LITMIR.BIZ

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being so lame right now,” Militsa said, her chin dropping. “You think I’m a complete idiot, don’t you?”

      “Do I?”

      “You must.”

      “I don’t think so.”

      “But I’m babbling. I’m just a babbling idiot that ran up to you and started babbling. This is so embarrassing. Why do I have to be so lame?”

      “I … I don’t think you’re lame.”

      “That’s just because you’re a nice person.”

      “I’m not that nice,” Valkyrie said. “Really, I’m not. I’m quite rude.”

      “You’re not rude.”

      “I am,” Valkyrie insisted. “Before this conversation is done, I bet I’ll have been rude to you by accident.”

      Militsa looked up. Her eyes were huge. “You mean it?”

      “I do. And you’re not lame and you’re not an idiot. You’re just being friendly. You’re a friendly Necromancer, which is kind of unique.”

      “We’re not known for being friendly, I’d have to agree,” Militsa said, brightening.

      “So you’re a teacher here?”

      “Yep. I guide students through their options, as far as choosing a discipline goes. I never meant to be a teacher, to be honest. It’s not something I ever saw myself doing, but it combines two of my favourite things – talking about magic and … and, well, reading about magic, I suppose. I don’t have a very wide range of interests.”

      “Maybe you should get out more.”

      “That’s what my mum says, but then she’s three hundred years old. I think she has unrealistic expectations when it comes to me. I’m just a normal girl. Give me a good book and a sofa and I’m happy, you know?”

      “Can’t beat a book and a sofa.”

      “If I wasn’t a teacher, I’d probably be a researcher, maybe be a part of Project Torchlight. Have you heard of it?”

      “I haven’t, I’m afraid.”

      “Ah, no matter. My point being, I specialise in the Source – which is another reason I’m so pumped to be meeting you.” Militsa hesitated, her eyes sparkling. “Could I see your magic? Could I see what you can do?”

      “Uh …”

      “Just a little bit, I swear. You’re incredible to me, that’s all. You’re connected to the Source of all magic like nobody else. Your magic is … it’s pure. Unfiltered.”

      “I’m not very good at controlling it,” Valkyrie confessed.

      “I’m not surprised,” said Militsa. “I’ve got theories about it, if you’d like to hear them.”

      “Uh, maybe. I’m a little busy right now …”

      “Oh, of course,” Militsa said, laughing at her own stupidity. “Of course you’re busy, you’re Valkyrie Cain! But if ever you wanted to talk about it, just knock on my door. I will literally drop everything to talk to you. Literally. Everything.” She brushed her hands together. “Dropped.”

      “OK,” said Valkyrie. “Well, I might do that.”

      “Or if you just want to hang out,” Militsa said. “You haven’t been to Roarhaven much, have you? Again, I’m not a stalker, I just … I’d have heard if you were in town a lot. I could show you around. There’s actually a pretty good arts scene here. Bizarre, I know, but there you go. Might be fun, if you’re into that kind of thing. Or we could go for a coffee. Or a drink. Or dinner. Would you like to go to dinner?”

      “No thank you.”

      “Right, of course, you’re busy, I get it.”

      “It’s not that I’m busy,” said Valkyrie. “It’s just that I don’t want to.”

      Militsa blinked. “Oh. Well, I mean, OK. That’s cool.”

      Valkyrie’s face soured. “And now I’m being rude, just like I knew I would.”

      “You’re not rude, no.”

      “It’s just I’m not looking for a friend right now.”

      Militsa blinked. “Ohh. OK.”

      “I’m sorry. I don’t want to offend you, but I’m trying to stay away from people until I get my head straight.”

      “Gotcha,” Militsa said. “No explanation needed. You’ve been through a lot and the last thing you need is someone to talk to.”

      “When you say it like that,” Valkyrie said, “it sounds stupid.”

      “Not at all. This is totally my fault – I just feel like I know you already. I’ve asked Fletcher so many questions.”

      Valkyrie raised an eyebrow. “You know Fletcher Renn?”

      Militsa looked surprised. “Well, of course. He’s a teacher here.”

      Valkyrie couldn’t help it – she grinned. “Fletcher? Seriously? What does he teach? What does he know well enough to teach?”

      Militsa grinned with her. “Teleportation. He’s only got three students, and only one of them can actually teleport, but he’s pretty good. I think you’d be impressed.”

      “That’s hilarious,” said Valkyrie. “Is he all strict and stuff?”

      “Very. He has a teacher voice.”

      “Oh, wow.”

      Valkyrie’s phone buzzed with a message from Skulduggery, saying he’d be delayed another ten minutes. As she slipped it back into her jeans, she noticed Militsa glancing at her watch.

      “You probably have work to do,” Valkyrie said.

      Militsa nodded. “I’m supposed to be teaching a class right now. If this was a mortal school, the kids’d be tearing up the place, but Corrival students tend to be so boringly well behaved that they’re probably cleaning the windows. The coffee offer will remain open, by the way, for as long as you need it to be. Or, you know, dinner. Whatever.”

      “Thank you. Really. I appreciate the gesture.”

      “No problem,” Militsa said, and beamed another smile. “It was so nice to meet you, Valkyrie. I hope we can get to know each other better.”

      Valkyrie smiled back, and Militsa turned with a swirl of her cloak and walked off. She wore a cloak. Valkyrie hadn’t known very many people who wore cloaks. Not even Skulduggery wore a cloak. What an odd girl. Valkyrie liked her.

      She left the school, with its magnificent arches and grand staircases, and walked the wide streets. Plenty of time to double back and meet Skulduggery. There was a guy on the corner, barefoot and dressed in sackcloth, holding a sign that warned her that the end was nigh. To reinforce the point he was making, he shouted it at anyone who was passing.

      “The end is nigh!” he screeched to Valkyrie, shaking the cardboard sign. “The end is nigh!”

      “Isn’t it always?” she asked, and left him shaking the sign resentfully.

      She made a note of the street names as she went by. Gorgon Street. Titan Street. Bellower Road. She crossed Meritorious Square and took the narrower streets now, away from the staring, whispering people. She walked down Blood-drenched Lane, took a right on to Decapitation Row. At least they were easy to remember.

      She smelled food and her tummy rumbled, so she followed the smell and then abruptly lost it in a dead end that went by the charming name of Putrid Road. She turned, and stopped.

      Three people stood

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