Читать книгу Skulduggery Pleasant: Books 10 - 12 - Derek Landy - Страница 39

Omen’s hands were shaking.

This was normal, he supposed, in the aftermath of a near-death experience – that and the chattering teeth were to be expected. He’d had a dose of adrenaline dumped into his system and now what was left of it was sloshing around in his bloodstream, causing all kinds of tics.

Someone had tried to kill him. Someone had actually tried to kill him.

A few younger boys came into the bathroom, chatting and calling each other names. One of them tried Omen’s cubicle. The lock rattled in its bracket and the kid said, “Sorry,” and went into the next one. Omen waited until they were all gone before holding up his hand again.

Yep, still shaking. That was probably going to last a while.

His knee hurt. It throbbed, actually. He must have injured it when he’d slammed into the wall under Peccant’s balcony.

Peccant had saved him. Wow. Peccant, of all people. Of course, Omen had been wearing a mask, so Peccant didn’t know who it was he was saving. If he’d known, he probably wouldn’t have bothered.

But that raised a question. Did the others know? Did Jenan, or any of the Arcanum’s Scholars, figure out who he was in the short few seconds he’d been in their sights? Probably not. No, definitely not. All they had to go on was hair colour, height and the fact that he was a Third Year. Omen was suddenly grateful that the school had a uniform and that he hadn’t been born a redhead. He figured redheads would have a harder time getting away with stuff.

He was safe. He was pretty sure he was safe. Now all he had to do was act natural. Jenan and his friends would be on the lookout for someone behaving suspiciously around them. He could act normally. He’d been doing it all his life. The knack wasn’t about to abandon him now.

Omen left the bathroom. He glimpsed Jenan passing in the corridor ahead and he forgot how to walk properly. He frowned as he wobbled. One foot in front of the other, right? Wasn’t that it? He leaned on the wall for support, then kind of slid sideways to the floor.

“What are you doing?” Chocolate asked, walking by.

“Resting,” he answered, like it was perfectly normal.

“You’re weird,” said Chocolate, and left him there.

He had to tell someone. Skulduggery and Valkyrie – they were the obvious choice. They were the only ones who’d understand, after all, and probably the only ones who’d actually believe him. But, of course, it was Skulduggery who’d fired him, precisely to prevent something like this from happening. He wondered if Skulduggery would be mad. Probably, he decided.

But if not those two then who? Auger? It’d definitely be the smart move … but then everything would change. Omen could see just how it’d happen. Auger would make sure Omen was safe and then he’d talk to Skulduggery and then they’d all go and take care of it together, and Omen would become the insignificant brother again. He couldn’t go back to that. Not yet. This was his first taste of something different, of something more. He wasn’t ready to give that up.

“Get off the floor, Omen,” said Miss Ether as she passed.

“Yes, miss,” Omen said, and got up slowly. His legs didn’t buckle. That was promising.

The bell rang, signalling the end of break time and the start of the next class – a class that’d have half the Scholars in it, Jenan included. This would be Omen’s first real test. He just needed to be normal. He just needed to blend in.

It’s what he was good at, after all.

Omen sat with his eyes closed, his legs folded under him and his hands resting on his knees.

“Breathe,” said Miss Gnosis. “In through the nose, out through the mouth.”

Omen breathed. He was pretty good at breathing. Certainly as good as anyone else in the room. Top marks for breathing.

“Let your body relax,” Miss Gnosis said in that Scottish accent Omen loved so much. “Listen to my voice. My voice is the only voice. My words are the only words. Let them fill you, like water fills a jug. Let them fill you like magic. Magic is like water, is it not? It ebbs and it flows. It nourishes. It destroys. It is all things.”

Omen could hear his classmates around him. One of them made a whistling noise when they breathed in. It was faintly distracting, but Omen did his best to push it from his mind. He was actually getting relaxed now. The adrenaline was gone from his system. His teeth no longer chattered. His hands no longer trembled.

Miss Gnosis continued to talk. “It doesn’t matter what discipline you decide upon, if you choose Adept or stay Elemental – because magic relies on the same muscles. We draw from the Source and we give back to the Source. You can feel it, can’t you? All around us?”

The whistling was getting louder. How come nobody else was getting annoyed by it?

“We’re not magic’s masters,” said Miss Gnosis, “any more than a windmill is master of the wind. But the windmill allows the wind to push it, to move it, to power it. The wind? The wind is indifferent to the windmill, because the wind is something vast and unknowable. The same with magic.”

Now Omen was confused. Was magic water or wind?

“It comes to us from the Source and it seeps into our universe,” Miss Gnosis said. “How much of our reality has been defined by magic? How much mortal technology is dependent on the energies it produces?”

Omen cracked one eye open. It was Gall. Gall and his musical nostrils preventing Omen from finding his centre or whatever it was he was supposed to be finding. He frowned. Was it his centre he was looking for? Was it something else? Had he missed it? He probably hadn’t been paying attention. He was always doing that.

“Once we respect magic,” Miss Gnosis was saying, her own eyes closed, “truly respect it and everything it can do … only then can we possibly hope to direct it, however briefly, to our own ends.”

Omen looked around. Everyone had their eyes shut. They had weird looks on their faces, like they were close to inner peace. He wondered if they were, or if they were just faking it.

“The Surge that you will experience in four or five years’ time – maybe six, maybe three – that’s just the beginning of your journey to becoming a true sorcerer.” Miss Gnosis smiled gently, though only Omen could see. “You have wonders ahead of you, experiences you have not yet even imagined. But first comes work, and preparation and, most of all, patience. I’m going to count backwards from ten now. The closer I get to one, the more alert you will feel, until you open your eyes and you’re fully awake and ready to take on the rest of the day.”

She started counting down, and Omen yawned. He swivelled his head as he did so, and found Jenan Ispolin staring straight at him.

Omen snapped his head back round and squeezed his eyes shut, very possibly the worst, most suspicious thing he could do under the circumstances. He wondered if Jenan was still looking at him. He cracked an eye open, turned slightly.

Yep, still looking. This was not good.

Miss Gnosis reached one, and everyone else opened their eyes and started getting to their feet. Omen’s left foot had pins and needles that took him by surprise as he stood. He stumbled but Never caught him, steadied him. He shot him a look of thanks and Never sighed and rolled his eyes.

“We all live hectic lives,” Miss Gnosis said. “Some of you live more hectic lives than others.” At this, everyone chuckled and glanced at Auger, who looked around innocently. “Take a moment out of every day to close your eyes and just … feel. Experience what it is to be you. Experience the moment. Experience happiness. That’s where true magic lies.”

She clapped her hands gently, signalling the end of class.

Omen tried engaging Never in conversation, but he was already heading out of the door. Out of the corner of his eye, Omen saw Jenan coming for him, fists clenched by his sides. Omen tried smiling. It didn’t work.

And then Auger stepped between them.

“Hey, Jenan,” he said, and Jenan froze, uncertainty flickering across his features.

“Hi,” Jenan responded, like it was a trick question.

“Have you decided?” Auger asked. “What discipline are you going to specialise in? Do you know?”

“Uh …”

“I’m thinking Energy Thrower,” Auger said. “Ergokinesis, I mean. I do like exploding things. Or maybe Enhancement, maybe try to be the next Mr Bliss. What about you? Or Omen, how about you?”

“I … don’t know,” said Omen. “Maybe a … a Signum Linguist? I’ve always liked the languages.”

Auger looked genuinely surprised. “Really? You?”

“They’re pretty cool,” Omen said defensively. “You can do anything if you master them, like the Supreme Mage.”

“Well, yeah,” said Auger, “but it probably took her decades to even get the basics down.” Auger thought about it some more as Omen started to go red, and then he shrugged. “Although, to be honest, if anyone could do it, Omen, it’d be you. You’ve always been able to focus, you know? Better than I ever could.”

Omen tried not to look astonished as Auger turned back to Jenan. “What about you?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” Jenan said gruffly. “Ergokinetic, maybe. I don’t know. I’ve got a lot of options. My father says I’m gifted.”

Auger nodded. “And he should know, right? As a Grand Mage and all, he should know.”

“Well, of course,” said Jenan, adopting the tone he always adopted when talking about how important his family was. “If there’s anyone who has the undisputed experience to spot a gifted sorcerer, it’s – excuse me.”

He took out his buzzing phone, and his eyes widened when he read the message.

Auger shot a quick glance at Omen. “Jenan? You OK there, buddy?”

“What?” Jenan mumbled, then blinked and pressed his phone into his chest, protecting the screen. “Yes. I’m fine. I have to go.”

He walked quickly out, barging into Omen without even meaning to. Now the room was empty save for the Darkly boys.

“What was that about?” Auger asked, keeping his voice low.

“Don’t know,” said Omen. “Did you see who it was from?”

Auger frowned. “Who what was from? I’m talking about Jenan coming over like he was about to rip your head off.”

“Oh,” said Omen. “I’m not sure. He doesn’t really like me.”

“I know that,” said Auger. “Everyone knows that. But any particular reason he’d want to rip your head off today?”

“It’s a Wednesday?”

“Actually, it’s Thursday.”

“Aw, man,” said Omen, grabbing his bag. “I’m missing maths again. I have to go.”

Auger laughed and waved him away, but, instead of turning right to go to maths class, Omen turned left, following Jenan as he hurried towards the dorms.

He managed to stay unseen – largely because Jenan seemed far too preoccupied to check behind him. He watched Jenan go into his room and sneaked towards the door as voices were raised inside. There was movement and Omen flattened himself against the wall, eyes wide, mouth open, nowhere to hide, as Jenan shoved his room-mate out into the corridor.

“I’m sick!” his room-mate complained, clad in his pyjamas. “The nurse told me to stay in bed!”

“I need privacy,” Jenan snapped, pushing him further away as Omen slid along the wall behind him, and slipped into the room. It was bigger than his own, even though it only had two beds. Omen dived to the floor, crawled under the first bed and waited.

Jenan ignored his room-mate’s curses and walked back in, slamming the door after him. Omen held his breath as he watched Jenan’s feet pace up and down. He heard the tapping of a phone, and, a moment later, someone teleported into the room. Omen peered at stylish shoes.

“Mr Nero,” said Jenan. He sounded nervous. Scared. This made Omen happy. “Good to … good to see you again.”

“Name’s just Nero. No mister attached.” The Teleporter sounded impatient. Angry, even. “Did anyone notice you sneak off?”

“No. No chance. What, um, what’s up?”

A slight silence followed, and Omen risked a peek and saw Jenan blush. He could only imagine the withering look Nero must have been giving him.

“What’s up?” Nero echoed, starting to walk around the room. “I’ll tell you what’s up. You let a spy into our little meeting, Jenan. Those stupid gold masks of yours could end up costing us everything.”

Jenan’s voice was suddenly thick, like he desperately needed a glass of water. “They were Mr Lilt’s idea.”

“Well then, Lilt’s an idiot, and you’re an idiot for going along with it. You need to understand something very simple here. First Wave is only valuable to us if nobody knows about it. Do you get that? Do you?”

“I get it.”

“Because I don’t think you do.”

“I do,” Jenan insisted. “I get it. Secrecy is—”

“Everything, Jenan. Secrecy is everything. I’d have thought that you of all people would know this. I’d have thought, out of everyone, that you would be the one person we didn’t have to explain this to. Your father understands the need for secrecy, right?”

“My … my father?”

“He’s Grand Mage of the Bulgarian Sanctuary, isn’t he? Grand Mages have to keep secrets. It’s what they do.”

“Yes,” said Jenan. “Of course.”

“So this little spy,” Nero said, walking over to the bed and turning, “he obviously didn’t go splat when he was supposed to. Have you found out yet who he is?”

Jenan hesitated. “Not yet.”

The feet shifted slightly, and the bed creaked as Nero sat, pinning Omen in place. “I don’t believe this. I’m going to have to go back and tell Lethe that you’re in over your head. Who should take your place, do you think?”

Jenan’s voice squeaked. If that had happened in class to anyone else, Jenan would have mocked them mercilessly. “N-no, I can still … I can do it. I can.”

“It doesn’t look like you can. I have to say, Lethe is going to be so disappointed. He wouldn’t shut up about you – can you believe that? Jenan Ispolin is exactly who we need. Jenan Ispolin will change everything.” Nero’s voice was tinged with bitterness. “He’s going to be gutted.”

Jenan did his best to inject some decisiveness into his voice. “We’ll find him,” he said. “The spy. We’ll find him.”

“How?”

“We’ll question them,” Jenan said. “We’ll question them all, every Third Year boy of that height with that hair colour. And I know who we’ll start with.”

“You have a suspect?”

“I do,” Jenan said immediately. “Omen Darkly.”

Nero leaped to his feet, furious. “You let the Chosen One into the goddamn meeting?”

Omen watched Jenan’s feet stumble back. “No, no! That’s Auger! That’s his brother! Omen Darkly’s nobody, I swear to you! Even if he told anyone, they probably wouldn’t believe him!”

“What about the Chosen One?” Nero asked. “Would the Chosen One believe him?”

Jenan swallowed. “Maybe.”

“Jesus …” Nero said. “Of all the people to let in, of all the goddamn people, you let in Auger Darkly’s brother.”

“It mightn’t be him,” Jenan said quickly. “It might be someone else. We’ll find out, though. I’ll interrogate him personally.”

“You’d better, Jenan. A lot of people are depending on you.”

“You have my word. By my family’s crest.”

“And if it turns out that it was this Omen Darkly … and if he has told the Chosen One … you know what you have to do, don’t you?”

There was a hesitation. “Yes. Yes, of course.”

“You kill him,” Nero said. “You kill them both.”

Jenan nodded. “Yes. I swear.”

“We’ll be back in touch, Jenan,” said Nero. “Don’t fail us, you hear me? You really don’t want to fail us.”

Omen didn’t know why he did it. He wasn’t planning on it, that was for certain. It wasn’t something he’d thought about, lying there under that bed. But the moment he realised Nero was about to leave, he reached out a hand, and his fingertip touched the heel of Nero’s stylish shoe, so that when Nero teleported, he took Omen with him.