Читать книгу Skulduggery Pleasant: Books 10 - 12 - Derek Landy - Страница 35

Omen woke up, and tried to remember his dream.

He could never remember his dreams. They swam immediately out of reach upon surfacing. The glimpses he could snatch came back to him at odd times throughout the day, nonsensical images and feelings of déjà vu. His dreams weren’t like Auger’s. Auger dreamed of bad people doing bad things. Sometimes his dreams had actually come true. Sometimes he could decipher them, adding this piece to that piece, forming a picture, a crazy jigsaw of future events. Vivid dreams, Omen supposed, were just another part of being the Chosen One, while vague nonsense and logical dead ends were part of being the Chosen One’s brother.

The morning light was pale, and lit up the small dorm room without enthusiasm. Outside it was cold. There was a wind, and it pushed at the window – not enough to rattle the pane, but enough to make it flex with a broken rhythm, like a weak heartbeat.

In the bed along the far wall, Gerontius still slept, and in the one nearest the door, Morven snored, the sheets twisted around his lanky body like they’d attacked him during the night. Omen couldn’t call either boy a friend, but they were nice enough to him, and he felt obliged to keep out of their way as much as possible. Moving quietly, he got out of bed, tried and failed to find his slippers, and padded out into the hall, the floor cold on his bare feet.

He used the toilet and went to the window, not really expecting to see anything, but his eyes widened when he saw the red ribbon tied around the drainpipe across the way. Suddenly he wasn’t sleepy any more. Wishing now that he’d bothered to find his slippers, and really wishing he’d put his dressing gown on over his pyjamas, Omen hurried to the end of the boys’ block. The door, as promised, had been left unlocked. He sneaked through, hid from Mr Stymie as he passed, the old man muttering to himself like he was asking a question and expecting an answer, and carried on. Finally, he came to another door and knocked once and entered.

Skulduggery Pleasant sat in the store cupboard on an elegant chair he’d undoubtedly taken from somewhere else. He looked up from what he was reading, a file of some sort, and folded it over before slipping it into his jacket.

“I’m here,” Omen whispered.

“So I see,” Skulduggery said, speaking at a normal volume. “Nice pyjamas.”

“Thank you.”

“I was joking.”

“Oh.”

“They’re terrible.”

“I like the colour.”

“It clashes with itself.” Skulduggery was wearing a black three-piece suit with a black shirt and tie. His cufflinks were silver. His shoes were polished. It was all so cool. “How are you, Omen? Are you well?”

“I’m fine,” said Omen. “Did you check out Mr Lilt?”

“We did,” Skulduggery said.

“I’ve done a little more snooping,” Omen said. “I spied on them, on Mr Lilt and the study group. I think Mr Lilt is going to kill Byron.”

“Who’s Byron?”

“One of the Arcanum’s Scholars. Byron Grace. He’s all right, actually. He’s not that bad.”

“Is he part of the group that wants to kill all mortals?”

“Yes,” Omen admitted, “but I don’t think his heart’s really in it. Mr Lilt was saying he’ll probably have to kill him. Mr Lilt, that is, killing Byron. Anyway, I was thinking maybe you could take Byron into protective custody? Maybe he’s got information we could use. Do we do protective custody, or is that a mortal thing?”

“We do it,” said Skulduggery, “but I doubt we’ll have to. Parthenios Lilt has been arrested.”

Omen blinked. “Because of me?”

A nod. “Directly because of you, Omen. I passed on your suspicions to the City Guard and they wasted no time in kicking down his door. They do so love to kick down doors. Lilt’s involvement opened up a fresh list of suspects, and I have a very strong feeling that we’ll put a stop to whatever the anti-Sanctuary is planning because of it. We owe you a huge debt of gratitude.”

Omen blushed. “It was nothing. I mean, I just … I just kept my eyes open, like you asked.”

“What you did was very brave. Never forget that.” Skulduggery stood up.

“Are you OK?” Omen asked him.

Skulduggery tilted his head. “Excuse me?”

“I heard you were hurt.”

“Ah. Yes, I was, but I’m OK now. It’s a dangerous business.”

Omen smiled. “I’ll try to remember that. So what do I do now?”

“I don’t know,” said Skulduggery. “Go to breakfast, I’d imagine.”

“I mean about the mission.”

“I have good news about that, actually. Your mission is over.”

Omen’s smile faded. “It is?”

“Now you can go back to being normal,” Skulduggery said. “Study. Do your homework. Do what you’re told. All the things that normal people like doing.”

“Normal people don’t like any of that.”

“They don’t?”

“No. Nobody likes doing what they’re told.”

Skulduggery took a moment to process the information. “Then why do they do it?”

“I don’t … I don’t know. Maybe they don’t know what else to do.”

“Huh. Interesting.”

“Are you being serious, about the mission being over?” Omen asked. “Because I really think I can be more useful. I have one of their masks, the kind the Scholars wear, and I’m thinking I can get into the room where they hold their meetings.”

Skulduggery slipped his gloved hands into his pockets. “Omen, you’re a good lad. There’s a reason we came to you.”

“Yeah,” Omen said, “because I’m invisible. Because nobody notices me.”

“There is that, obviously, but also because of who you are. You’re one of the good guys, Omen. You’re one of us. We knew we could trust you, and you’ve proven us right. But if I can get hurt, and I’m sure you know how wonderful I am, then anyone can get hurt. These people, the anti-Sanctuary, these Arcanum’s Scholars – they’re dangerous. They’re too dangerous to underestimate. I can’t risk you because I don’t have the right to risk you.”

“You risked Valkyrie’s life when she was two years younger than me.”

Skulduggery nodded. “And it’s very hard to argue with that logic, especially when the reason is ‘it just felt right’. But it just felt right, Omen. I knew she could handle herself. I knew she’d make it through. I can’t explain it, I just knew. But even she, even Valkyrie, has been damaged by this. Damaged by me dragging her into it all. She does her very best not to show it, but I know her too well to be fooled.”

“But if you’re so damaging to her, why didn’t you just leave her alone?”

“Because we’re caught in a loop, Valkyrie and I. A very destructive loop. And I’m sorry, but I’m just not going to damage another good person. Not if I can help it.”

Skulduggery moved past him, reached for the door handle.

“But I’m nobody,” Omen said, and he was surprised to find his eyes blurring with tears. “I don’t have anything. There’s no purpose to me.”

Skulduggery looked back. “There’s a purpose to all of us.”

“Not to me, and I should know. When you grow up with the Chosen One, all you hear about is destiny, and purpose, and becoming who you were always meant to be. Nobody ever said any of those things to me. Nobody ever asked me what my purpose was, because they knew, they all knew, that I didn’t have one. I’m the leftovers.”

Skulduggery turned to him slowly. “You don’t honestly believe that, do you?”

“Yes,” said Omen. “I mean, what else do I have to believe?”

“If you can’t believe in yourself, then believe in me. Because I believe in you.” Skulduggery held his hand out, and Omen hesitated, then shook it. “Thank you for your help, Omen. We couldn’t have come this far without you.”

And then he was gone, and Omen was left alone in the cupboard in his stupid pyjamas and his cold, bare feet.