Omen raised his hand to volunteer, and Mr Peccant chose someone else. Omen put his hand down. He’d known the answer. It wasn’t often that a teacher asked a question in class that Omen knew the answer to, so he liked to seize the chance whenever it cropped up. But teachers, like life, had a habit of passing him by.
October Klein gave the wrong answer, which turned out to be the right answer, and Omen was glad now that he hadn’t been picked, but still felt aggrieved nonetheless.
He sank lower in his chair, and deeper into despondency. Never had been right. Omen had been waiting for Skulduggery and Valkyrie to call him to adventure, and of course they were never going to do that. The last time was a fluke. They’d needed someone inconspicuous to spy on a group of students. That was a very specific set of circumstances, unlikely to ever be repeated.
Omen had to face it – he’d had his adventure. It had been terrifying and exhilarating and brilliant and terrifying, and then it had ended. Skulduggery and Valkyrie and Auger were bottomless cups into which adventure could be poured and they would never fill up. Omen’s cup had already spilled over, and as usual he was left with a soggy mess and a widening puddle.
He turned to Never, a few seats away, and mouthed the words: You were right.
Never frowned back at him, and mouthed: What?
You were right.
I was white?
You were right.
About what?
What you said.
What did I say?
About me wasting my time, waiting to be called on another adventure.
Never stared. What?
The stuff we were talking about last week.
Use shorter sentences, muppet.
You were right.
I got that much.
About me.
Yes.
Wasting my time.
Please hurry up.
Waiting for adventure.
You’re waiting for a denture?
Adventure.
A denture?
Adventure.
I was right about you waiting for adventure?
Yes.
Never frowned. I know.
Oh.
That’s why I said it.
I just wanted you to know that I agree with you.
What?
I agree with you.
So?
I wanted you to know that.
Is that all?
Yes.
Can we stop doing this now?
OK.
Never nodded, and went back to paying attention to whatever Peccant was saying while Omen thought a little more about what he’d been thinking about. When he’d finished, he tried to catch up with the rest of the class, but they were all scribbling furiously.
“Mr Darkly,” Peccant said.
Omen looked up. “Yes, sir?”
“You look confused.”
“No, sir.”
“You’re not confused?”
“No, sir.”
“So that’s just your face, then, is it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“That’s good to know,” Peccant said, and went back to whatever it was he was doing.
Omen managed to not get in trouble until the bell rang for the end of school. He went to talk to Never, but she turned a corner and vanished, leaving him alone in the crowd.
He saw Mahala approaching and he shrank back, barged into some First Years, finally stumbled to the bench along the wall. He sat, watching her pass, digging for his phone to call Auger – but then his brother appeared. Mahala didn’t attack him. Come to that, her eyes weren’t glowing green. Omen watched them talk, very intently, and then Auger nodded, smiled grimly, and watched Mahala hurry away.
If that had been Omen standing there, the crowd would have thrown him about like a leaf in a stream. But the stream parted for Auger.
Auger saw him and raised a hand in greeting, then came over, sat beside him on the bench.
“I see you’ve got Mahala back,” Omen said.
“Yes,” said Auger, and a moment passed and he nodded. “Yes.”
“Um … how’s she doing?”
“She’s good. She’s doing OK. Back to normal, at least. She’s blaming herself for everything she did when she was possessed, but I think that’s only natural.”
“And the thing that was possessing her? Did you banish it back to the hell it came from, like you’d planned?”
Auger hesitated. “Not quite.”
“Oh?”
“We got the spirit out of Mahala, which was great, but then it went into Kase. So now Kase is possessed and he’s, like, extra-angry. So if you see him, and his eyes start glowing … just run. OK? Just get the hell out of there.”
“I’ll do that.”
“I’ll take care of it, you know? I just need a little time to come up with a new plan.”
“Any help I can give …”
“I know, dude. Thanks.” He shook himself out of his sombre mood. “So, hey, who’s this mortal girl you’ve been showing around the school?”
Omen sighed. “Of course you heard about that. Her name’s Aurnia.”
“Do you like her?”
“She’s very nice.”
“You gonna see her again?”
“I don’t know. Hopefully. I mean, it can’t go anywhere, I know that.”
“Why not?”
“Are you kidding?” Omen asked, and laughed. “Can you imagine what’d happen if Mum and Dad heard about it?”
“So what if they freak out? Don’t listen to them, dude. She’s still a person, right? You’re allowed to like her.”
“I don’t think I am, though. When you fall in love with a Necromancer girl or you start to date a mermaid, they pretend not to notice, but if I tried to go out with a mortal girl from another dimension they’d be terrified that it’d tarnish the Darkly name.”
“Hey,” Auger said, holding up a finger. “I never dated the mermaid. We just … hung out.”
“I always meant to ask you about that, actually.”
“Ah,” Auger said with a shrug, “don’t.”
Omen laughed. “You know something? I can’t wait for you to face the King of the Darklands, because can you imagine what they’ll be like once you beat him and the prophecy is complete? All those centuries of waiting and expectation will be over, and they’ll no longer be the parents of the Chosen One. They’ll just be normal sorcerers again. I can’t wait to see their faces when they realise that.”
Auger nodded, but Omen noticed that the smile was gone. He softened his tone.
“Um, what are you going to do afterwards?” he asked.
“After I face the King?” Auger said. “Assuming I survive?”
“You will survive,” said Omen, frowning. “You have to. They don’t make prophecies about people who fail – they make them about heroes. Heroes who win.”
“I’ve been thinking about this more and more,” said Auger, looking around. “You know, I’m kind of invincible right now. I’m invincible for the next three years, until I’m seventeen and I go up against the King. Until then, nothing much can stop me. It doesn’t mean that I’m not careful. I can still be hurt. I can still be injured. And hell, I can still be killed, because, as everyone knows, no prophecy is guaranteed. But in general, as long as I’m smart, I’m invincible.”
“That must be pretty cool.”
“It is. Mostly. But I’ve been wondering … what happens after? If I defeat the King of the Darklands, I’ll emerge alive, yes – but I’ll have lost that invincibility. Suddenly I can trip and fall off a cliff, or get hit by a bus, or get sick or something. Suddenly anything can kill me.”
“You’ll still have the talents you were born with,” said Omen. “You’ll still be faster and stronger and smarter than most people.”
“But none of that has kept me going,” Auger replied. “The one thing that has propelled me through all of these crazy adventures I’ve had is the confidence that I’ll survive them. That’s my secret. It’s not power or ability, it’s just … I dunno. Pure belief in myself. That’s who I am. It kinda defines me.”
“I would love that.”
“I know you would, dude. Sometimes I wonder what you’d be like if you had even a tenth of my confidence. That’s what holds you back, you know.”
Omen waved his hand. “We’re not talking about me right now. So you think that once the prophecy has been fulfilled and the King is defeated, you’ll, what … lose yourself?”
“Maybe, yeah.”
“I’ve never thought about it like that.”
“See, I know who I am right now. I’ve always known who I am, why I’m here, what I’m meant for … But I don’t know who I’ll be once it’s over.”
“Who do you want to be?”
Auger looked up suddenly. “What?”
Omen blinked. “Did I … did I say something wrong?”
“No,” Auger said, staring at him. “It’s just … I don’t think anyone’s ever asked me that before.” His phone beeped, and he looked at it and sighed. “The call to action,” he said, and stood. “Good talking to you, bro.”
“Be careful.”
He grinned. “Invincible, remember?”
Auger hurried away, and the moment he was out of sight Omen’s phone rang. The screen lit up with Valkyrie’s name, and he jumped to his feet.
“Hello?” he said, his mouth dry.
“Omen,” Valkyrie said, “hey.”
“Hi,” said Omen. “Hi, how are you? What’s up? Is anything wrong?”
He heard her hesitate. “Would you happen to be doing anything right now?”
“Nope,” Omen said immediately. “Nothing.”
“Are you busy for the next, maybe, two hours? Three at the most?”
A teacher walked by and Omen turned away, keeping his head down and talking quietly. “I’m free. I’m ready. What do you need?”
“I need your help, to be honest. I’m a bit stuck.”
He froze. “Oh, God. You’re trapped?”
“No, no, nothing like that. How are you with kids?”
Omen frowned. “Like … fighting them?”
“What? No, Omen. Minding them. I need a babysitter. You in?”
He sagged.
“Omen?”
The call to action. “I’m in,” he said.