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]

"Oh, no!" Gabriel shuddered theatrically. "No, you're right, the fashions those centuries were the worst. Less discriminatory," he added, thinking of the layers upon layers of powder and rouge even the men had worn, "but awful. I never was able to get it confirmed, but I always suspected one of Lucifer's lackeys were responsible for all that. It'd explain everything. Those wigs alone ..."

He made a face. "Did you ever wear one? Can you imagine how heavy and uncomfortable and hot they must get? The things people endure for the sake of 'fashion' has always amazed me, but those wigs. Give me a cowboy hat any day."

And then there was the make-up, and the fact that it was, quite literally, lethal. Yes, almost certainly the fault of someone in Hell.

~~~

"If he's good he's good," Dad said tranquilly. "Never got this idea people seem to have, that broken can't be good. Knocked around, stained, maybe, but that's what experience is. Nothin' wrong with a few scars, a few trip-ups. Everyone has 'em. Some get 'em worse than others. Some people can't even tell they'd got 'em. Those're the ones you've gotta pity."

He shrugged as he drank, a rolling shrug which wasn't so much graceful as loose. Not uncaring, but unworried by the idea of messing up. "Reckon people put too much stock in what's happened past. Gotta learn from mistakes, but not so much you forget that the future's the excitin' part."

His grey eyes gleamed. "Anything can happen, in the future. Anything."

[skeletonenigma]

The lockpicks were easy enough to find, and the instant Fletcher snatched the case up, Skulduggery's living room transformed into the dark brick walls of the Dublin alley. Teleportation was as simple for Fletcher as taking a breath nowadays.

"... 'fashion' has always amazed me, but those wigs. Give me a cowboy hat any day."

"I never wore one, no," Skulduggery replied slowly. "Not seriously. There was a bet once, when I needed to get somewhere attracting the least amount of attention. Jacket, cane, wig, mask, the whole sixteenth century shebang. Larriken didn't stop laughing for days."

Fletcher couldn't stop staring. It was moments like this when he was forcibly reminded that most of the people he now saw on a regular basis were centuries old. That wars he'd only ever read about in books or learned in school, Skulduggery and Ghastly might have fought in. Revolutions and historical events they may have been a part of. And that wasn't even touching how old Gabe probably was.

Fletcher suddenly felt very, very small. "Got it," he interrupted them, to take his mind off the subject. "This is it, right?"

"Yep. Perfect. Thank you." Skulduggery took the case and got to work on the door, squatting down by the doorknob and whistling as he went.

~~

That was one of the problems with sorcerers. They remembered and experienced much more of the past than mortals did. They held grudges for centuries. Couldn't just forgive and forget, move on, watch the mortals develop fascinating technology. Ghastly had been the first among his circle of friends to own a television, and he'd been scoffed at for it, until the decades turned and suddenly everyone wanted one.

Ghastly's own feelings aside, Skulduggery was exactly the kind of person to be respected, more so than he already was. Because he'd dragged himself out of that pit. The pit that the promise of power had lured so many people into. It was one of the reasons Ghastly had respected Gordon Edgley so well. Like he'd told Valkyrie, the man had known magic existed in the world, and he wasn't seduced by it. In retrospect, no wonder he and Skulduggery had gotten along so well.

Damn it! It figured that with Skulduggery, Ghastly could discover his friend had once been Lord Vile, and still end up feeling like the guilty one.

He needed help. Dad was all well and good with his eerily accurate advice, but Ghastly needed to see someone who'd been there. The question was, how did he do it without putting the entire magical community at risk?

Someone even Skulduggery trusted implicitly. Of course. The answer seemed to fall on top of Ghastly from the ceiling of the pub like so many weighty bricks. It was stupid that he hadn't thought of it earlier. Just... Ghastly needed to sleep this off first. Somewhere. And he found, without any surprise this time, that he wasn't quite finished being drunk yet. Ghastly took another swig and set the glass down, staring down at a knot in the woodwork of the bar.

That was it, though. Skulduggery knew the extent of the damage. He'd proven that when he didn't even flinch at having his jaw broken, just... just stood there and taken it. The question was what he'd been doing about it. And Ghastly knew the man well enough to see, even through a biased dizzy haze, that Skulduggery had been desperately trying to make up for it on his own ever since.

Damn it.

"He prob'ly needs help," Ghastly murmured. Yep. There was the slur. "Tryin' to find a bomb. He prob'ly needs help, and I'm..."

How in the hell was he feeling guilty over this!?

[impudentsongbird]

For a moment Gabriel regarded Skulduggery silently, his lips pursed and his head tilted. The twinkle in his eyes strengthened. He started to chuckle, then laughed outright, throwing his head back. "That counts as wearing one!" he crowed, and turned to Fletcher. "What do you say, Fletch? Forget about the scarf and hat! Want to see Skulduggery in a silly powdered and curled wig?"

The Archangel looked at Skul, and the expression on his face, the way he turned his head, said Gabe was still imagining Skul clearly in said outfit. "You can even take pictures. I'll bet you I can get him in one, once I'm rested up a bit more."

~~~

"You're drunk, lad," Dad said, quite obviously highly amused. "Don't think you're gonna be much help to him for the moment. 'Sides, there's no rush. Even bombs have timers." He signalled the bartender. "Hey, barman! Give us a bottle. We'll take it with."

So saying, he drained his last glass and got up off his seat to guide Ghastly gently but firmly off his own stool, chuckling. "C'mon, boyo. Let's go find us some magic someplace else 'til you're ready to sober up."

[skeletonenigma]

Skulduggery actually paused in his lockpicking to look around at them, slowly and with his head tilted in a way that suggested barely restrained offended mirth. The suggestion was entirely accurate. "I thought the whole point of a disguise was to avoid drawing attention. I hope you're not suggesting what I think you're suggesting."

Gabe's next words and Fletcher's excited grin told Skulduggery otherwise, much to his chagrin. "I'm not really the best photographer," said Fletcher with a shake of his head, "but I can get us cameras! Actually, forget that. I can get us video cameras. And a giant projector screen."

"I expect too much," Skulduggery sighed. "Unrealistic expectations, that's always been my problem. Gabe, you're an invalid until further notice."

"But he's an angel," Fletcher argued, clearly trying his best to stop laughing - and failing miserably. "Aren't they sort of hard to boss around? And shouldn't you be trying to - "

No sooner did the words leave his mouth than the lock on the door clicked, and the door gently swung open. It was the mark of a good footpad, Skulduggery always said, that they were able to pick locks without paying full attention to the task. Of course, it helped when you were an Elemental and could manipulate the air around each tumbler. It also helped when the particular lock you were picking was a simple cylinder deadbolt, but the look of stunned surprise and admiration on the young sorcerer's face made Skulduggery feel like he'd just broken into Buckingham Palace.

"I may have just triggered an alarm," he warned them. "To be safe, we have five minutes."

Skulduggery would believe in the existence of God once and for all if a silly powdered and curled wig actually lurked within the depths of the shop somewhere. A vindictive God with a twisted sense of humour, but God nonetheless. Someone on Gabe's side, at any rate.

~~

Ghastly found the whole exchange funny in a way that only those teetering on the edge of a drunken stupor could. "If we're waiting 'til I'm ready, we'll be waiting a while," he said - or at least tried to say. The words probably came out a little more slurred than he intended - or completely different altogether. It was hard to tell.

But here, Ghastly belatedly realised, was an interesting thought. Dad drank at least as much as Ghastly did. Probably more. And yet he swung off his stool as gracefully as ever, eyes as bright and twinkling as they'd been the whole time, voice still perfectly even and full of sparkling amusement. And he made a convenient support for Ghastly, who was suddenly having a strange time standing up straight.

"How come you're not falling over?" he asked as they made their slow way outside the bar, with Ghastly leaning heavily on Dad's arm. God, was his head swimming. His head was a veritable fish. Ghastly's limbs felt weightless, but stuck, like they were attached to something heavy and nailed down to the ground. It was a good feeling.

[impudentsongbird]

"We can say you're going out to a costume party," Gabriel suggested innocently and still with a broad grin as he moved closer to the door. His eyes widened a little; if not for the grin, he might have actually managed to look innocent. "And I never said it had to be something I did now ..."

Rather, he could wait until Rafe got there and he was either healed or they could double-team the skeleton. Which of them was Skulduggery going to blame? Rafe would be behind Gabe one-hundred per cent.

The look of pride in Skulduggery--and there was a look, skeleton or not--made Gabriel laugh again and shake his head. And Skul called him a show-off.

"I'll keep watch," he said, moving to a corner of the shop not too far from the doorway where he could see out the front window. He would have liked to have a rifle around the store, as evidenced by the way he looked around in wistful interest--these kinds of stores were some of his favourite. But, seeing as Skul had told him to rest, and because he couldn't move all that fast, he figured not moving was probably the best bet for him now.

"And you did, by the way," he added, glancing toward where the silent alarm was hidden.

~~~

"Better see the time's well-spent then," Dad said cheerfully, easily serving as Ghastly's personal leaning post. The pair of them looked like an odd four-legged beast with two heads, one side of which was somehow paralysed.

"Got you to prop up my other side," the older man told the younger with a grin, pushing open the door, keeping it open and manoeuvring Ghastly through it without seeming to have any troubles at all. "Now we're nicely relaxed, got anythin' fun you've been meanin' to do and never got around to?"

[skeletonenigma]

"The thing with disguises," Skulduggery retorted just as he and Fletcher entered the shop, "is that if someone has to come up and ask questions at all, it's a bad disguise. Until further notice, Gabe."

"So we've gotta be quick, yeah?" Fletcher glanced around the piles of clothes on one of the tables, and his face fell. "Okay. What should I be looking for?"

"A wig." Skulduggery began flipping through a basket of old scarves, grateful once again that Gabe had managed to rescue his hat from the church. It was the small things in life that kept Skulduggery stable and amused in equal turns. "Not a powdered judicial one, please."

"You mean like the frizzy hair you had before?" Fletcher picked up a shoe sitting on the table with two fingers, stared at it, and then dropped it with a look of disgust. "Why frizzy hair?"

Skulduggery didn't answer, stopping instead next to a suit rack while he wrapped a thick black scarf around the lower half of his jaw. With a forlorn glance at the suits, none of which would fit his skeletal frame, Skulduggery forced himself to turn away and search for a good pair of gloves. He hadn't noticed until they were all back at Kenspeckle's lab, but when the Necromantic shadows melted away Gabe's illusion, they also melted away the suit. While a priest's robes would certainly catch peoples' attention, the outfit at least hid that Skulduggery had all the substance of a coat rack. He would just have to rely on Gabe's sunny smile and Fletcher's teenage youth to dissuade people from asking awkward questions.

"Oh my god."

Skulduggery turned to see Fletcher, full of disbelief, holding up a powdered, judicial wig. A powdered, judicial wig very much like what Skulduggery had hoped he wouldn't find.

... Really? Skulduggery wanted to ask. Or pray, apparently.

He tried a quick mental calculation of the odds, frowned at the result, and turned to Gabe. "Would you mind relaying a message for me? I appreciate the humour as much as the next man, but if He would kindly stay out of my mind, I'd be very grateful."

~~

Ghastly frowned as he was led out into the sunlight, tried to rephrase the earlier question in his own mind, and gave up. Dad's smooth dodge of an answer was probably deliberate anyway. A man was entitled to his secrets, especially since the pair were still technically strangers.

An idea occurred to Ghastly as they stood there. Wasn't this how Skulduggery and Gordon met? With Gordon stone drunk, Skulduggery carrying him back to his New York hotel, and the writer accidentally pulling Skul's disguise off as they went?

A part of Ghastly's mind struggled to make the connection it was pretty sure existed in the story. It came up with nothing.

"Fun?" Ghastly stared down at the bright asphalt of the sidewalk, willing the world to stop spinning for just one moment so he could think. "'S there a sports thing at the stadium?" Shouting and excitement might sober him up in a good, slow way. And Ghastly never said no to watching a sports game...

He noticed a line of ants scurrying from one crack in the sidewalk down into the gutter, and suddenly they seemed like the most fascinating thing in the world. Ghastly watched them curiously, almost intently, wondering what could possibly be important enough in their miniature world to make them hurry like that.

[impudentsongbird]

Gabriel had been watching through the window, senses extended, with full intent on doing his duty properly. Right up until he heard Fletcher's incredulous voice and turned. There was no pause; the Archangel bent inward, hands pressed to his face, and leaned against another table while he submitted to peals of helpless giggles.

"How--do you know--He was even--in it?" the Archangel managed, with difficulty. He managed to stem his mirth just long enough to straighten, look Skulduggery in the eye, and say firmly, "You have to take it." Then Gabe broke down again with gales of laughter. Honestly, the Lord could have just overheard their conversation. They weren't being terribly discreet about it, metaphysically speaking. Either way, Gabriel didn't care.

Needless to say, Gabriel was rather useless as a guard after that.

~~~

"Could be," Dad agreed sanguinely, with an odd little smile at some unknown joke playing around the corner of his mouth. "Then again, everyone's gonna be at the Stadium pretty soon; going there'd be like gettin' blasted." He followed the younger man's gaze and grinned. Somehow, there was a sadness in the grin. "Pretty, aren't they? Easy to overlook, but there's millions of 'em, all workin' in concert. Very orderly. 'Til it's not."

He followed the line of them in the opposite direction, into the crack leading up the wall adjacent to the sidewalk, and then pointed at a relatively recent-looking poster above them. "How 'bout that carnival there. Ain't even far. We could walk it, or take the bus. Carnivals," he said wistfully. "Ain't been to one of them in a while. One of my boys always used to go with me."

The old man chuckled. "Poor kid hardly gave himself the chance to have his own life, 'til finally I told him to go off and have one. Can't complain when he does it, can I, but now I miss the lad." He nudged Ghastly, although it was more like a sway because Ghastly was already leaning on him so much. "Care to humour an old codger for an afternoon? Been a while since I played for teddy-bears."

And he grinned at Ghastly, his grey eyes twinkling and knowing and depthless.

[skeletonenigma]

Skulduggery looked from Gabe, whose composure was well and truly lost, to Fletcher, who was still holding the wig and giving Skulduggery an exaggerated shrug. "He has a point, you know."

Skulduggery debated a whole variety of responses - arguing, moving on without a word, setting fire to the wig. In the end, he decided on a very simple, but very firm: "No."

Fletcher hesitated, but then, to his credit, he put the wig back on the hook where he'd found it. Skulduggery was immediately sure it wouldn't stay there for long. Either Fletcher would find a way to Teleport back and grab it, simply because Gabe asked him to, or Gabriel - being an Archangel and all - would get it for himself. That, or put in a request to God.

... A request to God. Skulduggery shook his head impatiently. He would never be able to look at coincidences quite the same way anymore. Not that he'd ever taken coincidences for granted before this, but he'd never assumed an omnipotent bearded man was behind them.

"Do you even need a wig?" Fletcher asked suddenly. "Why can't you just do the hat and scarf? Pretend you're, I dunno. A bald albino or something."

At this point, Skulduggery would take it. Just a scarf, gloves, and sunglasses then. He pulled on the black pair of gloves he'd just found, and then snatched a large pair of dark sunglasses off a display case sitting on the counter. "Fletcher, how much money do you have on you?"

"What?" The teenager was caught off-guard. Come to think of it, Fletcher probably wasn't used to paying for much. "Um... about thirty euros? Why"

"Leave it all on the counter. I'll pay you back later. Gabe, if you're quite finished...?"

~~

A carnival? Ghastly had seen the posters for it around, but it was mainly geared towards kids and their families. He hadn't even considered going himself; now that the option was suddenly in front of him, it didn't seem like such a bad idea. Gabe had mentioned that he enjoyed going to theme parks. There had to be a reason for that. Relaxing? Distracting? Playing against God at bumper cars and the arcade games, gambling over piles of teddy bears to eventually donate -

- teddy bears.

Teddy bears.

Teddy...

There wasn't so much a click as there was a sudden pulse, like a supernova going off just underneath Ghastly's mind. It froze him, completely, utterly, iced the blood in his veins and the alcohol in his brain, rocked the entire Earth underneath Ghastly's feet.

A broken record stuttered painfully through his mind. ... one of my boys always used to go with me... I'm everybody's Dad... I got too many names... there's magic in this place... who said I was alone?... The spot-on advice, the perfect understanding, the look in his eyes -

Good God. Or, no. Good... holy....

... hell.

Ghastly wasn't aware of how it happened, or when, but suddenly he was stumbling into the gutter under his own power. Tripped over the empty air? Reeling? Purposely pushing himself away? Could have been any of those, and all of them. Whatever the reason, Ghastly managed to spin tightly around as he fell to stare, half expecting the man to be gone.

He wasn't. He was still standing there, laughing. A full, deep, genuine laugh that somehow managed not to be mocking in the least. A regular old man, grizzled, ordinarily old... codger. For lack of a better word. For lack of a word that wouldn't make Ghastly pass out.

The first noise that came out of his mouth was somewhere between a strangled gasp and a cry. Ghastly swallowed hard and tried again. Nope. Same effect. In a desperate attempt not to look like a complete fool, Ghastly tried to imitate the noise he'd heard himself make instead, and thankfully - thankfully - it came out as real words.

"Where's all the alcohol go?"

... Okay, not the best words. Or the best voice; it was still a little strained, still a little high. But Ghastly was also still staring. He'd just been faced with God, for God's sake, he could be excused a little incoherence. In fact, Ghastly didn't think he should be held accountable for his actions whatsoever in the next few hours. Or the next few days. The next few years.

... And damn it, he'd been calling him Dad. Calling God... Calling Him Dad. Calling...

... maybe it would be for the best if Ghastly just stopped working.

So he did.

[impudentsongbird]

With great effort Gabriel managed to compose himself and straighten--barely. His eyes still shone with wild delight and he trembled with the laughter he was trying to restrain. "Not quite," he said, and his voice shook just as his body did. "But I'll manage for the moment."

He looked at Fletcher and there was a bright request all over his face, a question, a suggestion--asking for complicity. Yes. Yes, he did want that wig. They didn't have the money right now, but later, Gabe would get some, and Fletcher could Teleport back in for it.

The glance was only for a moment, because even though Skulduggery probably noticed anyway, the need to leave before anyone came was pressing. Gabe very carefully avoided looking at the wig, but somehow, it was still more difficult to move now than it had ever been--thanks to the combination of his aching body and the fact that he had to keep fighting not to just collapse into giggles all over again at the mere thought of it.

He knew, with keen awareness, how Tanith felt now.

Still, he reached the door and smiled far too broadly at Skulduggery. "Shall we go?"

~~~

'Dad' was still chuckling as he reached down to haul Ghastly easily to his feet. "Right now, pretty sure it's all in your veins, lad," he told the tailor, steadying him with a slap on his back. "Don't think you're in the condition to walk it, though. Looks like the bus is just there, lucky for us."

He nodded to the stop about twenty feet down the street and the bus which had, indeed, just come ponderously around the corner. The old man guided Ghastly toward it and within the minute they were climbing aboard. Cheerfully Dad obeyed when the driver directed them to take a seat without paying the fare, due to being a 'senior and carer' pair, and then the bus was trundling off.

"Next stop, carnival," he said with a grin. "Look like you can use the downtime, boyo. Well, we'll take care of that. Stadium might be a bit too excitin' for you."

[skeletonenigma]

Skulduggery looked like he was about to say something, jaw open with an unnecessary intake of air, but then thought better of it. He snapped his jaw shut, nodded, and followed Gabe back out into the alley, carefully positioning the dark sunglasses over his empty eye sockets as he went. Fletcher, for his part, grumblingly dug out his wallet and left all the cash inside next to the cash register.

They'd better be grateful, that was all Fletcher would say. No broken windows or violent entry, and everything taken paid for. He could just see the headline in the paper tomorrow morning: "Mysterious Burglars Kind Enough Not To Steal Anything." Typical of Ireland, really.

"I'd better stay back here," Skulduggery was saying when Fletcher rejoined the pair outside. "Until the cab is flagged down, at least."

Fletcher had a sneaking suspicion that it was less because Skulduggery didn't want to be seen or accidentally revealed in the bright sunlight, and more because he really just did not like cabs. Not that Fletcher could blame him, but still. The great skeleton detective, reluctant to ride in taxis? Valkyrie would have gotten a kick out of that.

~~

Lucky for us.

Ghastly's mind was still struggling to churn out coherent thoughts, but at the moment it just seemed to be stuck on that one phrase. That, and the well-known annoying fact that trying to catch a bus in Dublin on the spur of the moment was ambitious at best, and liable to drop you off on the wrong end of Dublin at worst.

But, sure enough, there it was. Happily trundling around the corner. Acting for all the world like it was a normal bus doing normal things and hadn't just broken the inherent laws of public transportation.

The walk to the bus stop was as slow as Ghastly needed it to be. They didn't have to flag the bus down as it passed, as was the norm - it seemed to jerk to a stop just for them. They didn't have to pay fare, and the bus didn't start moving until they were both properly in their seats.

Right. Okay. Ghastly could handle this. He was, hopefully, still mostly drunk. He could handle things when he was drunk. Things came much more simply when he was...

... the problem was, Ghastly couldn't tell anymore if he actually was drunk, or if he was disturbingly sober and his mind was slowly breaking down from the inside. With everything he'd seen and done in the last 48 hours - from holding up an Archangel's wing to discovering Lord Vile to... well, this - it wouldn't surprise Ghastly in the least if he was about to go into a catatonic vegetable state. Of course, he'd prefer not to, strictly speaking. He'd been in something resembling a catatonic vegetable state. It hadn't been much fun.

Seriously? Ghastly demanded of his own thoughts. Seriously?

His thoughts, caught red-handed, sheepishly threw up something relevant, and questions that actually made sense: Why? Why here? Why now?

Somehow, Ghasly just couldn't quite bring himself to ask them. It probably had something to do with the way he was also avoiding looking at the man altogether. And had been, ever since he was helped out of the gutter.

It had never quite occurred to Ghastly how many muscles were necessary for speaking until just that moment.

[impudentsongbird]

"As you please, Skul." Just inside the alley, Gabriel paused a moment to wait for Fletcher and then put his arm through the teen's, gently appropriating him as a leaning-post. "Since Skulduggery's decided to go and sulk, we'll just have to take command for a little while," he said to the Teleporter, voice teasing and deliberately raised so the detective would hear it.

Gabe grinned conspiratorially as he started down the sidewalk to the road, where there were, fortunately, cabs at regular intervals. He whispered, "Besides, his being back there gives us a chance to plan."

~~~

Luckily for Ghastly, Dad seemed perfectly willing to keep talking until the tailor had acclimatised to the 'whatever' it was that had given him so much pause. As if he was just an ordinary old man. As if he didn't know anything about what might be going through Ghastly's head.

"'Course, sounds like you've been through a wringer," Dad said thoughtfully. "Things happen. Some things worse than others. S'why it's always best to go out and do somethin' once in a while. Somethin' not related. Arcade games are great for that, so long as y'don't go out intendin' to always win. I like the ones with random chance."

The last was added as if in afterthought. "Can't go wrong with randomness. Or cards. Hundreds of things you can do with cards. Just a pity there aren't many arcade games like that, but ah well." He shrugged. "It happens. Maybe we can find a pack and a table and play for candyfloss." A gleam lit his eyes. "Or hustle some of the vendors. Fair trade, seein' as they're gonna be hustlin' us right back."

[skeletonenigma]

"I knew it." For once, Fletcher didn't really care how he must have looked, with a grin so wide. He was walking around with a thinly disguised living skeleton. Any worries he might have had about impressions or appearances were sort of a non-issue right now.

Besides, with Gabe, it was fun to wave at people who were staring. Like back at the safe house, when Gabe had become a dinosaur just for the fun of it, and the others had come out to see what was going on.

"We should probably wait until after we find the bomb," Fletcher started to plan almost immediately. "But then... hang on, can't you do those illusion things?" He hesitated. "Or is that too painful right now?"

~~

Unluckily for Ghastly, 'acclimatising' to what had given him so much pause was going to take a lot longer than just a few short minutes. And possibly some more heavy drinking. And, honestly, blocking out every single word he - He - he said from this moment on.

"I don't..." his voice was high, thin, and reedy. Ghastly swallowed hard past the dry knot and stared fixedly out the bus window, focusing on the feeling of his hands shaking in his lap - shaking so hard they were practically vibrating. Stone sober, Ghastly decided. He was perfectly sober all of a sudden and watching the effects of the instant depletion in his system. Of course, the question was whether he'd grown sober so quickly because of the shock that was, very quickly, settling in, or if it was because of... well. Divine intervention.

Divine intervention.

Was Ghastly allowed to say no? Was he allowed to say he wasn't really in the mood for a cliched day at the carnival? Was he allowed to say that his best friend was a murderer and he needed to do something about it? It wasn't as if the man wouldn't already know all of that. Man. 'Dad.' No, man was less ridiculous.

"Why?" Ghastly asked instead without turning. And when the tailor realised he could actually see the man's reflection in the bus window, he immediately glanced down and stared at his hands twisting around each other in his lap.

That wasn't quite specific enough, was it? Why now? No, that made sense. Gabriel. Keeping an eye on his son. Fair enough. That, Ghastly could understand. Why here? No, that made a sort of sense too. What Ghastly really wanted to ask, he realised with a jolt, was why God's anonymous advice on what to do about Vile and Skul was so... straightforward. Objective. He'd known exactly what Ghastly was talking about, that much was obvious, and that just confused Ghastly further.

Did he need to rewrite the Bible? Would that help?

[impudentsongbird]

"No," Gabriel said regretfully, "I promised Skul I wouldn't except at urgent need." A smile cross his face, small and sly. "Besides, it would only be an illusion at heart. The one in the pawnshop is real. You can do a lot more with real things."

He glanced over his shoulder at Skul, his eyes a-twinkle and considering. "Less easy to dismiss, for one." The Archangel turned back again and smiled brightly at a woman they were passing. The smile turned wicked. "What Skul doesn't know is that I have a secret and legal means of finding perfectly legitimate money, and I won't need to use magic at all. Was there a tag on the wig?"

~~~

"Don't stress yourself too much, lad," Dad said easily. "Heard it lowers the lifespan." He grinned at the other man, apparently not the least bit concerned about what, precisely, might be causing Ghastly so much uneasiness.

"Why what?" he asked, amusement in his tone. "Why's the sky blue, the grass green, dryer lint multiply exponentially? Always wondered about that last one, myself. One of the great mysteries of the universe." He nodded to himself as if confirming that fact.

[skeletonenigma]

Fletcher couldn't help staring for a second. He hadn't really given angels or God much thought until recently, but he knew enough to have pretty much always assumed that skeleton detectives - who, apparently, used to murder people - shouldn't be able to make such binding promises with Archangels. The reality felt so surreal.

"Sure." Weren't there always tags on everything in pawnshops? "It was about fifteen." The excitement trickled back into Fletcher, coupled with a bright curiosity. "What are you going to do?"

~~

... Yep. Definitely good-natured teasing. You couldn't be an omnipotent being and claim that much ignorance of the nuances in any conversation, let alone one like this.

But of course, that meant... mind-reading. Or whatever the divine equivalent of mind-reading was. Damn it.

... Damn it. Everything Ghastly had been thinking back at the bar, even before he started drinking. The age difference, the assumption that the man had no clue... Ghastly had to stop himself from mentally apologising right away, and then couldn't avoid briefly wondering if that was actually the right thing to do. Was confessing sin expected?

The problem with meeting God, face-to-face, was that there were a staggering number of different stories and interpretations of what he was supposed to be like. Wrathful. Benevolent. Humourous. Serious. It was next to impossible trying to figure out with ones applied, although Ghastly was pretty sure 'serious' fell off the wagon somewhere back when he'd first entered the bar.

If Gabe was any indication, Ghastly had nothing to worry about. And, in fact, everything to be grateful for.

It was unsurprisingly difficult convincing the rest of his mind.

"Why me?" he clarified as soon as he was able. "If anything, Skul's the one who needs the help. I have every right to feel like this..." And if Ghastly kept forgetting who he was talking to, things could get just as interesting. Talking to God about what he had and didn't have a right to do or feel. Honestly. "Look, it's not as simple as just stopping."

Unless, of course, God wanted it to be. Damn it.

[impudentsongbird]

"I'm going to look for lost change," Gabe said with a grin, and then pointed. "There's a twenty-cent piece just under that bus-seat, by the way. Grab it while I flag down this taxi." He winked. "You'd be amazed at how easily angels can find spare change without using magic at all."

So saying, he released Fletcher's arm and stepped up to the curb, waving at the cab just coming down the lane.

~~~

"Why not?" Dad asked in return, entirely unsurprised by the question. He was still grinning, amused and faintly teasing, but now there was a gentleness in his eyes. "Skul's already got someone to help him out right now."

His next look was mildly exasperated. Amused, still, but exasperated, as if Ghastly was missing an obvious point. It wasn't, however, censuring in the least. "'Course you do! Didn't say you didn't. And 'course it isn't. That ain't the point. Since when was anythin' worthwhile easy? Ain't a reason to not do 'em."

[skeletonenigma]

Fletcher tried to hide his face falling as Gabe called the taxi for them. Spare change? That was it? Sure, that might work, especially if Gabe didn't need to actively search for any. And the result would definitely be worth it! But... still. Spare change?

Of course, anything more and Skulduggery would start getting suspicious. Fletcher had an even better reason now for avoiding the detective's anger. He didn't want to die.

With a grimace and a resigned sigh, Fletcher got down on all fours and reached under the bus-seat, grumbling as he tried to avoid touching anything disgusting. Or letting his hair touch anything disgusting. A few moments of cautious and spine-tingling searching later, his fist closed around an unmistakable twenty-cent piece, and Fletcher was back on his feet as soon as possible. "Got it!" he called out triumphantly, drawing a strange look from a man in a business suit hurrying by.

~~

That... that was true. Technically. Ghastly very much did not want to think about what might have happened if Gabe wasn't there to stop Skulduggery. And it gave Ghastly endless amounts of relief that wherever the two of them were now, they were undoubtedly together. No chance of Vile reappearing for a while.

That did, however, negate one of Ghastly's most powerful arguments for not going and spending a day at the carnival. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more it seemed like a good idea. A relaxing idea. And that scared the living daylights out of Ghastly, because even if Dad was somehow making the change of heart happen, it still meant Ghastly was sort of comparing himself to an Archangel. Almost taking an Archangel's place. It didn't matter what story you were reading, that had to count as some sort of blasphemy.

The world was spinning out of control and Ghastly could almost calmly watch it go, separate and adrift and, very suddenly, no longer caring.

Fine. With a heavy effort, Ghastly raised his gaze to meet the man's look, steadying himself with one shuddering breath. "You made it that way. Presumably. Am I allowed to ask questions? Why isn't Gabriel getting any help? Where were you last night, when he collapsed and Skulduggery had to spend all night with him?" Each question grew slightly more demanding than the last, Ghastly's tone strengthening with every word, until - as long as he didn't think too hard - he could almost pass for normal. "Why are you suddenly trying to help me, and why, for the love of all that is good, do you think that's best served at a carnival?"

[impudentsongbird]

It may not have been a glamorous solution, but it was practical and it worked extremely well given angels hardly had to extend their senses at all to find the cash to pay for a cup of coffee and a pastry--let alone anything else.

Of course, the main reason why angels didn't just conjure up their own money wasn't because they were technically 'illusions'--because they were solid enough to pass, forever, as real currency--but because additional unexpected money from out of nowhere would have had a negative effect on the economy. Which was why, of course, Lucifer had done it once or twice.

The cabbie stopped and Gabriel bent to give him a smile through the window, opening the door and turning to gesture toward the others. "Excellent," he said with a laugh, beckoning to both Fletcher and Skul. The driver stared at the latter, a fact which Gabriel noticed as he turned to open the back door. He grinned. "Wager."

Understanding dawned over the driver's face and he smirked, waving them to get in the car.

~~~

Contrary to Ghastly's possible expectations, Dad--God--was grinning proudly at the tailor as if Ghastly was asking all the right questions. "'Course you are," He said. "Wouldn't be any fun if no one asked questions. And of course I made it that way. I made it easy a few times, and it always got borin' fast."

He smiled, this time, and the smile was gentle, His accent receding. "What makes you think Gabe isn't getting any help? He's got all of you. He had Skulduggery last night. Or that I wasn't there, whether he knew it or not? Gabriel has relied on Me for too long, and he's finally discovering his self-will. It would have undermined things a bit if I'd gone to him just as he was discovering consequences, don't you think?"

The way He said it, it didn't sound like a rhetorical question, but as if Ghastly could answer and God would take his answer into account. The way he said it wasn't flippant, either; the opposite. There was a sadness in His eyes which said He recognised, quite well and even better than the Archangel himself, the pain Gabriel had been in. Then the smile turned secretive, and although the Creator's gaze was steady, the look in them deepened. "What makes you think I haven't done this very thing before, for anyone else? Even you? And."

An abrupt grin bloomed across God's face, happy and anticipatory, as he drawled: "Ain't much better to unwind than matchin' wits at the arcade games."

[skeletonenigma]

Skulduggery hadn't taken a cab since they were still pulled by horses.

Well, that wasn't technically true, but for the purposes of being quietly upset about this development, Skulduggery chose to believe it as he slid into the taxi. Being driven around by people he didn't know and didn't usually like was something the detective habitually tried to avoid. Not because of any paranoia, but because he quite simply didn't like it. It didn't sit well with him. It didn't befit the stature of a detecting sorcerer, especially when he owned such a wonderful car himself.

In Gabe's eagerness to tease Skulduggery, had the angel even paused to think that between the three of them right now, all they had was twenty cents? Probably not. Luckily for Gabriel and Fletcher, Skulduggery had been thinking that far ahead from the beginning.

He relayed Myron Stray's address to the cabbie as the other two piled in after him, and when the taxi slowly pulled out into traffic, Skulduggery sank back into the padded seat with his arms folded. "I spy, with my little eye, something beginning with H."

~~

Ghastly was so sure for a split second the bus had stopped completely that he felt himself jerking back a little bit when the scenery of Dublin didn't stop flashing by the window outside.

Making a connection, realising who you were talking to, struggling to say anything - it all paled in comparison to how Ghastly suddenly felt when God, far from continuing his surprisingly comforting charade, dropped the act. Dropped the act and spoke suddenly quite frankly. Directly. Depositing shattering bombshells of ideas into Ghastly's lap with nothing more than a gentle smile.

The tailor had to face forward again, one white hand supporting his weight against the seat in front of him as the bus did come to a bit of a jerking halt. His mind didn't freeze this time, alongside the bus. It surged ahead with a sudden and startling clarity, racing through Ghastly's considerably long list of memories, trying to pinpoint if there was ever a time he spoke to someone who seemed much too helpful. The problem was, he completely disregarded people like that as soon as the meeting was over. Which, come to think of it, was probably the entire point.

And then matching wits.

Matching wits.

"Wouldn't be much of a match," Ghastly muttered aloud. There really wasn't any point in hiding anything he was thinking, was there? The only point to even speaking out loud was to ask questions, and that was solely to try and put Ghastly at ease. Or, well. Slightly less discomfort, anyway.

"It may have been undermining," Ghastly finally answered the earlier question slowly, "but Skul was the one who had to pick up the pieces. He's... not going to be happy if he finds out you're here, and weren't there." Somehow, the proven existence of God was something that struck Ghastly as a small inconvenience for Skulduggery. That the skeleton detective would move smoothly past it and demand answers. He barely believed in Archangels yet, and he was good friends with one. The bond the two of them had... honestly, no wonder people like Thurid Guild believed that -

- they were very, very good friends, and nothing else.

[impudentsongbird]

It was, admittedly, something Gabriel had been overlooking, not necessarily because it hadn't occurred to him, but because he subconsciously knew there was no reason to worry. Skulduggery had it covered. Any kind of twinge or wondering was immediately dismissed under the force of that certainty.

Gabe buckled in and leaned forward to rest his arms on the back of Skulduggery's seat. "This a thing now?" he wondered with strains of his Midwestern accent. "I think it's becomin' a thing. I think you're lookin' at a hat."

~~~

"Don't be putting yourself down too much, boy," God said gruffly. "And you're thinkin' of Gabe as a burden. Skul's not gonna be happy, but not 'cos he feels shortchanged for his time. It'll be because he wants the best for Gabe. What he's not gonna get is that right then and there, he was the best for Gabe. More than Me."

That last fact was stated simply and firmly. Not overbearingly, not in any way to deliberately make Ghastly feel as though he'd been chastised, but with a finality that said God knew exactly the dynamics of what had gone on in that room, and Ghastly didn't, and He knew what Gabriel had needed in that moment in time.

And that it hadn't been Him.

[skeletonenigma]

"I'm not looking at a hat," Skulduggery contradicted him. "I'm wearing one. I can see why you'd get confused, though. No eyes. Your turn."

Fletcher had to stifle a laugh as the cabbie glanced sidelong towards Skulduggery. How did the skeleton man stand being stared at all the time? The centuries of practice? Hell, Skulduggery probably didn't even notice it anymore. He certainly didn't act like he noticed the cabbie's confusion, or was bothered by it. Fletcher felt like maybe he should try to explain, or say something, but his mind came up blank.

~~

Anyone else. Anyone else, and Ghastly might have laughed, informed them that they didn't know Skulduggery very well. Of course he wanted the best for Gabe. They all did. But he was going to very much feel shortchanged for his time, and have further problems with God beyond that.

But Ghastly wasn't talking to anyone else. He was talking to God. (And, once again, trying not to think about that fact too hard.) That kind of certainty coming from anyone else might have given Ghastly pause, encouraged him to reconsider. In this instance, it clammed him up and forced him.

No offense meant to his best friend, but why on earth was Skulduggery better for Gabe last night than the Archangel's own Father would have been? Yes, they were good friends. But they'd known each other for all of a few months, by their own admission, and...

... and...

And yet. And yet Skulduggery had been far more protective of the angel than Ghastly had seen him being over anyone since being killed - except maybe Valkyrie. And even then, it was different. Skulduggery treated Valkyrie like a favourite niece, a student, a good friend. He treated Gabriel like... something more than that.

Something more than that.

Ghastly couldn't help himself. When he next looked up at God, it was with an expression of barely restrained shock - some of it still frozen from a few minutes earlier. Some of it very, very new.

He couldn't talk, so he simply questioned, quietly and seriously.

[joyrodecomets]

"Semantics," Gabriel said with a shrug and a wave of his hand, also completely ignoring the cabbie's confusion. "You said you were spyin' it, not wearin' it. I spy, with my little eye, something beginning with ..." He grinned. "C."

~~~

God's grin only widened at the look on Ghastly's face, his eyes twinkling wildly with amusement and delight. "Yep. Who'da thunk it? Well, other than Me, of course, but I've been around a while and all that. Y'get to recognise these things." He nodded again, firmly and almost as if to himself. "Gabe told you 'bout how sorcerers in his reality were made. It ain't impossible. Not at all. It's not gonna be the same for these two as it was for most of Gabe's siblings, but that don't matter. It won't be any less real."

The Creator looked back to the front again, and there was a soft, pleased smile lurking around His mouth. "It'll be good for the both of them. Things'll go wrong sometimes, 'course. It always does. But Skul's good at pushin' ahead, and he'll find it easier with Gabe at his back, and they'll both find it even easier with everyone else who's gonna be there for 'em."

[skeletonenigma]

"Cab?" was Fletcher's first guess. "Cranky skel- uncle?"

"Hey." Skulduggery's head tilted back. "You learn to drive properly, and maybe we'll talk."

It took Fletcher an embarrasingly long moment to work out the hidden meaning in those words. When he finally did, he pouted. "I can't... drive, in places I don't know. That's not my fault, it just doesn't work."

"Gabe said he could teach you."

Fletcher glanced towards the angel. "But that's not going to be for a while, right?" He didn't want to be the one who forced Gabe to strain himself, and not for something stupid like this. So Skulduggery didn't like taking cabs. It was just something he was going to have to deal with for right now.

~~

Ghastly's expression didn't change. But Skul's good at pushin' ahead, and he'll find it easier with Gabe at his back... Right. Okay. This was now officially off the deep end and into uncomfortably shark-infested waters. Guild couldn't be right. Could he? Gabe's embarrassment when Tanith called him out that morning was all beause of the joke. Right? The good-natured teasing?

This time, his mind did come to a stuttering halt again, just after producing: There is absolutely no way in hell Skulduggery could be okay with any of this.

As Ghastly's last thought, it also had the unfortunate distinction of being the only thing Ghastly could ask about. "Do they even know? Does Skul know?" He stopped, tried to sort out how he was feeling, and gave up. "Do you have any idea what kind of things will hit the fan if and when Skulduggery does find out?"

Forget the angelic component of any potential relationship. Forget God's knowledge and approval. Watching Skulduggery adjust to this was going to be the most interesting, thought-provoking, and downright amusing thing Ghastly had ever done.

... And it said a lot about how fantastically out of control the tailor's life had recently gotten that Ghastly could be faced with all of this, and his main focus was... that. It was a flaw. He recognised it. But at the same time, Ghastly was proud that he could think at all. No one was allowed to judge him until they had been thrust face to face with God and - no, okay, bad word. Until events brought them face to face with God, and they collapsed into quivering piles of goo. See how well they fared. And that would be without all the life-changing revelations beforehand.

[joyrodecomets]

"I could teach him soon," Gabe said innocently, looking at Skul in the rear-view mirror. "But I don't think you'd be approvin'." The Archangel smiled Fletcher, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder. "We'll get there. Maybe when my brother finally gets here he can give us a hand."

He released the teen and sat carefully back in the seat, grinning. "Oh yeah. Keep on guessin'."

~~~

"Yeah," God said with a broad grin, something that wasn't a smirk but had an edge of mischief. "Question is, do you?" He laughed then, though it was more a guffaw. "Nope. Well, not where themselves are concerned. Gabe knows about Skul's feelings, but he's smart. He's not gonna say anythin', and he's gonna wait. There's things you just can't push, and other things Skul needs to accept about himself before he can accept this."

He smiled at Ghastly, through Ghastly, into Ghastly. "Y'may have noticed over the years, but he's kind of stubborn."

[skeletonenigma]

Fletcher really kind of liked the idea of being the first Teleporter to be able to Teleport somewhere totally unfamiliar. It was even cooler now that he couldn't actually tell anyone how he'd learned, either. At least, not beyond being given lessons by someone from another dimension, and that would be tricky enough to explain.

Suddenly having Archangels over here was a Bad Thing, Fletcher knew that. But at the same time, he couldn't wait for Gabe's brother to arrive.

A small frown crossed the teenager's face as he realised something. "Wait. This isn't one of those things where it's a Gaelic word you're thinking of, is it?"

"Caife gan chaiféin," Skulduggery spoke up from the front without missing a beat.

Fletcher crossed his arms. "Come on, guys. It's no fun if I can't guess too."

"I thought your lessons were going well."

"I've been having them for a day!"

~~

No. Ghastly didn't know, not for sure. But the subtle reminder of just who he was speaking to didn't do much to calm him down.

For the first time since... well, since China arrived at the church hours ago, Ghastly almost felt like laughing. Really laughing, not just bitterly barking one out. Skulduggery hadn't even taken his family crest back yet. Yes, the reason for it was obvious now more than ever, but Ghastly would have had a hard time imagining Skul just... moving past his family like that, even before what happened at the church. Now, it was impossible to imagine. If Skul accepting anything was going to be the trigger, it would be another couple of centuries before anyone even started talking about it.

And Ghastly was appalled to realise, as he sat back up and looked around, that a part of him was considering leaving it alone. Not out of any respect for his friend or because it wasn't any of his business, but... because he felt like maybe God knew better than he did, and Ghastly should just let things take their natural course. It was exactly that kind of thinking that got the world of sorcerers into trouble with Mevolent in the first place. And after meeting Skulduggery, Ghastly had promised himself he would never think that way. Very few sorcerers put much stock in religion, and this... this was precisely why.

Well, barring the actual meeting of God. That hadn't been factored into any generalisations, presumably.

It hit Ghastly, just then, that maybe this was what God wanted. Why he'd revealed himself now. Maybe he wanted to have someone playing Cupid for them. He might have been better off with Tanith; Ghastly wasn't going to force Skul into anything. And not just because the mental image of an Archangel and a skeleton was still having trouble finding space in his imagination.

Was there a point to asking questions? Wouldn't God have heard all of this anyway? Wouldn't God have heard all of this before Ghastly even knew he was thinking it?

[joyrodecomets]

"Nope," Gabriel sang out. "It's English word, all right." He tilted his head, peering forward at the cabbie. "But I gotta admit, you've got control, to be drinkin' decaf. That'd get tirin' on long nights."

He grinned at Fletcher. "Guess again."

~~~

Even though God wasn't wearing a hat, all at once He had one in His hand--a cowboy hat He smoothly raised and used to whap Ghastly on the shoulder. "How you handle Skul and Gabe is up to you," He said gruffly. "I ain't a puppeteer. But give yourself some credit, boyo." He glanced over at Ghastly. "Skul's okay for now, and My presence ain't gonna do much good for him yet. I'm here for you. You've had a rough year, and a rougher morning. Good thing there's a carnival in town." He grinned, smoothly flipped the hat and placed it on his head, and pointed out the window. "And we're just comin' up on the stop."

Indeed they were. Within a few minutes the bus had trundled to a stop and let them disembark at the sign-post just across the road from the carnival entrance proper. Strains of the music drifted across the road, and for a moment God just stood on the curb, looking across to the seething mass of people, most of them brightly coloured, and smiling a quiet smile. "C'mon, Bespoke," He said. "Let's go have some fun."