Bedlam
Valkyrie laughed. “Not really.”
“So is this it? The full switch, girls-only from now on?”
“Ah, I still like boys, too.”
“You played that close to the chest, didn’t you? I’m usually good at picking up on things like this, but you’ve surprised me.”
Valkyrie shrugged. “You meet the right person at the right time, and you discover brand-new things about yourself. I was a little surprised, too, to be honest, but there you go.”
“Have you told your folks?”
Valkyrie hesitated.
Tanith smiled. “Yeah, that tends to be the hard part. Coming out to other sorcerers isn’t a big deal – we’re all at it. But those limited life spans mean that mortals tend to be a little more conservative. Some of them.”
“They’re going to be cool about it,” Valkyrie said.
“Of course they are.”
“But I’m still nervous.”
“Course you are.”
“How about you?” Valkyrie asked, sitting back. “Boys? Girls? Both?”
“Neither,” said Tanith. “Been too busy for distractions.”
“Is that why you’re back in Ireland?”
Tanith sipped her tea, then put the cup on the saucer and the saucer on the coffee table. “Yeah.”
“Are you in trouble?”
“When am I not?”
“Anything I can do to help?”
Tanith shook her head. “I got myself into this, Val. I’m going to get myself out.”
“How brave,” said Valkyrie. “How noble. How dumb. If I can help, let me help. You have friends.”
“I know I do,” Tanith said, her voice quiet. She let a few seconds go by before speaking again. “Have you heard of Black Sand?”
“Sure,” Valkyrie said. “The terrorist group in Africa.”
Tanith did not appreciate that. “They’re not terrorists, Val. You can’t believe everything the Sanctuaries tell you. They’re a resistance group.”
“And what are they resisting?”
“OK,” Tanith said, shifting slightly, “China wants control of the African and Australian Sanctuaries, right? I mean, that’s fairly obvious.”
“Of course,” said Valkyrie. “She already controls one Cradle of Magic – she’d love to control all three.”
“But she’s not actually doing anything about it, is she? She would like control – but she’s not trying to take control. That would be like declaring war on your allies, and she’s not going to do that.”
“Right.”
“Except she is.”
“Tanith—”
“Just listen. I could get you proof, but this isn’t your fight. I need you to understand why I’m doing what I’m doing. She can’t just take them over, as much as she’d love to, so she’s being sneaky about it. As far as I can tell, she’s focusing on the three African Sanctuaries first. She’s got spies and double agents working in a, quite frankly, bewildering array of schemes designed to usurp the Council of Elders, and replace them with her own people. Then they’ll bow to China as their Supreme Mage, and she can focus her attention on Australia.”
“And Black Sand …?”
“Black Sand are resisting,” Tanith said. “They’re targeting her schemes and disrupting them wherever they can.”
“And you’re involved with them, aren’t you?”
“They needed fighters and I …”
“You needed somewhere to go,” Valkyrie finished.
Tanith looked away. “I was lost,” she said. “With what happened to Ghastly, and Billy-Ray … I couldn’t stick around, you know? I was looking for a fight, and they offered me one.
“But, a few months ago, Sanctuary forces rounded up a load of friends and families of Black Sand members. Innocent people, Val.”
Valkyrie frowned. “They would have been interrogated by Sensitives,” she said. “They can’t be that innocent.”
“They knew what was happening, but they had no part in it. And now the Sanctuaries – who have no idea we’re doing all this for them, to keep them independent – have decided to make an example out of them by sentencing them to thirty years in prison. Each.”
“So you’re here to convince China to release them?”
“No,” said Tanith, “that’d never work, and she wouldn’t be interested anyway. I’m here to offer up the Black Sand leader in exchange for the people they’ve imprisoned.”
“The Black Sand leader,” Valkyrie repeated.
“Yes.”
Valkyrie closed her eyes. “Tanith, please tell me you’re not the Black Sand leader.”
“I can’t exactly do that, Val.”
Valkyrie groaned. She put her cup on the coffee table and leaned forward. “They’ll throw you in prison. Not one of the good ones, either. Ironpoint, maybe, or Coldheart, if it was under Sanctuary control.”
“I know.”
“The other convicts will kill you,” Valkyrie said. “You won’t last a week.”
“Oh, ye of little faith,” Tanith said with an unconvincing smile. “I give myself two, easy.”
“Let me talk to China. Me and Skulduggery. We’ll sort it out.”
“You won’t be able to,” Tanith said. “This is bigger than your friendship with her, Val. You know her. I know her. From her point of view, she’ll have no choice but to be seen as ruthless, and lock me away in the worst prison she has. The fact that she hates me and I hate her will have nothing to do with it. She’s set herself on this course, just like I have.”
Valkyrie blinked. “But … OK, wait, so why are you here? I mean, what’s the plan?”
“I told you the plan.”
“No, you told me the stupid plan where you go to prison. I mean the good plan where all this is taken care of and you stay out of prison.”
“That plan doesn’t exist.”
“Not yet it doesn’t, but that’s because you’ve just come to me about it. I’ll come up with a good plan. Skulduggery will … well, he’ll watch as I come up with a good plan.”
“Skulduggery’s not very good with plans,” Tanith agreed.
“Don’t do this yet,” said Valkyrie. “Promise me that, OK? Give me a little time to think of something.”
“Val, I appreciate the offer, but there’s really nothing you can do.”
“Give me time.”
“Innocent people are in jail cells as we speak.”
“A few more days isn’t going to matter,” Valkyrie said. “It’ll give them time to maybe work out in the yard or something. Start a diet. Make new friends. Don’t rush into this.”
“No one’s rushing, believe me.”
Valkyrie clutched Tanith’s hand. “Help us.”
“Help you what?”
“Help us with this thing,” she said. “This Abyssinia thing. We need all the help we can get. There are bad guys all over the place – more of them than there are of us. Help us with this, and then if your thing hasn’t been sorted or we don’t at least have a good plan, then you can continue with your stupid one.”
“Val …”
“Give me a chance to help you. Please.”
Tanith sighed, and Valkyrie grinned.
Tanith got on her motorbike and rode away, and Valkyrie locked up the house and went to bed, Xena curled up on the floor beside her.
She woke almost two hours later to Xena barking madly at two people stumbling through the bedroom.
Valkyrie sprang out of bed, hands crackling with energy. Her bedroom was not her bedroom. Her bedroom was a town, at night. Cars were on fire. Bodies lay on the streets. Gunshots and screams in the distance. The stumbling figures were the Darkly brothers.
She shook the magic from her hands, and knelt beside the dog. “It’s OK,” she said. “It’s not real. It’s OK.”
Xena stopped barking but kept growling.
The brothers changed direction and the town shifted around Valkyrie, keeping them in view. The effect was dizzying.
She’d seen this before – it was part of a vision of the future she’d had multiple times – but never like this, never focusing on just this one event. Something was different about it. It felt … more real. It felt more urgent.
She knew why. It was closer. It was going to happen, and it was going to happen soon.
Auger was bleeding badly. Omen dragged him on. The people in the helmets and black body armour came after them, guns up, swarming across the road. Professional. Relentless.
They opened fire. Three bullets struck Omen and he went straight down without even crying out, and Auger turned to help him and another burst of bullets sent him spinning.
“Stop,” Valkyrie snarled. “Stop.”
The vision slowed, and then froze.
Valkyrie stood.
This was new. She’d never done this before. She’d never even considered that she could do this.
Xena came forward, too, sniffing at Omen, confused when she detected nothing but empty space.
Valkyrie moved towards the people with the guns, but they were beyond the walls of the bedroom, and, as much as she tried to shift the vision to bring them closer, it wouldn’t budge. She doubted she’d be able to glean anything new from them anyway. They wore no badges, no patches, no identifying markings. The only thing she knew about them was that they were well armed and that they killed teenagers.
The vision flickered. It was breaking down, and giving her a headache while it did so. Grimacing against the pain, she looked around for a clue as to where she was, where this was happening. Was going to happen.
There was a car parked by the side of the road just beyond the wall behind her bed. The vision flickered again.
She just had time to glimpse the licence plate before the vision washed away, leaving her pressed against the wall.
Oregon.
Omen Darkly was going to die in America.
Lunchtime. Omen finished eating, grabbed his bottle of rock shandy and went looking for someone to talk to. Mr Peccant passed and scowled for no reason other than scowling at Omen was what he did. Omen was pretty sure it was becoming Peccant’s favourite hobby.
He found Never on one of the benches in the second-floor corridor, talking to Grey Keller. They laughed, and Grey got up and made another joke, then laughed again as he walked away.
Omen sauntered over, took Grey’s place on the bench and wiggled his eyebrows.
Never frowned at him. “What’s your face doing? It’s weird and I don’t like it.”
“My face is asking you a question,” said Omen. “It’s asking, is there anything going on that I should be aware of?”
“And my answer is, undoubtedly,” Never said. “Like, a serious amount is going on that you should be aware of. Schoolwork is only the beginning of it.”
“I mean about Grey.”
“What about Grey?”
“You and Grey.”
“Oh,” said Never, taking a drink from his bottle of water. “Naw. Grey is lovely and everything, and undeniably cute, but he isn’t interested in me.”
“You want me to talk to him?”
Never looked horrified. “About me? Great googly moogly, no. Why would you even suggest that?”
“I have a few classes with him. We chat occasionally. I could tell him how cool you are.”
“First of all, he knows how cool I am. Everyone knows how cool I am. Look at me. Second, he’s not interested in me because, from what I can tell, he’s not interested in anyone. Being interested in people is just not his thing.”
“Huh,” said Omen. “I wonder what that’s like.”
Never grunted. “I’m sure it has its problems, the same as everything else. Speaking of everything else, any movement in your love life?”
“Not really,” Omen admitted. “I met Aurnia’s boyfriend yesterday.”
“Aurnia …” Never said, squinting. He clicked his fingers. “Mortal girl from Mevolent’s dimension! Got it! Yes, and how was her boyfriend?”
“Large,” said Omen, “and I’m pretty sure he wanted to fight me.”
“Well, he did just meet you, so I can understand the impulse.”
“Oh, cheers for that.”
Never grinned. “Did you puff out your chest and square up to him?”
“No,” Omen said, frowning. “Was I supposed to?”
“Not really. Good boy, Omen. I’m proud of you.”
“I’m not sure what for, but OK.”
A Fifth Year girl whose name Omen didn’t know walked by. She smiled at Never. Never winked back.
Omen frowned. “Is that something I should be aware of?”
“We’re just friends,” Never said casually.
“That was a flirty look she gave you.”
“How would you know?”
“I’ve seen them in movies,” Omen replied, a little defensively.
“You are surprisingly well versed in romantic comedies,” said Never. “But we’re just friends, really. It might lead to something more, or it might not. Whatever.”
Omen sagged. “You’re so lucky.”
“I know,” said Never. “But remind me – how, exactly?”
“You’re bisexual. I wish I was bisexual.”
Never laughed. “Feeling cheated, are we?”
“Well, yeah. I mean, it’s like I’m cutting off half my potential love interests without even thinking about it. If I liked boys as much as I liked girls, I’d at least have the chance to … to … Well, to be turned down by more people. But that’s not the point.”
“I wouldn’t worry about it, Omen. Most sorcerers eventually turn bi because they grow tired of viewing relationships from a traditional, mortal perspective. They gradually allow themselves to be free – the key word being gradually. It just takes a little time.”
“But what if I’m not bi?” Omen asked, keeping his voice low. “What if I’m one of those sorcerers who’s, like, straight or gay their entire lives?”
Never patted his shoulder. “It won’t be so bad. I’ll still invite you to parties.”
“You promise?”
“Omen, I’m going to be having so many parties you won’t know what to do with yourself, and I want you there, standing in the background, maybe handing out canapés. The dream.”
“The dream,” Omen said, and they tapped their bottles together just as the bell rang.
“Aw, crap,” Omen muttered.
“You just remembered what class we have now, didn’t you?”
Omen grumbled in reply, and got up and trudged after Never. They made it to their seats just as Miss Wicked walked in.
Omen liked Miss Wicked. She was scary, but in a good way. Or at least a mostly good way. But this latest module was not proving to be a strong point for him.
The class went quiet before the door had even closed behind her. She went to her desk, turned on her heels and watched them.
Madcap Fenton, a self-proclaimed class clown, stood, a confused expression on his face, and walked to the front of the class and started to write on the board. Omen glanced at Never, then at Auger. They both looked as mystified as Omen felt.
Madcap wrote TELEPATHY and then returned to his seat.
Omen, and everyone else, stared at him. After a moment, Madcap blinked and said, “Whoa.”
Miss Wicked flicked her wrist, and her telescopic pointer shot out to full length. The tip, covered with a tiny rubber ball, quivered mere centimetres from Diana Whist’s eye. Miss Wicked swept her arm back, and tapped the board.
“Telepathy,” she said. “The transmission of information from one person to another via psychic link. This can take the form of images or words or simple feelings – or all three at the same time. Entire conversations can be held and distance is no obstacle. Minds can be read. Secrets can be unlocked. Control can be taken.”
She whipped the pointer away from the board, and levelled it at Madcap. “Why did you write this word?”
“I … I don’t know,” he answered.
“You wrote it because I told you to,” Miss Wicked said. “I entered your mind and I gave you an instruction.”
October Klein’s hand went up, somewhat tentatively. “Excuse me, miss? Isn’t that, like, not allowed?”
Miss Wicked looked at her.
October swallowed, but managed to continue. “Aren’t you supposed to, kind of, ask a student’s permission? Before you enter their mind?”
“You gave me your permission when we began this module,” Miss Wicked said, “or at least your guardians did. Did none of you read the form you took home for them to sign? No one? You disappoint me, class. I thought you were strong, independent individuals. It appears I was mistaken.”
October frowned. “My parents had no right to give permission for something like that.”
“Indeed, they didn’t,” said Miss Wicked. “But they did it anyway, didn’t they? Because until you grow up, take responsibility for yourselves and everything that comes with it – including, but not limited to, reading the small print – then other people are going to continue to make your decisions for you. In this case, they granted me permission to enter your minds for the purposes of this module. Which means I can read your thoughts from the moment you step into this room, and I can do so without warning. So, and I mean this quite sincerely, clean up your thoughts, everyone.”
A blush wave passed over the class, and hit Omen particularly hard. Even Auger took to just staring at his desk.
“We’ll touch on other aspects that a fully rounded Sensitive would need in later modules,” Miss Wicked continued. “You’ll be given the chance to try out telekinesis, pyrokinesis and astral projection. But telepathy is where we begin because telepathy is where the real power lies. Apart from communication, apart from reading somebody’s thoughts and controlling their minds, you can alter an enemy’s memory, take possession of their body, and change their very personality.” She smiled. “What’s throwing a little ball of energy compared to something like that?” She whacked the pointer against her desk. “Pair up. This next hour is going to be interesting.”
Around the corner from Decapitation Row, tucked under an arch, was a charming little café with cakes in the window. It had a bell above the door that tinkled when Valkyrie entered. The place only had five tables, and only one of them was occupied, right at the very back.
Militsa stood as Valkyrie walked over.
“Hey, you,” Valkyrie said, kissing her. “Am I late?”
“Not at all,” Militsa answered.
“Really?”
“Of course you’re late. You’re always late. But that’s all right.”
They sat, and Valkyrie looked around. “I’ve never been here before. Is it good?”
“I have no idea.”
“Hello there,” the waiter said, appearing at their table. He smiled as he handed them the menus. “The soup of the day is leek and potato. Could I get you some drinks to start?”
“I’ll have a glass of still water,” Militsa said.
“Me too,” said Valkyrie.
The waiter smiled again. “Absolutely. Coming right up.”
He gave a little bow, which transformed into a turn, and then he swept away. A little dramatic for a café in the early afternoon, but fair enough.
“How did your meeting with Temper go?” Militsa asked.
“We haven’t had it yet,” Valkyrie said.
“Oh, I thought it was this morning. Any idea what it’s about?”
“None at all. He was being cagey, though.” She shrugged. “I’ll find out soon enough.”
“And then you’re heading off to America?”
Valkyrie nodded. “We shouldn’t be too long. We just have to find this Oberon Guile guy and work out if he’s got anything to do with that missing White House aide. Just a normal day at work, all in all.” She gave Militsa a smile.
Militsa tucked a strand of red hair behind her ear. “Something’s up.”
Valkyrie frowned at her. “How can you tell?”
“You just have that look about you. So what’s on your mind, pretty lady?”
Valkyrie sighed. “Ah, I don’t know. Everything? I’ve got so much going on that it’s hard to keep it all straight.”
“Then tell me what’s uppermost in your mind.”
“Well, I suppose, right now, that would be Omen and Auger. I’m worried about them.”
Militsa leaned forward slightly. “Is this the vision again?”
“I had another one last night. It’s about to happen.”
“Any idea when?”
“Soon. Weeks. Maybe days. Omen’s going to be shot and killed. Auger’s going to be shot. I don’t know what happens after that.”
“Any other details?”
“It happens in America.”
Militsa frowned. “OK, then we make sure they don’t go to America in the next few weeks and boom, lives saved.”
“I don’t think it’s that easy.”
“Of course it is,” Militsa said. “You know better than anyone how much future timelines can change because of the slightest alteration. Actively stopping them from leaving the country? That entire timeline will probably be rewritten just like that.” She clicked her fingers.
“Maybe,” said Valkyrie.
The waiter came back, produced the bottle of water with a flourish, and filled their glasses. “Have you decided what you’d like to order?” he asked.
Valkyrie snatched up the menu. “Oh, sorry, let’s see …”
“Take your time,” said the waiter. “Take all the time you need.”
“How are the wings here?” Militsa asked.
The waiter shrugged. “Fine.”
Militsa smiled. “You don’t sound overly enthused.”
He sighed. “They’re grand. Order them if you want.”
Valkyrie raised an eyebrow.
“OK,” Militsa said slowly. “Then I’ll have the wings, I suppose.”
The waiter made a note.
Valkyrie closed the menu and handed it back to him. “And I’ll have the chicken.”
“What a wonderful choice,” he responded, smiling broadly. He bowed, backed away, turned and disappeared into the kitchen.
“I think he fancies you,” Militsa said.
“Oh, then that’s a wonderful way to impress me, by being rude to my girlfriend.”
“I do like it when you call me that.”
“I know,” Valkyrie said, giving her a smile before getting back to the subject. “So what are the Darkly boys getting up to these days?”
“You don’t know?”
“I haven’t spoken to Omen in weeks.”
“You really should, you know,” said Militsa. This is when the teacher in her came out – when she used that disapproving tone. “He’s such a nice lad, and it’s not really fair that you only check in on him when you’ve wrapped him up in whatever might get him killed next.”
“I don’t only talk to him then,” Valkyrie answered, a little defensively. “I just … I don’t have a reason to talk to him at any other time.”
“Friendliness isn’t a reason?”
“We’re not exactly friends, though, are we? He’s fourteen.”
“Fifteen.”
“When did he turn fifteen?”
“New Year’s Day.”
Valkyrie winced. “You think I should send him a birthday card?”
“Almost two months late? Probably not. And you don’t have to be friends in order to be friendly.”
Valkyrie sighed. “Yeah … maybe. So are you going to tell me how they’ve been?”
“Omen’s struggling with classwork because he doesn’t put in the effort, as per usual, and he’s also trying to figure out what he wants to do with his life. And Auger … Auger’s the Chosen One. He’s off doing Chosen One things, having adventures, risking his life, fighting bad guys …”
“How does the school allow that stuff to keep happening?”
Militsa shrugged. “What choice do we have? Besides, everyone – and I mean the school and his own parents – sees this as a vital part of Auger’s training and development. This is all building up to that momentous day when he’ll have to confront the King of the Darklands.”
“Don’t worry,” said Valkyrie, “we’re keeping an eye out for anything to do with Abyssinia and, if Caisson does graduate from Prince of the Darklands to King, we’ll step in.”
“And do what?”
“And do something incredibly drastic and foolhardy that will alter the future so Auger won’t have to confront anyone.”