impudentsongbird: (i can fly)
Gabriel ([personal profile] impudentsongbird) wrote2012-08-20 08:38 pm

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

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
skeletonenigma: (yes?)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2012-10-17 09:03 pm (UTC)(link)
"Why do you seem so nervous about it?" Ghastly replied after a moment of studying the man. "What was your name again?"

"If you're here looking for China Sorrows," the man snapped, "you're looking in the wrong place. Everyone knows she avoids anything to do with the Faceless Ones like a plague. If you're actually expecting to find her here, then she must be coming to kill me. It's obvious. I saw it coming."

"Really?" Ghastly glanced back at Skulduggery, and even though neither expression changed, the knowing look they shared was one of pointed amusement. This man had a laughably inflated sense of self-worth. They both knew the type. The Church of the Faceless did seem to be full of them. "I don't think she even knows you exist," Ghastly directed back at the man with a light chuckle. "I've certainly never met you before today."

The man tried to hold Ghastly's amused gaze for a moment, failed miserably, and practically wilted. "Prave. My name is Prave."

"Prave. It's nice to meet you, Prave. I'm Ghastly Bespoke. I take it China hasn't been around lately."

"No," Prave admitted sullenly. "She hasn't. Nor should she, if she knows what's good for her."

"What about Remus Crux?" Tanith took over, causing Prave to gibber all over again, but for an entirely different reason. "Has he ever been here?"

"You mean the ex-Detective from the Sanctuary? No. No, I've never seen him. Wasn't he dead? Didn't he die at the same time as Skulduggery Pleasant?"

Skulduggery watched him quietly from the back, and it was obvious even from there that Prave was lying - about all of it, not just the obvious fact that Skulduggery wasn't dead, although Prave wouldn't know about that. It was all deliciously ironic. The problem was, Tanith and Ghastly didn't seem to catch it, and Skulduggery wasn't sure if his voice would give the game away.

He glanced over to Gabe. The angel had been having trouble with the atmosphere of the church, evident from the way he leaned on Skulduggery's arm as they walked in and how he was breathing deeply to balance himself, the same way Skulduggery occasionally needed to. The last thing the detective wanted to do was interrupt with anything, but... given Gabe's convenient soul-reading ability, would he have caught it?

Just in case he hadn't, Skulduggery tried a prayer again: 'Gabriel, would you mind pressing Prave for a bit? Crux has definitely been here recently. It shouldn't take much more than a simple accusation. He's a bit of a coward.'
skeletonenigma: (writtenname)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2012-10-18 02:27 am (UTC)(link)
Ghastly was able to hide the surprise quite easily, but he did risk a questioning glance back at Gabriel. The quick glance turned into more of an astonished look, when he saw how close Gabe had gotten to Skulduggery. What was the point of that, he wondered? Did the warped church physically hurt the Archangel somehow - so much so that he needed a strong support just to stay upright? Or was Skulduggery's mind helping? His mind, or... his soul, since he would technically have one. It wasn't hard to imagine Skul might be supporting the angel in more ways than one.

Gabe's reasons for asking didn't turn out to matter; Prave's hands had started to shake. "I don't know what you're talking about!"

Which was, as Skulduggery would have put it, better than a confession. Ghastly took a step closer to the man, just enough to be somewhat intimidating. "Don't you?"

"Look, he was here a couple of times, alright? That's it. I never even spoke to him. He's a lunatic."

"That he is," Ghastly agreed. "But I find it hard to believe you two didn't speak. If Crux didn't make the effort, you certainly did. What are you trying to hide?"

"Nothing, I swear!"

"On what?" Valkyrie asked with a wry smile. "The Faceless Ones?"

"Prave, Prave, Prave." Skulduggery had chosen to speak up after all. "Do us all a favor and skip the part where we have to punch you. When is he coming back?"

"I don't know! Why do I have to keep repeating it? Are your skulls really that thick? I don't - " Prave stopped dead and turned to stare at Skulduggery in confusion. Partly, Ghastly suspected, because of the voice, and partly because of the strange pair he and Gabe made. When Prave opened his mouth to speak, however, it wasn't to ask about either of them. "How did you know he's coming back?"

Skulduggery shrugged - carefully, with Gabe relying on his arm being still. "I didn't, really. I made an educated guess. You confirmed it."

Prave gaped some more and then, realising there was no way he would win this, sagged back against the altar. "He said he'd come by today, and he hasn't yet. I'm not sure when, and I'm not sure why. He wasn't very talkative. Is that it? Can you leave now?"
skeletonenigma: (Default)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2012-10-18 03:01 am (UTC)(link)
"Wait?" Prave paled. "Here?"

"It'll be fun," Skulduggery assured him cheerfully. "You've played poker before, I'm assuming. I'm sure Ghastly can tell you how much fun the games we play are."

"We probably won't force you to play poker with us," Ghastly contradicted the detective. For one thing, it wasn't fun, not when you were playing against two champions who didn't seem to know the meaning of the word 'modesty.' "Just don't warn Crux we're here, and we don't really care what you do."

Prave put on a furious expression and slunk off into a back corner of the church, snatching up a broom as he went.

"So then we're just waiting here?" Tanith folded her arms and sank into a pew, pouting. "We're not even going to go look for Dusk?"

"We'll give it an hour," Skulduggery decided, helping Gabe over to one of the seats nearest the door. "If neither Crux nor China have shown up by then, Valkyrie and I will go talk to Caelan."
skeletonenigma: (fightfire)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2012-10-18 10:35 am (UTC)(link)
... A snarky Archangel. Maybe not directly boastful, but definitely not modest, and case in point. No wonder he and Skulduggery had become such good friends. Ghastly ignored Gabe's look in favor of keeping an eye on Prave, who was still grumblingly sweeping in the corner, and making sure he didn't run off to do God-knows... who-knows-what.

A silly and unnecessary distinction, maybe, but Ghastly couldn't help feeling a little bit paranoid these days.

"I could always go get the cards," Fletcher pointed out, and after a moment, he went a light shade of red. "But I wouldn't mind more language lessons either."

Valkyrie turned to stare at him. "Really? You? You wouldn't mind more of what basically amounts to school and learning?"

"It's fun, alright?"

Valkyrie slowly shook her head and lowered her voice in case Prave was trying to eavesdrop. "Now that's a miracle if ever I saw one."

"You'd do well to take a page out of his book, Valkyrie." Skulduggery remained standing, leaning against the back of a front pew with his arms folded. "I've never met anyone with less interest in history. Well. Perhaps a couple of tree frogs, but other than that..."

"Boring history," Valkyrie corrected him. "When you're trying to tell me about how Sanctuaries were established, yeah, I tune out. That's boring. I'm a teenager, Skulduggery. I live life for the excitement."

Skulduggery cocked his head. "In that case, I'm sure you wouldn't mind telling me about the past year and everything you've been up to. Talking to a vampire. Getting attacked by a dead and psychotic madman. Is there anything else I should know?"

Valkyrie's hesitation spoke volumes, and Ghastly didn't blame her when she tried to change the subject. They'd done a few things Skulduggery would most definitely take issue with, and all of them had been Valkyrie's idea. "I also think language lessons are a good idea," she finally said fairly quickly. "Or more dogs. I still think cats are evil enough to lead us directly to him."

They ended up passing the time with a mixture of the two - an impromptu language lesson for both Fletcher and Valkyrie, since Skulduggery insisted it would be an invaluable part of her training, and discussing whether seeing a pack of cats meant one of Gabe's Fallen angels could be nearby. (As it turned out, it didn't.) There was something almost relieving about the oncoming threat of Lucifer when they could joke about him like that - as if they no longer had to take it seriously. Not that any of them were starting to think of this as a game, but it also helped pass the half an hour or so before China arrived at the church.

~~

Alternatively, for China, the time between putting her gun in her purse and arriving at the church doors was agonisingly long, and a bit of a blur. She vaguely recalled having second thoughts about the whole plan, and while it was obvious what she eventually decided, she couldn't remember the reasoning behind it. Because there was a reasoning of some kind, dark and shrouded and hidden somewhere back in the recesses of her mind.

But right now, all China felt was a cold panic, which flushed her all over again whenever she thought about how Skulduggery would react if he knew. How dangerously angry he would get. How much like killing her he would feel.

The fact that he now had a face, and she'd be able to see the dangerous anger, wasn't helping. China's imagination spun angrily out of her control, a new and frightening sensation, and clamping it down simply gave the panic free reign to terrorise.

Was she insane, now? As insane as Crux was? No. If anything, China was seeing the world with a kind of intense sharpness, more aware of everything as a whole than she'd ever been in her life. In some ways, she was more sane than most people could ever hope to be. But in spite of that - or maybe because of it - China's mind had disconnected. She wasn't doing anything clearly - thinking, panicking, remembering, or imagining.

She was becoming as uncontrolled as a regular mortal.

So when she froze in the doorway of the church and her first reaction was a bright smile, it was more out of well-worn habit than anything else.

Skulduggery still didn't know. China wouldn't have walked in alive if he had. But they must have known about her intentions somehow. Her gaze would have fallen on the Archangel - was he a mind reader? - but China found it strangely difficult to meet his eyes. Guilt? Shame? Both emotions which China had said, all her life, were useless and only got in the way?

Of course, maybe their presence there was entirely unrelated. Maybe China was so predisposed to panic at this point that it was what she naturally jumped to, even without a reason. The thought made her sick. China wasn't that far gone.

"Fancy seeing you all here." The weight of the gun in her purse seemed to press down on her mind, and China tried not to think about it. "Changed your mind about allowing this place to exist, Skulduggery?"

"China." Skulduggery nodded at her, level and calm in a way he wouldn't be if his angel told him anything about what was running through China's mind. She allowed it to disconnect even further. "We were just out for a stroll. I'm much more interested in what you're doing here."

China's throat had gone dry. China's throat had gone dry. Of all the downgrading things to happen during a panic.
skeletonenigma: (snap)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2012-10-18 12:13 pm (UTC)(link)
It was interesting, being able to see what China was thinking so clearly. There was definitely panic in her smile, and it definitely intensified after Gabe's comment. It was a panic she wouldn't normally have let herself feel, let alone shown to the world, and it was remarkably refreshing dealing with her when she didn't try to hide behind her magic anymore. Couldn't try to hide behind her magic anymore. Skulduggery wouldn't go so far as to say he was glad China had befallen such a fate, but... every cloud had a silver lining, as they say. This just happened to be a very silver cloud.

"Why would you want Remus Crux dead?" Skulduggery asked. "He was annoying and an incompetent fool, but those aren't reasons to kill anyone over. Not for you." His head tilted thoughtfully to the side. "You either thought he was dead already this past year, or not enough of a threat to concern yourself over. Now, suddenly, there's an Archangel. Suddenly something matters. Suddenly, you're panicking. For some reason, I very much doubt it was because he attacked Valkyrie. What changed, China?"

She didn't answer. But she didn't try to deny any of it. An edge of hopelessness crept into her eyes, which fascinated Skulduggery. Hopelessness at what? That they weren't going to let her kill Crux? Or something else? Something that honestly hadn't occurred to her before, perhaps. "Are you suddenly terrified of being damned? Is that all?" Skulduggery's eyes narrowed. "But then why kill?"

"Stop. Please."

There was a pleading edge to her tone. Skulduggery couldn't help stopping in his tracks if he wanted to. China? Pleading?

"He's not quite as incompetent as you think." Without her magic enveloping her and subtly changing Skulduggery's perception of her, China quite suddenly looked fragile. Barely held together, on the verge of collapse. Allowing a small stream of her secret through the crack in the hopes that the dam wouldn't break. "He discovered something about me last year that... would kill me, if it was ever spoken out loud. With Crux's mind in the state it is, I can't trust he won't say it out loud sometime very soon. I just need to make sure that doesn't happen."

There was an element of truth to the words, but at the same time, China was holding something back. Her face was so easily readable right now that Skulduggery could tell even more; apprehension. Trepidation. Pleading him to trust her, just for a bit.

It made a certain kind of sense, but a few things still didn't add up. Like why she'd waited until after Skulduggery came back, until after meeting an Archangel. As well as what about meeting Gabe and, apparently, seeing God, made her need to kill Crux so badly that she panicked. And as long as things didn't add up, Skulduggery couldn't even begin to trust her.

"If that's all there is," he said, "why didn't you tell us at the safe house? Why did you try to hide it?"

China laughed, and it was a bitter laugh so unlike her that Skulduggery almost flinched. "You think I should have explained I needed to kill someone in front of him?" She jerked her head towards Gabe, still refusing to meet the Archangel's gaze. "I thought people tended to be damned for murder. Forgive me for trying to be subtle."

"Panic isn't subtle." Skulduggery straightened up. "And being damned isn't quite that cut-and-dry, apparently. If we just rendered Crux unable to speak, would that be enough?"

The way China's lips tightened answered the question for her. Skulduggery could really get used to how readable her expression was becoming. "Why not? I know about magic that can tie itself to the words someone speaks, but the words they write? Sign language? Possible, but rare. No. Whatever the secret is, China, there are specific people you don't want to know. Tell me who they are, at least."

"I know I'm not worthy of your trust right now, Skulduggery, but please. Please, just this once, trust me that if Crux doesn't die soon, I will."

The others were looking to Skulduggery for what to do. Skulduggery, to be perfectly honest, wasn't quite sure. He'd never seen China so openly deperate before. And it didn't help that a small part of him wanted to see Crux dead, too.
skeletonenigma: (skulblue)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2012-10-18 03:08 pm (UTC)(link)
For once, Skulduggery didn't have to make the decision. No one did. Something in China's words had told Gabe more than they told him; the Archangel was back on his feet, seemingly oblivious to the pain from before, his back tight in a way that implied something was very, very wrong. And if China's frozen reaction to it was any indication, whatever Gabriel had picked up on was something dangerous. Something Skulduggery needed to know.

'Gabriel, what?' he tried praying. Or thinking; praying didn't exactly feel like the right word anymore. 'What is it?'

If Gabe had any intention or capability of answering, he didn't have the time. Before Skulduggery could even decide to ask China something more, loud and hurried footsteps cut through the silence. Nobody moved until the owner of the footsteps was over the threshold, and then China - an expression of startling dread on her face - spun around.

She'd known it would be Crux. Who else would be walking into a Church of the Faceless right at that moment?

Skulduggery had the unsettling suspicion that they were on the cusp of something big. He just couldn't for the life of him figure out what. He knew everything China had done during the war; what could Crux possibly be holding over her? What was China so very terrified of that she didn't even want an Archangel to know?

There were times when the direct approach was easily the best way to go, and everyone being shocked into stillness was one of them. It had grown so quiet in the church that Skulduggery very distinctly heard a sound he hadn't heard in years - his own heartbeat. An illusion, obviously, but it beat very firmly in his fake chest, quickening with each passing second. It was strangely mesmerising.

Gabe hadn't answered the prayer, and China obviously wouldn't be in any kind of a state to answer questions. So Skulduggery broke the spell with a casual, friendly tone. "Ah, Crux! Just the man we wanted to see. Rumour has it you know a secret. Care to share? Tucked away in a stream of nonsense, perhaps? However you're most comfortable. I'm very good at picking apart nonsense."

The casual and relaxed tone was, of course, meant to be misleading, but in more ways than one. Under the offhanded question, Skulduggery was tense as a whip, almost hyperly alert, and his mind was working with an efficiency unusual even for him. So when the gun from China's purse appeared in her hand, aimed right at Crux's head, and had the trigger depressed with a speed that almost blurred, Skulduggery was the first to react.

The gun went off just as Skulduggery's hand snapped, as it flew from China's hand. The shot misfired and the bullet, instead of burying in Crux's skull, buried itself in the roof of the church. The gun hovered in the air above China's head for a moment, and then Skulduggery flicked his wrist and the weapon flew off to land harmlessly in a corner.

His thoughts were encased in a layer of icy calm. That was evident even in his illusory eyes, plainly visible to anyone who looked at him. It was a dangerous sort of calm that Skulduggery tended to avoid, because the ice was much too thin and much too easily broken. But at the moment, it was all he had. With Valkyrie's dangerous rescue tactics, how she'd tried to keep them secret, and everything Gabe had gone through just to bring a murderer back into a world that wasn't even his, Skulduggery's patience was already stretched past its usual mark. He was determined, now more than ever, to hear whatever it was Crux had to say.
skeletonenigma: (necromancy)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2012-10-18 04:31 pm (UTC)(link)
If Ghastly had known what to expect, had any idea what the secret was going to be, he might have shot Crux himself. China was a sly, unpredictable, and untrustworthy woman who didn't deserve a drop of sympathy. But she didn't deserve to die. And she was right; Skulduggery could forgive a surprising amount, when he looked objectively at something. But this was about as far from objective as it was possible to get. Skulduggery was going to kill her, and it wasn't going to be painless.

Gabe had tried to stop Crux from speaking, and even that physical movement was causing him enough pain to stumble and stop. Ghastly couldn't count on the Archangel to help just now; he was injured enough as it was. Valkyrie, Fletcher, Tanith - none of them knew precisely what Skulduggery could be capable of. And China had sunk to her knees on the floor, completely and utterly useless. He couldn't even count on her to escape when she had the chance.

"Skul." Ghastly stepped in front of his friend, barely managing not to flinch at the growing, unrestrained, and pure rage on Skulduggery's fake face. He hadn't seen the rage so clearly in a long time, but he knew it. He knew it well. He'd calmed Skul down before, and that was exactly what Ghastly needed to do right now. His own barely restrained contempt for China needed to be put aside. "Skul. Look at me. Skulduggery."

He'd learned long ago that trying to reason with Skulduggery didn't work. The detective was already past that point when the desire for revenge set in. It was a red-hot anger that could only be tempered by equal feeling, in some other aspect. Anything. In the past, it had been friends, brothers-in-arms.

Ghastly stuttered to a halt when he realised, with growing horror, that this was Skulduggery's family they were talking about.

His wife. His daughter.

There wasn't anything strong enough to temper that. This was the cause of all the buried anger in the first place, for God's sake!

China, he managed to think with some semblance of coherency, what have you done? There was, quite literally, nothing in the world that would stop Skulduggery right now if he didn't want to be stopped. Ghastly turned to snap at the woman, resisting the urge to send her flying through the air himself. "Run."

She did, or at least she tried; she stumbled to her feet and got to the threshold before pausing, her eyes completely dead. Devoid of anything. She'd already resigned herself to this, god damn it.

Ghastly turned back to Skulduggery, prepared to fight his friend. Hold him back. Knock him out, if it came to that. Skulduggery would thank him later, once the ability to reason set back in.

But... what?

Shadows.

There were shadows rising off Skulduggery's arms. Wherever they touched him, they melted the illusory skin right off, melted it all back to white bone. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as Ghastly stared at the misty darkness, trying and failing to make a sound, to ask a question. Any question. The shadows rose in a small stream in front of Skulduggery, coiled back, and slammed into Ghastly's side - enough to send him reeling back and over a pew, completely and utterly stunned.

The physical damage his body suffered was nonexistent. Ghastly was too stocky, had spent too long fighting, to be hurt by such a blow. Mentally...

Ghastly flashed back to a similar event years and years ago. Back during the war. When he'd just watched his mother die, had just been blinded by anger so hot it tore him apart, had just rushed a man an entire army wasn't powerful enough to stop and been tossed aside like a rag doll. Those same shadows, those same coiling shadows, that killed dozens at a time - about to kill him without a second thought. And Ghastly hadn't really cared at the time. He'd wanted to die. The well-meant distraction that stopped the killing stroke couldn't have come at a worse moment.

Necromancy.

The word almost formed a gravitational pull in Ghastly's mind. No thought could venture far beyond it, no matter how much it struggled. No thought wanted to.

He couldn't sit up. He could barely look back around, just in time to see Skulduggery... him.... it. It striding toward China, Necromantic shadows swirling in an angry haze around it, strengthening and protecting exactly where the armour would have been. Jabbing angrily towards China as it approached her. Forming furious spikes that Ghastly could imagine piercing her where she stood, even without an object for all that power to be coming from.

The disguise had melted away completely. Ghastly's mind struggled to comprehend the image. The impossible image. The skeleton Necromancer, so impossibly powerful, so dangerously evil.

It was impossible, but... Vile?

It didn't make any sense. Where was Skulduggery? Had he left the church? They needed him, for God's sake. They needed him to stop Lord Vile.
skeletonenigma: (necromancy)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2012-10-18 05:32 pm (UTC)(link)
Part of what had made Necromancy come so naturally to begin with wasn't that Skulduggery had come back from the dead. It wasn't that he'd been killed by a Necromancer's technique, making the poisonous magic form the very basis of his existence. It was because the anger and rage he'd come back with provided such convenient power. Necromancy was attracted to it like a moth to a flame, and as the anger bloomed ceaselessly and constantly in Skulduggery's mind, it was a neverending fuel.

The greater the fuel, the brighter the flame.

Skulduggery hadn't slipped completely into Vile. He was still aware of himself. But he had stopped caring, and that... that was dangerous enough. His considerable power, asleep and clamped down for so long, leaped eagerly to the rage; burned with the desire to eliminate every obstacle in its path to revenge. And Skulduggery had let it, because he knew that without the armour it wouldn't be strong enough to kill anyone other than her.

And then there was an obstacle that it couldn't eliminate. Something bright shone in the way, and it wouldn't let him near her. As Skulduggery's frustration flared, so did the shadows; slipping around behind him and snapping out at the air like hundreds of little blank snakes. A dark mist still clung to his once-again-skeletal form, vaguely reminiscent of the armour, rolling uselessly over the bone with nothing there to anchor it. The only thing making it possible for the inky blackness to exist was the pure, unadulterated, fiery hatred.

Gabriel.

The realisation did nothing to stop the anger. Gabriel had tried to keep Crux from speaking, tried to stop Skulduggery from finding out. Betrayed Skulduggery's trust, and why? To protect China? A woman he'd made it abundantly clear he didn't like, couldn't stand, didn't want anything to do with? To protect her?

His piercing voice, far from dispelling the shadows, caused them to rally and grow in defiance of its attempt to neutralise them. Skulduggery had lost his family because of that woman, and Gabriel wanted him to spare her life. That just wasn't going to happen.

Attacking outright hadn't worked, and never would. Risking it again, after what had happened to China, was just foolish. So Skulduggery started to wrap the shadows around himself, started to disappear into them, use them to pass harmlessly around Gabriel and come out the other side, closer to China. Close enough to simply step into existence and stab.
skeletonenigma: (skulnoname)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2012-10-19 12:43 am (UTC)(link)
Skulduggery didn't have nearly as much power available for shadow-walking as he anticipated without the armour. He only managed to get a few metres closer to China, stepping out of the darkness with shadows already pointed, sharp, speeding towards her, intent on ripping through.

They didn't. They shattered instead against a sudden force so bright and blinding that Skulduggery had to take a quick and painful step backwards.

A painful step.

The moment the light slid over the darkness that hovered just over his bones, it was like hundreds of little knives sliced right into them. The brilliant and radiant glow of the divine clashed violently with the grimy and lurid darkness of Necromancy, and Skulduggery was caught unceremoniously in the middle. The pain and the rage washed together in a storm that gave his power one last surge for a desperate strike, which he instantly tried to take full advantage of - right before Gabriel's hand brushed against his suit and a brief flash of the same dream-like state from the other dimension flickered through his explosive consciousness.

The next thing Skulduggery became aware of was an altar crashed against his back with all the metaphysical speed of a freight train, and yet that wasn't painful. It was about the gentlest time anyone had ever slammed him against anything. The shock of the impact seemed to stun his thoughts, rather than his body, freezing everything the Necromancy was using for fuel and throwing it into sharp relief. Throwing Vile into sharp relief.

No. No, Skulduggery hadn't become Vile. But given a few more minutes, given even one murder, and he might well have.

No.

Gabriel was standing above him, and for a single moment, Skulduggery was sure this was it. Sure that the Archangel would make an exception to his usual policy - that Vile, he would smite. Skulduggery, the anger, the danger and the threat. Gabriel would get rid of it all.

But the moment extended, lengthened, and passed, and Gabriel didn't do anything. He just looked at Skulduggery; no judgment, no anger, not even the barest hint of disappointment.

It stung. It stung much, much more than a simple smiting would have. For another short second after that, Skulduggery found himself hating the Archangel for not being able to make the decision - and then, so quickly and smoothly that Skulduggery couldn't quite believe it at first, that hatred dissipated. It, along with all the bitten fury and anger, just... vanished. Vanished, and in its place, it left...

... nothing.

For the first time in Skulduggery's undead life, the ever-present and underlying anger borne from overwhelming grief was no longer there.

Gabriel's voice echoed soothingly throughout an empty chamber, and it was so... peaceful. Comforting. Gentle. The embodiment of the phrase 'lighter than air.' Skulduggery felt nothing, and the strength - the control - it built back up so naturally that it was practically dizzying.

Gabriel's enveloping presence was so absolute that even when the anger keeping Skulduggery in existence began to trickle back in, the flow was slow, and it remained perfectly under his intact control once again. Slowly, surely, Skulduggery felt his mind return to its normal, familiar state, carefully balanced and freeing higher processes up for the objective thinking Skulduggery was so good at.

It was also the first time in centuries that the return to clear thinking and reason was, to Skulduggery, the most unwelcome thing in the world - and not just because of the few moments of sheer bliss he would have been happy to experience for eternity.

He didn't want to sit up. He didn't want to see the others' reactions. He didn't want to face Gabriel, knowing now that the Archangel would be instantly forgiving, and Skulduggery didn't know which would be worse - getting what he deserved for what just happened, for what he did during the war, for what he did to Ghastly; or getting forgiven for it.

He had to start somewhere.

'I'm sorry.'
skeletonenigma: (pencilskul)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2012-10-19 11:59 am (UTC)(link)
Right. Skulduggery had started somewhere. What next?

Next, he was surrounded by feathers. And a hug so deeply full of caring that, for a moment, it numbed him to everything else.

The last time Gabriel had used his wings like this, the Archangel was protecting him from the space between dimensions - rescuing him from a hell he would have been trapped in forever. There had been warmth in that embrace as well, but it hadn't been focused and Skulduggery hadn't tried to feel or experience anything other than the immediate danger of their surroundings and of the Faceless One attacking them through the gale.

This time, the warmth was prevalent, and composed of everything good Skulduggery didn't deserve. Encouragement. Love. It all wrapped around him like a blanket, and Gabri - Gabe... solid and kind, protecting him from a different kind of danger, rescuing him from a different kind of hell.

He shouldn't have needed to think, should have been able to just bask in the glow. But there was too much else going on, and there was too much else to worry about.

Skulduggery's hand, down to bone once again, gently reached out and touched one of the wing feathers. He watched it trembling with effort, and a fresh surge of guilt washed over him - guilt that Skulduggery caught and gathered so it would rinse away the last of the rage. Of course, Gabe would have had to use his powers. Whatever the angelic equivalent of adrenaline was, it might just be the only thing standing between that telling tremble, and Gabe completely collapsing once again - and this time, it wouldn't be Gabe's fault in the slightest. It would be completely and unequivocally Skulduggery's.

Gabe's voice resonated in the room and in the bones of his skeleton, but China's reply - when it came - Skulduggery could barely hear. It was an assent, that much he knew. However hesitatingly, however reluctantly, China was repeating what Gabe had outlined. One loose end tied up, and if China was the only one Gabe was putting the order to, then Prave and Crux were somehow not a part of the picture anymore. That was just fine. That... just left everything else.

"Are you alright?" Skulduggery asked him quietly when the church was silent again. They could go back to Kenspeckle Grouse, now, if they needed to. Skulduggery wouldn't mind enduring whatever punishment the crotchety professor would have for allowing Gabe to get so much worse. Skulduggery had been furious at China earlier for being the potential cause of a further downward spiral in the Archangel - it would be hypocritical not to put the same fury and blame on himself.
Edited 2012-10-19 12:01 (UTC)
skeletonenigma: (yes?)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2012-10-19 01:39 pm (UTC)(link)
Ghastly was somehow back on his feet. He didn't remember doing it. He didn't remember a whole lot right then. The events of the past few minutes skipped like an old and scratched record, blurred together in his mind until all he saw, all he cared about, was the Necromancy.

Ghastly had watched the two conflicting shadows rise up on the wall behind the altar, his attention caught and held by the unmistakable image of Vile - a haunting reminder of those five years during the war and... and how many people, how many friends and loved ones, had been killed by that man. Killed, their broken bodies used as shields, and then tossed aside like so many swatted flies. Some of them reanimated, some of them turned into shadow-puppets, made to fight for him.

Ghastly remembered how the Dead Men had believed, for those five years, that if anyone could find a way to kill a skeleton, it was Lord Vile. The most powerful Necromancer to ever walk the earth. And the living skeleton's permanent death was the only reason Skulduggery would have disappeared, wouldn't have stayed to help them fight.

Unless.

Unless he -

No.

But it made sense. It made... Ghastly tried to rebel against the thought, but it wouldn't be denied, and the fact was... it was the truth. That anger. That almost desperate need, once Skulduggery had come back, to help people. It was after that he gave up his family crest. Said he wasn't worthy of it. Continued to think he wasn't worthy of anything, even if he never said that out loud. The amount of arguing it took just to convince him to buy a damn car, or practically anything that wasn't specifically necessary...

Gabriel was hugging Skulduggery. Hugging him as the radiant light of an Archangel purified the church, and still, all Ghastly could see was the darkness. The gouges on the backs of his wings. The lie.

It couldn't. No. Ghastly couldn't believe it, wouldn't believe it, not until Skulduggery himself confirmed it.

Ghastly was the first person Skulduggery looked at when he eventually pulled away from the angelic embrace. Ghastly had no idea what the detective would see in his face, but he doubted it was perfectly blank. No one could be capable of that, not after all this. Ghastly returned Skulduggery's inscrutable look as steadily as he could, but the longer the detective went without saying anything - without explaining - the deeper Ghastly's heart sank.

All those years of anxiously waiting, hoping, wanting to believe that Vile was gone for good - that someone had miraculously managed to kill him. And all the while, Vile was sitting right next to them. Arresting Vengeous for them. Winning the war for them. Never more than a minor loss of control away. Just as abruptly as Ghastly's memories of Skulduggery switched to Vile, all his memories of Vile switched to Skulduggery. That skeleton form surrounded by shadows and decimating armies. That skeleton form killing his mother and almost killing him.

Without thinking, without conscious effort, Ghastly found himself moving quickly toward Skulduggery, toward Vile. He pulled his arm back and curled his fist and, as soon as he was close enough, let his fist crunch into the jaw of that skull with all of the vicious strength that he could muster.

Skulduggery flew back several feet and slammed against the wall that spanned the back of the church. He stumbled back onto his feet, carefully kept his balance. Slowly, his hands rose to inspect the damage to the skull. Part of his jaw had cracked, and the lower half of it was almost folded back in on itself, dislocated at both points where it connected onto the upper half.

And... that was it. Skulduggery didn't immediately try to hit Ghastly back. Didn't grow angry, didn't try to defend himself - even despite the cracked jawline and difficulty speaking he would undoubtedly have. He just stood there, cradling his jaw, staring blankly down at the ground.

Something inside Ghastly broke.

What truly terrified him, he realised later, wasn't how much more damage he wanted to inflict, wasn't that he would have gladly ripped a bone off entirely if he was given the chance. It was that he really and honestly would have, were it not for the Archangel standing nearby.

Space. Space to breathe. That was what Ghastly needed. That was what he suddenly and desperately needed, so badly that he felt like he would fly apart if he had to stay in this suffocating and twisted church even a moment longer. And so Ghastly followed the only path that was left available to him - slowly, calmly, and quietly, without meeting anyone else's eyes, he turned and left the church.
Edited 2012-10-19 13:48 (UTC)
skeletonenigma: (darkfirewind)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2012-10-19 03:06 pm (UTC)(link)
It was no more than Skulduggery had been expecting. In fact, it was less. He would never have believed Ghastly might be able to stop himself after a single blow. He'd been prepared for more. Honestly, he'd been prepared to lose two or three limbs, break a few ribs, crack several others. And he wouldn't have fought back, no matter how terrible or blinding the pain became.

Even so, the considerable pain he was currently feeling wracked freely around his skull and the top part of his spine, jabbing angrily at his consciousness like the shadows from earlier had jabbed at the air. It grew infinitely worse when Skulduggery gingerly tried realigning his jaw, and so he was reduced to trying to hold it in place with one hand while he watched Tanith sprint out of the church after Ghastly.

It wouldn't work, but she wouldn't come back. Neither of them would. Skulduggery wouldn't have been surprised if he never saw Ghastly again.

What would Ghastly do now? Tell Guild? Alert the Sanctuaries around the world? It would be the responsible thing to do, and Ghastly was a responsible man. But he was also an honourable one, and he disliked having to deal with the Sanctuaries - and Guild - any more than he really needed to. Perhaps he wouldn't do that. But if not a blanket warning, then... what? Would he tell the rest of the Dead Men?

Skulduggery honestly did not know what to expect. He hadn't thought past this point. He hadn't thought there would ever be a 'past this point' - either Ghastly would never find out, or he would incapacitate Skulduggery into something close to death, and there would be no use in wondering.

As Gabe's wings drew closer into him and folded back into his human form, Skulduggery found himself fiercely grateful that the Archangel wasn't going to leave - for a variety of reasons, including the healing Gabe would badly need, but mainly because Skulduggery had never factored an Archangel into his imaginings of this moment. The presence of someone he trusted was already doing wonders to keep Skulduggery's mind in the fragile balance it currently occupied.

He tried to answer the simple question Gabe posed, but his voice broke off in a short gasp of pain as his jaw tried to open further against the break line. One hand still holding it gently in place, Skulduggery nodded instead and guided Gabe over to where Crux had collapsed in a quivering heap. Prave was nowhere to be seen. Whether or not he'd fled in time to miss the display completely was a mystery Skulduggery would need to solve on another day.

"Fletcher?" he heard Valkyrie ask, the deadpan tone of her own voice striking him more painfully than any amount of anger or hurt would have. "Take me home, please?"

"Sure." Without another word, Fletcher lightly touched Valkyrie's arm, and in the moment before they vanished from sight, Valkyrie's eyes met Skulduggery's gaze. The hurt of betrayal shone in them, tinged with a hint of fear, but Skulduggery didn't let himself look away until she was gone.

That just left China. And Skulduggery couldn't look at her. Not out of shame, or guilt, but out of a real concern that simply looking at her would already bring back enough of the anger to break the balance he was still carefully building back up.
neutralcollector: (in action)

[personal profile] neutralcollector 2012-10-19 07:33 pm (UTC)(link)
How quickly things could change in the space of twenty-four hours.

This time yesterday, China and her students had been warding Haggard against Crux's reappearance. She'd been focused on that, waiting for Valkyrie's inevitable call - either that they had found the real Murder Skull, or that it was once again a fake. Twenty-four hours ago, China had nothing more to worry about than Skulduggery's rescue, and it had seemed such a terrible burden at the time.

How amusing that thought was now.

Of course, China was mildly surprised she was able to think at all. She hadn't been able to silence Crux, and her world had stopped as the words left his mouth. Not just in motion, or thought; truly stopped. The world of someone who was already dead wasn't much of a world at all.

And then she'd turned to see Lord Vile walking towards her, the only man to ever make her seriously reconsider her decision to switch sides, and the disconnect still splitting her mind didn't allow for disbelief. China simply accepted it. It made sense to her. She'd always thought Vile was a creature born of rage and hatred, she just... hadn't known quite how literal that conclusion would turn out to be. She'd tried to run, realised what she was running from, and given up.

Everything that happened afterwards was certainly impressive. But China was mostly in shock that she was still breathing to witness it.

The relationship Gabriel and Skulduggery shared, China noted numbly, was a unique and strong one. It was, of course, fitting for an Archangel to become so interested in someone who'd managed to lock Vile away, but there were very few people Skulduggery trusted deeply enough to let them do what Gabe had just managed. Ghastly was one of them, and even he'd failed here. China was still breathing. Archangel or no, it would take someone who meant an extraordinary amount to Skulduggery to convince him not to hunt down someone who'd had a hand in murdering his family.

She'd laughed at Guild's assumption - and it was still fairly ridiculous - but now... China would have wondered if there was some element of truth to it, had Gabe been a regular sorcerer. Maybe the only person who could really replace a desire to avenge Skulduggery's wife was...

Gabriel's sudden question startled her. She glanced up at him, blinking in surprise. Indeed, so many strange things had happened over the past twenty-four hours that all China wanted to do in the world was sleep. It was an honest and simple impulse that didn't come with any hidden agendas, and it was, quite frankly, refreshing.

"If it's all the same to you," she murmured, her own voice sounding hollow and strange to her, "I'd rather not have anything to do with any of you for a while."

Watching Crux die didn't feel anything like China imagined it would. At this point, it didn't really feel like anything. Her mind had broken so badly back at the safe house that in order to regain some semblance of control, she'd latched onto the panic and the plan that sprung from it. Now, she was empty; rolling along on the aftershock of pure adrenaline. China had no idea what she would be like when she woke up. Maybe she would truly be insane.

As it was, observations and facts were rolling into her like little marbles, collected for further study later, but holding no meaning for her now. Like the way Gabriel had touched Crux's chest, killing him instantly. The exact same way he'd touched Vile's chest, right before slamming him into the altar. Right before Vile melted away. If only China had the mental capabilities to determine exactly what that meant. It felt important. Something to do with... something important.

God, she needed to sleep before she really began making a fool of herself.