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]

Whether or not the breach had actually closed, Gabe couldn't tell; but with Finbar's rise out of the vision, their connection to it ended. The Archangel supported Finbar with a hand on his back, one that radiated assurance. Although Gabe would have liked to offer the psychic some of his strength, just as he had to Swami, he couldn't.

Then, he'd had three days to recover some of his equilibrium before Swami awoke. Now, Gabe hadn't had the chance to properly recover from the Faceless One's attack. And the pain he was holding at bay wasn't going to remain distant for long.

"Yes," he said, and managed a faint smile full of gratitude. "Thank you."

That was all he managed. The last residue of the vision wisped away and the strain came crashing in like waves against a cliff. It wasn't like when the Faceless Ones had knocked him into that building, in the other dimension. It was worse.

His eyes didn't roll back, but they went an odd and very unnatural sort of distant, as if his mind was rolling in all directions instead of being there. And he was; the agony in his head was like those first few seconds when he'd stepped into the Cacophony before he left home, overwhelming and splitting him apart. Only this, he couldn't escape, because this was coming from within.

One moment he was sitting up, supporting Finbar; the next, Gabe had sat down abruptly and was tilting to the side without even so much as a whimper.

[skeletonenigma]

Damn.

Damn.

Skulduggery didn't even take the time to chastise himself for not realizing sooner how much of a toll this would have taken - for not realizing that Gabe was, for all intents and purposes, briefly reaching back into that turbulent ocean. The guilt would come triple-fold later, as it always did; right now, time was of the essence.

"What happened?" Finbar stumbled back to his feet and almost collapsed against one of the kitchen counters trying to keep his balance.

Skulduggery already had his phone out and dialing. "He was attacked by Faceless Ones on the way here. He was still recovering. He should never have done this."

"Hey, man. You do what you have to for family." Finbar winced; whether in sympathy or in pain, Skulduggery didn't know and didn't particularly care. "What can I do?"

Infernal smartphones. Skulduggery's fingers wouldn't have registered on the touchscreen at all if it wasn't for Gabe's disguise, and it required a finesse based off a prior knowledge of smartphones that Skulduggery didn't have. He cursed uselessly at it, and then tossed it to Finbar. "Call Ghastly. Tell him to send Fletcher over right away."

Finbar nodded and, within three seconds, had the phone up to his ear. "Where are you gonna take him?"

Skulduggery didn't answer. That wasn't something Finbar could know. Not because he wasn't trustworthy, but because there were plenty of sorcerers out there capable of putting together the facts surrounding Gabe, wanting some of that power for themselves, and dragging the location out of Finbar. Solomon Wreath sprang instantly to mind, and then faded just as quickly.

Skulduggery's hand was on Gabe's shoulder, though how much help that small gesture would actually be remained a mystery. Gabriel might not mind the darkness Skulduggery's soul brought, but he couldn't imagine it was doing much for the Archangel right now.

"Need me to come along?" Finbar asked, concerned. "I can be useful. I can get, I dunno... crosses or something. Oh hey, Ghastly. No, it's Finbar. Listen, Skul wants you to..."

Skulduggery tuned the rest of the conversation out. If Fletcher hadn't been to the parlour before, he would need Finbar's help carrying the Archangel out to somewhere he had, but apart from that... Finbar's presence might actually be more of a hindrance to Gabe than a help.

[impudentsongbird]

The vibrations in this house hurt. This house, the house of a psychic, where things sank into the walls and stayed there and spoke back and--

Something touched him, something calm and crystalline. Fractured, but in a way that was strong beyond words unless the right chinks were found. Without real intent, without anything but the need for an anchor in this screaming abyss that had become his mind, Gabriel sank against that 'something' and clutched at it.

It took a moment before the wash of Skul's soul helped the migraine subside enough for Gabe to realise that it was Skul's soul, and that once again Gabriel was leaned into it as if it was a lifeline. In this house, it was. The psychic resonances were far too strong here to be anything but harmful in the state Gabe was now in. Skulduggery's proximity gave the Archangel something to latch onto, something to centre himself just enough to know where he was. Even then, it was too hard to think, too hard to do anything but grip Skul's shirt and hope it would subside soon.

"Always kinda wondered what a migraine felt like," he whispered, and even that purely physical noise made his head throb. This time he bit back on a whimper and buried his face in Skul's shoulder.

[skeletonenigma]

That was it. The instant Gabe was coherent and lucid and all of this had blown over, Skulduggery needed to give him a Stern Talking To. He didn't think it was possible for an Archangel to die from their injuries, but then again, he would have said the same thing about migraines up until yesterday. Gabriel was hitting new lows each time he tried a 'simple' trick or leaped headlong into the metaphysical without thinking, and Skulduggery didn't want to find out just how low those went.

Back at the cemetery, when Gabe had clung to him like all of existence depended on it, Skulduggery had hugged him back. He'd been able to imagine the effect Necromancy would have on a being so pure, and had even on some level known that his achievement - conquering the temptation, despite the price - would help to temper the Archangel's trouble with death magic.

Now, he had no idea. Skulduggery didn't often deal with migraines himself; he didn't have a brain. The most pain he ever felt in his head was when his skull got cracked open, and that had happened only a handful of times over the centuries.

The hug this time was a lot more tentative, but it was still very much there. Skulduggery tried to focus on that, and not on the worry currently creeping through his mind that Gabriel might eventually hit a point he just wasn't able to come back from.

Finbar stepped around into Skulduggery's line of sight, pointed at the phone, and held up ten fingers. That had better mean ten seconds, Skulduggery thought, and not ten minutes. Luckily for both him and Gabriel, it did.

Finbar managed a weak but approving smile and a thumbs-up as his gaze traveled down to where Skulduggery was almost cradling the Archangel. Skulduggery ignored it.

[impudentsongbird]

It wasn't as helpful as it had been in the cemetery, mostly because Skulduggery's worry was a turbulent surface to the detective's soul. It wasn't so bad as to be paining--at least not paining enough for Gabe to want to risk trying to move away. Skul was still the least painful thing in the building, and so the Archangel clung.

He was vaguely aware that he was tearing up again from agony. Even the light seemed overly bright, even though it shouldn't have mattered. Like Gabe was forced into the physical more than he ought to have been.

Gabe kept his eyes shut, his face pressed into Skul's shoulder, and focussed on his breathing. It was a little bit shaky, but long and slow, and although it didn't help the migraine ease it made Gabe feel slightly more in control. Not enough to move, by any means, but enough to sense that someone else had arrived, someone he knew--Fletcher.

The Archangel was aware of conversation, felt Fletcher's hand on his shoulder, and realised too late that there was no way the Teleportation was going to be comfortable.

He was right. The movement of the world around him, the disappearance of Finbar's house, were so abrupt and jolting that they made the drill-like pain in his temples sharpen once more. For a moment Gabe went limp against Skulduggery, whimpering breathlessly, his head a-whirl with this and there and all the places in-between Dublin and the safehouse at which his mind had tried to snatch and failed.

[skeletonenigma]

Finbar wanted to come. Convincing him that he couldn't was a matter of skill, perseverance, and luck, followed by a little bit of cheating as Skulduggery signaled Fletcher to Teleport once the psychic's back was turned. Finbar would get over it, and fairly quickly if past slights to his easygoing nature were any indication.

A large and very brightly furnished living room akin to China's apartment materialised around them. The furniture was slightly less elegant than China's own, like someone with a very good memory had cobbled it together at the last minute when they hadn't encountered China for a good few years. A radio was playing somewhere. Judging from the muted quality of the sound, it was somewhere in another room, and just playing loudly enough to reverberate through the walls. Tanith and Ghastly were rising from the biggest couch just as they and said couch blinked into existence.

That was about all the time Skulduggery had for observation; the instant everything became solid, Gabe's legs buckled underneath him. Skulduggery stumbled under the unexpected weight, caught them both with a well-timed cushion of air, and began half carrying, half dragging the Archangel over to the newly vacated sofa. Ghastly hurried over to help, and the awkward gait became mostly carrying.

"Where's the nearest bedroom?" Skulduggery asked as Gabe was gently settled on the cushions.

Ghastly jabbed a thumb back towards the door. "Just down the hall. It's the twentieth one we've found."

Fletcher stepped forward, but Skulduggery shook his head. "No more Teleporting. He can't handle it. Just let him have a few minutes."

"He looks worse than before," Ghastly commented. The tailor's face and voice were carefully neutral, but Skulduggery had known him long enough to recognize the concern. "What have you been doing?"

"Absolutely everything Professor Grouse told us not to do," Skulduggery said, and sighed. "We've had an interesting evening. Solomon Wreath may end up converting to Christianity. Guild offered me my job back; not in so many words, and we'll still have to be careful, but he did offer it. China's getting dangerously close to the truth because Sensitives everywhere are having visions of angels. Raphael and Merlin are on their way here now."

He paused and glanced over at Tanith, who hadn't stopped staring since Skulduggery first appeared in the living room. It took him a couple of seconds to remember why, and he glanced down at the skin on his hands. "Ah, yes. And Gabe's illusions can go a little deeper than a new suit, apparently."

"Really?" Ghastly was carefully looking anywhere but at Skulduggery. "I hadn't noticed. I forgot just how strange things seem to get when you're around."

"I do have that effect."

Ghastly's gaze settled back on Gabe, who looked, for all intents and purposes, like a physical being suffering a migraine. Pale, shaking, tears in his eyes, emitting quiet noises of anguish. It looked bad enough without remembering that Gabriel was an Archangel and shouldn't be anywhere near this state, let alone drowning in it.

A silent moment slid by, and then Ghastly glanced back over at Skulduggery. "Merlin?"

"I didn't ask."

[impudentsongbird]

If there was any grace at all to be found in Gabe's current state, it was that at least angels couldn't throw up. Or even have any real stomach to be nauseous. That didn't mean that stumbling across the floor in a purely physical manner didn't make the Archangel's head swim.

He was aware of Ghastly in some manner, aware of the change in magic in this place. The safehouse was a construction, but a subtle one, and for that he was thankful; the area they were in wasn't well-populated, so the abrupt dearth of prayers also helped the ring in his ears subside.

The pain ease, at least, enough that Gabe was somewhat cognizant of the sofa beneath him. In that moment, that sofa was the most wonderful object in the world, and Gabe sank into it with relief, drawing his feet up and trying to swallow any sound. It didn't quite work; though the others' conversation was soft, even ordinary noise was oddly painful.

Still. He heard enough. The Archangel took a few deep, slow breaths and whispered, "M'nephew."

Even the mere act of talking sent vibrations all through his head, and with a not-quite groan the Archangel pressed his face into the pillow. The darkness, he found, was much preferable to the purely physical light.

[skeletonenigma]

"But apparently, he's Gabe's nephew," Skulduggery broke the silence that followed. He'd given up trying to be surprised by anything at this point. Chances were, they might even get to meet the legendary mythological sorcerer before too long, and Skulduggery needed to keep his sanity-snapping moments for when that time came. Valkyrie could never again claim that Skulduggery wasn't impressive. How many other tutors in magic and martial arts introduced their pupils to Merlin?

Ghastly's head shook slightly, like he was trying to snap himself out of the same hazy stun Skulduggery had been in less than five minutes ago, and he tried to get back to the matter at hand. No mean feat; Skulduggery could attest to that. "There's no way to turn out the lights in most rooms here, but that bedroom I mentioned doesn't have any." His voice softened as he turned back to Gabe. "I think there might even be some kind of healing magic there. You feel... different as soon as you walk in."

"Sounds perfect." Skulduggery glanced sidelong at the Archangel, his own concern showing in his eyes. "It'll hurt, but only for a few minutes, and then you should be able to..." he hesitated. "Can you fall asleep?"

"What's wrong with you?" Fletcher asked Tanith, who - far from still staring - had been growing slowly more red throughout the conversation, and was now practically doubled over in laughter that tried, but didn't completely succeed, in staying silent. She waved a hand at him as she tried to get her breathing back under control, and Fletcher took a nervous step forward. "Do you need water or something?"

[impudentsongbird]

"No," Gabe whispered with abject misery, turning his head just enough so he could look at Skul through one slitted eye. "No sleeping, no falling unconscious. Wish I could."

He'd never needed to wish that before, even in those few moments he'd idly wondered what it felt like to dream; now he knew how that felt quite well. He also knew quite well how sleep could make all the pain disappear, make time move fast, make it seem as those the hours weren't spent in pain at all. Given all that, he really, really wished angels could fall asleep.

The Archangel wasn't whimpering anymore, but the lines on his face, the tears in his eyes--he looked a sight, to say the least, curled up on the sofa like he was. Not pathetic, but wretched and vulnerable. He could really do without being ill and injured, and that was as a human. Somehow being an angel made it worse.

Still. If the room had healing properties that would be nice, and with the way Gabe was feeling right now he'd even give Ms Sorrows a thank-you gift if it worked. Moreover, it was likely Rafe and Merlin would also need the help when they arrived--whenever that might be.

Exhaling slowly and bracing himself, Gabriel shut his eyes and made to lever himself upright. He'd been hoping that without sight, the dizziness might not be quite so intense. It didn't really work, and the Archangel reached out to grip the sofa's arm, swaying in his seat.

[skeletonenigma]

Skulduggery nodded. There were times when he wished he could fall asleep as well, but... falling unconscious? Skulduggery had never met someone who couldn't lose awareness for even a few seconds before. That was troubling.

His already gentle smile turned sympathetic. "I can show you some meditation, if you'd like. It's not quite the same, but it might help."

Unspoken coordination passed between Skulduggery and Ghastly, and the two men each took one of Gabriel's arms and slowly pulled him up to his feet, offering themselves as support. Ghastly drew the Archangel's arm around his shoulders and began moving towards the door, throwing a confused look towards Tanith in the process.

"Find out what's making her do that this time," he asked Fletcher. "Come get me if it's serious."

The journey to the bedroom was slow and painful, but somehow, they managed it. The bed was, of course, about as far away from the door as possible; but the bedroom was small enough that it was only a few extra steps, and then Gabriel could sink into the plush and likely expensive mattress.

Ghastly was right. There was a certain tingle to the air here, revitalising and energising Skulduggery from the moment he crossed the threshold. It was a pleasant tingle, like the caress of a soft hand - and even more than that, it was a kind of magic Skulduggery recognized. Not healing, exactly, and not strong enough do anything very useful, but it did help cut down on the amount of sleep a person needed while in it. He tried not to think about what China might have wanted that for.

[impudentsongbird]

There was awareness and there was awareness. The closest Gabe had come to losing awareness while in his angelic form was being overly aware of everything at once, so much so that he was no longer aware of his body. It wasn't exactly lack of awareness--if anything it was the opposite. More a state of being too torn apart to focus.

Gabe hardly did anything at all, and as slow as his transition from sitting to standing was, it made him aware of the planet's gravity in a way that would have been really very fascinating under other circumstances. Dizziness really was an odd thing, but it made it necessary for the Archangel to lean heavily on them both.

The first step was the hardest. It took Gabriel a few seconds to realise that he actually needed to move his feet before they could start walking. That had been hard enough with the ache in his body, but now the migraine made suiting thought to action nearly impossible. It really was just as well that he had two people guiding him, because mostly they wound up pulling him along until he automatically took the step just to remain somewhat upright.

Gabriel felt the magic instant they entered the room. Without meaning to he sighed with relief, his shoulders slumping. It wasn't anywhere near Raphael or even Michael's healing power, but there was a difference. Subtle, gentle, a breath of fresh air through the window of a stiflingly hot room. It didn't stop the room from being stifling, but it eased the discomfort in some small way.

His shuffling pace to the bed was the slightest bit faster, and then quite suddenly they were beside it. The only way Gabe's descent was even remotely controlled was because Skulduggery and Ghastly made it so. The Archangel pulled up his feet and buried his face in the pillows at once, curling up rather like a sick child. Without opening his eyes, but with a voice full of relief, he whispered, "Thank you."

[skeletonenigma]

It was a mark of just how far Ghastly had come to accepting Gabriel as an Archangel that the sight of him curled up on the bed was like a punch to the stomach. It didn't feel natural, and it wasn't the way the world was supposed to work. Gabriel didn't even belong in this dimension; they may just be sequestering him here while he healed enough to get back home, but it felt an awful lot like they had stolen him. And now? Now Ghastly couldn't even begin to imagine the pain that must be wracking Gabriel's body and mind, physical and otherwise.

On top of that, it now seemed another Archangel was on the way. Raphael, and... Merlin. Neither of them were going to be happy. And Raphael, at least, probably wouldn't be nearly as forgiving as Gabriel seemed to be.

Ghastly sighed. When did life get so complicated? Why hadn't defeating Mevolent and ending the war just given him the simple life of a tailor he'd always wanted? Why did there have to be angels now?

"You'd better go and check on Tanith," Skulduggery told him. "Thanks for your help."

"Skul," Ghastly shook his head, "you never have to ask and you never have to thank me. You know that."

Skulduggery's face may have been smiling, but it was as difficult to judge the emotion behind it as it was with the constant grin on his skull. "I reserve the right to make an exception with the Archangel."

"Fair enough."

~~

"Okay, seriously?" Fletcher's arms were folded as Tanith burst into fresh peals of laughter. "Tanith, you're half a century older than I am, and you act about ten years younger most of the time."

"I can't help it!" Tanith wiped a tear of mirth from the corner of her eye. "I know I should be all worried and concerned and he really doesn't look good, but..." She broke off again as soon as Ghastly reentered the room and tried to plaster on an innocent smile. It didn't work.

"Do you know something we don't?" Ghastly asked her.

Tanith pursed her lips together and shook her head. She didn't trust herself to speak just yet. It wasn't even that funny anymore; Tanith was at the point where just the clueless expression on the tailor's face was making her tear up.

Ghastly looked to Fletcher. "Am I missing something?"

"No." Fletcher's tone was flat. "She's just acting about twelve years old right now. The first thing Skulduggery said was 'Where's the nearest bedroom?' and..."

Ghastly's face went carefully blank. Tanith burst out laughing again. "And then Professor Grouse!" she tried to explain. "And 'strange,' and 'interesting,' and the bedroom feeling different and it'll hurt for a few minutes and-!"

That was it. Tanith couldn't say anything more. She could barely look up to see Ghastly's reaction, although she could well imagine what it would be.

[impudentsongbird]

The sofa had been comfortable beyond words. The bed was downright heavenly. Gabriel knew Skulduggery and Ghastly were speaking, but right then and there the most important thing for him was letting every fiber of his being sink into that divinely soft bed. Slowly, slowly, he relaxed.

He felt the vibrations of the magic and because of the nature of that magic, it was less painful than any other save the outright healing sort would have been. He felt Ghastly leave and Skul still nearby, and stopped short of actually extending himself beyond the room. It wasn't enough, but it was better than outside, and that had been better than Finbar's house. With the door closed, the magic had no breakages.

The pain had subsided but hadn't left, and it didn't feel like all that long before the differences hardly mattered. It still hurt. It still hurt so much, and all of a sudden he was afraid that Skul was going to leave him alone as well under the mistaken belief Gabriel would want to be alone.

Gabriel didn't want to be alone in this agony. It reminded him too much of being alone within his own mind, within the lion-shape.

The Archangel cracked his eyes open, and because it was dark it didn't hurt to try and see. Skulduggery's bones weren't visible to be white in the darkness, but Gabriel could still see the outline of his figure. "Please don't leave," he pleaded, reaching out one hand for Skul's. Skulduggery's calm was more soothing than any of the souls here. Almost as soothing as Michael. "How--do you do your meditation?"

[skeletonenigma]

Gabriel's hand in the darkness - pleading for a comfort, a reassurance that Skulduggery wasn't normally able to give - gave the detective pause. How often was it that an Archangel asked for help? How often was that request put to someone who wasn't God? Gabriel had spent most of his life in the service of humanity; that was what he was created for, and no matter how genuine the love between God and His angels, that fact would never change. Gabriel may not have been human, but his emotions were human enough for the two of them to establish a real friendship, and to warrant caution here. Whether God created him that way, or it was simply a side effect of spending eons around humans, Skulduggery didn't know. And he didn't particularly want to.

"I'm not leaving," he told the Archangel, taking his proffered hand and giving it one light squeeze. "Why would I deprive you of the chance to see your excellent handiwork, and how good it looks on me? I'm not that heartless."

The humour was partly for Gabriel's sake, and partly for Skulduggery's. It helped to clear his mind of the conflicting thoughts and feelings; he wasn't sure how much of them Gabe would be able to sense, or how much of an obstacle they would be to his recovery.

"It's similar to sleeping," he explained, once that was back under control. "You need to be relaxed, and you need to... not so much clear your mind as focus it. Letting your thoughts wander free of conscious influence." He hesitated, and then slowly sat down on the edge of the bed. "Valkyrie likes to say it's glorified daydreaming, if that helps."

[impudentsongbird]

Not often. Not often because up until recently it was never needed, because if not the Lord than Gabe's siblings would always be around as an aid. And yet, at the same time, it was the easiest thing in the world to ask for. Help had always been present, and Gabriel had never felt the need to refrain from asking for it, regardless of the source.

The Archangel gripped Skulduggery's hand, using that contact as a stabilising influence, and managed a wobbly but grateful smile. He couldn't sense much in this state. He could sense that there was turbulence, but not what was causing it, and when Skul managed to calm himself Gabe just felt glad.

"Always found relaxing a bit hard," he whispered. "M'Lord was always saying not to let things get my goat. S'such a weird phrase." It had taken him so long to get it. It wasn't that he was unaware of the nuances of language, it was just that, coming from his Master ... he'd never had reason to guess his Master's meaning or intent. Never had to take Him as anything other than literally.

The focussing was easier. Angels, when they wanted to, could focus for days in quite an inhuman manner. Of course, that also depended on what to focus on. Michael and Rafe were better at it than Gabriel. Gabriel had tended to find it hardest when there were distractions to be had ... distractions which made him feel distressed. It was so much easier when he was looking just for the sake of beauty.

Of course, that was a different kind of focus. A focus on a thing, instead of on nothing at all. Gabe's brow furrowed. Who would want to focus on nothing? Where was the fun in that, when there was so much of the world to experience? Even that state of experiencing each individual atom was still a state of experiencing. "Not exactly," he admitted, shifting so he was half-curled around where Skul was seated and Skul's hand was clutched back against the Archangel's chest. "Usually we focus on something, not on ... nothing. I don't know if I've daydreamed before."

[skeletonenigma]

It was strange, trying to explain the concept of Skulduggery's particular meditation to someone else. He'd tried to teach it to Valkyrie once, for fun and because she'd asked, but she'd quickly grown tired of it. Skulduggery couldn't exactly blame her. There wasn't a reason to learn it when sleep was fairly automatic and served the exact same purpose.

"Relaxing isn't that difficult," he eventually tried. The constructs of Gabe's human disguise would at least be somewhat similar to what they were based off of. Hopefully. "Close your eyes and just... breathe. It's much easier when you don't have to do it all the time, believe me." Would holy water help? Skulduggery didn't see how, but he made a mental note to ask Fletcher for some later.

The detective could, however, see where God was coming from. Gabe did have a tendency to let things bother him too much. It was good to see God and Skulduggery were of one frame of mind on the subject. So to speak. Skulduggery was forced to wonder for a brief moment if comparing yourself to God was considered blasphemy.

"Then focus on something." Skulduggery didn't try to take his hand away, not when Gabe was clutching it the way someone might clutch a lifeline. "The goal is to have your mind synchronised. Not trying to deal with a hundred different thoughts at once. Focus on something you can lose yourself in if you think about it long enough." Skulduggery didn't know how easy that was for Archangels, but he did know Gabe well enough to give something a shot. "What's your favourite memory from back home?"

[impudentsongbird]

The holy water had been left in the Bentley, but there wasn't all that much left. Another visit to the priest might be prudent, if not for Gabriel's sake than for Raphael's impending arrival. Who would have thought it would be so effective as a medicine for angels? Not Gabe. This kind of injury wasn't meant to happen.

Gabriel's brow furrowed and his mouth twitched wryly. "Good thing neither of us age, 'cos we'd be here a while if you really want me t'answer that."

But the Archangel got Skulduggery's point, so he closed his eyes. Thinking was difficult, but luckily Gabe had a wealth of favourite memories from back home. It didn't take long at all to settle on one--the last festival day, in fact, not long before the Institute. Gabriel and Raphael had visited the Garden Coast to celebrate with Michael, Merlin, Joby and the other ex-residents of Taubolt.

It had been ... incredible. Incredible because as joyful as angels were, they had never celebrated in such a way with people still living; only those already come Home. There had been games. Tricks. Good food and drink. Wonderful company. And a drunken eldest angel.

Bit by bit, Gabriel relaxed into the bed, his grip on Skul's hand loosening without letting go. His breathing, necessary only as a means of focus, petered into nothing. With his eyes closed, the Archangel looked very peaceful ... in a way that, with the lack of breathing, was rather unnerving for more reasons than one.

[skeletonenigma]

Skulduggery could believe that. No doubt the Archangel had millenniums of memories to choose from. Meditation had grown so natural to Skulduggery by now that it really was exactly like sleeping, and didn't require him to be thinking about anything. But back when he was still learning - and even the few times now when it didn't work immediately - he'd only ever had a few short years to choose from.

His wife. His daughter.

War was always imminent, but even that hadn't stopped days where it was just the three of them. No pressures, no worries, no Necromancy. No wave of darkness to keep at bay, no battles to keep Skulduggery occupied while his family was captured and tortured. Those blissful days had been few and far between, but they had existed, and that was important; they may not have been what snapped Lord Vile away, but they were the only things that kept Skulduggery grounded and calm afterward - at least until he was reunited with the Dead Men. Which, come to think of it, also wasn't a bad memory to choose from. Those were the only few moments since then where Skulduggery had managed to forget about Vile completely.

Gabe's grip loosened. Skulduggery looked down to see him in the perfect picture of peaceful sleep. If it worked properly, Gabe's awareness of him should have dwindled to nothing. "Gabe?" Skulduggery tried softly.

He didn't answer. No. Too peaceful. He wasn't breathing.

"Gabe?" That one was louder and more insistent, a precursor to Skulduggery pulling his arm out of Gabe's grip and gently trying to shake the Archangel awake. Caught in the phantom throes of panic - something Skulduggery didn't experience very often - his thoughts grew disjointed and barely sensible. Something about CPR mixed with a half-formed plan to find Raphael, whom Gabe had called a healer.

The small, sequestered calm Skulduggery always kept in the back of his mind was staring at the rest in quiet disbelief.

[impudentsongbird]

Somewhere in-between enduring a noogie from Raphael and being in the grip of a drunken hug from Michael, memories so intense that Gabe could smell the forest around him, the Archangel's concentration broke. It was the panic in Skul's soul that did it more than anything else, the apprehension jolting Gabriel back into groggy awareness.

The pain came a bit delayed, a sudden crash in his being that had been momentarily suspended. Skulduggery's panicked voice didn't help much either, and the Archangel cringed. "Skul?" he murmured, blinking in confusion and with his eyes crinkled in pain. "S'wrong?"

[skeletonenigma]

The rest of Skulduggery's mind finally caught up with the sensible part, which was grinning a smug little grin, and Skulduggery could have kicked himself. If he were still in skeleton form, he might well have. Angels wouldn't need to breathe, any more than he did. It was entirely possible Skulduggery's own focused breathing stopped when he was meditating.

What was it about dealing with Archangels that made everything feel so much more complicated? Aside from the obvious, of course.

Ah. And the panic, Skulduggery belatedly realised, would have done absolutely nothing to help a migraine, magical or not. He let his mind deflate with a healthy serving of chagrin - stopping just before embarrassment because, really, Skulduggery was better than that.

"Nothing," he answered. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to distract you. You're doing an excellent job."

[impudentsongbird]

For a few moments more Gabriel blinked confusedly at the detective. He looked young and vulnerable and exhausted, and if not for the fact that he hadn't started breathing again he would have looked painfully human indeed. Then he mumbled an assent and closed his eyes again. It took another few minutes to sink back into that sweetly protective memory, but he did, and because the party had gone on for days he certainly wasn't lacking for material.

This sort of meditation wasn't something Gabriel had ever done before, and yet in a way it was ... easy. It was just like focussing on something outward, some aspect of the planet he wanted to watch, except the opposite--inward, on an equally beloved event.

Time passed, and for the first time in his life as an angel Gabriel wasn't aware of it. Even nigh-demonic, every moment, every second, had dragged onward, every instant to be endured. Now he was unaware, because the time in his memory took precedence, and he lingered over every treasured experience.

It was at some point in the early morning, in the grey pre-dawn--not that they could tell--that the Archangel started to make overtures toward awareness again. He let himself rise out of the memory, not wishing to remain there too long without checking the world around him because he knew how easy it was to lose himself.

The first thing he felt was the tingle of the magic in the room. The second thing was the throb in his head, a bit worse than it had been the day before but no longer anywhere near migraine levels.

The third was Skulduggery's soul, calm as a still pool of deep water and utterly soothing.

With a sigh Gabe opened his eyes, a tiny smile on his face, and squeezed Skul's hand as he murmured in relief and gratitude, "You're still here."

[skeletonenigma]

He'd left for about an hour after being sure Gabe wasn't aware of his surroundings. But yes, Skulduggery did sit next to him on the bed for most of the night. It was his first real chance at meditation too, after all; mediation where the end wouldn't hinge on the potential arrival of a Faceless One.

The hour's absence was necessary to find the others, explain what was going on, inadvertently find out why Tanith had been laughing so hard, and accompany Fletcher to bring back two more barrels of holy water. The priest's mistaken belief that Fletcher was some sort of angel amused Skulduggery to no end, and he stopped the boy from trying to correct it - half so that they'd get the holy water sooner, and half so it would continue to be amusing even after they left.

With all of them officially pardoned by the Sanctuary, there was no real need to actively hide anymore; but they all agreed that keeping the safe house as a sort of base was the most logical move, given that Gabriel's identity as an Archangel was still mostly a secret, and still needed to be kept that way. Skulduggery made a few calls to certain contacts after that, assured each of them that he was back and perfectly sane, and asked them to be on the lookout for any information regarding Scarab, Sanguine, Dusk, or the Desolation Engine.

After the other three expressed the need for sleep, Skulduggery had gone back to where Gabriel was still motionless on the bed, still wrapped around where Skulduggery's arm had been. Skulduggery laughed softly and sat back down, gently taking Gabe's hand again. Why not. If the Archangel was so insistent that it helped, who was Skulduggery to deny it?

He then finally set his mental 'alarm,' as it were, for either Gabe's state of awareness changing or the first rays of the sun - whichever came first. As it turned out, sunrise did, so Skulduggery was perfectly... awake, for lack of a better word, when Gabe stirred. Awake, recentered, and feeling much better than he had in over a year.

"No I'm not," Skulduggery disagreed, despite his returned smile. "I left hours ago. What you don't realise is that you actually did fall asleep, and now you're dreaming. I have to say, your dreams do have good taste."

[impudentsongbird]

Gabriel laughed softly, grinning up at Skul, and it hardly made the throb worse at all. "They do, don't they? What a nice one this time. I'd just best make sure Guild doesn't hear about it."

He let go of Skul's hand and pushed himself upright, carefully just in case his head worsened with the movement. It didn't, so the Archangel crossed his legs and stretched, unnecessary as the movement was. "That's better," he said with a sigh. "I think this room really helped."

It hadn't quite erased the pain-lines around his face, because he wasn't exactly fully healed, but Gabe did look a lot better than he had the night before. "Thank you, Skul."

He'd have to thank Ghastly as well.

[skeletonenigma]

There was absolutely everything about this situation that Guild didn't need to hear about. The thought made Skulduggery chuckle. He debated briefly whether to tell Gabe about the cause of Tanith's laughter last night, and then decided not to embarrass the girl any more than she already was.

"Don't mention it." You'd do the same for any of us seemed a tad redundant at this point. With his hand back in his own possession, Skulduggery stood up and took over an armchair a few feet away, sinking cross-legged down into it. "If you need a drink, there's some holy water in the kitchen just down the hall." It was strangely freeing, being able to Teleport two heavy barrels in front of a mortal with no repercussions other than the amusing kind. "Otherwise, we need to talk."

His tone hadn't grown serious, exactly, but it did lose some of the earlier humour his eyes were still twinkling with.

[impudentsongbird]

Since Skul had moved and given Gabriel more space, the Archangel gingerly turned to rearrange the pillows so he could have a back-rest. He sank back into them with another sigh, wondering just how it was that beds could be so divinely comfortable.

Having a drink hadn't occurred to him, but now that Skulduggery had mentioned it, it would probably be helpful. It had been last night. "That would be nice," he murmured, and then looked up with a blink. His brow furrowed. "Talk? About the case? Did you find something while I was resting last night?"