Skulduggery Pleasant. Derek Landy

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      Never brushed a strand of hair away from her eyes. “Naw, I don’t think so. He can stomp around his own dimension as much as he wants because there’s no one there to oppose him. But here, we have a whole world that’d fight back.”

      “Yeah,” said Omen. “Maybe. But you know the way all the wildlife – all the deer and rabbits and squirrels and stuff – run out of the forest when there’s a wildfire? What if it’s like that? What if the mortals are just trying to get away from what’s following along behind?”

      “You’re worrying over nothing,” said Never. “We don’t know what things are like over there now. All we have are the reports Skulduggery Pleasant and Valkyrie Cain made after they got back, and that was, what, eight years ago? Besides, we already killed our own Mevolent. If the other one shows up, we’ll just do the same to him.”

      “How, exactly? No one knows who or what killed our Mevolent.”

      “Skulduggery killed him,” Never said, shrugging. “Everyone knows that. Just because it’s not in our textbooks …”

      “If Skulduggery killed him, he’d talk about it,” said Omen. “He talks about everything else.”

      Never sighed. “Because you know him so well?”

      “I don’t claim to know him well. I’m just saying that he wasn’t the one to kill Mevolent.”

      “It doesn’t make any difference. If we get invaded, we’ll still send them packing. They have magic, but we have magic and technology.”

      “So do they.”

      “But we have nukes.”

      “Seriously? You’d nuke them?”

      “Of course. Wouldn’t you?”

      “I don’t know. It’s a bit … drastic, isn’t it?”

      “War is a drastic thing,” said Never. “Ooh, that should be on a bumper sticker.”

      “I think I’d keep the nuclear bombs as a last resort,” said Omen. “We have the Sceptre of the Ancients, don’t we? Skulduggery and Valkyrie stole it from Mevolent’s dimension, too, so using it to push back his army would be … uh …”

      “The word you’re looking for is ironic.”

      “Is it? OK. It’d be ironic.”

      “That’s a good plan, Omen. Ignoring the fact that no one’s been able to even find the Sceptre since Devastation Day, that’s a wonderful plan.”

      “Well, like, we have other God-Killer weapons. One little nick from the sword and even Mevolent drops dead.”

      “The sword’s broken.”

      “Then the spear,” Omen said irritably, “or the bow or the dagger, whatever, it’s the … What?”

      “Nothing. I’m just quite impressed that you could name all four God-Killers.”

      “Really? Three-year-olds can name the God-Killers.”

      “Yeah, but they’re three, Omen.”

      Omen nodded. “Because infants are smarter than me. Yep, I get it. That’s funny.”

      Never grinned. “Feeling overly sensitive today, are we? I wouldn’t blame you. Tell you what, I won’t tease you again until you really, truly deserve it, I promise. Come on, tell me more about how you’d beat Mevolent.”

      “No.”

      Never laughed. “Oh, please? I was really enjoying that conversation.”

      “Tough.”

      “So you’d use the God-Killers on him, and …?”

      Omen shrugged, looked away, happened to glance at the door just as Miss Wicked walked in. Tall, blonde and terrifying, he watched her look around, and immediately glanced away when her eyes fell upon him.

      “Oh, God,” he said.

      “What’s wrong?” Never asked.

      “Miss Wicked caught me looking at her.”

      “She’s coming over.”

      “Is she?”

      “Coming straight for you.”

      “Are you joking? Please tell me you’re joking.”

      “Omen,” Miss Wicked said, and Omen yelped and swivelled in his seat.

      “Hello, miss,” he said. “I mean, hi. I mean … yes?”

      She looked down at him. “Omen, you have been summoned.”

      He blinked. “I have?”

      “Tomorrow morning,” she said, “ten o’clock, in the headmaster’s office.”

      He paled. “But … tomorrow is Saturday.”

      “It is.”

      “But there’s no school on a Saturday.”

      “The school is still open at weekends, Omen.”

      “But there aren’t any classes …”

      “Correct. Which means I shouldn’t be coming in. And yet I am.”

      “Is … is this because of the test?”

      “Why would I be coming in if this was because of a test? No, Omen, this is not about a test. Grand Mage Ispolin, of the Bulgarian Sanctuary, is visiting Corrival Academy and he has requested that both of us be present when he arrives.”

      “Jenan’s dad? Why would he want me to be there?”

      “Jenan has yet to return home. I’m sure the Grand Mage wants to discuss the events that led to his son running away.”

      “Am … am I in trouble?”

      “I really don’t know, Omen.”

      “Are you in trouble?”

      “Grand Mage Ispolin is probably going to try to have me fired.”

      “But why? You didn’t do anything wrong!”

      “Your vote of confidence will go a long way, I’m sure. Ten o’clock, Omen. Don’t be late. I have no truck with tardiness.”

      She walked away.

      This, Omen thought, was not at all the call to adventure he had been hoping for.

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