heard.”
“Then you know what’s at stake.”
“If you need a Teleporter, go to the High Sanctuary.”
“I don’t trust them.”
“I don’t trust you.”
“Do you trust me, Never?” asked Omen. She looked at him and he saw the anger in her eyes. “I don’t know what it’s like to lose a brother. If I lost Auger, I don’t know what I’d do. So I don’t know what you’ve been through, or what you’re going through now. But this isn’t about Valkyrie. This is about saving people. If the anti-Sanctuary succeed here, they’ll be one step closer to war with the mortals.”
“You want me to help her?”
“I want you to help me help her.”
“So you’re going, even if I don’t?”
“If Valkyrie will let me … yes.”
“You can come,” Valkyrie said, “and help me search. But, if anything goes wrong, you’re out of there. No arguments.”
Omen nodded, and looked at Never.
“Fine,” she said. “I’ll come. But only because she’ll probably get you killed without me.”
“Do you know San Francisco?” Valkyrie asked.
“Mr Renn has taken us to all the major American cities,” she said. “I’ve been there before so I can get there again.”
“We’ll leave in ten minutes, if you want to change out of your uniforms.”
Never shrugged, and walked out. When the door was swinging closed again, Omen spoke.
“She’s a really good person,” he said. “She’s just angry.”
Valkyrie gave a sad smile. “Thanks, Omen, but you don’t have to explain. She’s entitled to how she feels. Go on now, grab a change of clothes and I’ll meet you back here.”
Omen nodded, and left the room. He hurried to the dorms, got changed into jeans and a hoody, then swapped that for a shirt and pulled on a heavy jacket, and ran back.
He didn’t get far before Jenan stepped out ahead of him.
“Where are you skipping off to?” he said, stepping closer.
Omen backed off. “Just … Just down there.”
“Just down there? What’s just down there? Eh? Why are you out of uniform? Where are you going, Darkly?”
Omen stopped backing away, and puffed his chest out. “None of your business, Ispolin.”
Jenan charged, got a hand round Omen’s throat and slammed him back against the wall.
“Get off me!” Omen gasped, trying to pull the hand away.
“I know it was you,” Jenan said, right in his ear. Omen stopped struggling. “I should kill you. I really should. I don’t know, I haven’t killed anyone before. The idea … it’s kinda scary. I’m just being honest with you here, Darkly. It’s a big step to take. But I think killing you would be easier than killing someone that matters. I mean, I doubt your folks would even notice. Your brother would be sad, so that’s another reason to do it, to ruin the big shot’s day. Killing you would be easy. How would you feel about that? How would you feel about being my first?”
Omen tried to bury his fear. “They’re using you. Lilt and Lethe and the others. They’re using all of you. They’re telling you that you’re special and they’re making you feel like you belong, but they’re lying to you.”
“This is weird,” Jenan said, his voice soft, almost dreamlike. “It feels … freeing. I’ve made the decision, you know? I’m going to kill someone. I’m going to kill you. I’ve been waiting my whole life to get to this point. I have, I don’t mind saying, fantasised about what comes next. I have imagined so many scenarios, so many situations, so many faces … But, since the first time I met you, I think I’ve known it would be you. I think I always knew it’d be your face. I just want to thank you. I’m sorry I was so mean to you. I’m sorry I picked on you. I shouldn’t have done it. It was wrong, and I’m sorry.”
Both hands now, wrapped round Omen’s throat. Squeezing.
“I should have tried being friends with you,” Jenan whispered. Tears were in his eyes. “Thank you for doing this. Thank you for being the one.”
Omen couldn’t breathe. Jenan’s grip was too strong.
“I love you for doing this, Omen. Thank you.”
And then, just as the darkness was crowding in on Omen, there was space between them, and Jenan was being pulled backwards, a look of utter astonishment on his face.
“One of you had better tell me what’s going on here,” Miss Wicked said. “Omen, are you all right? Can you talk?”
Omen sucked in air and did his best to stay standing. It felt like someone was still strangling him.
Miss Wicked turned to Jenan. “This is it, Mr Ispolin. I don’t care who your father is or how many strings he pulls, I will personally see to it that you are expelled from Corrival Academy.”
But Jenan wasn’t listening to her. Omen could tell. His eyes were clouded with disbelief. “How could you do that?” he asked. “How could you stop me?”
“Report to the Principal’s Office immediately,” Miss Wicked said.
“How could you stop me?” he shouted, and his fist cracked into Miss Wicked’s cheek, sending her back a step.
From the look on his face, Jenan had expected her to go down, but after that single step Miss Wicked didn’t even sway on her high heels. Jenan stepped in and swung again.
Miss Wicked barely moved and Jenan flew past her. Omen jumped clear as he spun. Jenan’s next punch was redirected, his arm twisted, his face slammed into the wall. He lashed out and she guided him to the floor quite firmly. He landed and bounced slightly, the air knocked out of him.
“Omen, report to the nurse,” Miss Wicked said, hauling Jenan to his feet. “Your throat looks like it will bruise.”
“I’m OK,” Omen said, his voice a whisper.
“The nurse, Omen,” Miss Wicked said. “Now.”
She didn’t wait to see if he headed off in the right direction, she just twisted Jenan’s wrist and he howled, and she led him away.
Omen doubted he’d ever seen anything as cool.
“My
