Bedlam. Derek Landy
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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