She heard him, heard movement, a sudden exhalation of breath and he was running at her, and she grabbed Never, pulled him behind her and covered up, screwing her eyes shut and clenching her jaw and waiting for the impact, and then the cool breeze went away and no impact came, and she looked up and saw a wall.

“Oh my God, that was way too close,” she said, the words tumbling out in one whispered sigh. She looked around. They were back at the school. “Where’s Omen?”

“Nurse’s Office,” said Never.

“Is he OK?”

He shrugged. A couple of kids passed in the corridor intersecting theirs, but were too wrapped up in their conversation to notice them.

“Thanks,” Valkyrie said. “I know first-hand how fear and adrenaline can affect your control over magic, so coming back for me took real guts.” The handkerchief was sodden with blood. It dripped to the floor. “I need to get to the High Sanctuary as quickly as possible. Can you help me, just a little bit more?”

Never looked at her, and made a sound halfway between a grunt and a scoff. “I’m not a tram,” he said, and walked away.

Teenagers.

Valkyrie turned and started running.

Startled students leaped out of her way as she ran, bloodstained and manic, for the street outside. She jumped into the first tram she saw and as it flowed towards Meritorious Square she probed her broken nose, hissing in pain. She did her best to wipe the blood from her face, but avoided her reflection in case she really did look as bad as she thought. When the tram slowed at the square, she threw herself off and sprinted to the steps of the High Sanctuary. There was a line of Cleavers and City Guards outside, not letting anyone in or out, but when they saw her they let her through without even checking her badge.

She got a few worried looks as she bounded up the steps, but she ignored them and crashed through the doors. Immediately, she was hit by the wail of an alarm, and had to shoulder her way through the massing crowd. Someone’s arm tipped against her face and it was like they’d swung a shovel into her nose.

“Move!” she shouted, in exquisite pain and sharp-edged anger. “Get out of my goddamn way!”

Her vision bleached like a washed-out photograph and the crowd parted suddenly, and she caught a glimpse of herself in the large mirror. The lower half of her face was indeed drenched in blood, just like she’d expected, and that blood was still dripping on to her T-shirt, turning it into a sodden mess. But the most startling thing about her appearance at that moment was the white energy crackling from her eyes.

Instinctively, she withdrew her anger, pulling her magic back into herself, and her eyes returned to normal.

She hurried on.