Midnight

  He strode forward awkwardly, as if his knees had locked. The bravado that he usually carried with him – even here in Coldheart, surrounded as he was by genuine threats – seemed to be missing at this moment. He was pale, and afraid, and he looked as young as he was.

  “Isidora Splendour,” he said, his voice trembling slightly, “you have been found guilty of betraying your true family.”

  Isidora shook her head. “I didn’t betray you, I swear.”

  Jenan continued. “We are destined for greatness. We have been chosen to change the world. This is the highest honour.”

  “Jenan, please.”

  “And yet, you jeopardised this sacred mission with your cowardice.”

  She turned. “I don’t want to kill anyone,” she sobbed. “None of us do. Mr Lilt, please. You’re my teacher. Please help me.”

  Lilt shook his head sadly.

  “Abyssinia,” Isidora tried, “I’m begging you, we don’t want to do this, but we’re too scared to tell you. Please don’t make us. We’re only children. We don’t want to hurt anyone.”

  Abyssinia looked to the rest of First Wave as they huddled together. “Is this true?” she asked gently. “Have you reconsidered? Have you had second thoughts? We are training you, making you stronger, better, more powerful. Your old classmates would barely recognise you, you have advanced so much. You have evolved. You are my dream made flesh.” Her smile faltered. “But if this traitor’s words are true, if you do indeed see yourselves as only children, you must tell me. Please, I beg you – be honest. Open your hearts. If you doubt me, if you doubt my plan and you have lost faith in our future together, a future that is on the horizon, now is the time to make this clear. Speak, my loves.”

  It was as if the entire prison held its breath and was silent.

  Isidora fell to her knees, crying.

  Abyssinia nodded slowly to Jenan. “Continue, my loyal warrior.”

  The boy’s chest puffed out ridiculously, and he looked down at his weeping friend. “Today, you tried to leave,” he said. “You knew the punishment for that.”

  Isidora shook her head again. “I didn’t know,” she said. “We were never told that! Please, give me another chance! This isn’t fair!”

  The boy hesitated, then reached down, took Isidora’s hands, and pulled her gently to her feet. For a moment, Cadaverous thought he might give her a reprieve, but then he saw Abyssinia close her eyes, and knew she was in Jenan’s head.

  Jenan put his hands to Isidora’s shoulders and pushed, and Isidora shrieked and toppled from the dais. The other members of First Wave looked away, covered their mouths, gave little cries of shock, and Jenan stepped backwards, a look of horror on his face.

  “My loves,” said Abyssinia. “Come to me.”

  She spread her arms and they walked to her, hesitantly at first, but Cadaverous could feel the waves of empathy Abyssinia was giving out, even from where he stood. When they huddled around her, they were safe and warm and they belonged.

  Just like he used to.

  Cadaverous followed Abyssinia back to her quarters. When she saw him, she sighed.

  “Do you mind coming back later?” she asked. “We just had to execute one of the children.”

  “I was there,” Cadaverous said. “You handled it well.”

  She sat. “Thank you.”

  “Do you think they’ll be ready?”

  “Of course,” she responded.

  “You’re putting an awful lot of faith in a group of scared teenagers,” Cadaverous said. “You have hundreds of followers now – most of whom would be all too eager to engage in some mindless slaughter for you.”

  “But it’s not mindless,” Abyssinia said. “There is a point to it all, even if you can’t see it.”

  “You could help me see it. You could explain it to me.”

  “When you’re ready, I’ll tell you. Is there another reason you’re here, Cadaverous?”

  “There is. But, now that I have you alone, I almost don’t know where to begin.” He took a breath. “We believed in you. We brought you back.”

  “And I love you for it.”

  “We love you, too. I can say that with absolute certainty because, before you, I didn’t know what love was. I knew it as an abstract thing, something other people said. Something other people felt. But your voice in my head, lying on that operating table … that was the voice of love. And I was hearing it for the first time.”

  “That’s sweet of you to say.”

  “You’re here because of us, and we’re here because of you. Because of the mission.”

  “The mission,” Abyssinia said. “Yes.”

  Cadaverous hesitated. “Only … only I think the search for your son has distracted you in recent months.”

  The good humour drifted from Abyssinia’s face. “Do you indeed?”

  “I have to be honest with you, Abyssinia. That’s what love means, isn’t it? Honesty? I feel, since you returned, that your focus hasn’t been on the mission.”

  “I see.”

  “The rest of us, the ones who brought you back, we’re starting to feel …”

  “Yes? Starting to feel what, Cadaverous?”

  “Neglected.”

  A ghost of a smile. “Huh. Like children, I suppose? Everyone’s vying for the mother’s love, jealous of anyone she dotes on. Is that what you are, Cadaverous? Are you a child? Should you be in First Wave, too?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “What would you prefer? Would you like it if I spent more time with you, is that it? Would that be enough for you, I wonder? Would that coddle you?”

  Cadaverous bristled. “I’m not asking to be coddled.”

  “You’re not? Because it seems like you are.”

  “You made promises.”

  She rose. “You dare make demands of me, Cadaverous Gant? After everything I have given you? After I called you back from death itself? After I gave you purpose? Now you want more? You think you deserve more?”

  “I think I deserve the truth!”

  Abyssinia was upon him in an instant, pressing him back against the wall, her open hand hovering in front of his face.

  “You insubordinate little nothing,” she whispered. “You deserve only what I tell you you deserve. You have grown disillusioned with me, have you? Well, I have grown disillusioned with you, Cadaverous. You are not the man I hoped for. I have watched you shrivel in these last years, ever since your precious Jeremiah fell from that walkway. Your hatred of Valkyrie Cain has turned you from the path I had set you on. All those murderous urges you gave in to when you were mortal? I allowed you to make peace with them, to channel your rage. I calmed the demons in your head so that they no longer control you — and how do you repay me?” She stepped away. “By doubting me. By questioning me. By betraying me.”

  “I have not betrayed you!” he snapped.

  “You betray me every day!” she shot back. “With every disappointment, you betray me! You were my loyal soldier! My favourite!”

  Cadaverous snarled. “I was never your favourite. Smoke was your favourite, and then Lethe, when he came along. I’m always there, but always pushed to the back by the bright and the new. I should be your second. I should be your lieutenant. Instead, I arrange the food for the convicts and the criminals while people like Avatar and Skeiri waltz in and catch your eye.”

  Abyssinia shook her head. “Jealousy does not become you, Cadaverous.”

  “You’ve kept us in the dark long enough, Abyssinia. We’re starting to feel as if we’re not on this mission you told us about. We’re starting to feel that you’ve lied to us.”

  “Get out,” she said quietly.

  10

  Tea and biscuits were already laid out when Sebastian Tao crept into the house through the back door.

  It was all back doors these days – back doors and skylights and narrow windows and a lot of sneaking around. Dressed as he was – all in black, with the curved beak mask and the wide-brimmed leath
er hat and the flowing coat – it was difficult to walk down the street, even at this time of night, and not attract curious stares or invitations to fight. Sebastian didn’t like to fight. He hated violence. He’d had enough of that growing up.

  He stepped into the living room. “Hello,” he said.

  The small group turned, smiling and nodding.

  “Welcome, Plague Doctor,” said Lily. “Cup of tea?”

  They laughed. Sebastian chuckled politely. They knew very well that he couldn’t take his mask off. Not that he needed to. His suit provided him with all the sustenance he required – although he eyed the biscuits on display longingly. What he wouldn’t give for a taste.

  But no. He had a mission.

  “Let’s hurry this along,” Tantalus said, standing up from the floral couch. “Some of us have lives to get back to.”

  The others went quiet. Tantalus was the unofficial leader of their little group of Darquesse-worshippers, primarily because he lacked any identifiable sense of humour. He just seemed like the kind of man people would take orders from, although Sebastian had yet to witness any actual leadership abilities.

  Tantalus cleared his throat. “I hereby call this meeting of the Darquesse Society to order. Blessed be her name.”

  “Blessed be her name,” the others echoed.

  “We have gazed into the face of God and we found love.”

  Sebastian repeated it along with everyone else.

  “All right then,” Tantalus said, scowling at Sebastian, “why are we here?”

  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.

  11

  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.

  12

  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.”

  Filament looked at him. “You don’t have to be brave in front of me, Omen.”

  “I’m … not. I swear.”

  Filament patted his arm. “I can see that you are fighting back the tears.”

  “I’m really not, though.”

  Filament smiled sadly. “Then why is your lower lip quivering?”

  “I think that’s just what it does.”

  “You know what? You should ask her again.”

  “You think she’s changed her mind?”

  “Not yet, but she might if you pursue her. Have you never seen a romantic comedy? Have you never seen the nerd get the hot girl? How does he do it? He proves himself worthy of her affection. He devotes himself to wooing her.”

  “Am I the nerd?”

  “Well, you’re certainly not the hot girl.”