Bedlam. Derek Landy

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      Tanith got on her motorbike and rode away, and Valkyrie locked up the house and went to bed, Xena curled up on the floor beside her.

      She woke almost two hours later to Xena barking madly at two people stumbling through the bedroom.

      Valkyrie sprang out of bed, hands crackling with energy. Her bedroom was not her bedroom. Her bedroom was a town, at night. Cars were on fire. Bodies lay on the streets. Gunshots and screams in the distance. The stumbling figures were the Darkly brothers.

      She shook the magic from her hands, and knelt beside the dog. “It’s OK,” she said. “It’s not real. It’s OK.”

      Xena stopped barking but kept growling.

      The brothers changed direction and the town shifted around Valkyrie, keeping them in view. The effect was dizzying.

      She’d seen this before – it was part of a vision of the future she’d had multiple times – but never like this, never focusing on just this one event. Something was different about it. It felt … more real. It felt more urgent.

      She knew why. It was closer. It was going to happen, and it was going to happen soon.

      Auger was bleeding badly. Omen dragged him on. The people in the helmets and black body armour came after them, guns up, swarming across the road. Professional. Relentless.

      They opened fire. Three bullets struck Omen and he went straight down without even crying out, and Auger turned to help him and another burst of bullets sent him spinning.

      “Stop,” Valkyrie snarled. “Stop.”

      The vision slowed, and then froze.

      Valkyrie stood.

      This was new. She’d never done this before. She’d never even considered that she could do this.

      Xena came forward, too, sniffing at Omen, confused when she detected nothing but empty space.

      Valkyrie moved towards the people with the guns, but they were beyond the walls of the bedroom, and, as much as she tried to shift the vision to bring them closer, it wouldn’t budge. She doubted she’d be able to glean anything new from them anyway. They wore no badges, no patches, no identifying markings. The only thing she knew about them was that they were well armed and that they killed teenagers.

      The vision flickered. It was breaking down, and giving her a headache while it did so. Grimacing against the pain, she looked around for a clue as to where she was, where this was happening. Was going to happen.

      There was a car parked by the side of the road just beyond the wall behind her bed. The vision flickered again.

      She just had time to glimpse the licence plate before the vision washed away, leaving her pressed against the wall.

      Oregon.

      Omen Darkly was going to die in America.