“Get off me!” Omen gasped, trying to pull the hand away.

“I know it was you,” Jenan said, right in his ear. Omen stopped struggling. “I should kill you. I really should. I don’t know, I haven’t killed anyone before. The idea … it’s kinda scary. I’m just being honest with you here, Darkly. It’s a big step to take. But I think killing you would be easier than killing someone that matters. I mean, I doubt your folks would even notice. Your brother would be sad, so that’s another reason to do it, to ruin the big shot’s day. Killing you would be easy. How would you feel about that? How would you feel about being my first?”

Omen tried to bury his fear. “They’re using you. Lilt and Lethe and the others. They’re using all of you. They’re telling you that you’re special and they’re making you feel like you belong, but they’re lying to you.”

“This is weird,” Jenan said, his voice soft, almost dreamlike. “It feels … freeing. I’ve made the decision, you know? I’m going to kill someone. I’m going to kill you. I’ve been waiting my whole life to get to this point. I have, I don’t mind saying, fantasised about what comes next. I have imagined so many scenarios, so many situations, so many faces … But, since the first time I met you, I think I’ve known it would be you. I think I always knew it’d be your face. I just want to thank you. I’m sorry I was so mean to you. I’m sorry I picked on you. I shouldn’t have done it. It was wrong, and I’m sorry.”

Both hands now, wrapped round Omen’s throat. Squeezing.

“I should have tried being friends with you,” Jenan whispered. Tears were in his eyes. “Thank you for doing this. Thank you for being the one.”

Omen couldn’t breathe. Jenan’s grip was too strong.

“I love you for doing this, Omen. Thank you.”

And then, just as the darkness was crowding in on Omen, there was space between them, and Jenan was being pulled backwards, a look of utter astonishment on his face.

“One of you had better tell me what’s going on here,” Miss Wicked said. “Omen, are you all right? Can you talk?”

Omen sucked in air and did his best to stay standing. It felt like someone was still strangling him.

Miss Wicked turned to Jenan. “This is it, Mr Ispolin. I don’t care who your father is or how many strings he pulls, I will personally see to it that you are expelled from Corrival Academy.”

But Jenan wasn’t listening to her. Omen could tell. His eyes were clouded with disbelief. “How could you do that?” he asked. “How could you stop me?”