Bedlam. Derek Landy
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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.”
“But that’s if you can find Caisson,” Militsa countered. “Unless I’m very much mistaken, Coldheart Prison is still flying about somewhere and none of you lot even know where to look.”
“Finding hijacked prisons is not my job.”
The door opened and a man came into the café. Militsa had her back to the door, but her eyes widened and she sat up straighter.
“Death,” she whispered.
Valkyrie reached forward, patting her hand. “It’s OK,” she said. “There’s no danger. It’s just a vampire.”
The vampire walked over. Dark-haired, with delicate features, and a thin scar running down one side of his face. He stopped beside their table. His tone was quiet. “Please forgive the intrusion.”
“It’s been a while,” Valkyrie said. “Militsa, this is Dusk. He’s tried to kill me a few times, and he bit me once. I didn’t turn into a vampire, though. Obviously. We’re cool now, though. I think. Aren’t we cool?”
“We are,” Dusk said, “cool.”
Militsa smiled up at him. “Hello.”
“Hello,” said Dusk. “Valkyrie, even though we are … cool … I feel I must apologise for my past behaviour.”
“You’re here to say sorry?”
“No,” said Dusk, “but I am making amends for my mistakes, and I take my opportunities when I can.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Valkyrie said. “I mean, who hasn’t tried to kill me, really?”
A tight smile. “That may indeed be the case, but when we first met I was undergoing a process for which we vampires don’t have a name.”
“Oooh,” Militsa said, and then blushed.
Dusk looked uncomfortable, and Valkyrie frowned. “What? What is it?”
“I’ve … I’ve heard of this,” Militsa said. She winced at Dusk. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologise to him,” said Valkyrie. “He tried to kill me, remember?”
Militsa leaned forward and kept her voice low. “For roughly three or four weeks every year, a vampire’s human side will become dominant. It’s, uh, something they don’t like to talk about.”
“In polite society,” said Dusk.
Valkyrie folded her arms. “So your human side was dominant when we first met? Then why were you so intent on murdering me?”
Dusk hesitated to answer. Instead, he looked at Militsa.
She cleared her throat. “Vampires are rather cold creatures, both physically and … emotionally. If Mr Dusk was intent on murdering you, like you say, then that was probably due more to his human side than his vampire side.”
“Seriously?” Valkyrie said. “The worst thing about a vampire is his humanity?”
“I’m afraid so,” said Dusk.
“Wow,” Valkyrie said. “That’s depressing for pretty much all of the human race.”
“I was wondering if I could have a word with you,” said Dusk. “In private, if you don’t mind. It will not take long, I assure you.”
Militsa stood. “I have to pee,” she announced, and walked away.
Valkyrie motioned to the chair, and Dusk sat. “What’s on your mind?” she asked.
“A gentleman came to see me,” he said. “He said his name was Caisson.”
Valkyrie sat up straighter. “You’re working with Abyssinia?”
“No,” Dusk answered. “I stay out of human affairs as much as possible. The Supreme Mage uses me and my fellow vampires when she needs us, but by and large she – and, by extension, the City Guards – leaves our district alone. I like this arrangement. I do not wish to see it change.”
“Then why did Caisson go to see you?”
“He came to see me because he heard of