9

      Skulduggery and Valkyrie watched as Omen Darkly, his schoolbag slung over his shoulder, failed utterly to take his leave with anything resembling dignity. He tried two locked doors before finding the one that led off the balcony and into the tower. He waved, blushing madly, and disappeared.

      “Interesting boy,” Skulduggery said. “Not what I would call especially impressive, but an interesting boy, nonetheless.”

      “I don’t know about this,” Valkyrie said. She was getting cold. “He’s a kid, Skulduggery. We shouldn’t be involving him in this stuff.”

      “Perhaps,” Skulduggery said, “but he did make a valid point. I involved you in ‘this stuff’ when you were even younger.”

      “That’s different.”

      “How so?”

      “That was me,” she said. “I could handle it.”

      “I think Omen will surprise you.”

      “He forgot which door he literally just came through.”

      “So it’ll be an even bigger surprise.”

      She peered over the railing, down on to an empty courtyard. “He’s not going to get the chance, though, is he? He keeps an eye out for this recruiter person and that’s it, he goes home.”

      “This is a boarding school.”

      “You know what I mean.”

      “That’s all we’ll need him to do, yes. But there’s a stubbornness in his eyes that I’ve really only seen once before.”

      “I was never stubborn,” Valkyrie said, climbing over the railing. “I just happened to be right.”

      She let go and plummeted. The South Tower was six storeys high and she was halfway to the hard ground before the air began to slow her descent. Skulduggery drifted down beside her, wrapping his arm around her waist.

      “I do wish you’d tell me before you jump,” he said, “especially if you aren’t even going to attempt to use your powers.”

      “I can’t fly,” she reminded him.

      “You’ve flown before.”

      “I’ve hovered.”

      “Hovering is the first step to flying,” he said as they touched down gently in the empty courtyard. He released her. “That’s what I tell people who ask for tips.”

      “Do many ask?”

      “More and more,” he said. “Apparently, there’s been a resurgence in people choosing Elemental magic as their discipline, all because they want to learn to soar above the clouds.”

      The wind had messed up her hair, so she tied it back into a ponytail. “Even though none of their Elemental teachers can fly? This doesn’t suggest to them that maybe flying is harder to master than it would appear?”

      “They don’t care,” Skulduggery said. “They just want to emulate their heroes.”

      “You mean you.”

      “As the only Elemental who can actually fly, yes, I mean me. Don’t you miss it?”

      “Flying? The only times I’ve properly flown, Darquesse had taken over. The memory’s a little tainted.”

      “I suppose,” he said, then took his pocket watch from his waistcoat and glanced at it. “There’s someone I need to talk to before we leave. Will I meet you back at the car?”

      “Ah,” she said, “I kinda want to explore a little, see what’s what.”

      “Oh. OK. And you’re sure you don’t want to head back to the car and wait for me there?”

      “You’re worried that my dog will have peed on your seats, aren’t you?”

      “The thought has occurred to me.”

      “Xena will still be asleep, believe me, and she doesn’t pee in cars. You go talk to whoever you have to talk to, I’ll have a walk around and I’ll meet you out front in, what, twenty minutes?”

      They split up, and she passed through the nearest door, found herself in a corridor just as the bell rang and students swarmed out, filling the spaces and jostling Valkyrie as they squeezed by. She sighed with irritation, kept her elbows down and didn’t hit anyone. After another few seconds, the crowd started to thin and she could walk without tripping over anyone.

      Four kids with green ties stood in a group ahead of her. They started whispering. Valkyrie kept her head down and her eyes on the floor as she passed them. Out of the corner of her eye she saw them glance her way, and when they were behind her the whispering picked up again.

      Valkyrie turned to face them. “What?” she snapped. “What is it that’s so fascinating about me? What?”

      The kids froze. They actually looked scared. One of them snapped out of it, hurried away, and the others quickly followed. Valkyrie glared at them until they had disappeared round the corner. Then she started to feel stupid for overreacting.

      She turned again, just as a young woman dressed all in black strode up to her with an arm outstretched.

      “Hello!” the young woman said, and Valkyrie was shaking her hand before she knew what was happening. “It’s very good to meet you! I’ve heard so much about you, naturally, but it’s so good to finally meet you in the flesh!”

      She was Scottish, had long red hair, a few freckles and the brightest smile Valkyrie had seen in a long time.

      “You’ll have to forgive the students,” the woman said, lowering her voice slightly. “It’s not often they meet someone famous.”

      Valkyrie took her hand back. Gently. “I’m not famous.”

      “Ah, well, infamous, then.”

      Valkyrie took a moment to work it out, then she sagged. “Oh, right. Darquesse.”

      “They’ve seen all the pictures,” the redhead said, “all the videos. And there are plenty of videos of Darquesse tearing the place up. They don’t mean anything by staring, really they don’t.”

      “It’s fine,” Valkyrie replied. “Amazingly, I kind of forgot that people would associate me with her, even though we shared the same face. Just another thing to feel bad about, I suppose.”

      “Mmm,” said the redhead, because she obviously couldn’t think of a way to salvage this topic of conversation. Then she brightened again. “I’m Militsa Gnosis. I teach Magic Theory.”

      “You’re a Necromancer?”

      “Guilty as charged,” Militsa said, and then suddenly stopped smiling. “Which is probably not the best phrase to use when most of your Order plotted to kill billions of people. If it makes any difference, though, I didn’t know anything about the Passage or what the Clerics were planning.”

      “So you’re a good Necromancer?”

      “Yes,” Militsa said, beaming once again. “I was going to store my magic in a ring like you did, but I didn’t want you to think I was copying you, even though I so would have been, so I keep it in this instead.” She pulled