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

[skeletonenigma]

Tanith had dropped her sword. Ghastly didn't think he'd ever seen her do that outside of a fight. Skulduggery still had his gun out, but the detective seemed to have forgotten about it, staring up at Fletcher as the dinosaur's head slowly lowered to meet them. Ghastly was about to come to the conclusion that he would never think anything quite as strange as that sentence, when the dinosaur spoke to them.

It didn't really, of course. Its mouth didn't move, and it wasn't making a sound. But it was the same basic principle, and Ghastly slowly brought a hand up to his forehead as Fletcher reluctantly began clambering back down onto the ground. The tailor was starting to get a headache right behind his eyes. "I thought," he said slowly, "that the whole point of this was not to draw attention to ourselves."

"That was certainly the plan," Skulduggery agreed with a nod. "Perhaps not quite the plan anymore. Is there any particular reason you two are doing this?" He finally put his gun away. "Was it Fletcher's idea?"

"Skulduggery?" Valkyrie's voice had a small croak in it, but Ghastly thought it best not to mention that. "Remember when I said I'd never see anything cooler than a living skeleton?"

"Well, that's hardly fair," Skulduggery objected. "How am I supposed to compete with an Archangel? I can't transform into dinosaurs. The most I can hope for is transforming you into an excellent and humble detective."

Was this, Ghastly wondered, what Archangels considered not straining themselves? He didn't particularly feel like being on the receiving end of Kenspeckle's wrath. Or, come to think of it, Gabe's Father's wrath either.

[impudentsongbird]

'There's no one around,' Gabriel pointed out as reasonably as an Archangel-turned-telepathic-dinosaur possibly could, blinking at them in perfect dinosaurian innocence. He turned his head to peer down at Skulduggery, and there was a definite impish gleam in that eye larger than a human head, even despite the Archangel's tone.

'It was fun,' he said simply, as if that was all that mattered. 'I've never been a dinosaur before.' He very deliberately did not comment on it being Fletcher's idea or not, and when he raised his head he might have ... purely by accident, of course ... caused one of the nearby tree-branches to bend back and then thwap sharply into Skul's face. 'Oops. Sorry.'

With his other eye, the one turned away from Skulduggery and toward Fletcher, he winked. It was slower than a human wink, but it was definitely a wink. A moment later the dinosaur was gone and the barefooted cowboy was back, hat in hand, raking a hat through his windswept hair and grinning wildly. "That was amazing."

[skeletonenigma]

What, Skulduggery wondered as the sharp and thankfully short pain of the snapping tree branch subsided, had that been about? He'd just asked a question. A good question, too. An important question.

Gabe becoming human again made the forest around them suddenly seem much bigger. Skulduggery took a moment to imagine what life at the Institute might have been like if this was one of the shapes Gabriel could still access. The thought was amusing enough that it dispelled any danger of anger, and allowed Skulduggery to forgive the Archangel for the brief flash of pain. Still, it was a good thing he was pretty much always grinning.

Fletcher and Gabe both looked positively aglow with excitement now, an improvement in both their cases; Fletcher because his natural facial expression seemed to be a scowl, and Gabe because he was no longer looking quite so ill or exhausted. In light of all that, there really wasn't much Skulduggery could do to scold them, and so he shook his head. "I suppose I did ask for a life of thrill and adventure."

"I didn't." Ghastly turned to go back inside. "All I ever wanted was to run a quiet little shop on a street corner."

"But now you get the best of both worlds," Tanith beamed, following him back to the old tree. "Except, you know, you can't go back to your shop just now, but... well, you should be able to soon."

"How come I don't get a dinosaur ride?" Valkyrie half-joked with an envious look at Fletcher.

[impudentsongbird]

The flash of anger wasn't lost on Gabriel, and he gave Skul a genuinely apologetic smile. Still, he could also tell the detective was still bewildered. That Gabriel could give Fletcher so much joy and acceptance, acceptance he craved and wasn't getting from the people he respected most, made the risk worth it.

It was just sad they weren't seeing it. Gabe would have to fix that.

Still, it would be a lie to say the change hadn't had something of a toll--mostly in terms of how badly his head was throbbing. He pressed the heel of his palm to his temple, laughing quietly and ruefully to himself as he made his slow way back to the tree to finish up the almost-done wards.

"It was an initiation into sacred arts," Gabe said solemnly, and then grinned again at Fletcher. "Just don't ask me what kind." He reached the tree and worked the scalpel out again. "I should be nearly done with moving the entrance, but then I'll have to ward the original tree," the Archangel said, changing the subject easily. "That won't take as long, though; I can just modify Ms Sorrows' sigils." With a gleam in his eyes that was somewhere between mischief and a child-like innocence Gabe cast a sidelong look at the others. "If any of you would like to join us to make sure we don't get off-track again, feel free."

[skeletonenigma]

"That's a brilliant idea," Skulduggery nodded. "Valkyrie, I expect regular reports."

"Actually," she responded as the detective turned to follow Tanith and Ghastly, "I was kind of hoping Fletcher could take me home." She laughed nervously. "God, I was worried about acting normal with an Archangel in the country, and now I've seen a dinosaur. One of these days, my parents are just going to know that I'm hiding something."

Skulduggery cocked his head as he gave her a Look. She had no idea what this Look was for; his body language wasn't giving anything away this time. "In that case, you, Gabriel, and I need to talk alone first."

Valkyrie's stomach dropped as she instinctively hid her hands in her pockets again. "What? Why? Why can't Fletcher be here?"

"Well, he can be, but you might not want him to be."

"He knows, Skulduggery." Gabe and Skulduggery both already knew, somehow, so what was the point of hiding what she knew Skulduggery wanted to talk about? "They all know. It's not like I've tried to keep it a secret. Look, I just want to go home and be with my parents. Why can't I do that?"

"You don't get to choose when your intervention is," Skulduggery told her gently. "That defeats the whole purpose of the intervention. It was Wreath, wasn't it?"

"Yes," she answered defiantly. "It was. I needed the extra strength to rescue you. Are you going to tell me that was wrong?" She looked at Gabriel, trying her hardest to forget that he apparently sat at God's right hand when he wasn't dimension-hopping. "Are you? Because I'm sorry, but I don't regret that. I could have rescued Skulduggery on my own, and I was planning to."

"I'm..." Fletcher inched away, "... just going to go see if the others need any help with anything." Without waiting for a response, he Teleported back into the safehouse.

[impudentsongbird]

Gabriel remained silent at first, continuing his work on the dead wood of the tree but still obvious paying attention to the argument happening just a few feet from him. Challenge was bright in Valkyrie, but when she looked at him Gabriel looked calmly back. His gaze didn't even flicker when Fletcher left them, though part of him wished the young man had stayed. It might have helped if Valkyrie didn't feel she was being ganged up on.

Still. The Archangel didn't let the show in his face. The time had come, apparently, and Skulduggery was right. Better this be done sooner than later.

"There's a difference between intent and method, Valkyrie," he said gently. "Wanting to rescue Skul isn't wrong. But the steps you take to do something good do matter. Sometimes, those steps undermine what you intended to achieve." A flicker of a grim, resigned smile crossed his face. "You may have heard the saying 'the road to Hell is paved with good intentions'. It's true. Lucifer's favoured and most successful means of destroying people is to manipulate them into justifying evil in the name of good."

The line was blurred, of course. There were exceptions; there were always exceptions. People were allowed to fail, to make mistakes. It was the ones who didn't realise what they had done was evil that fell.

[skeletonenigma]

"I'm not worshipping the Devil, for God's sake!" Valkyrie retorted. When did her life spiral so out of control that even that was in question? "Necromancy isn't evil, it's just another form of magic. And it's powerful, Skulduggery. It's an extra boost that, honestly, I kind of needed this past year."

"We're not saying you did anything wrong," Skulduggery said carefully. "You made a choice, and that's to be respected. As foolhardy as it would have been to open a portal when you have no idea what you're doing or how alternate realities work, you knew that risk, and I have no doubt you would have taken responsibility for the consequences. So, now that I'm back, are you planning on throwing the ring away?"

Valkyrie hesitated. She couldn't help remembering the way Crux, the ex-Sanctuary detective driven insane by the Faceless Ones, had attacked her last night. And the only thing that saved her from being killed was her control of shadows, once she managed to pull her ring back on. It was a powerful defense right at her fingertips, and... she couldn't give that up, even if she wanted to. Not yet.

When she didn't answer, Skulduggery sighed. "And therein lies the problem."

"You were just saying I can make my own decisions," Valkyrie grumbled.

"Informed decisions, yes. Somehow I don't think Wreath told you much beyond the fact that you have a natural aptitude for it."

[impudentsongbird]

"It's possible this Wreath fellow doesn't truly know what he's dealing with either," Gabriel added, finishing off the last sigil. "Many necromancers don't." With an audible snap the magic locked into place, all the sigils but one vanished, and that remained hidden from view by the contours of the tree.

"But that fact is, Valkyrie, that necromancy is my brother's invention, precisely because he can seduce people with its great power." The Archangel let the scalpel wither away in his hand and moved around the branch, approaching Valkyrie. Gently, but with a firmness that couldn't be disobeyed, he drew her hand out of her pocket and lifted it. The ring whispered to him and his mouth drew tight, but his eyes grew sad and almost pained. He could feel it. The need. The pain. The sensation of being trapped. He knew that feeling all too well.

The Archangel didn't touch the ring, but when his fingertips drew near to it the blackness seemed to pull away, leaving the edge nearest to him bleached white. It was almost as if it was afraid of him, and in those moments, the ring felt warm. "Even if you choose not to believe Lucifer exists in this dimension, the power in this ring feels just the same as it does in mine."

Gabriel looked up at Valkyrie in the eye. "Necromancy steals souls, Valkyrie. It chains them, binds them, pains them and keeps them from going to where they're meant to go. There is nothing good in it. It is an antithesis to all that I and my faithful siblings are. I cannot make you give up this ring. But I fear for what you will become if you don't."

He didn't comment on the fellow he saw attacking her, the memory so loud that it was broadcast with needing to try and read it directly. Maybe later. Maybe not. He was burdening her with enough already.

[skeletonenigma]

Valkyrie watched the dark color of the ring bleed away from Gabriel's fingers, felt the ring grow almost uncomfortably warm in its wake. She felt a part of herself draw away with it, rebellious to the last, confident that Necromancy had never brought her anything more than strength. She hadn't been seduced by it, she told herself; it was a matter of practicality and logic. She wouldn't lock into one form of magic for five years at least, so why not make it possible to look after herself until then? Depend on herself, instead of always relying on Skulduggery to swoop in and save her at the last moment?

But another part of her, the part that had all the misgivings even back when Wreath first suggested it, faltered. Necromancy drew its power from death. She'd always known that, and it had never really sat well with her. The first time Valkyrie put on the ring in the graveyard outside the Necromancer Temple, she'd had to take it off again immediately. Ice-cold with power, and almost painful to the touch, it had felt like it was trying to break her finger off, and it had almost been enough to make her rethink the whole thing right then and there.

But she didn't. She didn't have a choice. And now that ice-cold feeling was practically second nature to her.

Try as she might, the uncertainty was showing through on Valkyrie's face. "I'm not going to become a Necromancer. But even if I did, they're not... evil. Solomon isn't evil. Misguided, maybe. He called me a Death Bringer once. But - "

"He said what?"

Skulduggery's tone was so sharp that Valkyrie stopped in her tracks. She tried to answer, but suddenly her throat had gone dry. She'd learned from experience that the few times Skulduggery was this angry about something, she just had to quiet down and give him some space and within a few seconds, he was making a joke again.

But he didn't make a joke. Skulduggery didn't say anything, but he didn't look like he was waiting for Valkyrie to say anything either. The way his head was tilted, Valkyrie started worrying that she'd done more than disappoint him with her forage into Necromancy.

[impudentsongbird]

There was something wrong. Gabriel didn't even need to look at Skulduggery to know that, and so he didn't. There were details he would no doubt be able to divine if he had, but right now, Valkyrie was his focus.

"Not all evil people know they are, Valkyrie," he said with infinite gentleness. "Usually, they think the very opposite. But however good your necromantic friends might be otherwise, they are on a path of darkness, and walking it will lead nowhere but darkness for them and anyone who follows. Believe me--" and here there was a weight to his voice which was almost physical-- "believe me, little sister, I've seen far too many of my siblings' descendants seduced by the power, intending nothing but good, only to lose themselves to my brother."

He dropped his hands to wrap them around hers and squeezed them gently, still avoiding the touch of the ring. "But, Valkyrie, it's not as simple as using it now and choosing not to later. The fact you already find it difficult not to use only proves how deep its hold on you already is--and it will only get worse. Particularly," he added this with a glance at Skulduggery, "particularly if Wreath is encouraging you to use necromancy because of an assumed destiny."

[skeletonenigma]

Valkyrie remembered with a jolt how excited she'd been at the prospect of being distantly related to an Archangel. Was that because of the Necromancy? Because of the idea that she might not be as completely in the dark as she thought? Well, that was silly. Gabriel was an angel, knew exactly where he stood and what he stood for. Valkyrie, at best, was a descendant of fallen angels, apparently - and she wasn't even in the world where those existed. Despite how gentle Gabriel was being - or maybe because of it - she couldn't look him in the eye. Guilt was suddenly overwhelming her, and she couldn't even be sure that was real guilt. Who knew what Archangels were able to do to minds?

"Not a destiny," Skulduggery shook his head. His voice was frighteningly devoid of emotion, and that filled Valkyrie with very real guilt and apprehension. "A scientific inevitability, apparently. A messiah. Really, it's just a very powerful Necromancer. Would Wreath still be at the Temple, Valkyrie?"

She swallowed and nodded. "Probably."

"Then we need to go and have a chat. Gabe, would you like to come along?"

[impudentsongbird]

Even if she wasn't looking straight at him, Gabriel could still see that guilt and then the suspicion, and it hurt more than he thought it would. It wasn't quite surprising, he told himself. Angels didn't exist here, apparently. And Valkyrie hadn't known him all that long. But it still hurt, because he could see, could tell, that even though she felt guilty it still wasn't quite enough. She felt guilty, but wasn't convinced. She still felt she knew better.

She was young. Eager. Powerful, and wanting that power. A recipe for disaster. And he'd have to let her walk into it.

In that moment in which she wasn't looking Gabe closed his eyes to brace himself and couldn't help the wetness in his eyes or the tightness in himself that was grief. Is this enough? he asked the air silently. Is this all I can do, without taking it from her outright?

No. No, surely it wasn't. Even if Valkyrie chose to walk this path, that didn't mean he couldn't be there to illuminate the alternative. And when she fell--because she would fall--maybe he could make it so she was able to rise again.

And maybe he'd get another opportunity sooner than he'd been expecting. A messiah. The necromancers were preaching a messiah, and that messiah was meant to be Valkyrie. Cold dread clutched at him, but when the Archangel opened his eyes and looked to Skul there was nothing but determination in his eyes. "Yes," he said firmly. "Just give me a minute or two to alter Ms Sorrows' wards."

He dropped Valkyrie's hands and turned toward the original tree where the entrance still was, manifesting another scalpel in his grip. As promised, within two minutes he had changed Ms Sorrows' sigils to be wards and let the entrance itself spring over to the dead tree which replaced it. "Okay. Let's go."

[skeletonenigma]

Logically, it made sense.

Logically, when Lord Vile was ultimately a failure for the Necromancers' messiah, they would have gone looking for someone else. Despite what Vile was and had been, Necromancers were nothing more than religious zealots, and they wouldn't end their religion just because one possible 'saviour' had been corrupted. Of course not. No religion worked that way. That was the beauty of brainwashing from such a young age. Logically, once Wreath - one of the more honest religious zealots, but a zealot nonetheless - saw what Valkyrie had been able to do at Aranmore Farm, he would seize on the obvious opportunity. Logically, he wouldn't explain anything, because Valkyrie wasn't brainwashed. She hadn't been brought up in the deadly religion. Logically, Valkyrie would leap at the chance for a little extra power when she was constantly surrounded by people much older than she was and with a lot more experience.

Logically, it made sense. But for once, Skulduggery couldn't think logically. All that really occupied his mind at the moment was the knowledge that he was losing his best friend and partner to the same darkness that had once swallowed him, and someone needed to pay for it. Skulduggery couldn't hurt anyone, but he could at least embarrass Wreath.

"Get Fletcher," he told Valkyrie while Gabe was finishing up. "I take it he's been to the graveyard, at least."

"We've driven past it." Valkyrie was eyeing him warily, but Skulduggery ignored it, and after a few moments she called the boy on her mobile. In the moment it took for him to appear beside them, she glanced at Skulduggery. "You're not going to do anything to him, are you?"

"To Fletcher? Why would I do that?"

"To Solomon," Valkyrie corrected him with a glare. She glanced from Skulduggery to Gabriel. "This isn't his fault."

This was very much his fault, but Skulduggery let that slide. "We're just going to talk," he assured Valkyrie. "Ask him some questions. We could do it over tea if you'd like, but I'd rather Wreath didn't get too comfortable."

Fletcher flickered into view. "I'm just dropping you off there, right? I don't have to stick around or anything?"

"No," Valkyrie answered him. "You can come straight back."

With a nod and an air of relief, Fletcher waited until they'd all joined hands, and Teleported them to the graveyard outside the Necromancers' Temple. Without another word, he vanished again, leaving them there.

Skulduggery couldn't blame the Teleporter. He didn't particularly like graveyards either, especially when he knew exactly what lay beneath his feet. Coming here wouldn't have been his first choice upon coming home, but if it would help Valkyrie, there wasn't anything Skulduggery would hesitate to do. "Call him," the detective ordered with a sidelong glance at Gabe. The way the ring had reacted to his presence, he didn't think it would be a good idea to bring the Archangel into the Temple itself, as amusing as the thought of Necromancers bleached white would be. "Ask him to meet us out here."

[impudentsongbird]

"We'll just talk," Gabriel also reassured Valkyrie as she looked at him, the Archangel himself giving a stern glance to Skulduggery. The intent to harm wasn't exactly subtle. Not that Gabriel disagreed that it was Wreath's fault, exactly, but where Skulduggery had learned in the worst ways the price of necromancy, it sounded as though this Wreath fellow hadn't.

He could still be saved. It had happened before. Ex-necromancers had been some of the Lord's greatest clerics, because of the way they could see into the after like most other magicians couldn't.

Either way, the Archangel was very much hoping for some answers as he took Fletcher's hand with a grateful, encouraging smile. Then the area around the safehouse was gone and they were quite suddenly in a graveyard.

If he'd had the time to think, Gabriel would have wondered why he hadn't stopped to ask just where the necromancers were. Maybe he was thinking Wreath had an apartment. Maybe he was wearier than he thought. Maybe it had just been long enough that he'd forgotten where a necromancer's greatest source of power originated. If anyone had said it, he'd missed it while he had finished the wards.

Either way, he hadn't. He hadn't and when they touched down on the withered grass, the Archangel didn't even get a chance to see the physicality of the surroundings.

No, he was too busy being sucker-punched by the deathdeathdeath stagnant nothing moving nothing growing no rebirth can't escape--

The sound that came from him was strangled and his knees buckled. Gabriel just managed to catch himself on his hands, and where his palms touched dirt it seemed to crackle with light and something burning--burning like a forest-fire leaving the ash of new life behind. For a moment, for just a moment, the Archangel's human form glowed faintly as if he was in an aurora. Even though it wasn't night, the griminess and darkness and all the creepy things unseen receded with a wail, then rushed in toward him again like a tide.

stuck here can't leave pleasepleaseplease oh Lord--

No. No, he couldn't; the press of the darkness was around him and he wanted so badly to banish it, but he couldn't because it was their choice and it would reveal himself to them and everyone, and both Skul and Val would surely be caught in the crossfire--

The next moment Gabriel was gone, outside the gates of the cemetery and still crouched on the ground. The Archangel hunched inward, wrapped his arms around himself and wept, unashamed, for the seething, stagnant hopelessness in that desecrated graveyard.

[skeletonenigma]

"Gabe?" If there was one thing that could have distracted Skulduggery from confronting Wreath, it was the sudden realization that he should have thought to warn the Archangel about where the Temple was. It might not have meant anything normally, but Gabriel was hurt, in a way he never had been before. "Gabriel."

Gabe had fallen to his hands and knees, the ground underneath him crackling with a bright fire, shadows in the graveyard dancing away and rushing in like an ocean wave. Valkyrie jumped back with a cry; Skulduggery reached down to steady him, but before his hands could make contact, the Archangel disappeared.

Alarm flew through him, and Skulduggery leaped up and rushed over to the edge of the graveyard, hands outstretched as he let the tumbling air roll over his fingers. Valkyrie had recovered impressively quickly and was now right alongside him, just as worried, hopefully rattled enough by the sight to finally listen. Not that Skulduggery could care about that right now. How far would Gabe have gone? How far away would he be safe from those shadows? Just outside the graveyard, or was he now all the way on the other side of Dublin, collapsed and hurt with no one who knew and no one who would help...

The air rolled and he pinpointed a spot just outside the fence. Thank God. Skulduggery didn't even take a moment to appreciate that irony; he didn't waste any time reaching the gates and crouching next to Gabriel, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder.

He couldn't even pretend to imagine what the Archangel was going through, but he knew how strong that power could get. He'd forgotten how it rolled off the crypt entrance in giant waves of invisible darkness, subtle enough to be undetectable by most. Even Skulduggery could barely feel it now, thanks to years of abstinence, though he had no doubt it would take minutes to retrieve it if he wanted to. Just like riding a bike.

"On second thought," Skulduggery told Valkyrie absentmindedly, "tell him to meet us down the street." His attention was completely on Gabe, and Skulduggery was sympathetic on a level he didn't usually reach. "Gabe, are you alright?"

[impudentsongbird]

The touch on his shoulder made Gabe shudder, and for the first time since he'd left his own reality the Archangel wanted one of his older brothers so strongly the need was almost physical. That despair--the despair. He hadn't been prepared for it.

Last time, Michael had held him for Lord knew how long after yanking him out of his lion-shape. This time, Michael wasn't here.

But Skul was, and somehow the whisper of the detective's soul was more of a balm to the Archangel's frazzled emotions than one might expect. Reeking of necromancy or not, Skul's soul was more, far more, than simply locked into a skeleton and unable to pass on. He was redemption and abstinence and strength and hope, and everything about an undead being that could possibly be pure at all.

Without really thinking about it Gabriel found himself clinging to his friend, one hand clutching Skulduggery's suit while he pressed his face against Skul's shoulder as if he could surround himself with Skul's soul. The Archangel trembled, his tears wetting the cloth, not able to do much except wait until the emotion of centuries of souls left unguided had passed.

[skeletonenigma]

It didn't occur to Skulduggery until after Gabe clutched onto him that, technically, he was the very embodiment of Necromancy. Technically, he should be repelling Gabe just as badly as the crypt right now, not merely triggering a shudder and then, somehow, becoming a source of comfort.

Gabriel trusted him. Completely and implicitly. He'd said that before, but it was so evident now, so obvious that Skulduggery almost felt crushed under the weight of it. Even now, in the midst of all this... but it wasn't just the trust, it was something more. Skulduggery was acting like a rock for Gabe, an anchor, the only thing stopping him from getting swept away. And that meant Skulduggery could no longer just explain away every time Gabriel tried to tell him he deserved more than eternal punishment. This wasn't just Gabriel talking anymore; this wasn't endless, meaningless words against a lifetime of truths. This was an Archangel, an Archangel using Skulduggery to strengthen and steel itself against the Necromancy threatening to overwhelm them. That wasn't something Skulduggery could argue against.

So he didn't mention it. Whatever he was to Gabe, it was pretty damn important right now, and that was all that mattered. They could argue about the cause later. Skulduggery hugged the Archangel back, doing his best to forget - to honestly forget - that he'd once used Necromancy to kill. He couldn't completely, but he liked to think he managed a certain degree of peace for Gabriel to latch onto.

[impudentsongbird]

It took a long time. Gabe wasn't exactly aware of how long. He was aware of the pulse and resonance of souls, and the anger in Skul which should have been a repellent but wasn't for the simple fact of Skul's endless centuries of restraint. The anger, somehow, did nothing but highlight everything Skulduggery was doing to keep it in check--everything that made Skulduggery worthy.

The Archangel let those feelings wash over him, let them beat back the insidious whisper of his guilt and his grief. Eventually, the tears slowed and Gabe could feel something other than the despair or the concern.

That was what he finally, truly came aware of the fact that Skul's arms were around him, and as odd as the sight must have been, it didn't feel odd or awkward at all. It just felt comforting. Comforting enough that Gabe took the moments to centre himself, to find his calm. Finally he stirred, his spare arm wrapping around Skul's back to return the embrace with a silent, grateful squeeze.

Then the Archangel sat back, unembarrassed by the wetness of his cheeks, and took a deep breath to lock in the feeling of calm. "I'm sorry," he said, and his voice was still raw. "I wasn't expecting that. Did they notice my presence? I tried not to push back, but I'm not sure if I left quickly enough to stop them from realising something was happening."

If the necromancers had felt him start to retaliate against the darkness, they might have a problem. He didn't know if any sorcerers here could do that.

[skeletonenigma]

Valkyrie had left them alone as soon as she realized her presence would really only make things awkward. Skulduggery was the one Gabriel knew, and the one who would be able to calm him down. And to be honest, watching the Archangel cry was something Valkyrie hadn't really wanted to see. Not because she felt embarrassed for him or disillusioned or let down, but because she knew what was making him cry - or at least thought she did - and it really wasn't helping their earlier 'intervention', or her guilt at her own decision.

So she'd stepped away, turned the corner, tried not to think about it. Instead, she tried to think about how much more insane her life had gotten today. She needed to get home soon. She needed to see her parents. God, it had been at least a month since she last spoke to them. She should have taken her normal life back over more often, she knew, but Valkyrie didn't want her parents to think anything was wrong. Not until Skulduggery was back, she'd promised herself. Then she could focus on lying to their faces again.

She froze, and a small smile crossed her own face. "I just watched a skeleton hug an Archangel," she said out loud to the empty air. Nothing answered, so she said it again for good measure, a trickle of laughter in her voice this time. "I just watched a skeleton hug an Archangel." Yet another thing to lie about, but somehow, this one Valkyrie didn't mind so much.

Still shaking her head, still laughing - and now really wishing she'd taken a picture - Valkyrie pulled out her phone and called Solomon. The Necromancer sounded surprised to hear her voice, but agreed to meet her down the street in a couple of minutes.

When Valkyrie joined the other two again, Skulduggery had straightened up. "Well, nobody's come running," she heard him saying once she was within earshot. "I'd say that's a good sign. Necromancers in our world tend to keep to themselves. Most of them barely know there is an outside world. I wouldn't be surprised if nobody noticed a thing."

"Solomon's coming out," Valkyrie told Skulduggery as he offered Gabriel an arm for support to his feet. "He didn't sound like he thought anything was wrong."

"Well, there you go." Skulduggery glanced at her. "You didn't tell him about me, then."

"God, no. We want him to come out, don't we?"

[impudentsongbird]

With a sigh of relief Gabriel let his shoulders slump, and for a moment he looked vulnerable and tired--but not young. The weariness in his eyes could only belong to someone aeons old. He opened his mouth to say something, to say how worried he was about Valkyrie, but a moment later her footsteps sounded and her soul--and the ring--rasped up against his awareness. The Archangel exhaled instead, lifting a hand to scrub off his face.

"That's good," he murmured. He supposed the necromancers here weren't used to feeling things that could press back against the darkness. If so, they wouldn't have been prepared for it, could miss it entirely. The Archangel accepted Skul's help to get to his feet, wincing at the throb in his wings. He hadn't even really noticed they hurt, he'd been so caught up in the feedback from the souls.

"Please try not to provoke the necromancer, Skul," Gabriel said tiredly. He'd rather not have to suffer more necromancy today, and the twist of shadow at the end of the street was, well, chilling enough.

"Generally a wise piece of advice," Solomon agreed lightly, the tip of his cane thudding softly on the ground as the shadows around him drew away. The Necromancer's eyes were on Skulduggery and the man the detective was supporting, and he was already sighing internally. It wasn't that he hadn't been expecting the detective to come to him nearly as soon as he arrived back, but it hadn't been something Solomon had been looking forward to. And yet, at the same time, he felt a flicker of pride. Valkyrie had succeeded after all, it appeared.

"Congratulations, my dear," he said to Valkyrie with a smile. "You've achieved what you set out to do."

And then some. just who was this stranger, and why would Pleasant have brought him with? The man looked ill, exhausted, and the way Pleasant was letting him lean on him spoke of a trust Solomon didn't think the detective had with anyone but the Dead Men. In fact, the Necromancer would say it was different even to that. There was an edge of protectiveness there which Solomon found curious. Since when had Pleasant been so protective over anyone? Even Valkyrie, the detective tended not to coddle or hover over, and yet his posture now suggested something close to that.

Solomon inclined his head toward the stranger. "I don't believe we've met."

"Not yet," was all the stranger said, and his gaze went past Solomon's shoulder. Ah. One of those who disliked Necromancers, then. He wasn't particularly surprised, though at least even Pleasant looked him in the eye. And yet, despite that, the man's voice was still almost friendly, oddly gentle despite his obvious exhaustion, when he added, "I'm Gabe."

"A pleasure, Gabe," Solomon said with equanimity, hiding his curiosity before returning his attention to the detective. The fact was, this wasn't a terribly good time to be called out. He should be dealing with the theft from the Temple. (Anything else, and he would have welcomed the break.) "Is there something you wished to discuss, Skulduggery?"

[skeletonenigma]

Now this was interesting. There was already a vivid animosity between Gabe and Wreath. Gabe, Skulduggery could understand, given his reaction to simply standing in the graveyard. But Wreath? He was almost too composed at the sight of a man who clearly needed support just to stand. Wreath was a fairly composed man by nature, but he was also curious, and Gabe wouldn't be something he overlooked. If Skulduggery didn't know any better, he'd think Wreath was trying to hide that curiosity. Why? Instant dislike? Knowledge of Gabe impossibly beating the shadows back? Or had something happened at the Temple to distract him?

"Valkyrie's been taking lessons with you," Skulduggery started, getting straight to the point. It wasn't phrased as a question. "She tells me it's been to get her strong enough to achieve her goal of rescuing me. How very noble of you. Can I assume you've told her about your ulterior motive?"

Valkyrie glanced towards him, surprise flickering across her face. "You mean besides wanting me to become a Necromancer?"

Skulduggery didn't look at her; his gaze was still, very levelly, on Wreath. She'd just answered his question for him, but Skulduggery was waiting for the Necromancer to explain himself.

[peacefullywreathed]

And here it was. "No small-talk?" Solomon asked mildly. "No exchange of stories? How was that alternate dimension, by chance? You must be the first to have visited and left again. How lucky for you, to be gifted with such distinction."

He sighed, turning his cane idly in his hand. Truthfully, he was somewhat ... off-balance. The theft was curious, and Solomon couldn't deny he was glad that Valkryie had asked him to meet them out here, instead of inside the Temple where the detective would have inevitably inserted himself into the situation. Then there had been that cold front. The Temple was always cold, but Solomon dressed appropriately against the temperature; and yet, hardly minutes before, he'd been taken by such a chill as he hadn't felt down there since the forging of his first cane. It had been Necromantic in nature, of course, but pinpointing the source while inside the Temple? Impossible.

Craven was, possibly, the culprit. The two had been at odds. It meant that Solomon wasn't opposed to leaving the Temple for a time, although he would have preferred if it were to speak to Valkyrie alone.

"Valkyrie," he said calmly, "has a natural aptitude for Necromancy." He spread his hands. "Are not our children the future? What manner of cad would I be, to neglect to offer a course for which she is so well suited?"

The man, Gabe, frowned, but Solomon's focus was on Skulduggery and Valkyrie. What reason Skulduggery had for bringing that man here, Solomon would no doubt discover eventually; right now, this line of questioning had to be averted or harnessed.

[skeletonenigma]

"I reserve small talk for friends and people I accuse of murder," Skulduggery replied, his voice just as even as his gaze. He didn't try to explain that there had been more than one alternate dimension, that both had been unpleasant, and that he didn't particularly consider himself lucky for having visited both. What Wreath hadn't already guessed, Skulduggery wouldn't give him the satisfaction of discovering now. It wasn't what this conversation was about.

A natural aptitude for Necromancy. Why did those words sound so familiar? With the habitual deep breath and mental steadying, Skulduggery slowly nodded. "I see. Still noble, then. So you've told her all about the Necromancer beliefs? The Death Bringer? The Passage? Valkyrie, do you know what the Death Bringer is?"

She shook her head. "Some kind of powerful Necromancer?"

"Why don't you ask your mentor here?" Skulduggery's tone had taken on an almost sarcastic edge. "I wouldn't want to deprive him of the chance not to leave anything out."

[peacefullywreathed]

Now it was Solomon who frowned. How did Pleasant know about that? It was true, Solomon had mentioned the title to Valkyrie, but the way Skulduggery spoke made it clear he knew something even more than that--something about what the Death Bringer was meant to be.

Did he know what the Death Bringer was meant to do? the Necromancer wondered. Did he know that the Passage would block the planet from the lifestream, the sacrifice it would require from three billion souls? Surely not. Otherwise he would never have left the Temple alone. "Our beliefs are private," he said. "They are not discussed with--"

"No," Gabe whispered, and there was a strangled note in his voice, almost a moan, which cut through anything Solomon was going to say. His gaze snapped back to the stranger to find he'd paled considerably, that he was leaning on Skulduggery and trembling and staring at Solomon with a wide-eyed expression of shock and horror. As the Necromancer watched, tears spilled down the man's cheeks.

He clutched at Skulduggery's arm. "Skul--"

The realisation was such a bolt that Solomon bit his tongue to avoid cursing out loud, and concealing the surprise in his expression took all the effort at his disposal. The man was a mind-reader. Where had Skulduggery Pleasant found a mind-reader, and why did no one else know about him?

The Necromancer had seconds at most. If they discovered what the Passage entailed, Valkyrie would surely turn her back on Necromancy forever and Skulduggery would certainly kill him. If Solomon killed Gabe, the same would result. But under the premise of the Necromancers' beliefs being sacred, perhaps he could restrain the man.

In the split-second between realisation and action Solomon opened himself to the shadows and stretched out one hand. Tendrils gathered around the shadows hanging on the buildings and shot toward Gabe, their intent only to withhold; they snapped around Gabe's mouth to stifle what other words he'd have spoken, around his arms to tug him away from Skulduggery.

Except ... they didn't. Not as they should have. Certainly, they kept Gabe from speaking, but the action which ought to have yanked Gabe away only made him stumble a single step. Solomon felt a prickle of unease which turned into a sweatiness on his palms, a dryness of his mouth--a sudden terror he couldn't pinpoint except that it had only begun when his shadows touched Gabe.

Then they fell away. They didn't merely turn dead. The shadows simply dissolved, the way that ordinary shadows did in light, except there was no light here that could do that to Necromantic magic; none at all.

Gabe caught his balance with a stagger and turned to look at Solomon.

Solomon had always believed that Necromancy had no opposite. When Necromancers used their magic, they opened themselves up to retaliation, but it was difficult to see a doorway when the darkness was illuminated by nothing but still more darkness. Until now.

Until now when Solomon looked into the eyes of a stranger and all the magic around him and in him burned away. It was like being blinded by sudden light, except that instead of his vision being compromised it was as if he could suddenly see every detail he had once missed with such stark vividness that it was painful. Gabe was gold-skinned and shining, his black hair lit with a halo, his wings furled around him like a soft white cloak. The way he stood wasn't mere standing; there was a resonance around him that was more physical than audible, a waver which made his figure sharp and blurry at once. That pulse hit everything around him and rebounded off them, and that rebound rebounded off others, and behind him Solomon saw waves, saw them crash against one another in an endless wash of tides.

And Solomon knew he was looking at the lifestream.

He was looking at an angel, and the angel seemed to almost be made from the lifestream, and every speck of Necromancy that came near to it--to him--was taken by his brightness and swept away into the stream as inexorably as people believed death was.

The angel spoke and didn't at once. 'Your eyes are opened, Solomon Wreath. Choose wisely the path you walk from here.'

Solomon's knees hit the asphalt, but the pain was hardly a spark through the thrum in his head and body. His cane clattered from his hand, and finally he dropped his gaze with a shuddering gasp, bracing himself against the bitumen. He felt wetness on his cheeks, but tasted copper when it seeped across his lip, and when he lifted his shaking hand to touch it he was not quite surprised to find blood on his fingers instead of tears.

[skeletonenigma]

Valkyrie had no idea what the Death Bringer was, and she'd never even heard of the Passage. But she did know that Gabriel could, for lack of a better phrase, read minds. And she recognized that Skulduggery had asked the questions partly to humiliate Solomon into telling Valkyrie the truth, and partly because they would get their answers anyway - all Solomon had to do was think about it. It didn't feel fair or right, invading peoples' minds like that, but Valkyrie chose not to say anything. She was hardly going to start guilt-tripping anyone else.

Skulduggery seemed just as surprised as Valkyrie felt, though, by Gabriel's reaction to whatever was in Solomon's mind. Somehow, that made this little side trip even more terrifying. Skulduggery had known enough to believe that whatever Solomon said would scare Valkyrie off Necromancy forever, but there was more even the detective wasn't aware of? Again, Valkyrie wondered just what she was getting herself into. Was she really going to ignore everything an Archangel was saying just because of the extra power it brought her? Could she really -

The ring on her finger grew cold. Valkyrie looked around in time to see the shadows streaking towards Gabriel, trying to cut him off, and she spun to Solomon in alarm. He didn't know, he didn't know what the hell he was doing, he didn't know how much danger he was putting himself in. "Stop! Solomon, please, don't - "

Too late.

The shadows, predictably, dissolved against the Archangel with no more of an effect than making him stumble. Gabriel getting hurt wasn't what Valkyrie had been terrified of. She turned back to her Necromancy teacher, expecting to see... what, exactly? To see him collapse, dead? In agony? Frozen or blown up or just gone?

Solomon was still very much there, thankfully, but he was frozen. Frozen in a mask of terror, staring at Gabriel, and Valkyrie looked from one to the other feeling utterly helpless and completely frustrated. What was the Necromancer seeing? What was Gabriel doing to him? Skulduggery was standing quietly by, either steadied by trust in Gabriel or just not caring about the outcome.

He wouldn't care about what happened to Solomon. He was probably finding this whole thing funny.

It took a few long moments, but Solomon finally slipped out of the spell and collapsed to his knees, and Valkyrie rushed over to make sure he was alright. She froze when she saw the red streaks running from his eyes, but forced herself to move past it and help him back to his feet.

"I'll admit," she heard Skulduggery saying behind her, "I wasn't expecting the blood. His own fault, though. How much did you show him?"