Skulduggery Pleasant: Books 10 - 12. Derek Landy

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      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 СКАЧАТЬ