“Oh.”
Never sighed, and leaned forward. “I know you, Omen. I look across the room and you’re sitting there, daydreaming, and I know exactly what you’re thinking about.”
“No, you don’t.”
“It’s always the same two things. The first is Axelia Lukt.”
“Well, obviously.”
“I heard about that, by the way. Tough luck.”
“Yeah.”
“And the second thing you’re daydreaming about is Valkyrie kicking the door open and saying she needs your help to save the world. Am I close?”
Omen said nothing.
“See? Knew it. That’s not going to happen, but you want to believe, so much, that they’re going to swoop in and take you away from all the normal stuff that you’re not actually doing any of the normal stuff.”
Omen picked up his knife and fork again, and started cutting into his chicken. “Can we stop talking about this? I know you mean well, but you’re starting to annoy me.”
“I don’t want to annoy you, Omen,” Never said gently. “I don’t want to be the serious one in any friendship I have, I really don’t. I hate being the serious one. I’m the funny one. I’m the quirky, gender-fluid friend with a heart of gold and abs of steel.”
“You don’t have abs.”
“That’s only because I don’t like to sweat. My point is, I don’t want to be the one to give you bad news. But no one else cares enough.”
They ate in silence.
Once they’d finished, Never reapplied a little lipgloss. “How do I look?”
Omen sighed. “Low-key glamorous.”
This got a smile. “That’s what I’m going for. Are you mad at me?”
“No,” said Omen. “You can, you know, tell me whatever you think you need to tell me, just like I can choose to listen to you, or choose to ignore you. Because we’re friends.”
“We are friends,” Never said, smiling. “But you can’t ignore me. Nobody ignores me. I’m way too cool.”
“Yeah, you are.”
“So what do you think about all this Leibniz Universe stuff, eh? Isn’t it crazy?”
“It is crazy.”
“Omen, do you know what the Leibniz Universe is?”
“Not really.”
“It’s Mevolent’s universe.”
“Well, why don’t they call it that? I’d remember it if it was called that. Who’s this Leibniz person anyway?”
“Nobody knows.”
“Do you think he’ll come through? Mevolent, I mean?”
Never brushed a strand of hair away from her eyes. “Naw, I don’t think so. He can stomp around his own dimension as much as he wants because there’s no one there to oppose him. But here, we have a whole world that’d fight back.”
“Yeah,” said Omen. “Maybe. But you know the way all the wildlife – all the deer and rabbits and squirrels and stuff – run out of the forest when there’s a wildfire? What if it’s like that? What if the mortals are just trying to get away from what’s following along behind?”
“You’re worrying over nothing,” said Never. “We don’t know what things are like over there now. All we have are the reports Skulduggery Pleasant and Valkyrie Cain made after they got back, and that was, what, eight years ago? Besides, we already killed our own Mevolent. If the other one shows up, we’ll just do the same to him.”
“How, exactly? No one knows who or what killed our Mevolent.”
“Skulduggery killed him,” Never said, shrugging. “Everyone knows that. Just because it’s not in our textbooks …”
“If Skulduggery killed him, he’d talk about it,” said Omen. “He talks about everything else.”
Never sighed. “Because you know him so well?”
“I don’t claim to know him well. I’m just saying that he wasn’t the one to kill Mevolent.”
“It doesn’t make any difference. If we get invaded, we’ll still send them packing. They have magic, but we have magic and technology.”
“So do they.”
“But we have nukes.”
“Seriously? You’d nuke them?”
“Of course. Wouldn’t you?”
“I don’t know. It’s a bit … drastic, isn’t it?”
“War is a drastic thing,” said Never. “Ooh, that should be on a bumper sticker.”
“I think I’d keep the nuclear bombs as a last resort,” said Omen. “We have the Sceptre of the Ancients, don’t we? Skulduggery and Valkyrie stole it from Mevolent’s dimension, too, so using it to push back his army would be … uh …”
“The word you’re looking for is ironic.”
“Is it? OK. It’d be ironic.”
“That’s a good plan, Omen. Ignoring the fact that no one’s been able to even find the Sceptre since Devastation Day, that’s a wonderful plan.”
“Well, like, we have other God-Killer weapons. One little nick from the sword and even Mevolent drops dead.”
“The sword’s broken.”
“Then the spear,” Omen said irritably, “or the bow or the dagger, whatever, it’s the … What?”
“Nothing. I’m just quite impressed that you could name all four God-Killers.”
“Really? Three-year-olds can name the God-Killers.”
“Yeah, but they’re three, Omen.”
Omen nodded. “Because infants are smarter than me. Yep, I get it. That’s funny.”
Never grinned. “Feeling overly sensitive today, are we? I wouldn’t blame you. Tell you what, I won’t tease you again until you really, truly deserve it, I promise. Come on, tell me more about how you’d beat Mevolent.”
“No.”
Never laughed. “Oh, please? I was really enjoying that conversation.”
“Tough.”
“So you’d use the God-Killers on him, and …?”
Omen shrugged, looked away, happened to glance at the door just as Miss Wicked walked in. Tall, blonde and terrifying, he watched her look around, and immediately glanced away when her eyes fell upon him.
“Oh, God,” he said.
“What’s wrong?” Never asked.
“Miss Wicked caught me looking at her.”
“She’s coming over.”
“Is she?”
“Coming straight for you.”
“Are you joking? Please tell me you’re joking.”
“Omen,” Miss Wicked said, and Omen yelped and swivelled in his seat.
“Hello, miss,” he said. “I mean, hi. I mean … yes?”
She looked down at him. “Omen, you have been summoned.”
He blinked. “I have?”