“Skulduggery Pleasant is no big deal, though – not really. He feels pain like anyone else. I made him feel pain when we met, and I’ll make him feel pain again. But I’m not the only one who can do that. We can all do it. We can all take down their best people. We’re all capable. We just need to be smarter than them, braver than them, better than them. Everyone in this room can do that. Everyone in this room has the potential to be that. And you’ll get to prove it very, very soon.”

A tentative hand rose. “What are we going to do?” asked Gall.

“You’re going to strike, my friend,” said Lethe. “You’re going to bring terror to the heartland of America and then you’re going to watch, you’re going to sit back and watch, as the mortals tear themselves apart in their panic and their fear. Mortal society will crumble. They’ll hurt each other, hunt each other, kill each other and, when they find out about us, they’re going to turn all their murderous rage our way. The Sanctuaries around the world will not have a choice. They’re going to have to fight. We, all of us, are going to start a war the mortals can’t win, and we’re going to do it together. Mr Lilt, he told us he would trust you all with his life. He told us you were devoted, just like us. But, now that he’s in chains, you’re going to need a spokesman.”

Jenan stepped forward. “I’ll be leader.”

The woman laughed. “I like him,” she said. “He’s certainly bottling his blood’s worth.”

Lethe nodded. “I have no idea what that means, Razzia, but I’m sure you’re right. He has ambition. Ambition is good. Leadership is good. But our groups don’t have leaders. They have representatives. They have spokespeople.”

“Then I’ll speak for this group,” said Jenan.

“It looks like you already are,” Lethe said, sounding amused. “Very well. If nobody has an objection, let Jenan Ispolin speak for First Wave.”

“First Wave?” Byron echoed.

“Your group,” said Lethe. “You need a name, don’t you? Arcanum’s Scholars is a study group. It’s for kids, isn’t it? But you’re not kids. What you are is the first wave. You will strike first. You will draw first blood. When mortals think of sorcerers, they will think of you first.”

Omen paid attention to the man with the platinum hair when he noticed him frowning. The man’s eyes were narrowed, and flicking from one gold mask to the next. He was counting.

Terror seized Omen’s chest and he moved slightly, stepping behind the others. He saw the frown deepen, and the count began again.