“Yes, I do,” said Byron. “I hate her. I hate them both. They’re small and weak and grubby and they hate me.”

“No, they don’t. They love you.”

“They’ve never loved me,” Byron said. “Why are you trying to help them? Your parents are the same.”

“What? My parents don’t hate me, Byron.”

Byron sneered. “Yes, they do. Everyone in school knows it. Your parents love Auger. They love the Chosen One because they can be proud of him. When was the last time they were proud of you?”

“You’re wrong. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re so dumb,” Byron said, and laughed. “You’re so stupid. Axelia Lukt’s parents know your parents. She told me ages ago that your folks go out of their way to avoid mentioning you in conversation. All they talk about is Auger. They’re trying to forget you even exist.”

Omen shook his head.

“Face it. They hate you, and you know it, and you’d kill them, too, if you had the chance. So let me pass, or I’ll kill you first.”

Slowly, Omen unclenched his fists and stood aside. Byron shouldered him out of the way. He’d almost made it to the trees when Omen wrapped an arm round his throat and pulled him back. They went down, but Omen had the choke on tight, and squeezed tighter. Byron struggled for a lot longer than he should have, and Omen knew he was doing something wrong, but he dared not let go. Eventually, Byron’s struggles weakened, and Omen waited two seconds after he’d gone limp before releasing him.

Omen lay there, getting his breath back, keeping his eyes on the unconscious boy. He felt bad about what he’d had to do, but proud that he’d been able to do it. If only Axelia had been here to witness it. Or his parents.

He sat up slowly. His face was swollen and his ribs were sore. He got to his feet, groaning as he did so. His tongue probed each of his teeth, checking that none of them had been knocked loose during the fight. He checked his nose next. Byron had whacked it with his elbow as they were rolling around. It hurt like hell, but didn’t appear to be broken.

He took out his phone, and didn’t know who to call. When it suddenly buzzed to life, he almost dropped it.

“Hello?” he said, bringing it to his ear.

“Omen!” It was Temper. Thank God. “What’s going on? Where is everyone?”

Omen puzzled over how to express this. “Things have happened,” he said eventually.

“Valkyrie isn’t answering.”

“She’s been taken prisoner by Skulduggery.”

“Aw, man …”

Omen nodded. “I know. And I was in a fight.”

“Who with?”

“A boy in my class.”

“Did you win?”