LITMIR.BIZ

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jumped up onto the desk and kicked out. The coffee cup went flying from Armando’s hands. It smashed onto the ground, a puddle of brown liquid pooling from it.

      “What is going on?” Armando exclaimed.

      Lucas got hold of Oliver’s legs and pulled. Oliver fell, landing heavily against the desk.

      “It’s POISON!” he tried to cry, but Lucas was covering his mouth with his hands.

      Oliver thrashed at the old man, kicking out, trying to get free.

      Just then guards barreled into the room.

      “Take this boy away,” Lucas said.

      Oliver bit down on his hand.

      Lucas reared back and screamed out in pain. Oliver leapt from the desk and darted left and right in his attempts to evade the guards. But it was no use. They got hold of him, twisting his arms roughly behind his back. They started to shove him toward the door.

      “Armando, please listen to me!” Oliver cried, digging his heels in. “Lucas is trying to kill you!”

      Lucas was nursing his sore hand. He narrowed his eyes as Oliver was dragged to the door.

      “Preposterous,” he sneered.

      Just then, Oliver noticed a small mouse had scurried out from the shadows in the corner. It sniffed the spilled coffee on the floor.

      “Look!” Oliver cried.

      Armando turned his gaze to the mouse. It licked the coffee spill. Then in an instant, its whole body went stiff and rigid.

      It fell to its side, dead.

      Everyone froze. The guards stopped dragging Oliver.

      They all turned to Armando.

      Armando stared at Lucas, and slowly, his expression changed. It became pained. A look of betrayal.

      “Lucas?” he asked, his voice heartbroken, disbelieving.

      Lucas’s face flushed with shame.

      Armando’s face hardened, and slowly, he pointed a finger at Lucas.

      “Take him away,” he instructed the guards.

      Immediately, the guards released Oliver and rounded on Lucas.

      “This is madness!” Lucas screamed as they roughly pinned Lucas’s arms behind his back. “Armando! You’ll believe this scrawny little boy over me?”

      Armando said nothing as the guards dragged Lucas away.

      The old man’s face contorted with rage. He screamed, looking as deranged as Hitler had when Oliver had broken his bomb.

      “This isn’t over, Oliver Blue!” he yelled. “I’ll get you one day!”

      Then he was dragged through the door and disappeared from sight.

      Oliver let out a deep breath of relief. He’d done it. He’d really done it. He’d saved Armando’s life.

      He looked up at the old inventor, standing there in the chaos of his office looking shocked and stunned. For a long moment, they held one another’s gaze.

      Then, finally, Armando smiled.

      “I’ve been waiting a long time to see you again.”

      CHAPTER TWO

      Malcolm Malice took aim with his crossbow. He steadied himself. Then he let it fly.

      It sliced through the air at lightning speed before smashing into the bull’s-eye. A perfect shot. Malcolm grinned.

      “Great work, Malcolm,” Coach Royce said. “I’d expect no less from my star pupil.”

      Filled with pride, Malcolm handed him back the crossbow and went to stand beside the rest of his classmates. They narrowed their jealous eyes at him.

      “Star pupil,” someone mimicked.

      There was a smattering of laughter.

      Malcolm ignored their teasing. He had more important things to think about. He’d only been at Obsidian’s for a few months but already he’d leapfrogged kids who’d been here for years. He was a powerful seer. Atomic—the strongest kind, with a rare blend of cobalt and bromine.

      So what if none of the other kids wanted to hang out with him? He’d been friendless before coming to Obsidian’s. It didn’t make much difference to Malcolm if it remained that way. He wasn’t here for friendship anyway. He was here to excel, to become the best seer he could possibly be, so that when the time came he could crush those Amethyst losers into dust.

      Suddenly, he felt something smack against the back of his head. It stung and his hand instinctively went to it. When he took it away, he saw a dead bee in his palm.

      Someone had used their powers on him. He turned sharply, glaring for the culprit. Candice was barely hiding her smirk.

      Malcolm narrowed his eyes. “You did that.”

      “It was just a bee sting,” she replied sweetly.

      “I know it was you. You have a biological specialism. If anyone did it, it was you.”

      Candice shrugged innocently.

      Coach Royce clapped his hands loudly. “Malcolm Malice. Eyes to the front. Just because you can do this easily doesn’t mean you can mess around while your classmates try. Show some respect.”

      Malcolm sucked his cheeks in. The injustice stung just as much as the bee had.

      Malcolm tried to focus on his classmates as they took turns practicing their aim. It was a usual gloomy day at Obsidian’s, with a light fog hanging in the air, turning everything misty. The large playing field stretched all the way up to the imposing manor house that was Mistress Obsidian’s School for Seers.

      Candice went up to take her shot. The arrow went flying over the top of the target and Malcolm couldn’t help but smile at her misfortune.

      “This is exactly the sort of skill you need to perfect,” Coach Royce called out. “When it comes to fighting the Amethyst seers, it’s this kind of mastery that really knocks them for six. They’re so focused on their seer specialisms, they’ve forgotten all about good old-fashioned weaponry.”

      The corners of Malcolm’s mouth tugged even further upward. Just the thought of kicking the sappy seers at Professor Amethyst’s school delighted him. He couldn’t wait until the day he was finally face-to-face with one of those losers. Then he’d really show them who was boss. Show them why Obsidian’s was the better school. Why it deserved to be the one and only school for seers.

      Just then, Malcolm noticed some of the kids from the second year coming out onto the playing fields, hockey sticks in hand. He noticed Natasha Armstrong amongst them. She was in the private study sessions he’d been attending at the library, the ones for gifted students like him. Though at twelve he was the youngest there, the others were kind to him. Natasha especially. She didn’t tease him for being smart. And she shared the same hatred toward Professor Amethyst as he did.

      Natasha looked over and waved. Pretty dimples appeared in her cheeks. Malcolm waved back, feeling his own cheeks growing warm.

      Just then, Malcolm heard Candice’s velvety voice whisper in his ear. “Aw, look. Malcolm’s got a crush.”

      Malcolm kept his gaze ahead and ignored her taunts. Candice was only being mean because he’d rebuffed her advances. Her spite came from a place of jealousy—that an older girl, one as beautiful and talented as Natasha Armstrong, could be interested in him.

      As the other class began their hockey match, Malcolm’s gaze went up to the vast imposing Victorian manor house of Obsidian’s School, all the way to the turret at the top. He could just make out the dark figure of Mistress Obsidian standing at the window. She was looking down at her students. Then her gaze fixed on him.

      He smiled to himself. He knew she was keeping tabs on him. She’d hand-picked him for a special mission.

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