how about you?”
“I … don’t know,” said Omen. “Maybe a … a Signum Linguist? I’ve always liked the languages.”
Auger looked genuinely surprised. “Really? You?”
“They’re pretty cool,” Omen said defensively. “You can do anything if you master them, like the Supreme Mage.”
“Well, yeah,” said Auger, “but it probably took her decades to even get the basics down.” Auger thought about it some more as Omen started to go red, and then he shrugged. “Although, to be honest, if anyone could do it, Omen, it’d be you. You’ve always been able to focus, you know? Better than I ever could.”
Omen tried not to look astonished as Auger turned back to Jenan. “What about you?”
“I haven’t decided yet,” Jenan said gruffly. “Ergokinetic, maybe. I don’t know. I’ve got a lot of options. My father says I’m gifted.”
Auger nodded. “And he should know, right? As a Grand Mage and all, he should know.”
“Well, of course,” said Jenan, adopting the tone he always adopted when talking about how important his family was. “If there’s anyone who has the undisputed experience to spot a gifted sorcerer, it’s – excuse me.”
He took out his buzzing phone, and his eyes widened when he read the message.
Auger shot a quick glance at Omen. “Jenan? You OK there, buddy?”
“What?” Jenan mumbled, then blinked and pressed his phone into his chest, protecting the screen. “Yes. I’m fine. I have to go.”
He walked quickly out, barging into Omen without even meaning to. Now the room was empty save for the Darkly boys.
“What was that about?” Auger asked, keeping his voice low.
“Don’t know,” said Omen. “Did you see who it was from?”
Auger frowned. “Who what was from? I’m talking about Jenan coming over like he was about to rip your head off.”
“Oh,” said Omen. “I’m not sure. He doesn’t really like me.”
“I know that,” said Auger. “Everyone knows that. But any particular reason he’d want to rip your head off today?”
“It’s a Wednesday?”
“Actually, it’s Thursday.”
“Aw, man,” said Omen, grabbing his bag. “I’m missing maths again. I have to go.”
Auger laughed and waved him away, but, instead of turning right to go to maths class, Omen turned left, following Jenan as he hurried towards the dorms.
He managed to stay unseen – largely because Jenan seemed far too preoccupied to check behind him. He watched Jenan go into his room and sneaked towards the door as voices were raised inside. There was movement and Omen flattened himself against the wall, eyes wide, mouth open, nowhere to hide, as Jenan shoved his room-mate out into the corridor.
“I’m sick!” his room-mate complained, clad in his pyjamas. “The nurse told me to stay in bed!”
“I need privacy,” Jenan snapped, pushing him further away as Omen slid along the wall behind him, and slipped into the room. It was bigger than his own, even though it only had two beds. Omen dived to the floor, crawled under the first bed and waited.
Jenan ignored his room-mate’s curses and walked back in, slamming the door after him. Omen held his breath as he watched Jenan’s feet pace up and down. He heard the tapping of a phone, and, a moment later, someone teleported into the room. Omen peered at stylish shoes.
“Mr Nero,” said Jenan. He sounded nervous. Scared. This made Omen happy. “Good to … good to see you again.”
“Name’s just Nero. No mister attached.” The Teleporter sounded impatient. Angry, even. “Did anyone notice you sneak off?”
“No. No chance. What, um, what’s up?”
A slight silence followed, and Omen risked a peek and saw Jenan blush. He could only imagine the withering look Nero must have been giving him.
“What’s up?” Nero echoed, starting to walk around the room. “I’ll tell you what’s up. You let a spy into our little meeting, Jenan. Those stupid gold masks of yours could end up costing us everything.”
Jenan’s voice was suddenly thick, like he desperately needed a glass of water. “They were Mr Lilt’s idea.”
“Well then, Lilt’s an idiot, and you’re an idiot for going along with it. You need to understand something very simple here. First Wave is only valuable to us if nobody knows about it. Do you get that? Do you?”
“I get it.”
“Because I don’t think you do.”
“I do,” Jenan insisted. “I get it. Secrecy is—”
“Everything, Jenan. Secrecy is everything. I’d have thought that you of all people would know this. I’d have thought, out of everyone, that you would be the one person we didn’t have to explain this to. Your father understands the need for secrecy, right?”
“My … my father?”
“He’s Grand Mage of the Bulgarian Sanctuary, isn’t he? Grand Mages have to keep secrets. It’s what they do.”
“Yes,” said Jenan. “Of course.”
“So this little spy,” Nero said, walking over to the bed and turning, “he obviously didn’t go splat when he was supposed to. Have you found out yet who he is?”
Jenan hesitated. “Not yet.”
The feet shifted slightly, and the bed creaked as Nero sat, pinning Omen in place. “I don’t believe this. I’m going to have to go back and tell Lethe that you’re in over your head. Who should take your place, do you think?”
Jenan’s voice squeaked. If that had happened in class to anyone else, Jenan would have mocked them mercilessly. “N-no, I can still … I can do it. I can.”
“It doesn’t look like you can. I have to say, Lethe is going to be so disappointed. He wouldn’t shut up about you – can you believe that? Jenan Ispolin is exactly who we need. Jenan Ispolin will change everything.” Nero’s voice was tinged with bitterness. “He’s going to be gutted.”
Jenan did his best to inject some decisiveness into his voice. “We’ll find him,” he said. “The spy. We’ll find him.”
“How?”
“We’ll question them,” Jenan said. “We’ll question them all, every Third Year boy of that height with that hair colour. And I know who we’ll start with.”
“You have a suspect?”
“I
