Bedlam

by Derek Landy

  “My suitcase,” Alice answered, frowning at her big sister’s stupidity. “It has my clothes in it for tomorrow, and my pyjamas, and my teddy bear, in case I get lonely, and it has three books in case I get bored, even though I know I won’t get bored, and it has my hairbrush and my toothbrush, which is electric, and hair clips and a plastic bag in case I need to put something in a plastic bag, and an apple and a banana, in case I get hungry.”

  “You won’t get hungry,” Valkyrie said. “Tonight you get a pizza.”

  The smile that spread across Alice’s face seemed never to stop.

  “Bye, Mom,” Alice said, giving Melissa a hug. She lunged at Desmond. “Bye, Dad.”

  “Bye, squid-face,” Desmond said, kissing the top of her head. “Have a good time.”

  Alice bounded over to Valkyrie. “I’m ready!” she announced.

  “Cool,” said Valkyrie. She hesitated.

  “Everything all right?” Melissa asked.

  Her parents looked at her – interested. Attentive. Loving.

  “Yes,” Valkyrie said slowly.

  Desmond laughed. “Are you sure?”

  “I may have something to tell you.”

  Her mum glanced at her dad and raised an eyebrow. “Is it bad or good?”

  “It’s … it’s not bad. It’s not bad news. It’s just, I don’t know … it’s just news. Something you don’t know and something I think I should tell you.”

  Desmond frowned. “Oh, God. Does it have anything to do with …” He wiggled his fingers in the air, his incredibly subtle code for “magic”.

  “No,” said Valkyrie.

  He smiled, relieved. “So the world is safe, then?”

  “Yes. Well, as safe as it ever is.”

  His smile vanished. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing. We’re safe. We are.”

  “Is there an apocalypse coming?”

  “Not that I’m aware of.”

  “What’s an apocalypse?” Alice asked.

  “It’s a load of bad things happening,” Valkyrie said. “But there isn’t one, so we’re fine.”

  Alice shrugged, satisfied with the answer.

  “So what do you have to tell us?” Melissa asked.

  Valkyrie’s insides churned and she felt so stupid because she knew they’d be fine with the whole thing – but she also knew that when she told them they’d view her differently. Not in a bad way, never in a bad way – but from this moment on they’d have an extra bit of information that they’d have to absorb into what they already knew about her, and that would change things.

  She didn’t want them to think of her differently. She liked how they thought of her now. It was warm and loving and understanding, even about the whole magic side of things.

  It had been a huge adjustment, after all, when they’d found out about that. They’d had to drastically change how they thought about her, then, and, compared to that, this was nothing. This was barely worth mentioning. Even so, the words caught in her throat.

  So she found new words, and blurted, “I have a girlfriend.”

  The kitchen went quiet.

  “Oh,” said Melissa.

  The kitchen went quiet again.

  Valkyrie watched her mother absorb the information, and watched her father butt up against it.

  “But I thought you liked boys,” he said, confused.

  “I still do,” Valkyrie responded.

  “She’s bisexual,” Melissa told him.

  “Oh!” Desmond said, nodding like he’d figured it out himself. “Best of both worlds, eh?”

  Melissa came forward, hugged Valkyrie and kissed her, right above the ear. “We’re proud of you, we love you and I’m sure we’ll love whoever you love. Won’t we, Des?”

  Desmond came over, hugged them both. “I always wanted you to be a lesbian,” he said. “This is the next best thing.”

  Valkyrie laughed, surprised at the tears in her eyes.

  “I don’t understand anything you’re saying,” Alice said.

  “I’ll tell you in the car,” Valkyrie promised.

  They drove to Grimwood, and sang songs the whole way. “Crazy World” by Aslan came on, though, and Valkyrie’s voice cracked with emotion halfway through the second chorus, so she changed the station. After a few moments she’d got herself back under control and started singing again. Alice didn’t notice.

  When they entered the house, Alice hollered Xena’s name and Xena came bounding into the hall and Alice dropped to her knees a moment before the dog collided with her. They went sprawling across the floor, Xena a whirling tornado of excitement and Alice the giggling focus of its energies.

  Valkyrie watched and made herself laugh. She hoped they would sprawl forever.

  But that’s why she went for a workout that morning. That’s why she pulled over to the side of the road. That’s why she sat at the kitchen table for a chat. Because she was delaying it.

  But she couldn’t delay it any longer.

  When both Xena and Alice had settled down, Valkyrie took Alice into the living room, and asked her to lie down on the couch.

  “What are we doing?” Alice asked.

  “We’re just going to rest,” Valkyrie said, kneeling beside her, “but before we do … Alice, I love you. Before you came along, I didn’t know that I needed a sister. I thought my life was full. But it wasn’t. I can look back now, and I can see that there was a gap that I would never have known was there if you hadn’t been born.”

  Alice giggled. “You’re being weird.”

  Valkyrie smiled. “Yes, I am. But sometimes you have to be weird. I love you, sweetie. I wish we could have had a normal life, and I wish I could have spent more time with you, and I’m really, desperately sorry that I went away for all that time. I missed you every single moment I wasn’t here.”

  Alice nodded automatically. “I missed you, too,” she said.

  Tears in her eyes, Valkyrie leaned over, kissed her forehead. “You’re such a sweetie. I’m sorry for everything that happened. I’m sorry for what I did. And I’m sorry for this. But no matter what, my darling, darling sister –” and here Valkyrie started properly crying – “please remember that I love you more than anything or anyone else in the whole entire world. Alice Edgley, fall asleep.”

  Alice closed her eyes and slept, and Valkyrie curled up and sobbed. Xena came in, nudged her with her snout, tried to lick her face. Valkyrie wrapped her arms round the dog and hugged her until the crying stopped, and then she kissed the top of Xena’s head and gently shooed her away.

  She stood, took the skull amulet from her pocket and pressed it to her hip, and the suit flowed over her. It was slightly different this time around, as if it knew what was required of it and designed itself accordingly. Valkyrie pulled up the hood, and pulled down the mask.

  She picked up the Soul Catcher and turned away from Alice to shield her, and then she sent her magic crackling through her hands and the Soul Catcher exploded.

  Shards of glass bounced off Valkyrie’s chest and mask as the swirling orange light burst free, twisting through the air. For one terrible, horrifying moment, Valkyrie thought it was going to disappear through the ceiling, but it turned suddenly, sensing home.

  She stepped back, watching as it dipped and dived straight into Alice’s chest.

  Valkyrie tore off her mask and activated her aura-vision.

  Her sister lay there, sleeping gently, and her aura burned as brightly as any Valkyrie had ever seen.

  Valkyrie sat downstairs, waiting for her sister to wake, her eyes on the music box on the coffee table. The lid was down, the music box silent.

  She could have done with just a few seconds of that tune. She was nervous, sitting down here. Her anxiety was starting to bite. It wouldn’t take much to calm her nerves. All she’d have to do is reach forward, flick up the lid and, after a few seconds, close it and sit back and everything would be good.

  But if Alice called out during those few secon
ds, would Valkyrie even hear her? And of course there was no guarantee that those “few seconds” wouldn’t stretch to an hour. Or more.

  It had happened before. That wonderful, soft, lilting tune had a tendency to draw her in while the world rushed by around her.

  Besides, when Alice woke she’d need Valkyrie to be alert and responsive, and the music box, while brilliant and amazing and so incredibly helpful, also dulled Valkyrie’s emotions in ways that weren’t always helpful. She’d have to be careful about using the box in the future. She wouldn’t want to get overly dependent on something like that.

  She blinked, realising that night had fallen and that she was sitting in darkness. She got up, leaving Xena asleep on the couch, and went through the house, turning on lights. She got to the kitchen but the kitchen wasn’t a kitchen and there was a girl sitting on the edge of a bed.

  Valkyrie jumped in shock and the vision wavered, started to fade.

  “Hold on, hold on,” she grumbled, and calmed herself, and the image grew solid again.

  The girl was sitting with her head down, blonde hair falling over her face. She was wearing black – the kind of clothes Ghastly Bespoke used to make for Valkyrie.

  She stood. She was tall. Strong. Maybe fifteen or sixteen years old. She tied her hair back into a ponytail. She was pretty, too. Had a look of determination. Had a look of …

  Valkyrie frowned. “Alice?” she whispered.

  The girl spun, eyes wide, teeth bared – but frowned.

  “Who is that?” she asked.

  “Can you hear me?” Valkyrie said, stepping closer.

  It was Alice. Older. Bigger. But Alice.

  “I can hear you,” she said, eyes fixing on to Valkyrie’s. “I can see you, too, but you’re faded.” She hesitated. “Valkyrie?”

  Valkyrie sobbed, and her knees went, and she collapsed and Alice rushed to her, tried to pick her up, but her hands went right through Valkyrie’s shoulders.

  “Valkyrie,” Alice said, crying now herself. “How is this happening?”

  “You’re a vision,” Valkyrie said with a half-laugh. “You’re in the future. Where I am, you’re eight.”

  “That’s … that’s eight years ago.”

  “Are you OK? Tell me you’re OK, please.”

  “I’m fine,” Alice said. “I’m good. I love you so, so much. So much has happened!”

  “I don’t know how much we should say. Anything you tell me could mess up the way things are meant to unfold. The future isn’t set.”

  “This science-fiction stuff can really do your head in, can’t it?” Alice said, grinning.

  “It really, really can.” Valkyrie should have cut the vision off right then and there. She knew that. But … “So you’re a sorcerer now?”

  Alice laughed, and wiped her eyes. “Yes, I suppose you could say that. Magic’s in our blood, isn’t it? It’s what we were born to do.”

  All the energy left Valkyrie’s body, and she sat, her legs curled beneath her. “I thought I’d be doing you a favour by keeping it from you.”

  “Yeah, I know, but you can’t cheat destiny, dear sister. I’m about to step out that door – I don’t know if you can see it, but there’s a door over there – and face down my arch-enemy. Can you believe it? I have an arch-enemy! Me!”

  Valkyrie wanted to reach out and grab her. “Do you have help? Alice, you can’t do this alone. You need to—”

  “I’ve been doing this for years,” Alice said, smiling gently. “Don’t worry about it, OK? I’ve got our Edgley family heritage on my side. We not only have magic in our blood, we have a very specific type of magic. I can feel it bubbling within me.” The smile faded. “But I’m … I’m about to change.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I have to win. I’ve got no choice. This is the last stand, you know? Either we win this battle, or they do – and we can’t afford to let them win. The world actually hangs in the balance.”

  “How are you going to change, Alice?”

  “I’m not … certain. I don’t think I’ll be me any more.”

  “No. No, don’t do it.”

  “It’s OK. I’m OK with it. We’ve all got to sacrifice something for the future we want.” She turned her head, listening to something Valkyrie couldn’t hear. “I have to go.”

  “Who is it?” Valkyrie asked, getting to her feet as Alice straightened. “Who are you fighting? Tell me and I’ll stop them here, in my time, before they’re even a threat.”

  “You can’t prevent this,” Alice said sadly. “This has been written in the stars. The final battle between the Child of the Ancients and the Child of the Faceless Ones.”

  “I can help you.”

  “This is my fight. I really have to go.” Alice started walking away. “I love you, Valkyrie.”

  “I love you, too.”

  “I miss you every single day.”

  And then the vision was over, and the kitchen was the kitchen again, and Alice was calling her name from upstairs.

  For a long moment, Valkyrie didn’t move. She couldn’t. Her feet were locked in place. She couldn’t even answer. Her throat was too constricted.

  And then she was moving, running for the stairs and suddenly she was across the landing and at the bedroom door, about to burst in …

  But she stopped. And gently turned the handle. And stepped in.

  “Hi, sweetie,” she said. “Is everything OK?”

  Alice was sitting up in bed. Her face was in darkness. “I don’t know,” she said. There was something in her voice. A hitch. A catch. “I don’t feel well, I don’t think.”

  Valkyrie pushed the door open wider, and the light from the landing swept slowly across the bed until it uncovered Alice’s tear-stained face.

  “I don’t know what’s wrong,” Alice said, her mouth turning down, and Valkyrie rushed over to her.

  “Oh, baby,” she said, sitting on the bed and wrapping her arms round her sister. “It’s OK. You’re OK. I’ve got you, you hear me? Everything’s going to be fine. I love you so, so much. I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you ever again. I promise, sweetheart. I promise.”

  She held her sister close, and hugged her tight, feeling every one of her sister’s sobs as they echoed through her own body, and she sang to her. “Crazy World” by Aslan.

  It was a Sunday. Omen and Auger were back at home, back in Galway, back at the big house in the country. Auger’s bullet wound was healing well. He barely felt more than a twinge, he said. But he’d always been a fast healer, even without magic.

  Conversation in the Darkly household was restricted, unsurprisingly, to the King of the Darklands. For all the assurance, all of the effortless confidence they’d demonstrated over the years, Omen suspected that Emmeline and Caddock Darkly had secretly believed that Auger would never have to actually embrace his destiny. Maybe they thought it would all be averted before it arrived. His parents had always loved the prestige of having a Chosen One in the family – but now Omen saw real worry in their eyes. The years were ticking down, and in the last few days the future glimpsed in the prophecy had only become more likely. More real.

  They took their frustration out on Omen, of course. Nothing he did was right. Everything was commented upon. The glory he’d shared with his brother over their Naval Magazine Whitley heroism had been as short-lived as he’d expected. Their constant sniping chipped away at him. Got him down. But he was used to it. Their priority had to be Auger. Had to be.

  In two years’ time, once Auger had faced the King of the Darklands – as prophesised – and kicked the crap out of him – as expected – then the Darkly Prophecy would be over and Omen’s parents could open their hearts to both brothers.

  Omen was sure this would happen. He was looking forward to it. He actually had dreams about it.

  But that day was still two years away, and right now it was Sunday, and it was half-term break, and Omen had been at home for five days and his parents were getting sick of the sigh
t of him, so he was in his room, lying on his bed and making his way through a stack of comics that Never had dropped over a few hours earlier. He heard his mother come up the stairs. Her shoes – high heels, even at home – clicked pleasingly as they passed his door. They stopped at Auger’s room, and Omen heard a delicate knock. A few moments passed, and she knocked again.

  She strode back. Knocked sharply on Omen’s door. “Where’s your brother?”

  “Um, I don’t know,” Omen said.

  “Find him. Lunch is ready.”

  Omen hopped off the bed and walked quickly to the door, but, even as he opened it, his mother was already heading downstairs. He watched the top of her head disappear. He’d been hoping for a glance from her. Not even a smile. A glance would do.

  He checked the rest of the house, then went outside to the training hall. This is where they’d spent most of their time as kids – Auger learning from the best combat instructors in the world, and Omen trying to be an adequate sparring partner. He’d never succeeded, of course, but he knew Auger appreciated it, nonetheless.

  This afternoon, the hall was quiet. The punchbags hung like stalactites. The weapons were racked.

  There was a trail down between the trees that led to a little clearing where Auger liked to go sometimes to think. Omen didn’t need places like that because Omen’s thoughts were pretty simple. He wouldn’t have liked to have the kinds of thoughts that required places. Those thoughts were probably deep and scary and the sort to give you nightmares.

  Omen hurried down the trail. It was bright day, and dry but cold, and Omen’s thin fleece didn’t do a whole lot to keep in the warmth. He passed the tree stump that usually had an axe buried in it. A moment later, he got to the clearing and Auger wasn’t there, but he heard someone behind him and turned and Jenan Ispolin ran at him, the axe in his hands.

  Panic exploded, and dread and terror. Jenan’s face was a portrait of hatred and he kept getting closer. That axe kept swinging. Omen didn’t know what to do, but he knew that if he backed off he was dead so he lunged forward, grabbing Jenan, pulled him over his hip.

  It was a clumsy throw and they both went down, but the axe spun away. Omen got up and Jenan got up and Jenan reached behind him, to his waistband. Took out a knife, showed it, didn’t smile, laugh, say anything, but wanted Omen to see the knife. Wanted Omen to know what was coming.