let me be the one you call / if you jump I'll break your fall

[impudentsongbird]

Book Four: Dark Days
1 | into the breach
2 | finding skulduggery
3 | retreat to the tunnels
4 | into the cacophony
5 | sanctuary in the cathedral
6 | reuniting old friends
7 | kenspeckle's new patient
8 | holy water and disinfectant
9 | objecting to china sorrows
10 | the roadtrip
11 | baffling guild
12 | shenanigans at the safehouse
13 | reassuring fletcher
14 | valkyrie's intervention
15 | solomon's revelation
16 | visiting the edgleys
17 | recalled to the sanctuary
18 | guild's confusion
19 | gabe is busted
20 | the psychic tattoist
21 | envisioning the cacophony
22 | angel's first migraine
23 | the morning after
24 | china and solomon
25 | detectives' council of war
26 | china's foolishness
27 | the collector dethroned
28 | finding crux
29 | skulduggery's vileness revealed
30 | sorrows in aftermath
31 | finding equilibrium
32 | the devil's number
33 | at the carnival
34 | meeting authorities
35 | solomon's confession
36 | the stray soul
37 | sanguine unsettled
38 | solomon's choice
39 | a cowboy underground
40 | in scarab's basement
41 | striking midnight
42 | craven contested
43 | emergency services
44 | on your feet
45 | and don't stop moving
46 | easy recognition
47 | a deuce of an evening
48 | engines roaring
49 | compromising judgements
50 | solomon's conflict
51 | axis turning
52 | thinking circular
53 | blasting the past
54 | reviling vile

Book Five: Mortal Coil
55 | sanctuary unsanctified
56 | shudder unravelling
57 | catching an angel
58 | layering dimensions
59 | dead men meeting
60 | when it rains
61 | power plays
62 | sing on gold
63 | the valley of death
64 | grand aspersions
65 | no evil feared
66 | new days rising
67 | angelic neuroses
68 | step-brothers working
69 | the many sorrows of china
70 | peacefully wreathed
71 | tarnished gold
72 | the secret in darkness
73 | magical intent
74 | scars worth keeping
75 | benefits of a beau
76 | grand magery
77 | lighting the darkness
78 | old dogs and new tricks
79 | flouting traditions
80 | drawing lines
81 | brothers and sisters in arms
82 | channelling angels
83 | return of the carnies
84 | the death bringers
85 | meriting agelessness
86 | knick knack, paddy
87 | give a dog a bone
88 | americans propheteering
89 | the right side of honour
90 | tailored shocks
91 | hosting angels
92 | elders anonymous
93 | rediscovered strays
94 | changings and changelings
95 | a state of reflection
96 | adding hope
97 | the devil's truth
98 | dead mens' hospitality
99 | lives half lived
100 | next to godliness
101 | devilish plans
102 | beached angels
103 | lights of revelation
104 | heroes worshipped
105 | new devilries
106 | angels under the yoke
107 | brains frozen
108 | father, mother, daughter
109 | parental guidance recommended
110 | driven round the bend
111 | ongoing training
112 | privileged information
113 | reasonable men
114 | passing the buck
115 | gifting magicks
116 | strengths and weaknesses
117 | immaturity's perks
118 | priests and prophets
119 | scaling evil
120 | blowing covers
121 | marring an afternoon
122 | lie detection
123 | five-dimensional pain
124 | reliving nightmares
125 | taking stock
126 | sampling spices
127 | sleeping prophets lying
128 | rueful returns
129 | dead men reunion
130 | medically-approved hugs

The life of an angel was a contradiction in changes and stability. On one hand, they understood very well the way the cosmos was shaped by events within it. On the other, they stood at one step apart from it—or at least had, for a very long time, up until their Master's recent wager with Lucifer. Changes in the recent past had, even for angels, been fast and turbulent, but there were none that concerned Raphael more than Gabriel's abrupt reserve.

In the aftermath of the wager Gabriel had been almost the only one to know where their Lord was at any given time, a fact which had put the Archangel very firmly under Lucifer's radar. Raphael had joked that Gabriel ought to arm himself with more jokes or worse clothes to drive the fallen angel away; Michael had offered the peace of the Garden Coast. (Rafe thought his idea was better.)

Either way, even though their Master was fair hidden, every angel knew that they had only to ask Gabriel and the Archangel would pass on a message.

Then Gabriel had simply blipped off the radar himself. Poof! Gone! No one had noticed at first, because, well, they weren't exactly in constant connection. It was just when Raphael had taken a whim to seek out his younger brother that he'd noticed it, and let it be, because there was absolutely a reason for it. Gabe did not just off and vanish, except that once with his self-exile, and that didn’t count.

But when Gabriel had come back, he had been strangely agitated and yet close-mouthed. The younger Archangel had vanished off to wherever their Master was hidden for a long chat Raphael was dying to have listened into, and yet couldn't (but only partly because it would have been rude). Now he was here, floating among the stars and examining a black hole with unnerving intensity.

For a time Raphael watched without letting on that he was there, but eventually Gabriel spoke. “I’d rather you came to join me instead of lurking, brother.”

Absolutely refusing to feel chagrined, Raphael let himself manifest with an arm around Gabriel’s shoulders and ruffled the younger angel’s hair. Gabriel threw a fond, longsuffering glance up at him, but there was something in his eyes, something distracted and sharp, which indicated that Gabriel still wasn’t truly present. Raphael only wished he knew where the other Archangel was.

“Just wondering what you’re doin’ all the way out here,” he said teasingly. “There’s a party going on down there on Earth, Gabe.” There was always a party going on down on Earth. “You oughta be down there bobbin’ for apples and switching up party-hats!”

“I can’t,” Gabriel said quietly, with a sort of seriousness Raphael had, for all Gabriel’s literalness, rarely heard from him. So Raphael fell into the same seriousness, lost his playful accent, and spoke directly.

“Why not, brother? You’ve been reserved of late. I conf—I’m worried for you.”

For a very long time Gabriel said nothing and stared into the slow-turning swirl of the black hole. Raphael waited patiently, his arm still companionably across the other Archangel’s shoulders. Eventually Gabriel spoke. “Did you know, Raphael,” he said, “that the universe you see around you here isn’t the only one our Master has created?”

Raphael was so startled that he couldn’t answer. That wasn’t what he was imagining. He hadn’t been sure what he’d been imagining, but that wasn’t it. “I’m not sure what you mean, Gabriel,” he said after a moment. “Our Lord told me the story of Creation not all that long ago, and he never mentioned anything of the kind.”

Gabriel nodded. “He told me that story as well. And then He asked if I really wanted to know details.” He hesitated. “I … admit, I declined. It’s something He said—about faith. I decided I didn’t need to know details. But it’s true, nevertheless. Just beyond this …” The Archangel reached out his hand and touched that gossamer and unbreakable fabric that supported reality. “There are other universes, even with different versions of us.”

“Different versions of us?” Raphael repeated, appalled and uncertain and entirely confused. How could that be possible? What could their Master want with more than one of any of them? What was going on? Where had Gabriel gone in that time he’d vanished? Then something occurred to him and he smiled with relief. “This is a joke, right?”

Gabriel looked up at him and smiled back with such a gentle understanding that for a moment Raphael felt very small indeed. “No, Rafe. I’m not joking. It was a shock to me too. That isn’t the point, though.”

“Isn’t it?” Raphael asked, feeling as dazed as an angel possibly could, especially when he wasn’t even inhabiting an actual physical body.

“No.” Gabriel returned to watching the black hole intently. “I met some people from other realities. One of them is in a kind of Hell, and he very much does not deserve it. I promised him that, if I could, I would save him from it.”

Which did not in the least explain why Gabe was staring at a black hole, let alone a million other questions Raphael would have liked to ask and for which he couldn’t find the words. Finally he found one. “How?”

“First,” Gabriel said with a sort of tranquillity Raphael had heard in his brother’s voice a million times but never after delivering so turbulent a piece of news, “I’m going to jimmy open a crack in the door through this hole.”

Raphael stared at Gabe, and then at the black hole, and then back at Gabe. He opened his mouth to ask whether their Master knew he was planning this and then closed it, because that was a stupid question. He opened it again to query if Gabriel had asked whether he could go around lifting the sheets and then realised that was also a stupid question, because whether he had or not, their Master probably would have told him to do what he felt was best.

It was equally clear that Gabriel very much planned to go through with this, no matter what Raphael said, and really, did Raphael have the right to object? Surely if this carried a risk, their Master would have already forbidden Gabriel from making the attempt?

“I’ll come with,” Raphael said at last, and this time when Gabriel glanced back the younger Archangel’s expression was startled. A moment later that expression shifted into grateful apology.

“I’m sorry, Rafe, but I’m not entirely certain I’ll make it through, and we can hardly leave Michael here alone.” He grinned. “Did you see what he was wearing last festival day on the Garden Coast? He hasn’t moved out of the eighteenth century yet. How would he possibly handle the rest of the world?”

Raphael laughed out loud, warm but startled, and the sound of it rang through space. Gabriel chuckled quietly beside him, and for a few minutes there was just companionable humour that faded into an equally comfortable silence.

Still, Raphael had a lot of questions. How did Gabriel plan to find his friend, let alone the universe he was in? How was he going to get back? What would he do if he met another version of himself? Or, worse, Lucifer? Finally the Archangel just asked, “Have you figured out how to crack open the door?”

“I think so,” Gabriel said, considering the black hole. “Once I figured out what to look for. I wouldn’t have gotten even that far if it weren’t for some things our Master said.”

Which meant that, in some fashion, this expedition was sanctioned by their Master, Raphael translated, and something tense in him relaxed. “Something do to with this drain here, I’ll bet,” he said, falling into his casual accent once more. “Gonna rip out the kitchen sink, li’l brother?”

“Just to see what’s hiding underneath,” Gabriel said with a grin.

“I’ll try’n keep it open for ya,” Raphael promised, and Gabriel sent him a smile which lit up the very space around them with its brilliance.

“Thank you, Rafe,” he said, and straightened. Raphael took his arm away as Gabriel lifted his hands, not exactly stepping back so much as giving Gabriel space. The youngest Archangel didn’t often reveal his power, but it was always a sight to see, a song to hear, when he did.

As it was now. Gabriel’s voice started deep, lifted high, split and wove and became more melodies than one would think a single being could possibly sing at once. The sound of it made Raphael’s heart soar, made him want to fly and laugh. It was so deep, so light, so resonating that it was physical; it touched the slow turn of the black hole and made it, for just the briefest of moments, still. In that moment Gabriel sent a carefully-aimed bolt of energy into the heart of it.

It was the kind of sight Raphael hadn’t seen in thousands of years, a play of physics and metaphysics which he hadn’t thought possible, let alone imagined. There was an eruption in the centre of the black hole, where gravity was condensed; the cascade of energy plumed upward and was dragged back down as quick, a tear in the fabric of the reality not allowed the time to widen or become a danger.

Raphael didn’t even know Gabe had moved until the younger Archangel was gone, he was so busy staring in awe. With a start the Archangel stretched out his senses and just barely managed to catch a glimpse of his brother shooting toward the hole at speeds few angels could have achieved through such a gravity well. Raphael certainly couldn’t have.

How, he suddenly wondered, was he meant to keep that open if he didn’t even have the speed of thought to track Gabriel’s movements through it?

Desperately the Archangel cast about for something to jam in the door, as it were. There was some dark matter nearby and with a thought he fashioned it into a spear and pitched it toward the centre of the black hole. It struck just as Gabriel flitted through the crack nearly wholly collapsed in on itself; the star’s gravity caught it, pulled it in, and plugged the opening like a metaphysical sink.

Slowly Raphael made every part of himself relax. For good or ill, Gabe was gone on this quest of his, and now Raphael should probably go and round up some of their younger siblings to guard the area. Just in case.


Book Four: Dark Days
into the breach | finding skulduggery | retreat to the tunnels | into the cacophony | sanctuary in the cathedral | reuniting old friends | kenspeckle's new patient | holy water and disinfectant | objecting to china sorrows | the roadtrip | baffling guild | shenanigans at the safehouse | reassuring fletcher | valkyrie's intervention | solomon's revelation | visiting the edgleys | recalled to the sanctuary | guild's confusion | gabe is busted | the psychic tattoist | envisioning the cacophony | angel's first migraine | the morning after | china and solomon | detectives' council of war | china's foolishness | the collector dethroned | finding crux | skulduggery's vileness revealed | sorrows in aftermath | finding equilibrium | the devil's number | at the carnival | meeting authorities | solomon's confession | the stray soul | sanguine unsettled | solomon's choice | a cowboy underground | in scarab's basement | striking midnight | craven contested | emergency services | on your feet | and don't stop moving | easy recognition | a deuce of an evening | engines roaring | compromising judgements | solomon's conflict | axis turning | thinking circular | blasting the past | reviling vile

Book Five: Mortal Coil
sanctuary unsanctified | shudder unravelling | catching an angel | layering dimensions | dead men meeting | when it rains | power plays | sing on gold | the valley of death | grand aspersions | no evil feared | new days rising | angelic neuroses | step-brothers working | the many sorrows of china | peacefully wreathed | tarnished gold | the secret in darkness | magical intent | scars worth keeping | benefits of a beau | grand magery | lighting the darkness | old dogs and new tricks | flouting traditions | drawing lines | brothers and sisters in arms | channelling angels | return of the carnies | the death bringers | meriting agelessness | knick knack, paddy | give a dog a bone | americans propheteering | the right side of honour | tailored shocks | hosting angels | elders anonymous | rediscovered strays | changings and changelings | a state of reflection | adding hope | the devil's truth | dead mens' hospitality | lives half lived | next to godliness | devilish plans | beached angels | lights of revelation | heroes worshipped | new devilries | angels under the yoke | brains frozen | father, mother, daughter | parental guidance recommended | driven round the bend | ongoing training | privileged information | reasonable men | passing the buck | gifting magicks | strengths and weaknesses | immaturity's perks | priests and prophets | scaling evil | blowing covers | marring an afternoon | lie detection | five-dimensional pain | reliving nightmares | taking stock | sampling spices | sleeping prophets lying | rueful returns | dead men reunion | medically-approved hugs

Comments

[impudentsongbird]

The difference in sound was soothing, like a balm to Gabriel's ears and mind. The Faceless Ones swirled overhead in a confused spiral, no longer descending; repelled and revolted by the spells Gabriel was using. Would they recognise the refrain, he wondered? Did it ring against something in them, something they had forgotten in their insanity?

He hoped not. He hoped so. He didn't know what to feel. These, Lucifer aside, were the worst of the Fallen, and yet still he pitied what they had become.

Gabriel knelt at the end of the written spell, his spear-point dug in to the end of the final letter. His eyes closed, he murmured the spell, directing it at the cliff around them and letting it seep into the stone, resonate the air. His voice still felt raw, but at this level it wasn't going to get worse.

He felt the ripple of Skul's voice against his own more than heard the detective's words conventionally. Skilfully the Archangel twisted his spear, chanted a last few rounding words, and then stood and turned in one smooth motion. The briefest twitch of his wings put him beside Skulduggery, and quickly Gabe pulled his human cloak back over himself. The absence of his light made the cliff-side seem positively dim in comparison, though the effects in hue and newness lingered.

"It should hold for a while," he said, "but I can't say how long. It'll be sooner if they destroy the sigils."

If Skul listened carefully, he might hear the faintest resonance, like electricity inside a building's walls. But it was all tied to that spell in the ground, and even though it would take more than just wiping it away to destroy it, Gabriel didn't doubt the Faceless Ones' capacity to simply break the cliff-side.

[skeletonenigma]

While Gabe retaining his human form didn't really erase the memory of the wings, or the unearthly glow, or the way he had just stepped through empty space like it was a minor inconvenience, Skulduggery was still quietly grateful for the change. He'd talked to some strange-looking people in his time, people who didn't look exactly human, but he couldn't deny how much easier it was to talk to Gabe as the fellow escaped prisoner, rather than the Archangel.

With a nod and one last glance out into the open sky, Skulduggery turned and led Gabe back toward the cave, stepping casually around the burning bodies as he went.

"I have no idea where it leads," he reminded Gabriel as the temperature even a few feet within the rough stone walls seemed to drop several degrees. "But it does appear to be empty. We can look for a way up further in."

The tunnel ahead reminded him of several places back at Landel's Institute, in a way the tunnels never had before. Maybe it was because he had hope again, a reason to keep trying to fight his way out. Maybe it was because for the first time, he knew he was no longer hallucinating, and he knew he was no longer alone. Maybe it was because he might finally have an answer to the question he'd always asked himself, but could never gather the grit to ask aloud.

"Ah, that reminds me," Skulduggery remembered, turning his skull toward his companion. "What's the policy on praying? Does saying or thinking the word 'God' invite eavesdropping, or would I have to be in a church?"

Not the question, but just as important for right now.

[impudentsongbird]

Gabriel's eyes were drawn to the light of the flames, and even though he didn't know what they were, or why they served the Faceless Ones, or whether they deserved any pity at all, the Archangel still paused for a moment to grieve the necessary loss of life.

Then Skulduggery's words drew his attention and Gabriel quickened his step to fall into pace beside him. "At least it'll be easier to ward," he said, scanning the interior of the tunnels. "I can draw sigils around the entrance. Several layers. They'd have to collapse half the tunnel to break them, or find a way around."

It was much better than the quick cloaking spell he'd left on the cliff-edge.

At Skul's next question Gabriel smiled at the detective with an odd sort of gentleness. "Is it eavesdropping when you've called upon Him, my friend?"

[skeletonenigma]

There it was again, the main trait Gabe shared with Valkyrie, the uncanny ability of making Skulduggery feel uncomfortable with only a few words. Even Ghastly hadn't been nearly this adept at it. Of course, the implication that simply thinking about God was an invitation to eavesdropping didn't help, and the overall tone that put Skulduggery in mind of getting gently chastised by a priest did nothing but remind him of why he didn't trust religion in the first place.

"If He can listen to my thoughts," Skulduggery carefully responded, "then yes, I'd call that eavesdropping. Nothing wrong with it in principle, I do it all the time. I'd just be happy with a little forewarning."

Skulduggery didn't try to pretend that he knew what Gabe meant by sigils - he was pretty sure his limited knowledge of the symbols of magic weren't going to cover it. He was pretty sure China's complete knowledge of them still wouldn't help. "If they have to collapse half the tunnel," he warned, "they will. But it couldn't hurt."

[impudentsongbird]

"They will," Gabriel agreed, and then struggled to find a grin. He didn't, couldn't. "But they'll find it hard to get through a cave-in." The knowledge of what Skulduggery's Dark Gods were beat in his chest, but he closed his mouth against it. Not now. It was the wrong time. They needed to get out first. They needed to survive. He turned instead, scanning the planes of the ceiling and the walls. With a twist of his fingers he conjured a piece of chalk; the sigils wouldn't be as ingrained as the ones outside, but the tunnel was narrow enough to make up for it.

As he crouched and began to write in a flowing unbroken script, starting from the floor and working sideways up the wall toward the ceiling, he nodded almost as if to himself. "You said to me once that names are important," he said, "and you were right. Prayers, even mental prayers, are heard by those of us who are near enough; and they are always heard by those to whom they are directed. Putting our names to a prayer is a bit like jumping the queue."

The Archangel glanced over his shoulder, and this time his expression was apologetic. "I'm sorry the thought puts you off your ease, Skul. If it helps, it's not exactly reading minds. We can, of course, but a heartfelt prayer has more to do with the soul, and that is always our concern."

[skeletonenigma]

Skulduggery was right. He didn't understand a single thing Gabriel was chalking onto the rock. But he continued to watch anyway, arms held loosely by his sides so he'd detect anything traveling toward them before it got too close.

When Gabe put it that way, it almost sounded like the power a true name could bring, if one discovered it. Perhaps that was all an angel was; someone perfectly in control of their true name. Grossly oversimplified, most likely, but it helped Skulduggery begin to accept the concept of prayers, at least.

That evolving comfort practically disintegrated with Gabe's next words. Skulduggery had once met a woman who could read minds, and even she didn't make it sound as intrusive as Gabe did. Knowing the Archangel wouldn't have meant it in such a way, Skulduggery did his best to let it go; deep breath in, deep breath out, good-natured grumbling. A quick clearing of his mind, just in case.

"The soul?" he asked instead, trying his best to regain a mental balance. "Tell me, is it possible..."

Here, he hesitated. Skulduggery had never before met anyone he'd even suspected capable of answering the question, and now that he was on the verge of finally discovering what had happened to him so long ago, he found his voice strangely lacking for a few moments. Maybe this wasn't the best time.

But would there ever be a best time?

"Is it possible for a soul, or a consciousness, to be held back?"

[impudentsongbird]

He hadn't meant it like that, no. True, some angels, like Rafe, tended to dip into minds more often now than they had, but most, like Gabriel and Michael, still considered it a matter of courtesy not to do so. It just didn't quite occur to him to say that.

The Archangel had reached the height of the ceiling and began moving down the opposite wall, stepping back. The spell wasn't a circle so much as a spiral. Gabriel glanced back, but waited for Skulduggery to finish his question without interruption. It was a valid question. A very valid question. Gabriel just wished he knew what kind of answer Skulduggery wanted. Not that he would have lied, but at least he would have known how to approach things.

"I've ... known it to happen," he said at last. With relative frequency, in fact, a couple of centuries ago. The description fitted vampires to a T; theirs were souls who never passed on, trapped in a never-dying body. Which would be one of the reasons why vampires were insane. "But your circumstances are very different; the way your soul is tied to your skeleton--I've never seen anything quite like that before, not without having passed on first. There's similarities ... but it's not the same." Now he turned to look, and his expression was gentle and apologetic and reassuring all at once. "I don't know why you are what you are, Skul. But there's a reason for it. There's always a reason."

[skeletonenigma]

There's always a reason. "That," Skulduggery was strangely unafraid to say, "is what I'm afraid of. I didn't... pass on. I wasn't taken anywhere. I just was." He couldn't say that he wanted to move on, or that he was ready to, but he'd never even been given the option Gabe was implying. He'd been forced to sit and watch a war slowly being lost because of his own failure, the anger slowly growing and threatening to drive him insane until there was simply no way for Skulduggery to handle it anymore. And with moving on somehow blocked, his feelings had intensified until the sheer weight of them dragged Skulduggery back into his body, by then nothing but a skeleton.

That weight had never faded. It had driven Skulduggery into unspeakable evil not long after. Sheer stubbornness saved him, along with the thought of defying whatever had blocked his proper death and forced him into this. But a part of Skulduggery had always believed - no, more like hoped - that there was more to his resurrection than years of mass murder. And while the hope wasn't killed with Gabe's admittance of not knowing, it was certainly dimmed.

"Ah well," he said after a moment. "Thank you, nonetheless."

He kept being given second chances, and he kept ruining them. Being trapped here with the Faceless Ones should have been an end, a just punishment, but somehow he'd ruined even that; and now an Archangel, one of the best people Skulduggery had ever known, was putting everything on the line to help.

"Gabe," he began quietly. If traveling between multiple realities was easy and safe, his friend would have done it much earlier. "How did you manage to get here?"

[impudentsongbird]

It was hard to be able to give Skulduggery any answer at all when Gabriel didn't know the details of the situation. He nodded again to himself. "Sometimes people want to stay," he said. "But that's completely different to what you're talking about, and to what happens when they're forced to."

He glanced toward Skul again, and there was compassion on his face. "I'm sorry I can't give you a better answer. But there is an answer, Skul, I promise you that. It's just one we can't see yet."

But they could, possibly, find out, and if Skul wanted to do that then Gabriel would be quite happy to help him try.

"Ah," he murmured in response to that next question, and meant to smile down at the sigils. The smile didn't quite come. He crossed the floor again, spiralling the spell back and then weaving it forward. When he was done with this one, he'd draw another, interwoven with the last. "I walked, sort-of," he said, and was pleased by the fact his voice was even. "I found a place where I could safely jimmy open the door in my reality and stepped out." The Archangel shook his head to cover the way he wanted to shudder. "Have you ever heard all those metaphors about being swept away in an ocean? I never understood them until now. It was like that, except with a little self-made boat and a compass."

Almost absently he touched his throat. At the level he was speaking, his voice certainly wasn't getting any worse, which was fortunate. But it still felt raw, more than it ever had when he wasn't limited by a truly human body.

His compass. His tool, to manipulate the music of those waters. Maybe it was the only reason he himself wasn't now ... No. It had to be more than that. Skulduggery had said the Faceless Ones had rampaged through universe after universe. How many had they fought their way toward before finding Skul's own? How long, lost and adrift in that cacophony with only the strength of their collective force to keep them together, had they swum until finally they were no longer selves but many? No longer angels, or demons, or anything but an insane legion?

Gabriel would have to step into that cacophony again. He would. He knew he would, because he had promised. And surely, surely, if he spent too long in it it would hurt him too.

He'd just have to make certain not to spend too long in it. Surely Skulduggery's mind would fail long before Gabriel's would. The Archangel wouldn't let that happen.

[skeletonenigma]

It was just Skulduggery's luck that he would travel to alternate universes - even meet an Archangel - and yet still have no idea whether God existed or not. Worse, he'd never really felt the need to solve that particular mystery before being pulled into Landel's reality. It often seemed like half of his life and existence would remain a mystery, no matter what the detective tried.

For as dangerous and trying as the experience of walking through realities should probably be, Gabe was frighteningly nonchalant about it. Skulduggery watched him suspiciously, wondering if the downplay was deliberate, before deciding that he didn't really want to know. He wasn't an angel, nor an expert, and probably didn't have the background knowledge to understand the details. No damage had been done, and for right now, that was all that mattered. There were more pressing matters at hand.

A lot of things were beginning to occur to Skulduggery, now that he'd been faced with such proof that Gabe could drop this form whenever he wanted; one of them was the way Gabe's voice still continued to sound like he'd swallowed something scratchy. "It does sound like you caught a cold," he agreed, his tone much lighter than before. "I don't suppose offering you a glass of water would help?"

[impudentsongbird]

If that was all Skul wanted to know, all he had to do was ask. As it was, as far as Gabriel was concerned the answer was fairly obvious, and it didn't occur to him that Skul might still be wondering.

At that, Gabriel grimaced ruefully. "Unfortunately, no. Not unless it was holy, perhaps." Then he blinked and glanced back toward Skul--or more specifically, Skul's rosary. "... Which may be an option, come to think of it, if I can pull together some water. The crossing strained my voice, is all. I've never--it's never happened before, to be honest, so I'm really just guessing."

But if there was anything that would help at all, holy water would be it. Technically speaking, he wouldn't even need the rosary; but it would certainly make things easier, and he would take all the ease he could right now.

[skeletonenigma]

"I think that would be a fairly safe assumption to make," Skulduggery agreed, referring to the cause of the sore throat. "Holy water, eh?" He slowly unwrapped the rosary from around his wrist, and then glanced up around the cave walls. With Gabe right there, Skulduggery was fairly certain they wouldn't need a priest, which left only a container.

They probably left the sack behind somewhere in the city below, but that was hardly an issue. Skulduggery took off his hat - taking a moment to marvel at how he still had it, even after all of the crashing, although Gabe might have had something to do with it - held it upside down, and condensed the moisture above the wide brim with a quick curling of his fingers. Within moments, the hat was full of water, perfectly still until Skulduggery dropped his hand; then the reflection broke and the surface began naturally rippling again.

"Will this work?" he asked, offering the hat along with the rosary.

[impudentsongbird]

"Just a moment; these need to be uninterrupted." The first spiral was nearly finished, and with a final arc which linked the tail end of the sigils to beginning, the Archangel pulled the chalk away and turned to see what Skulduggery was talking about. He wasn't quite expecting what he found, given how much Skul apparently loved his hat; offering it as a drinking vessel wasn't exactly dignified. "You know," he said quietly and with a smile that was radiant in its gratitude, "I think it would. Thank you, Skul."

Gabriel pocketed the chalk and accepted both hat and rosary, murmuring the prayers, kissing the cross and dropping it into the hat. There wasn't an outward reaction, because there never was, but for those who could sense such things there was a difference. A resonance, almost, or a sort of light which only the sensitive could see. Gabriel plucked the rosary back out, shaking it off gently, and handed it back to Skul.

Then he curled the brim to contain the water and lifted it, drinking deeply from a very unusual vessel. But it worked more than well enough, and the water, to Gabriel's great relief, was as soothing as if Raphael himself had cast a healing spell. When the hat was empty Gabriel lowered it and held it out, his quiet gratitude still written all over his face.

"Thank you," he said again, and this time he spoke at a normal volume--a normal volume which still, very faintly, suggested a recent strain, but one which was no longer there. "This will make the crossing much easier."

[skeletonenigma]

"Don't mention it," Skulduggery answered with an equal smile in his voice. "Just don't bend it too far. I'd rather not count on being able to see my tailor within the next few hours."

It was meant as a joke, but the offhand comment gave Skulduggery pause. The idea of seeing any of his friends and acquaintances again was one he'd abandoned minutes after waking up in the whitewashed hospital room at the Institute; having hope again felt so strange that he almost instinctively buried it as deep as he did the anger.

He tried to ignore the brim-bending as Gabe drank from his hat, focusing instead on tying the rosary back around his wrist. Another unfamiliar habit, but it was no longer just a rosary in Skulduggery's eyes; now it was the item that had made it possible for Gabe to find him. Wearing it was just as much a gesture of gratitude as it was practical and potentially useful.

When Gabe spoke again, his voice sounded much better. Skulduggery hadn't detected any change in the water, but whatever happened had obviously worked. Amazing, really, how simple the whole process was. "Good," he nodded. "The crossing. How is that going to work, exactly? You mentioned someone I know well."

[impudentsongbird]

Absently Gabriel nodded as he smoothed out the brim, handing the hat back to Skulduggery. "I need an anchor," he said simply, retrieving his chalk and turning to begin a second spiral of wards to complement the first. "Something whose tune I can sing to guide me. To get here, I used the rosary."

A rosary he knew very well, and knew wouldn't have been changed by the crossing. He'd known Skul wasn't precisely human, but he hadn't known him as anything but; such a massive change wasn't something the Archangel could have just left out. So he hadn't dared to use Skul himself.

"I don't know any items from your world well enough to do the same, unfortunately," the Archangel said. "But if you tell me enough about one person, their names and who they are and what they mean to you, I ought to be able to use their connection to you as a compass." He paused and glanced over his shoulder. "The place between realities isn't calm, Skul," he said quietly. "It's a maelstrom of sound, a cacophony of music all playing at once. I can wade through it, but I need something to guide me."

He paused a moment, and then added, "And a place to breach the walls of this reality. I may be able to do it without finding a weak spot, but it would be much easier, and less tiring, if I have a place where the curtains have been lifted before."

[skeletonenigma]

Ah. Then the rosary was, quite literally, the item that made it possible for Gabe to find him. All the more reason to wear it.

Skulduggery took his hat back, flicked a piece of imaginary lint from the top, and placed it back on his skull. Well, not strictly speaking his skull; he'd won this one in a poker game about twenty years ago. The few weeks he'd spent before that as a headless skeleton had been one of the more interesting times of his life, and one of the lonelier times in his hat collection.

"If we're lucky," he replied, leaning against the cave wall with his arms folded, "there's a way up without going back out. If we're unlucky, these caves all go down. And if we're really unlucky, they'll lead to wherever those slaves have set up their camp, and they take a very dim view of trespassers."

People and objects having tunes that Gabriel could sing, for some reason, wasn't so much of a shocking revelation after learning that Gabe sang his way through the realities. Skulduggery could imagine how those melodies formed something similar to threads linking realities, the same way the Isthmus Anchor did. If he could just think of an accurate way to describe -

The realization hit Skulduggery so hard that half of his body jerked in surprise. "I may have been lying," he said carefully aloud, "when I said there was no Isthmus Anchor."

He couldn't believe he hadn't thought of this before. To be fair, he'd had a lot on his mind, but that shouldn't have been an excuse. Nothing was an excuse for poor detective work. "Would it make your job easier if there was already a thread linking this reality to mine, and it led directly to me?"

[impudentsongbird]

Gabriel paused to crane his head over his shoulder, his expression inquiring. Skulduggery had never struck him as a liar. Secretive, yes, for good reason--but not a liar. Then the Archangel realised that the detective didn't mean strictly lying; just a mistake.

Then the words registered, and the Archangel grinned. "I think it would make things significantly easier, yes. What kind of thing did you have in mind?"

The only issue might be making sure this thing led to the right Skulduggery, but they could work those details out in a bit.

[skeletonenigma]

"The Faceless Ones," Skulduggery explained, "left a part of one of them behind when they were exiled. It formed the center of a nasty piece of work called the Grotesquery." He inwardly shuddered at the memory of having to deal with that monster, how it almost killed Tanith and withstood all that even Mr. Bliss had to throw at it. "That was their Isthmus Anchor, what made it possible for them to find our reality. When the portal was forced open, I effectively tossed it in after them. But..."

He reached up and touched his hat. "This isn't my head. My own was stolen a while ago. I never quite found out what happened to it, but it would be in that reality somewhere, wouldn't you say?"

Skulduggery missed that head, more than he liked to think about. It had higher cheekbones.

"I won't claim to know exactly how this works," he added, "but it sounds like it would be easier for you to... sing my tune, as it were. Rather than the tune of someone you've never met."

[impudentsongbird]

The Faceless Ones. Left something behind? There was something in Skulduggery's soul which indicated this wasn't entirely accurate, but Gabriel couldn't see what it was. What he could see was that the basic assertion was true. The Faceless Ones had left something behind. Something ... something not quite as metaphysical as it should have been.

What, Gabriel wondered, had the cacophony done to his siblings beyond the obvious?

"Yes," the Archangel murmured, watching Skulduggery with a look in his eyes that seemed as if he was looking deep into the skeleton, rather than at him or through him. As if he was looking for something. "Yes, that would work perfectly."

Then he blinked and his brow furrowed, and he looked away to resume his wards. As he did he spoke, a little slowly, as if in thought. "There's only one problem." There were many problems. "And that's the possibility of multiple versions of you. They're all going to be different, but those details might be lost among the versions of you which are similar enough."

What he needed was something he could rely on to be unique to this Skul alone. It didn't have to be anything to do with the head, necessarily--it just had to be Skul. Which actually made Gabriel think of something, and he looked toward Skul again.

"Why don't you know where your head is?" he asked. "It's yours, isn't it? Why isn't your soul attached to it? How does that work?"

[skeletonenigma]

Skulduggery nodded; the thought of multiple versions of himself had already occurred, almost as soon as he learned about the existence of other universes. It was an interesting theory, and, of course, meeting one of those other versions could be highly informative. But Skulduggery remained of the firm opinion that no one universe would be able to handle twice the genius. Better to make sure Gabe would find the right one.

"Those are all," Skulduggery answered slowly, "very good questions." He paused for several seconds, staring out into open space, long enough to give the impression that he wasn't even going to try answering.

Then he turned his attention back to Gabe. "I don't know where my head is because goblins stole it. I believe it acts like an arm or a leg, though - losing it doesn't dissipate my consciousness." The irony of having to explain the nature of his death to an Archangel was amusing enough that the good humor filtered back into his voice. "To be honest, I don't even know if I can die again. Theoretically, if enough of my skeleton were scattered, I'd cease to exist, but I've never really felt the need to test that theory."

[impudentsongbird]

"That's probably a wise choice," Gabriel agreed with a quick, flashing smile. He took no offence from Skul's amusement, if he even knew what it was for; sure, the Archangel could have known what had happened even in retrospect, but that would have meant reading the detective's mind and that would have been rude.

But that made Gabriel think of something else, and he paused, and looked at the detective, and bit his lip. Skul's given name would be the same all realities over. But his true name ... "Skul? Do you know your true name?"

If he didn't, there was a good possibility Gabriel would be able to find it. Not that he'd ever do it without permission, of course, but without knowing all the differences in every version of Skul, it would be nearly impossible to figure out the details to make sure they had the right universe.

Maybe if he had enough of them, it would make a difference. Yes, that would work. It would also take a lot of time to build to the right power, and they might not have that time.

[skeletonenigma]

It took Skulduggery a moment to squash his immediate visceral reaction in favor of the calm, cool logic he was known for. And even then, the logic was underscored by a sense of wariness akin to what he'd felt when he first met Gabe.

"No," he finally replied when he was fairly certain his voice wouldn't betray any of it. "I don't."

But it would guarantee that Gabe zeroed in on the right skull. A true name probably held every single kind of detail Gabriel had just asked him for about someone else, and then more. Archangels could read minds, apparently, and it wasn't difficult to believe that they could go a lot deeper than just the surface thought. While Skulduggery knew that Gabe wouldn't even attempt something like that without full knowledge and consent - as even asking now further confirmed - just the fact that his friend could do it was alarming in itself.

Even though Skulduggery was sure he knew the answer to his next question, he wanted to hear it out loud. "Why?"

[impudentsongbird]

Gabriel met Skul's gaze, knew Skul knew the answer to the question he himself was asking, and answered it anyway. "Because it would guarantee we have the right universe," he said simply. "Even if you don't know it, I ought to be able to find it."

If anyone could, other than his Master, he could. "I'd never attempt to do so without your permission. It might not even be necessary." He hesitated, and then confessed, "But the alternative would take longer, and we may not have that kind of time." Then the Archangel smiled gently. "Give a bit of thought. Whatever we do, I need to finish these wards to give us as much time as possible."

He was halfway through the second spiral. Bare minimum he should write three. Five would be better, and seven even better. He turned back around and went back to work, his writing flowing and elegant and weaving, unbroken, through the sigils.

[skeletonenigma]

It wasn't that Skulduggery couldn't trust Gabe. They'd had to rely on each other for a lot more than this, and in an environment with far less certain outcomes. They had only known each other for less than a year - less than a month - and even without Gabe's divine identity and intentions, Skulduggery would have trusted the Archangel with his life.

But it wasn't his life he would need to trust Gabe with.

A sorcerer's true name was the source of all their power. Anyone else learning what it was, no matter who or why or how, would be given direct and absolute control over not only that person's actions, but their mind - their emotions, their loyalties, their love, their memories. Gabriel, no doubt, understood that, given his immediate reassurance that he wouldn't try without Skulduggery's permission. Skulduggery was equally sure that Gabe would never misuse the information himself - probably never even be tempted.

But that left so many holes and loose ends that Skulduggery didn't know where to start. What would he do when he knew his own true name? The power he was already capable of would multiply, and his state of existence walked such a fine line on a daily basis that the thought physically repulsed him. Losing control again could spell disaster for the entire world. Add to that the possibility of Gabriel's knowledge somehow being passed on - or the fact that only one person knowing effectively erased any ability to seal his true name later, if Skulduggery ever discovered a way to do it without needing organs.

But it wasn't a desperate risk, either. It was a gamble. It basically amounted to whether Skulduggery trusted Gabe to stay quiet even when under someone else's control, and whether he trusted himself to be able to retain the knowledge wisely; and then whether that trust was strong enough to overcome the possibility that Gabe's 'alternative' might still work.

Gabriel, Skulduggery knew, he could trust. If anyone other than God was able to control an Archangel, the world would end soon anyway. But he didn't trust himself.

"Can you find it without letting me know what it is?" he finally asked, hardly daring to believe that he was even considering this.

[impudentsongbird]

By the time Skulduggery spoke again, Gabriel was halfway through the sixth spiral and the sigils on the first were beginning to resonate. Just faintly--very faintly--but enough for Gabriel to know the Faceless Ones had gotten through his cliff-side ward. He kept an eye on them as he wrote, and when Skul spoke, he paused and turned enough to meet the detective's gaze.

"Yes," he said gently, understanding in his eyes. "Yes, I can." He hesitated for a moment and then added, "The alternative--it's not impossible, I think. They would both require some time, is all. The other way--I would need to sing your whole life and reach a certain point of power, and I'd need to do it where the portal was."

They would be in danger. They would have to hold off the Faceless Ones for as long as they were there. But Gabe didn't know where the portal was; maybe it was somewhere they could go to and ward, and then he would have the time. "If that area is securable, it might be the better way."

If. And Gabriel didn't know. But Skul did, so it was his choice.