out Axelia Lukt, but he easily swatted such thoughts from his mind. He had more important things to worry about.
Axelia sat in the common room, chatting and laughing with her friends. She was so nice, so smart, so pretty, and she had the loveliest accent and the happiest laugh Omen had ever heard. He could have listened to her laugh all day, as weird as that would have been.
Omen stood up, took a deep breath, and walked over.
He bumped into October Klein and mumbled an apology, turned round and went back to his corner.
He took another deep breath, and another. And another. He went light-headed, and collapsed back into his chair.
When he felt certain he wasn’t going to faint or fall over, he got back to his feet. Focusing on breathing normally, he made his way across the common room without bumping into anyone, and was about to open his mouth when a firm hand gripped his elbow and steered him away.
“Hey,” said Auger, all smiles today. “How’d you get on in the test?”
“Um,” said Omen.
Auger nodded and then, in that casual tone he always used when he was hiding something, said, “That’s cool, that’s cool. Hey, have you seen Mahala around?”
“I saw her right before breakfast,” said Omen. “Everything all right?”
Auger’s voice dipped. “Yeah, yeah, just, when you saw her, did you notice anything different about her? Anything unusual?”
“Like what?”
Auger shrugged. “Like was she acting any different? Was she talking any different? Did she have glowing green eyes? Did she appear confused …?”
“It’s funny,” said Omen, “out of everything you just said, it was the glowing green eyes thing that stood out.”
“She’s, kind of, slightly possessed right now,” Auger said. “If you see her again, let me know. Stay away from her, but let me know.”
“You need any help? I could help.”
“No, really, it’s fine. I’ve got Kase. We’ll sort it out. If it gets too much for us, though, I promise I’ll give you the nod.”
“Sure,” said Omen. “That sounds good.”
“Anyway, sorry for interrupting. You looked like you were talking with Axelia.” He steered Omen back, depositing him in front of the most beautiful girl in the school and her friends.
“Hey, girls,” he said.
“Hi, Auger,” they chorused.
Auger nodded to Omen, and walked quickly away, and Omen froze.
Axelia looked at him and smiled. “Hi, Omen.”
“Hi,” he said. His mouth was suddenly so ridiculously dry. “Could I talk to you for a moment?” he managed to say. “Maybe go for a short walk?”
Axelia’s friends widened their eyes, like Omen had just dumped a dead bird at their feet, but Axelia had the grace to keep her smile.
“Sure,” she said.
Omen smiled back and they walked out of the room side by side. This was good. She hadn’t yet said the word no, and neither had she laughed at him. If he could keep that going, he was in with a chance.
“What do you think of all those refugees?” she asked as they walked.
“Yeah,” Omen said. “Aw, it’s really … It really makes you think, doesn’t it? Like, who … who are they?”
“Um, we know who they are.”
“Well, yes, but what I’m asking is … uh …”
“You haven’t heard about them, have you?”
“I’m not really sure what you’re talking about, no.”
Her beautiful blue eyes widened a little in surprise. “You didn’t hear about the portal that opened up yesterday, right outside the city walls? It’s literally just over the west wall, Omen. It’s been on the Network all day. It’s all anyone is talking about.”
“A portal to where?”
“To the dimension where Mevolent still rules.”
“Seriously?”
“How have you missed this?”
“I really don’t know.”
“We spent all of last class talking about it. You were there.”
“I was daydreaming. And there are people coming through?”
“Thousands of them, all mortals.”
“Do we know why?”
“They’re slaves over there. Wouldn’t you want to get away from that if you could? I mean, it’s Mevolent.”
Omen nodded. “He’s pretty bad, all right. Do you think he’ll come after them?”
Axelia hugged herself. “I don’t want to think about that. We got rid of our Mevolent – we shouldn’t have to deal with someone else’s. Anyway, that’s all I know. You really should start paying attention in class, Omen. Especially after the result you got in the test.”
“You, um, you know about that?”
“I sit behind you. I saw your mark. Sorry.”
“But I’m not the only one who failed, right? Like, there were a few of us. That was a hard test.”
“Was it?”
“Not for you, maybe, because you’re really smart and stuff. But for us ordinary people it was hard.”
“I’m not that smart.”
