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]

A grin like that demanded one back. "Steph, you've got excellent taste in parents," the Archangel told her in just the same kind of tone Des had. "I definitely approve. Anyone who can spot a 'Rings reference has gotta be quality folk."

Then he laughed, for no other reason than this was fun, he was enjoying the meeting, and the look on Valkyrie's face was very amusing. The fact was, of course he'd watched (and read) The Lord of the Rings. It hadn't been the premieres, like they usually did with big films (that was how they'd seen Star Wars), because Gabe had been exiled at the time. But after the wager was over they had found a midnight back-to-back ten-hour screening and sat at the back with an everlasting jumbo box of popcorn.

It was one of Gabe's favourite memories, if he was completely honest. Then again, he had a lot of those.

"What?" he asked Valkyrie with a grin. "Y'think I don't know culture when I see it? Them books were amazing, and the films were great adaptations. My Daddy and I couldn't see 'em right away, 'cos of reasons, but we went to a midnight screening of 'em all back-to-back first chance we got."

[skeletonenigma]

Valkyrie was getting all sorts of weird new thoughts today. The one passing through her mind right now, for example, would be how the priest from earlier might react if she and Fletcher reappeared and tried to explain that God wasn't really all that mysterious. In fact, He enjoyed watching Lord of the Rings with His angels at midnight screenings. Maybe people needed to take the whole Created-in-God's-own-image with a lot less salt and metaphor.

And on an equally amusing note, her dad would have flipped if he'd known who he was talking to. And if he was able to get over the shock in less than a second.

"Have you watched Lord of the Rings yet?" Des asked her suddenly.

Valkyrie turned to frown at him. "Of course I have. Who hasn't? It's a classic."

"So is Star Wars," Des pointed out, "and I still haven't been able to get you to watch that."

Valkyrie froze. "Ah. Right." She decided not to mention that Tanith had sat her down and made her watch the whole thing over the course of a weekend. "I'll get to that soon, I promise."

"I hate to interrupt," Skulduggery interrupted, tossing Valkyrie her phone back. "But remember how we've been dodging your principal most of this afternoon?"

Valkyrie tried not to shudder at the thought of Guild being her principal. She knew the deception was more for Gabe and Fletcher's benefit, anyway. "Yeah."

"We need to go back and meet with him. Well, I say 'we.' I really mean me. It's a school night for you."

One of the problems with Valkyrie's earlier gleeful realization that she would finally be able to tell when Skulduggery was joking turned out to have one major flaw. She had no idea what a joking expression looked like on him. He was smiling, but it was a polite smile, and there was so much she couldn't ask with her parents in the room. First and foremost being, didn't Guild want each and every single one of them in prison? And wasn't Davina Marr out for Skulduggery's head? ... Figuratively speaking.

[impudentsongbird]

Aha. That explained the wary confusion Gabe had sensed when Valkyrie had picked up the phone. Even still, the Archangel's eyebrows shot skyward; even angels could be surprised. They couldn't sense things over a telephone wire.

"Guess that means I should prob'ly be goin' along with you," he said, and then added to the Edgleys with a wry smile, "Last time those two almost got into a cat-fight. Someone's gotta be the voice of reason." Or at the very least, a diversion for either side--whether getting Skulduggery into an argument or playing on Guild's curiosity. The Archangel knocked back the last of his scotch, set down the glass on the end-table and rose, smiling hugely at the Edgleys and holding his hand. "It was my pleasure to meet you folks."

Melissa rose too, shaking his hand. "Don't forget your protective gear," she told him seriously, but there was amusement in her eyes. "Just in case you get caught in crossfire."

Gabriel nodded soberly. "Always, ma'am. They're good draws, but lousy shots." Then he grinned at Valkyrie. "Take care of your mama, li'l lady. Be a shame if she decided to retract the idea of gettin' a pet."

As if she could, which wasn't the point.

[skeletonenigma]

The voice of reason? Granted, the last time Gabe and Guild had been in the same room, Skulduggery and the Archangel were staging a daring rescue and couldn't be in the same place for longer than a few seconds. But if Gabriel had been trying to reason with Guild, it had backfired. Horribly. Guild tended to take an instant dislike to anyone who so much as associated with Skulduggery, so this... this should prove to be interesting. Guild was nothing if not practical. Bringing Gabriel along would definitely test just how practical - not to mention be useful if it turned out to be a trap. Which it most likely was.

"Don't you dare be a stranger now," Des added to his wife's farewell as he shook Gabe's hand in turn. "Any of you. I grant you all permanent ambassador status to the Edgley family."

Gordon, Skulduggery knew, would be rolling in his grave. The image amused him as he and Fletcher bid their own farewells to Valkyrie's parents, while Valkyrie herself glared at Gabe. "Don't you dare call my new little sister a pet anymore."

Ah. Good to see the Archangel hadn't dampened her usual tact.

Valkyrie tugged Skulduggery aside quickly while Des and Melissa were distracted. "Are you sure you don't need me to come along?"

Skulduggery gave her a gentle smile, partly to reassure her and partly because he could. "Don't you worry about us. You've been doing that for almost a year. Take some time off. Pick up a hobby. Possibly knitting."

Valkyrie bit her lip. "But if a crisis comes up - "

"You'll be the first to know. Hopefully the second, but with your penchant for trouble..."

She grinned. "I learned from the best. And if you guys go to a theme park?"

Skulduggery placed his hat back on his head, only pausing momentarily as the sensation of hair brushed against his hand. "I'll be sure to take pictures."

[impudentsongbird]

It was a good thing Gabriel hadn't been actively trying to reason with Guild, then. Honestly, Davina Marr had been the larger problem as far as Gabriel was concerned. Guild had a purely political power and was biased, but he still had some measure of a moral code; Marr was evil, plain and simple.

"I'll be sure an' take you up on that," Gabe said cheerfully to Des. He leaned in to stage-whisper with a sidelong glance at Valkyrie, "Don't forget the collar and leash. I hear they work wonders."

Grinning unrepentantly at Valkyrie, the Archangel doffed his hat at the Edgley family. "See you later, folks."

He and Fletcher led the way outside. Once the door was closed and there was a distance there, he paused on the sidewalk and took a deep breath, looking up at the sky. "I really like them," he decided, turning to grin at Skul and Fletcher. "So would my Master. Valkyrie's very lucky. What did Thurid say, Skul?"

[skeletonenigma]

Gabriel switched accents as easily as breathing, and as uncomfortably jarring as listening to God described as 'daddy' had been, Skulduggery almost preferred that to Master. 'Master' put him in mind of the way Mevolent had wanted to be seen. But it was different for angels, obviously, so Skulduggery didn't say anything about it.

"The Sanctuary was attacked," he answered instead, continuing on towards the pier, just in case someone happened to look out a window when they Teleported. "He didn't go into detail, but it sounded bad. He'd like me to take a look. 'Consult,' is the word he used."

Fletcher was jogging to keep up. "But it's a trap, right? So why are we going?"

"Because it might well not be a trap, and I like to know about potential crises before they happen. Even so, Gabe and I are going to handle this one alone, until I can convince Guild to officially pardon everyone else."

"So you want me to take you just outside the Sanctuary, then?"

"That would be grand." Skulduggery hesitated. "And let Ghastly know that Wreath is still alive. I think he was a tad worried."

[impudentsongbird]

"I wonder why that might have been," Gabe murmured from behind the other two. He was moving as fast as he could, but his body still ached and, he suspected, would do so for quite a while yet. All of which meant he was walking fast enough to keep up, but a few steps behind, trying hard not to limp.

His brow was furrowed, though. "How bad is 'bad', Skul? Were there deaths? Who did it? Surely he mentioned something."

Although ... perhaps not. If it was a trap, the best route would be to say as little as possible in order to appeal to Skulduggery's personality. The Archangel glanced over his shoulder toward the Edgleys' house, slowing as they reached the pier. He turned back around and laid his hand on Fletcher's arm. "Well. I suppose we'll find out."

[skeletonenigma]

Even the waves crashing against the wooden dock at the pier seemed to quiet down with the gathering night. Valkyrie had taken a group of vampires off the edge there once, taking advantage of their allergy to seawater, and killed all but one. That last one had been very upset when it eventually climbed out of the water. Skulduggery had made sure it wouldn't be upset for long.

He turned back to the others as Gabe caught up, the movements of Skulduggery's body one again exaggerated, as if he'd already forgotten about his face. "I think 'who did it' is a question he's hoping I'll answer. Otherwise, no. All he said was 'bad.' He even managed to avoid insulting me."

Fletcher glanced nervously back towards the house. "Should I have Tanith and Ghastly on standby, though? Just in case?"

Skulduggery nodded and took Fletcher's other arm. "Every good plan has a backup."

"What plan? You don't even have a plan."

"Those are the best kinds of plans."

Fletcher stared at Skulduggery for a moment, then shook his head and closed his eyes and the beach beside them turned into the tiled wall of the hidden doorway into the Sanctuary, tucked away into the old Waxworks Museum. Abandoned, dusty wax figures watched them from various abandoned, dusty displays. Fletcher waited until they had both let go, and then Teleported away again.

"You're expected," the figure of Phil Lynott next to the hidden doorway spoke up. "I'll just let the Grand Mage know you're here."

[impudentsongbird]

"Thanks, Fletch," Gabriel said with a smile just before the young man vanished, lapsing into his Midwestern accent again. He turned toward Skulduggery and the wax figure, and stared with fascination at it. "Phil Lynott," he said, delighted. "Always been fond of your stuff."

He tilted his head a little as if absorbing the wax figure's words. "You the doorman?" The Archangel made a face, shoving the brim of his hat back. "Seems to me you're a bit underqualified for that, unless you're given 'em a song every time the bell rings."

[skeletonenigma]

"Actually," Skulduggery cut in, "I don't think he sings."

"I have been practicing." The wax figure of Phil Lynott hummed a few bars of what sounded like several songs combined, and then tilted its head in a short nod. "I am the doorman. The Grand Mage has been notified of your arrival."

"What happened?" Skulduggery asked it. "Did you see who attacked?"

"I'm afraid not. I was dispatched immediately. But I heard someone say vampires when I was being reactivated."

Skulduggery quietly cursed under a breath he released specifically for that purpose. A pack of vampires attacking the Sanctuary. Did he ever have fantasies of a break, during the few times over in the other dimension that he imagined he might be rescued? How ridiculous they seemed now.

[impudentsongbird]

"Awesome." Gabe beamed. "Won't be long before you can give 'em a different jingle every time. Better than just standin' around directing traffic, right?" Although Gabriel had directed traffic before, metaphysically speaking, and it could be fun under the right circumstances. Somehow he doubted it was much fun for a wax-figure without anything else to do or people who would bother to talk to him, however.

He opened his mouth to speak again, but then he paled. "Vampires?" he whispered, almost forgetting to keep with the accent. "You have vampires?" That was--not impossible. Not here. But vampires in his world had been rendered extinct centuries ago.

Vampires as his world knew them--demons. Zombies were mindless reanimations, without soul. Vampires ... hadn't been. They had been ensouled, twisted, broken. Even damned souls needed to go to somewhere beyond, somewhere to which they could use as a compass even if they returned to Earth. Vampires hadn't been allowed even that much dignity. Never leaving the Earth, infused with magic and longevity and completely, utterly insane.

They were like poltergeists except still, in some fashion, living. Out of time. Never ageing, never dying, never finding peace.

Necromancers were difficult to look at somewhat like constant fingernails on a chalkboard were difficult to listen to, grimy and dirty and needing to be cleansed. Damned souls were a blight, an open wound, but also able to be cleaned and dressed. Vampires were an everlasting shriek of agony, necromancy distilled and bottled and a pressure-valve waiting to explode. Which they did, frequently, spreading their echoes wherever they went. It had been almost impossible to find the original stone, the one that spread the ripples, and it wasn't until they had that they'd been able to destroy them for good.

And even still, their waves remained.

[skeletonenigma]

Skulduggery took a moment to answer, and when he did, even his face had reverted back to the blank state it had so often taken at Landel's. "Yes, we do." He paused, but there was really nothing else to say. Vampires would likely be similar from one dimension to the next - or at least, similar enough for Gabe to understand the threat. "They don't normally organize, though. Certainly not for attacks like this. That's... worrying."

The hidden door slid back, brick by brick, and Phil Lynott smiled at them. On a wax figure, the smile was exceptionally creepy. "The Administrator is detained, so please show yourselves in. Grand Mage Guild will see you when he can. We apologise for the inconvenience."

Skulduggery glanced back at Gabriel. "And we were worried this was a trap."

[impudentsongbird]

"I've seen 'em run in packs," Gabe said palely, staring through the doorway. Now the magic of the entrance wards was out of the way and he knew what to listen for, he could already hear the residual resonance of that insane shriek. Vampires were hardly even sentient anymore. "But only the way sharks run in packs until there's blood in the water."

Which was to say, not exactly running in packs and more like just tolerating each other until there was prey to be had.

Gabriel didn't want to step through that door. The Faceless Ones's whispers had been awful, awful in a personal way--twisted and broken and insane. But at the same time they weren't exactly souls; they were darkness, their choices informing their nature in a way only angels suffered. There was a twisted quality to broken souls that made their sounds worse, because Gabe knew they weren't as they should be. Because, in some fashion, the Faceless Ones were true to those natures--as dark as that nature was. So too were damned souls, true to the choices they had made.

Not so with necromancy. Not so with vampires.

He smiled weakly. "Kinda wishing it was, t'be honest." The Archangel took a deep, albeit unnecessary, breath to brace himself and then stepped forward through the door, his body noticeably tense. He glanced toward Skul, trying to summon some humour into his expression. "Wonder if they have any more scotch in the waitin' room."

[skeletonenigma]

Would scotch help? Could Gabriel control the effects of alcohol in his system - if there even was a system? And if that was the case, why did he even need the alcohol in the first place?

Having such a constantly nimble and dexterous mind could be both a blessing and a curse.

Skulduggery followed Gabriel through the doorway and down the steps, passing a couple of sorcerers hurrying out who didn't give them a second glance. Skulduggery had to give up feeling the air further ahead for a potential trap - there was so much activity just in the front room of the Sanctuary that he'd never be able to feel the differences in the turbulent currents. At least this time, he was walking down torchlit stone tunnels with the comforting feel of his revolver under his jacket. That was more than he could have said for the past year.

The Sanctuary lobby was every bit as busy as the air had indicated. There really had been an attack, and a bad one at that. There were bodies being moved, torn and broken pieces of furniture being replaced, inventory being taken. Skulduggery watched the proceedings with a heavy heart and a brief sadness in his eyes; it was such a shame that something like this had to happen before Guild finally got over his own personal bias.

[impudentsongbird]

The thing about stone was that it had resonances. Oh, air had resonances too, but stone and brick and other such things gathered them. They had a certain degree of weight even for metaphysical things. Depending on the nature of those resonances, a cave or underground room could be exceedingly beautiful. In most cases, they were unique and interesting and worth investigating just because.

That wasn't the case here. Here, before they had even reached the bottom of the stairs, Gabriel's head was pounding with the echo of vampiric screams and violent death.

The Archangel slowed as they reached the bottom, letting Skulduggery overtake him. His eyes fell on the bodies just as the detective's had, and although Gabe could see that the souls of those in question had already moved on--because of an angel or through some automatic means--the room was still full of the savagery left behind. Gabe blinked and tears hit his cheeks, and he didn't stop them.

Part of him wanted to leave. The throb in his head wasn't getting any better. Part of him wanted to stay, to witness as was his duty.

"What's gonna happen to the bodies?" he asked, and his voice was a whisper. What did sorcerers do to the dead?

[skeletonenigma]

Living skeletons didn't need to breathe, but Skulduggery had developed the habit over the centuries. Breathing was useful for meditation, for control, for centering. He was grateful for it now; each deep breath helped calm his mind further. Helped him focus on Gabriel's question, and not on what this pack of vampires could have wanted. Not for the moment, anyway.

"Sanctuary doctors will check to make sure they're dead," Skulduggery answered somberly. He didn't think he needed to add the possibility of some of them being Infected, or what they would have to do in those cases. "And if they are, they're released to their families, for whatever the will or the family wanted. Cremation. Burial. It isn't so different from mortals, in that respect."

In fact, the only real difference was that mortals didn't generally have to worry about the bodies possibly reanimating later.

Guild was going to keep them waiting, but Skulduggery didn't begrudge him for it this time. Without any appointed Elders yet, the Grand Mage would be stretching himself thin.

[impudentsongbird]

None of the ones here in the lobby had been Infected. The vampires had hit too hard, too fast, sweeping through without pausing to penetrate as far into the Sanctuary as possible. That didn't mean there weren't others, elsewhere, who were so afflicted. Gabriel could have tried to find out, but given the state he was in, he couldn't bear to make himself part of the building enough to do so.

The pound was getting worse. Gabe cleared his throat, but his voice was still a bit hoarse when he spoke.

"Let's go find the Grand Mage," he said, and if there was a plea in his tone, it was a soft one. He didn't know how bad off the rest of the Sanctuary was, but this was where the vampires had made their entrance. The Archangel didn't want to stay here.

So he didn't really stop to wait for Skul's response; instead he moved forward into the room, his eyes drawn this way and that by the aftermath. The Archangel took in each and every terrified, tortured face that he passed. He skirted any mess the vampires had left as best as he could, but avoiding stepping into the blood was impossible, and it wasn't long before he was leaving accidental footprints. Gabe was hardly aware.

It almost seemed as if he moved both above and as a part of the damage. An observer, yes, but the sorrow and grief and pain in his eyes seemed to ground him, like he was a remnant of the attack himself. A silent witness.

"Excuse me, sir," he asked one of the sorcerers quietly, one of the ones who had paused to centre himself. "Where'd the Grand Mage be right now?"

The mage hardly glanced at him and answered with a grunt. "Medical."

"Thanks." Gabe turned to Skulduggery and couldn't even manage a hint of humour, drawing down the brim of his hat for at least some illusion of privacy. Usually he witnessed scenes like this in the other plane, alone. (It still didn't hide the tears.) "Lead the way, pardner."

[skeletonenigma]

Medical. Well, that didn't bode well. Apart from the obvious, it also made it impossible to predict what the Grand Mage's mood was going to be. Getting attacked by vampires had a way of being annoying; on the other hand, Guild might just be tired enough not to ask too many questions, or even to raise his voice.

Skulduggery moved down the right hand hallway of the triangle that made up the underground Sanctuary, a little more slowly than he would have liked due partly to the activity around them getting in the way, and partly to a lingering sympathy for Gabe. There was so much about Archangels Skulduggery would never be able to understand, but it didn't take a rocket scientist to notice how stiff and pleading Gabriel had gotten since they stepped into the lobby. Any pretense at cheerfulness was leeched from the Archangel's voice by the time they left the crowded area - so uncharacteristic of that accent that it now sounded hollow.

"Are you alright?" Skulduggery asked once they'd made a little progress and things had quieted down.

[impudentsongbird]

Angels didn't suffer dizziness. That was the good part. The bad part was that the throb in his head was making it hard to concentrate or suffer much in the way of noise at all, and Gabriel wondered if this was what jackhammers felt like.

He should have warded himself before they came downstairs. Should have done something to take the edge off the vampires' residual presence. Now, he wasn't certain he'd be able to muster the wits to do so. Mostly, he was just walking a little dazedly in Skulduggery's wake as if the skeleton's soul was a guiding star, and the detective's voice was something of a surprise. Skul had slowed in order to speak to him, and without really pausing to think it over Gabe stepped close enough for their shoulders to brush, as if proximity to Skul's soul alone would protect him from the scream.

It did, a little.

"No," the Archangel answered honestly, his voice scratchy. "I should've done some wards before we came down. Vampires leave a ... a Hell of a scream." He smiled weakly, but it was a shadow and vanished as soon as it had come. If only he could bless this place, he could rid it of the residue.

But he couldn't. No time, no energy. He had pushed himself too hard, and the Archangel wished he hadn't been so imprudent with his powers before chastising himself. There hadn't been much choice in rescuing Ghastly and Tanith, and he didn't regret the little gifts using his powers had offered.

[skeletonenigma]

Gabriel's human form at Landel's, and his disguise here over the past day, had perhaps worked a little too well. It hid his true identity as an angel so perfectly that even Skulduggery had forgotten how dangerous the rescue was, and how much of a toll it had taken on the Archangel. Putting on a smile and a joke to hide just how much pain there lay beneath it was a survival tactic he'd seen many times before. Archangels, it seemed, weren't so different from humans.

Gabe was hurting, and had been hurting, this entire time. Skulduggery only saw minor snippets of it when Gabe tried to push himself, and had otherwise ignored it. Would the metaphysical residue that vampires apparently left even be bothering Gabriel if he was still at full strength? How much was he silently suffering through for Skulduggery's sake? How much was he sacrificing in his own world, and here, for this?

It wasn't the first time Skulduggery had wondered, and the feeling didn't get any more pleasant with time. In fact, it had only gotten worse since discovering what Valkyrie and the others had been so close to doing themselves.

But he buried it and he moved on, just as he knew Gabriel would, because that was what they did. As innocent as Gabe could be, and as naive as he was about certain things, the weight of his years was evident if you just knew what to look for. And it was evident now. Archangels may not be God's warriors, but they knew strife and hardship, better than most could say. That was likely what brought out so much of Gabe's more innocent nature.

So Skulduggery didn't say anything, but the look that passed unconsciously over his face was a tumultuous mixture of guilt, understanding, and then something darker.

He slowly rounded a corner into a smaller hallway, limiting himself to Gabe's pace now. The main medical ward wasn't too far away from here; just one more turn and it would be the first door they saw. Assuming things hadn't changed in the last year.

[impudentsongbird]

It would have bothered him. It wouldn't have pained him, but it would have bothered him a lot. But this was the exact reason why the Archangel had been keeping this to himself, and even though he was an honest person Gabe regretted his honesty the moment he saw the expression on Skul's illusory face and the deeper ripple of it in his soul.

"Don't," he whispered, putting a hand on Skulduggery's arm and squeezing. "Don't do that to yourself, Skul."

The Archangel wasn't expecting the detective to answer back, but he left his hand there anyway--as a reminder and to ground himself both. Even from here, the sound of the medical ward was audible; when they rounded the corner it was almost a cacophony. Yet, at the same time, it was ... not soothing, but better than the rest of the Sanctuary. At least here, the pain was underscored with healing, with life.

People here would suffer, but they would recover. It made a difference to the tenor of the emotions.

That didn't mean Gabriel's head still wasn't throbbing by the time they reached the door, but it seemed duller now, and it didn't stop him from zeroing in on where Guild was sitting on an examination bed, looking exhausted and pained and missing several fingers. Davina Marr was with him.

"Grand Mage, this is completely unnecessary," said Ms Marr. Her voice was tight and so was her face, set in a mask of not-quite composure. It was her eyes that said the rest. Her eyes that burned with fury. "Skulduggery Pleasant has proven himself incapable of following the slightest law, and the people who follow him lack the same respect. There's no reason to bring him back into the investigation, and every reason not to."

[skeletonenigma]

Detective Marr was a good, trustworthy, and solid replacement for Crux. That, Guild had never doubted. Her only problem was her inability to accept his authoritative decision on matters, or at least her desire to question the hell out of them before Guild finally put his foot down. Normally, he would have welcomed the backtalk as a sign of thorough detective work. There was something about losing many of your fingers, however, that put you in an irritable mood. Especially when the losing of your fingers occurred at the same time as a vampire attack on the Sanctuary.

"Detective Marr," Guild responded, hoping the slight exaggeration on her title might remind her of her place. "I don't like this any more than you do. I wish Pleasant was still stuck over there. Have we made any headway on how, exactly, he happened to be rescued?" More people entered the ward, but since neither of the newcomers was a skeleton, Guild didn't even pay them a first glance. People had been walking in and out of this ward for ages now, and they were all starting to look the same.

The Sanctuary's Grand Mage shook his head. "You know what, never mind." He knew exactly what the answer was going to be: none at all. "But the fact is, Pleasant has dealt with Dusk before. Assuming he hasn't been driven completely insane, he does have a tendency of getting the job done. And like it or not, we need to know what brought him back. If you can think of a better way to do it, I'm all ears."

"Wow," came a voice that sounded suspiciously like Pleasant's. "I'm flattered. Really."

The two people who'd just walked in - one was the barefooted American cowboy Guild had been asking questions about not five hours ago. The other, he realized with a startled and painful jolt, was in fact Skulduggery Pleasant. Pleasant as a human. Pleasant the way Pleasant had looked before Serpine killed him.

Guild did his best to hide the embarrassment at being so easily overheard. He was missing fingers, for God's sake, he couldn't be blamed for being a little less observant than usual. His pain was being numbed, but he couldn't completely ignore all of it. "Pleasant," came his abrupt and gruff response. "And..." he hesitated, studying the inexplicably Teleporting cowboy. "I don't believe we ever caught your name."

[impudentsongbird]

The emphasis made Davina stiffen, the woman not exactly snapping to attention but close enough even with the righteous indignation which radiated from her. Her mouth drew thin as if she would have liked to turn Guild's assumption back, but Guild stopped her before she could open her mouth. It was true; aside from the completely useless information China Sorrows had provided about Pleasant's Teleporting boyfriend, they hadn't made any solid headway.

There were assumptions, though. There were possibilities. And there was logic. Pleasant had brought a Teleporter with him? Obviously the detective had found a sorcerer on the other side and promised to bring him through if he used the head as an Isthmus Anchor. Perhaps the detective had even promised favours, though how that was going to work out Davina didn't know, unless the cowboy was a necrophiliac--

The sound of the detective's voice made Davina whip around in surprise at being snuck up on, her hands convulsing in the air as she just barely avoided sending a wall of air at the ... not skeleton?

Davina stared for a moment. Well. Perhaps not a necrophiliac after all.

"Gabe," the cowboy said softly, and Davina's gaze snapped to him instead. "Name's Gabe."

He looked, she saw with a curl of her lip, awful. Were those tears? Yes, they were. Good Lord, no wonder he was gay; crying at the drop of a hat. Probably they'd taken their time so he could go sob in a corner. He wasn't even from this country, for God's sake.

"Are you quite all right, Mr ... Gabe?" she asked politely, but without hiding the disdain undercurrent in her tone or in her eyes. It was something of a pleasure to see this man, so irreverent and unlawful, cut down to size. "It's a bit of a shock, seeing scenes like this, I know. Certainly not for everyone."

The man looked at her steadily without answering, and something in his gaze--sad and exhausted and pained--make the back of her neck crawl. This time Davina refused to look away, but she cursed the fact that she was glad when he did instead.

[skeletonenigma]

It was impossible to maintain any sort of dignity during this conversation, so Guild didn't bother. He'd slumped back against the pillows, but any attempt to straighten himself up was only going to send more bullets of pain shooting up his arms, and it was going to be a long enough night reattaching his fingers without causing himself unnecessary stress to boot.

Patience, Guild told himself. They needed Pleasant right now, for various annoying reasons, and that meant rising above petty pride to appeal to the skeleton's better nature - assuming he had one. Try to start fresh, try to ignore that he accused you of treason a couple of years ago, and above all, try to ignore how full of himself he is.

That last attempt at civility was abandoned when Guild caught Pleasant giving Detective Marr a pitying look. Right after her perfectly polite inquiry, too. It never failed. Even when he was getting his old job back, Pleasant couldn't help tormenting his successors. That pride would one day be his downfall, make no mistake.

"You have a face," Guild pointed out the obvious through clenched teeth. "How did that happen?"

"Resurrection."

Guild closed his eyes and heaved a deep sigh. "Pleasant, I am this close to arresting you and your friend right here on the spot for what happened earlier today. I suggest you choose your tone more carefully before you say anything else."

The former skeleton considered, his brow actually furrowing in thought, and then he shrugged. "China Sorrows. She's been perfecting the art of disguises lately."

"And what on earth would you need a face and skin fo-"

Guild stopped. His gaze flickered down to where Gabe's hand hadn't left Pleasant's arm, and his mind immediately tried to backtrack. "Never mind."

"Illusory disguises," Pleasant added. It sounded for all the world like an innocent afterthought to the explanation, but Guild had the nasty suspicion that Pleasant had known exactly what he was thinking.

"Quite." And that was a mental image Guild would never again revisit. "It may have been obvious to you on the way in, but we've had something of an unprecedented attack. A pack of vampires, Pleasant. Working together. And working for something more than just chaos and bloodshed."

For a man who hadn't had a face in over two hundred years, Pleasant was strangely expressive. Just as difficult to read, but now with the added benefit of a raised eyebrow. "Organized?"

Guild nodded. "Dusk was leading them."

Pleasant's head tilted to the side, and this time the trademark movement was accompanied by a curious expression. Guild had to look away for a moment; trying to associate Pleasant's voice with an actual face was giving him enough of a headache. "Dusk was still human, then?" Pleasant asked. "He still has that chemical?"

Guild could feel his throat tightening at the memory. "It would appear so."

[impudentsongbird]

"Draggin' a skeleton around's a little bit obvious," Gabriel said blandly without moving his hand despite Guild's glance at it. And what he said was the truth. People tended to notice skeletons; having a disguise would only make Skul more effective when it came to questioning witnesses. Which was not, of course, the conclusion Guild leapt to, and Gabriel couldn't even find any amusement in it.

Ms Marr's glare was an almost physical thing; the Archangel wished she weren't here. Her assumptions and disdain, far from being funny, crossed the line into outright insulting, and if he could have chastised her without revealing that he even knew the tenor of her thoughts he would have.

He'd unnerved her, though. Gabriel knew that and didn't regret it, even if it was petty of him.

Gabe didn't recognise some of these references. 'Still human' implied that vampires could be something other than monsters. And he had no idea who Dusk was. The Archangel made a mental note to ask details of Skulduggery later. "If they weren't here just for kicks, what were they here for?" he asked.

Davina Marr said nothing, but Gabe saw in her the light of knowledge, and casually he glanced at her to ask, "D'you know? I mean, have y'all taken a look around already?" Her mouth tightened and rebellion flared in her eyes, and she opened her mouth to answer before Gabe beat her to it. "I know," he added apologetically, "that we're kinda sweepin' the rug out from under your feet right now, and that's gotta be hard, but if you can help we'd really appreciate it. We're all in this together, yeah?"

Ms Marr stared at him. He held her gaze, watching the flit of frustration and hatred and a measure of confusion. The Archangel knew she was wondering who he was, this man who cried for people who weren't his and yet neatly manipulated her into a position in which she'd look bad to her boss if she refused to answer him as she so wanted.

Finally her shoulders drooped. "Dusk led the vampires to the Repository. We've got people down there doing an inspection now, but the only thing that seems to be missing is the Desolation Engine."

"Thanks, Ms Marr," Gabe said politely, but the look she shot him was full of venom. The Archangel was unfazed. He didn't expect her to see politeness as anything other than condescension.