Derek Landy - Midnight

Tantalus didn’t like Sebastian, and he wasn’t shy about letting it show.

Sebastian nodded to Forby. “Tell them what you told me,” he said.

Forby, a small man with fantastic hair, cleared his throat. “Um, OK, so, the portal – the portal that all these Leibniz people are coming through. The mortal portal, I call it.” He laughed. “Anyway, I’m on the team. The investigating team.”

“Congratulations,” said Bennet. “That’s pretty high-profile. It’s good to see you getting recognition in your job.”

“Thank you,” said Forby. “It’s a real boost to my confidence, I have to admit. I’ve been working at the High Sanctuary since it opened; before that I was at the old Sanctuary for eighteen years … I mean, I’ve put in the time, you know? I’ve put in the work. It’s just really nice to have—”

“Tell me we’re not here just to congratulate Forby for doing his job,” Tantalus said.

“We’re not,” Sebastian assured him. “Forby, get to the bit about the box.”

Tantalus frowned. “What box?”

“A device,” said Forby. “I was part of the team that went through the portal to examine it. I’m fairly certain that the device opened the portal.”

Tantalus folded his arms. “So?”

“If I’m right, and I think I am, once we reverse-engineer it, once we figure out how it works, I can use the device to open a portal to wherever Darquesse happens to be, and we won’t even need a Shunter to do it.”

“This is good news,” said Lily, her eyes widening. “This is great news!”

Tantalus held up a hand for silence, and kept his eyes on Forby. “That is good news. I agree. Or it would be, if we knew where Darquesse is. But we don’t, do we?”

“Not yet,” said Forby. He glanced at Sebastian, and Sebastian stepped forward.

“We’ve been talking about this,” he said.

Tantalus scowled again. “Who’s we?”

“Forby and me,” Sebastian said.

“And what exactly have you been discussing?”

Sebastian chose his words carefully. “I don’t know a whole lot about this stuff, but I do know that while it is possible to track energy signatures through dimensions, to go looking for one, even one as powerful as Darquesse’s, would be a waste of time.”

Forby nodded. “That’s true.”

“But then I asked Forby,” Sebastian continued, “if it would be easier to track the Faceless Ones instead, seeing as how there’s a whole race of them.”

Tantalus’s eyes narrowed. “Why would we want to do that?”

“We all know that Darquesse left this reality to find a new challenge. Fighting the Faceless Ones was that challenge.”

“The Plague Doctor posited the idea that Darquesse might very well still be fighting them,” Forby said, “so to find them would be to find her.”

“And apparently, that’s entirely possible.” Sebastian paused. “We just need some Faceless Ones’ blood.”

Tantalus laughed. “Oh, is that all? Well, I’ll nip down to the shops, shall I? Anyone want anything else while I’m picking up a jar of Faceless Ones’ blood? How are we for milk?”

“I know where there’s some blood,” Lily said.

They all looked at her.

“There’s a scythe in the Dark Cathedral,” she said. “I saw it on a tour I took there. They have it sealed off with a bunch of other stuff. The little sign said that it was splattered with the blood of one of the Faceless Ones that came through at Aranmore. Would that do?”

Sebastian looked back at Forby, who shrugged.

“I don’t see why not,” he said.

“So what are you suggesting?” Tantalus asked. “That we break into the Dark Cathedral and steal this scythe right from under their noses? Do you have any idea of the amount of security they have? Do you have any idea what they’ll do to us if they catch us?”

“Probably kill us,” said Lily. “I don’t think I should go.”

“No one’s going!” Tantalus snapped. “The only way this wouldn’t be a suicide mission is if someone knew a secret way in. Do you? Do any of you?”

Beneath his mask, Sebastian smiled, and raised his hand.

Valkyrie woke and lay there, scrabbling for the last threads of a departing dream. It was almost within her grasp – a normal dream, this time – when her thoughts tumbled in, filled her head, sent the dream scattering. She reached for the bottle of water by the bed, found it empty. Her throat was parched.

She got up. It was cold. She pulled on her bathrobe, tied it and hugged herself as she unlocked her bedroom door. The landing was dark. Her fingers trailed across the wall, finding the three light switches. She pressed the middle one. The light came on downstairs. Hugging herself again, she went down, narrowing her eyes against the glare until she was used to it.

She left the light, walked through the gloom to the kitchen. She could see well enough. Xena raised her head when she stepped in, just to check, and then went back to sleep. Valkyrie smiled at her, opened the fridge as quietly as possible, took a bottle of water and turned to go. Abyssinia stood watching her.

Valkyrie yelled in shock and dropped the water, white lightning crackling around her fingertips. Xena leaped up, barking, came running over, ignoring Abyssinia entirely to sniff at Valkyrie’s legs, tail wagging with sudden excitement. Abyssinia looked away, her mouth moving, holding a conversation Valkyrie couldn’t hear with somebody she couldn’t see.

Valkyrie let the energy die. Abyssinia was looking down, not at Valkyrie at all. Valkyrie was seeing her, but she wasn’t seeing Valkyrie. She started to fade. In seconds, she was gone.

Valkyrie slid down to the floor, her back against the fridge. Xena came and sat beside her, then laid her head across Valkyrie’s lap. Her fur was warm and soft and reassuring.

“Good girl,” Valkyrie whispered. “Everything’s going to be all right. Good girl.”

She reached for the bottle of water, and took a swig.

She stayed like that until the sun came up.

Omen was a morning person. He didn’t like getting out of bed, but when he did he was invariably bright and optimistic. Mornings, he often thought, were bursting with potential. Every morning was the start of what could become the best day ever.

True, the brightness tended to dull a little once the day began to beat him down, and his optimism never lasted that long when faced with the disappointment that came with being who he was, but that didn’t change how much he liked mornings. Especially a Saturday morning, when half of the students went home for the weekend and the other half chatted and hung out and bonded as people. He imagined.

This Saturday, however, was determined to squish him before he’d even had his breakfast.

His room-mates had snored. This was not unusual. What was unusual was the sheer determination they displayed, as if they were working together to deny him sleep. From then on, it was one minor catastrophe after another. He’d dropped his toothbrush in the toilet. His phone hadn’t charged. Grendel Caste sneezed on his breakfast. And now here he was, sitting outside the Principal’s Office.

Filament Sclavi walked by, then stopped and turned round. He sat down next to Omen.

“I heard,” he said.

“Heard what?” Omen asked, even though he knew.

“You asked out Axelia Lukt, and Axelia Lukt said no.”

“Ah,” said Omen. “That’s what you heard. I’m surprised people care enough to gossip.”

“People gossip even when they don’t care,” said Filament. “It’s what people do. So how are you? How is your heart? Is it broken?”

“Naw,” said Omen. “It’s ever-so-slightly dinged. It’s fine. I’m fine.”