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

[impudentsongbird]

Book Four: Dark Days
1 | into the breach
2 | finding skulduggery
3 | retreat to the tunnels
4 | into the cacophony
5 | sanctuary in the cathedral
6 | reuniting old friends
7 | kenspeckle's new patient
8 | holy water and disinfectant
9 | objecting to china sorrows
10 | the roadtrip
11 | baffling guild
12 | shenanigans at the safehouse
13 | reassuring fletcher
14 | valkyrie's intervention
15 | solomon's revelation
16 | visiting the edgleys
17 | recalled to the sanctuary
18 | guild's confusion
19 | gabe is busted
20 | the psychic tattoist
21 | envisioning the cacophony
22 | angel's first migraine
23 | the morning after
24 | china and solomon
25 | detectives' council of war
26 | china's foolishness
27 | the collector dethroned
28 | finding crux
29 | skulduggery's vileness revealed
30 | sorrows in aftermath
31 | finding equilibrium
32 | the devil's number
33 | at the carnival
34 | meeting authorities
35 | solomon's confession
36 | the stray soul
37 | sanguine unsettled
38 | solomon's choice
39 | a cowboy underground
40 | in scarab's basement
41 | striking midnight
42 | craven contested
43 | emergency services
44 | on your feet
45 | and don't stop moving
46 | easy recognition
47 | a deuce of an evening
48 | engines roaring
49 | compromising judgements
50 | solomon's conflict
51 | axis turning
52 | thinking circular
53 | blasting the past
54 | reviling vile

Book Five: Mortal Coil
55 | sanctuary unsanctified
56 | shudder unravelling
57 | catching an angel
58 | layering dimensions
59 | dead men meeting
60 | when it rains
61 | power plays
62 | sing on gold
63 | the valley of death
64 | grand aspersions
65 | no evil feared
66 | new days rising
67 | angelic neuroses
68 | step-brothers working
69 | the many sorrows of china
70 | peacefully wreathed
71 | tarnished gold
72 | the secret in darkness
73 | magical intent
74 | scars worth keeping
75 | benefits of a beau
76 | grand magery
77 | lighting the darkness
78 | old dogs and new tricks
79 | flouting traditions
80 | drawing lines
81 | brothers and sisters in arms
82 | channelling angels
83 | return of the carnies
84 | the death bringers
85 | meriting agelessness
86 | knick knack, paddy
87 | give a dog a bone
88 | americans propheteering
89 | the right side of honour
90 | tailored shocks
91 | hosting angels
92 | elders anonymous
93 | rediscovered strays
94 | changings and changelings
95 | a state of reflection
96 | adding hope
97 | the devil's truth
98 | dead mens' hospitality
99 | lives half lived
100 | next to godliness
101 | devilish plans
102 | beached angels
103 | lights of revelation
104 | heroes worshipped
105 | new devilries
106 | angels under the yoke
107 | brains frozen
108 | father, mother, daughter
109 | parental guidance recommended
110 | driven round the bend
111 | ongoing training
112 | privileged information
113 | reasonable men
114 | passing the buck
115 | gifting magicks
116 | strengths and weaknesses
117 | immaturity's perks
118 | priests and prophets
119 | scaling evil
120 | blowing covers
121 | marring an afternoon
122 | lie detection
123 | five-dimensional pain
124 | reliving nightmares
125 | taking stock
126 | sampling spices
127 | sleeping prophets lying
128 | rueful returns
129 | dead men reunion
130 | medically-approved hugs

The life of an angel was a contradiction in changes and stability. On one hand, they understood very well the way the cosmos was shaped by events within it. On the other, they stood at one step apart from it—or at least had, for a very long time, up until their Master's recent wager with Lucifer. Changes in the recent past had, even for angels, been fast and turbulent, but there were none that concerned Raphael more than Gabriel's abrupt reserve.

In the aftermath of the wager Gabriel had been almost the only one to know where their Lord was at any given time, a fact which had put the Archangel very firmly under Lucifer's radar. Raphael had joked that Gabriel ought to arm himself with more jokes or worse clothes to drive the fallen angel away; Michael had offered the peace of the Garden Coast. (Rafe thought his idea was better.)

Either way, even though their Master was fair hidden, every angel knew that they had only to ask Gabriel and the Archangel would pass on a message.

Then Gabriel had simply blipped off the radar himself. Poof! Gone! No one had noticed at first, because, well, they weren't exactly in constant connection. It was just when Raphael had taken a whim to seek out his younger brother that he'd noticed it, and let it be, because there was absolutely a reason for it. Gabe did not just off and vanish, except that once with his self-exile, and that didn’t count.

But when Gabriel had come back, he had been strangely agitated and yet close-mouthed. The younger Archangel had vanished off to wherever their Master was hidden for a long chat Raphael was dying to have listened into, and yet couldn't (but only partly because it would have been rude). Now he was here, floating among the stars and examining a black hole with unnerving intensity.

For a time Raphael watched without letting on that he was there, but eventually Gabriel spoke. “I’d rather you came to join me instead of lurking, brother.”

Absolutely refusing to feel chagrined, Raphael let himself manifest with an arm around Gabriel’s shoulders and ruffled the younger angel’s hair. Gabriel threw a fond, longsuffering glance up at him, but there was something in his eyes, something distracted and sharp, which indicated that Gabriel still wasn’t truly present. Raphael only wished he knew where the other Archangel was.

“Just wondering what you’re doin’ all the way out here,” he said teasingly. “There’s a party going on down there on Earth, Gabe.” There was always a party going on down on Earth. “You oughta be down there bobbin’ for apples and switching up party-hats!”

“I can’t,” Gabriel said quietly, with a sort of seriousness Raphael had, for all Gabriel’s literalness, rarely heard from him. So Raphael fell into the same seriousness, lost his playful accent, and spoke directly.

“Why not, brother? You’ve been reserved of late. I conf—I’m worried for you.”

For a very long time Gabriel said nothing and stared into the slow-turning swirl of the black hole. Raphael waited patiently, his arm still companionably across the other Archangel’s shoulders. Eventually Gabriel spoke. “Did you know, Raphael,” he said, “that the universe you see around you here isn’t the only one our Master has created?”

Raphael was so startled that he couldn’t answer. That wasn’t what he was imagining. He hadn’t been sure what he’d been imagining, but that wasn’t it. “I’m not sure what you mean, Gabriel,” he said after a moment. “Our Lord told me the story of Creation not all that long ago, and he never mentioned anything of the kind.”

Gabriel nodded. “He told me that story as well. And then He asked if I really wanted to know details.” He hesitated. “I … admit, I declined. It’s something He said—about faith. I decided I didn’t need to know details. But it’s true, nevertheless. Just beyond this …” The Archangel reached out his hand and touched that gossamer and unbreakable fabric that supported reality. “There are other universes, even with different versions of us.”

“Different versions of us?” Raphael repeated, appalled and uncertain and entirely confused. How could that be possible? What could their Master want with more than one of any of them? What was going on? Where had Gabriel gone in that time he’d vanished? Then something occurred to him and he smiled with relief. “This is a joke, right?”

Gabriel looked up at him and smiled back with such a gentle understanding that for a moment Raphael felt very small indeed. “No, Rafe. I’m not joking. It was a shock to me too. That isn’t the point, though.”

“Isn’t it?” Raphael asked, feeling as dazed as an angel possibly could, especially when he wasn’t even inhabiting an actual physical body.

“No.” Gabriel returned to watching the black hole intently. “I met some people from other realities. One of them is in a kind of Hell, and he very much does not deserve it. I promised him that, if I could, I would save him from it.”

Which did not in the least explain why Gabe was staring at a black hole, let alone a million other questions Raphael would have liked to ask and for which he couldn’t find the words. Finally he found one. “How?”

“First,” Gabriel said with a sort of tranquillity Raphael had heard in his brother’s voice a million times but never after delivering so turbulent a piece of news, “I’m going to jimmy open a crack in the door through this hole.”

Raphael stared at Gabe, and then at the black hole, and then back at Gabe. He opened his mouth to ask whether their Master knew he was planning this and then closed it, because that was a stupid question. He opened it again to query if Gabriel had asked whether he could go around lifting the sheets and then realised that was also a stupid question, because whether he had or not, their Master probably would have told him to do what he felt was best.

It was equally clear that Gabriel very much planned to go through with this, no matter what Raphael said, and really, did Raphael have the right to object? Surely if this carried a risk, their Master would have already forbidden Gabriel from making the attempt?

“I’ll come with,” Raphael said at last, and this time when Gabriel glanced back the younger Archangel’s expression was startled. A moment later that expression shifted into grateful apology.

“I’m sorry, Rafe, but I’m not entirely certain I’ll make it through, and we can hardly leave Michael here alone.” He grinned. “Did you see what he was wearing last festival day on the Garden Coast? He hasn’t moved out of the eighteenth century yet. How would he possibly handle the rest of the world?”

Raphael laughed out loud, warm but startled, and the sound of it rang through space. Gabriel chuckled quietly beside him, and for a few minutes there was just companionable humour that faded into an equally comfortable silence.

Still, Raphael had a lot of questions. How did Gabriel plan to find his friend, let alone the universe he was in? How was he going to get back? What would he do if he met another version of himself? Or, worse, Lucifer? Finally the Archangel just asked, “Have you figured out how to crack open the door?”

“I think so,” Gabriel said, considering the black hole. “Once I figured out what to look for. I wouldn’t have gotten even that far if it weren’t for some things our Master said.”

Which meant that, in some fashion, this expedition was sanctioned by their Master, Raphael translated, and something tense in him relaxed. “Something do to with this drain here, I’ll bet,” he said, falling into his casual accent once more. “Gonna rip out the kitchen sink, li’l brother?”

“Just to see what’s hiding underneath,” Gabriel said with a grin.

“I’ll try’n keep it open for ya,” Raphael promised, and Gabriel sent him a smile which lit up the very space around them with its brilliance.

“Thank you, Rafe,” he said, and straightened. Raphael took his arm away as Gabriel lifted his hands, not exactly stepping back so much as giving Gabriel space. The youngest Archangel didn’t often reveal his power, but it was always a sight to see, a song to hear, when he did.

As it was now. Gabriel’s voice started deep, lifted high, split and wove and became more melodies than one would think a single being could possibly sing at once. The sound of it made Raphael’s heart soar, made him want to fly and laugh. It was so deep, so light, so resonating that it was physical; it touched the slow turn of the black hole and made it, for just the briefest of moments, still. In that moment Gabriel sent a carefully-aimed bolt of energy into the heart of it.

It was the kind of sight Raphael hadn’t seen in thousands of years, a play of physics and metaphysics which he hadn’t thought possible, let alone imagined. There was an eruption in the centre of the black hole, where gravity was condensed; the cascade of energy plumed upward and was dragged back down as quick, a tear in the fabric of the reality not allowed the time to widen or become a danger.

Raphael didn’t even know Gabe had moved until the younger Archangel was gone, he was so busy staring in awe. With a start the Archangel stretched out his senses and just barely managed to catch a glimpse of his brother shooting toward the hole at speeds few angels could have achieved through such a gravity well. Raphael certainly couldn’t have.

How, he suddenly wondered, was he meant to keep that open if he didn’t even have the speed of thought to track Gabriel’s movements through it?

Desperately the Archangel cast about for something to jam in the door, as it were. There was some dark matter nearby and with a thought he fashioned it into a spear and pitched it toward the centre of the black hole. It struck just as Gabriel flitted through the crack nearly wholly collapsed in on itself; the star’s gravity caught it, pulled it in, and plugged the opening like a metaphysical sink.

Slowly Raphael made every part of himself relax. For good or ill, Gabe was gone on this quest of his, and now Raphael should probably go and round up some of their younger siblings to guard the area. Just in case.


Book Four: Dark Days
into the breach | finding skulduggery | retreat to the tunnels | into the cacophony | sanctuary in the cathedral | reuniting old friends | kenspeckle's new patient | holy water and disinfectant | objecting to china sorrows | the roadtrip | baffling guild | shenanigans at the safehouse | reassuring fletcher | valkyrie's intervention | solomon's revelation | visiting the edgleys | recalled to the sanctuary | guild's confusion | gabe is busted | the psychic tattoist | envisioning the cacophony | angel's first migraine | the morning after | china and solomon | detectives' council of war | china's foolishness | the collector dethroned | finding crux | skulduggery's vileness revealed | sorrows in aftermath | finding equilibrium | the devil's number | at the carnival | meeting authorities | solomon's confession | the stray soul | sanguine unsettled | solomon's choice | a cowboy underground | in scarab's basement | striking midnight | craven contested | emergency services | on your feet | and don't stop moving | easy recognition | a deuce of an evening | engines roaring | compromising judgements | solomon's conflict | axis turning | thinking circular | blasting the past | reviling vile

Book Five: Mortal Coil
sanctuary unsanctified | shudder unravelling | catching an angel | layering dimensions | dead men meeting | when it rains | power plays | sing on gold | the valley of death | grand aspersions | no evil feared | new days rising | angelic neuroses | step-brothers working | the many sorrows of china | peacefully wreathed | tarnished gold | the secret in darkness | magical intent | scars worth keeping | benefits of a beau | grand magery | lighting the darkness | old dogs and new tricks | flouting traditions | drawing lines | brothers and sisters in arms | channelling angels | return of the carnies | the death bringers | meriting agelessness | knick knack, paddy | give a dog a bone | americans propheteering | the right side of honour | tailored shocks | hosting angels | elders anonymous | rediscovered strays | changings and changelings | a state of reflection | adding hope | the devil's truth | dead mens' hospitality | lives half lived | next to godliness | devilish plans | beached angels | lights of revelation | heroes worshipped | new devilries | angels under the yoke | brains frozen | father, mother, daughter | parental guidance recommended | driven round the bend | ongoing training | privileged information | reasonable men | passing the buck | gifting magicks | strengths and weaknesses | immaturity's perks | priests and prophets | scaling evil | blowing covers | marring an afternoon | lie detection | five-dimensional pain | reliving nightmares | taking stock | sampling spices | sleeping prophets lying | rueful returns | dead men reunion | medically-approved hugs

Comments

[skeletonenigma]

Skulduggery nodded slowly. Any sort of official arrest was easily out of the question, then. His reputation would suffer a landslide if Raphael disappeared from his cell overnight, and the other option he dreaded even more. Despite all logic saying the guards wouldn't believe a word Gabe's brother said.

The rest of the conversation seemed to go at a normal pace. The words came physically, and at a regular rate, perhaps even a little slower than the regular rate. And yet, Skulduggery was having a hard time keeping up. The words and their meanings rolled through his mind without traction and refused to connect.

An Archangel, he told himself, and moreover, an Archangel I never met before yesterday, is jealous of me.

Yep. That was the part blocking all the rest. The idea that an Archangel didn't like him, not because of Vile or anything he did during the war, but because they were jealous. So Skulduggery smoothed it over and moved on.

He wanted to point out that it certainly wasn't his idea for Gabe to stay. He'd argued vehemently for the opposite. But for how innocently naive Gabe could occasionally be, the younger Archangel was also quite stubborn. Very stubborn. More stubborn than even Valkyrie was. Far more stubbornly immovable than an angel had any right to be. But even disregarding that, or anything the two brothers were talking about, Skulduggery didn't particularly enjoy getting in the way of family. He enjoyed it even less when said family members he was accidentally crossing had the power to kill him - properly kill him - with the blink of an indifferent eye.

"I'm sure you will," he answered absently. A moment passed, and he shifted his attention properly back to Raphael. "Sounds like you picked up more than just our dimension's location from that contact with Finbar."

He shouldn't have been surprised. And he wasn't. It was just something to remark on, to focus on, to keep from thinking about other, more damaging things.

[comedianhealer]

Skulduggery Pleasant thought Gabe was stubborn. Well, he was, but Skulduggery was stubborn enough for himself. Oh, it wasn't that Raphael hadn't seen that brand of self-loathing before, because he had. It was just that it was very, very personal now, because Gabe cared about Skulduggery, and if Skulduggery's self-loathing led Gabe to do something stupid just because Skul couldn't let go of his own neuroses, well, yes, Raphael would have something to say.

But not now. Not for the reasons Skulduggery was assuming.

"I don't mean like that," Raphael said, his deep voice not reprimanding, but somewhere between reproachful and exasperated. He leaned in-between the seats, reaching out to lay a couple of fingers on the middle of the steering column. "Drive yourself, little lady," he told the car, and then shifted to look at Skulduggery from the side, very close. Too close to really ignore (not that he expected Skulduggery to not try).

"In the first place, Gabriel would get mad at me if I smote you just because he wants to be near you for a while. 'A while' being relative. Among other reasons I don't want that to happen, I've seen Gabriel truly angry fewer times than I can count on one hand, and I would rather not have him angry at me. In the second place, if Gabe's ... Gabeness can't convince you that we don't smite without just cause--and there's no just cause here--then nothing will. But I don't believe you're that far past help." He smiled then, a calm, gentle smile. "Our Lord has a catchphrase. 'Feed your heart.' Go ahead and open it a little more, Skulduggery. You've got someone to guard it for you."

He took his fingers off the wheel and drew back with a languid stretch. "An' for the record," he drawled, "I already know this man's someone I've gotta meet."

"I think you lost his attention the moment you touched his car," Gabe observed with a quiet laugh. Rafe only shrugged.

"Hey, she's entitled to some her-time once in a while."

[skeletonenigma]

It wasn't technically true. Skulduggery had paid attention. Or at least, he'd quickly replayed the words in his head when he wasn't suddenly terrified about the wheel jerking itself out of his control. He'd paid enough attention to know the general gist of what Raphael was saying, even to realise that some of it was relieving and some of it he agreed with. But now that he had an actual skin, and could feel his heart rate spiraling along with the terror, it was incredibly difficult to focus on anything else.

But, in the end, he consciously decided to forgive Raphael. Both for the practical reasons of an uneven power balance, and because he had been looking for something to distract him only moments before. From an objective viewpoint, this was a perfect distraction.

"In the future," he said stiffly, "if you need my attention for anything, you only have to ask."

The Bentley didn't sound any different, now that Skulduggery was driving her again. She didn't look any different. There had barely been a roar of the engine throughout either transition, as sometimes accompanied changing gears. Bit by bit, Skulduggery managed to let himself relax.

It helped to try and imagine Gabe angry. There was simply... nothing to imagine. Gabriel hadn't even gotten angry at Landel, and that was after he knew the man wasn't under any influence but his own, much less Lucifer's. There was a certain righteous irritation when Gabe talked about Lucifer back in the Institute, but nothing more than that.

Raphael's last comment was what struck Skulduggery, though. Both in a good way, and in a very bad way.

"You'll have to wait to meet Finbar, I'm afraid. The Hibernian's taking precedence right now. Gabe's hoping to visit the carnival later; you might have some time then."

[impudentsongbird]

"Depends on what your attention's on in the first place, I'll bet," Raphael said cheekily. "I got nowhere else to be in particu-lar. Ain't gonna miss out on the carnie, either. I'll find time someplace. 'Sides, I got an appointment with the prof to get yelled at for usin' magic."

The words immediately made Gabriel turn again, a frown of worry crinkling his brow. "Are you okay? You're hurt worse than I am now. You actually got lost."

"But unlike you, little bro," Rafe said with a tug of the younger Archangel's hair, "I'm used to pain. I've never had to really test my limits before. Now I've got the chance, a bit of judicious experimentation's in the cards. This way I'll know how far I can push for the next time." He shrugged. "Better me findin' out now I'm actually in a universe than later, when I might not be." Then he grinned. "'Course, I'm not about to deprive Kenspeckle of the chance to have fun yellin' at me."

[skeletonenigma]

Kenspeckle was going to do a lot more than just have fun yelling at Raphael, but Skulduggery chose not to mention that out loud - even though both Gabe and Raphael would more likely than not have heard the thought already. Or seen it. Or... tasted it? Whatever the metaphysical equivalent was. Skulduggery had been drowning in the deep end of that magic less than twenty four hours ago, and he still had no idea how to describe it.

He was inclined to agree with Kenspeckle on this one, though. Angels. They had absolutely no idea when to stop. Anyone who described pain as 'judicious experimentation' was just bound to have a few screws loose, no matter how much authority over humanity they had - or how logical the point they were making.

They managed to pass the rest of the car trip without anyone else randomly appearing in the back seat, for which Skulduggery couldn't deny being quietly grateful. Angels the current passengers may have been, but they interacted exactly like any pair of brothers Skulduggery had ever met. It would almost have been mundane, if it weren't for some of the conversation topics - or, occasionally, for when Raphael excitedly pointed out a building he and Fletcher had trouble with, like a proud artist showing off his work. Rolling his eyes was a physical activity Skulduggery mastered almost right away back at the beach, and he certainly had cause to practice it before the Bentley finally pulled up in front of the Hibernian.

He wondered, not for the first time, nor for the last, how exactly they would explain this to other Sanctuaries. Other Sanctuaries who would not, could not, be satisfied with a simple 'we don't know.' Skulduggery had too good a reputation for that. He had half a mind to make Raphael explain it, if anyone would take a complete stranger seriously. He even briefly wrestled with the idea of just explaining the truth, but any which way you looked at it, that was a bad idea. China was only one of several stupid sorcerers who would consider themselves able to control an angel, and that was the best-case scenario. There would be chaos. It would spill over into the mortal world.

"We're here." Skulduggery stopped before getting out as he tried to imagine what might happen now if China, or anyone else, tried controlling Gabe's name again. Would they still go up against God, or had Skulduggery taken that position now?

A battle in the metaphysical. The thought sent a shudder down Skulduggery's spine. He barely knew how to communicate in it.

[impudentsongbird]

"Don't get too swelled a head," Gabe murmured with a teasing twinkle in his eyes as he got out of the car. "I'd hate to have to get someone to pop it." It was true that Skulduggery had his true name now, but he was a guardian, not an owner. Ultimately, all names went back to one source. Of course, that didn't necessarily mean he wouldn't feel it if someone tried the same thing China had--but Gabe certainly wasn't expecting him to have to be the one to take point on that battlefield.

Raphael looked around with wide-eyed interest as they moved inside, and once they had passed into the laboratory proper the Archangel clapped his hands, grinning. "Great! Where to first?"

Gabe laughed. "You two go find Kenspeckle and Solomon. I want to talk to Anton."

The thought that passed between Archangel's wasn't really a thought, but more like a spark. Just a spark, a transmission, context. Raphael's expression grew serious. "Keep an eye on him, Gabriel."

"I intend to," Gabe answered. "He's too good a man to lose to a thing like that." He grinned. "Good luck with Kenspeckle. I'll come find you and Sol later, Skul."

So saying, the Archangel separated from them down one of the other corridors. He wasn't really walking with an aim, but nor was he aimless; mostly, he simply walked, waiting until his awareness struck something that felt right and he knew he'd found Anton's soul. It wasn't all that hard to find. Even with their many similarities, there were things in Shudder's soul that Skulduggery wouldn't understand. He'd come close--but not quite get there.

For all Skulduggery's ruthlessness without control, he required the loss of it first. Anton was different. His ruthlessness came with control, out of necessity. It took a different kind of man to choose that kind of life, to be able to balance that with mercy--as evidenced by the existence of the Hotel.

Skulduggery was making do with horrific circumstances to which he'd been subjected. Anton had chosen it.

But Gabe found him, eventually. It didn't take all that long, really. The door was open, Anton moving slowly around the room in a set of his own clothes; his stance and bearing was the manner of a man who'd been told he could leave hospital, just as soon as he had reached a target mark to prove his wellness. For a moment the Archangel stood and watched. Watched the faceted window which indicated restraint. The shattered, but intact, panes where the Gist had almost broken through. They'd heal in time.

A strained-glass window, darkened by a storm, but less fragile than Skulduggery's thin panes. That was a difference, between those two. Anton accepted his darkness without giving it control. Skulduggery opposed it, every second of every day.

Differences. Little differences that made Shudder's being turn slowly, an axis of balance Skulduggery could never in a million years find on his own.

Gabriel knocked. Shudder's head snapped up and he stilled, inside and out, regarding the Archangel wordlessly. Gabe stepped into the room, meeting the sorcerer's gaze. He remained far enough away to give Anton the space he felt he needed, but came close enough to indicate that this wasn't a here-and-gone visit. "I'm sorry," Gabe said, "for making you think you had no hope."

Anton's shoulders tensed, his eyes tracking Gabe's circling movement. "I don't need your good opinion to validate me," he said quietly, but with an intense sort of assurance.

That was what Gabe could see. Where the light came from. Assurance. Assurance Anton had had before, but which was now solidified. The Archangel smiled. "I know. I just wasn't sure if you did. But the apology is earned. You didn't deserve my reacting like that. There's more grace in you than you might think."

Something in Shudder's brow crinkled, but he said nothing. For a long time they simply stared at each other, Gabe waiting patiently and Shudder stiff with wariness. It was the sorcerer who broke the silence. "Where's Pleasant?"

"Around," Gabe said vaguely. Shudder grunted, and as quiet as his outward reaction was, inside he was a twisted maelstrom of emotions. Fury that Skulduggery should fall short. Guilt because Anton should care more about what he'd done and he didn't. Self-rage for the same reason.

But the question was gone. The one he'd wanted to ask, the one that asked what hope there was for him. It could be either a good thing or a very bad thing. In some, it meant they'd given up. That they had nothing left, no reason to strive and live. In others, it meant they had accepted that, regardless of what others thought, their minds were their own. That they didn't need the vindication so many others demanded--not even their own.

Acceptance. So very, very few people knew themselves so well, and could accept themselves, all their flaws and strengths attached. Anton was close. The most important things, he knew where he stood.

Anton Shudder wasn't Skulduggery Pleasant. That was what mattered. In time, Anton would balance out his need for justice and his sense of mercy. It was already happening. Gabe could tell, because there was something ticking over in the man's soul, a minor-ish choice as he turned away to walk back to his bed and stoop to find his shoes.

Then, abruptly, the choice was made. "Wreath's gone, if you're looking for him. He left the Hibernian last night."

Gabe froze. "He--what?"

"He left," Shudder repeated, and straightened, shoes in hand, dark eyes sharp. "You've caused a lot of changes, angel. I'll hold my judgement on whether they're for better or worse until I've seen their strings tightened."

For a moment, Gabriel was chagrined to admit that he almost wasn't listening. Then he swallowed and forced himself to look back at Shudder, reading in him that quiet confidence of self. "That's fair," he said. "Excuse me. I don't mean to be rude, but if Solomon's left--"

"If he's lucky," Shudder said as Gabe turned, "his former compatriots killed him quickly."

"For once, that's the part that worries me," Gabriel murmured as he made all haste toward the door.

[skeletonenigma]

Kenspeckle could be anywhere. Probably not still with Anton; the Professor's bedside manner left a lot to be desired. But he could be chasing after Solomon, or Clarabelle, because he never failed to remind Skulduggery at every possible opportunity that he really disliked having people wander around the labs without supervision, as if it was all Skulduggery's fault. Clarabelle, last he checked, was definitely not. Solomon, the point could be argued. And Solomon had recently taken to wandering as much as he could. Like a rat in a cage, that man. He couldn't stand being trapped in the Temple, and that was an underground structure many times bigger than the cinema.

Solomon, though, would be most likely watching the front door - and he hadn't been there. Maybe one of the other exits? Skulduggery began heading towards the one he'd helped Solomon discover earlier, keeping a slow pace for the benefit of an Archangel who may have been used to pain, but - as Gabe pointed out - had still been lost in the Cacophany for a while.

Skulduggery tried very hard to ignore that he was basically alone with a significant other's older brother. It was a strange thought, and it did strange things to his mind.

Instead, he focused on thoughts he knew for a fact came from him. Instinctive, habitual thoughts he'd had all his life. He remembered the relief he'd felt that Solomon Wreath, and now Valkyrie, were both giving up Necromancy. Recaptured the feeling of discovering exactly how Ghastly would react, and - much more importantly - that their relationship hadn't changed in any significant way. Corrival, too. Erskine.

It shouldn't have, but... it almost seemed to validate everything Skulduggery had ever worked towards. Even though he would never actually arrive there, it was a uniquely heartening feeling.

He hesitated. Frowned.

'You know, at least Gabriel asks permission beforehand.'

[comedianhealer]

Raphael ambled along without a care in the world, trailing behind Skulduggery in a manner that didn't specify he was actually following the detective, but more like they just happened to be going in the same direction for the interim.

"Dunno what you're talkin' about, bro," he said careless, and then grinned. "I'm lyin'. I do. But you were also yellin' it, and I had to get you to turn it off somehow, thanks. Not that it'll be that easy." The last was grumbled.

Because Rafe hadn't been wrong, before. Skulduggery was a man filled with hang-ups. They gave him definition, true, but they also lent him distance. He needed control over his anger, but there was a certain kind of attachedness of one's guilt that turned it into not just a driving force but a vice of its own. A lot of people did it. A lot of Christians, especially, what with their perpetual self-flagellation. Religion encouraged that kind of thing.

Skulduggery wasn't quite there yet. But he could be, and that was the point at which his guilt would be a crutch, not an aid.

Besides, it got very annoying very fast to always have people assume a smiting was imminent. Seriously. Where was the fun, people?

[skeletonenigma]

Skulduggery's instinctive response was that he wasn't yelling. He didn't yell. He made it a point not to yell without purpose.

But a brief moment of thought later, and it began to make sense. His mind was pretty much always churning, after all. 'Yelling' certain thoughts, for lack of a better word, to avoid thinking about other things was probably something he did quite often. He'd probably grown unforgivably lax with mental defences ever since his death, actually. Even Hopeless hadn't been able to read him.

All of which Raphael would also have heard. This... was going to be a challenge.

"Can you find where Professor Grouse is?" Skulduggery asked out loud. "Or are we doomed to wander in a fruitless search while you gather your strength?"

A little vindictive, maybe. But Skulduggery never claimed to be above that sort of thing.

[comedianhealer]

"What, you mean you can't detect him?" Raphael teased. "Thought you were a detective. My illusions are all breakin', bro. My belief in you has been shattered. Where's the prof been every other time you've come to visit him lately?"

There was only one answer to that. After how close Rafe had been to the healer to show him how to work his magic, the Archangel had seen quite a bit in him. Among those things had been his utter fascination with this new level of science, with this metaphysics of magic--unneeded proof that his work had meaning. An encouragement for what he was already doing.

And he'd seen endless hours spent in a single room, working, over and over again, with holy water to create medicines for injured angels.

The conclusion was obvious, Skulduggery really should have seen it, and Rafe had no intention of letting him off the hook for it. "I figured Gabe's presence has been throwin' you for a loop, but ..." Rafe tsked. "Where's all that vaunted focus? Really, man, I'm disappointed."

[skeletonenigma]

Skulduggery had completely forgotten that Raphael would already know. Or - no, not forgotten, exactly. It just hadn't occurred to him. He wasn't used to dealing with people so incredibly powerful, so predisposed to already knowing everything and being able to immediately do something about it. "Warm-up," he replied without missing a beat. "Congratulations. Now find Solomon. Odds are, they're not in the same room."

He'd deftly changed direction while he spoke, acting for all the world like it was exactly what he'd meant to do from the beginning. A ruse that would have worked on anyone else, but would be like a paper curtain against Raphael. In the grand scheme of things, it really didn't matter, but Skulduggery would have preferred not to have to endure the teasing he knew was coming.

They hadn't run into Clarabelle yet, either. A small part of Skulduggery tensed at the realisation. It wasn't very common, coming here in search of the professor and not running into his dreamy assistant on the way. Something was wrong.

[comedianhealer]

"I ain't ever met Sol," Rafe protested, following Skul without missing a beat. "Sendin' me to look for a needle in a haystack, man? Want me to get the prof even madder at me by makin' me extend myself?" He tsked again. "Here I was thinkin' you were worried 'bout both of us, but now I see all your concern's just for Gabe. Hurt, man."

Even as he spoke, though, the quiver of unease in Skulduggery's soul touched him. The Archangel didn't explicitly branch his consciousness out, but he read the residue in the walls of the laboratory, focussing on the frustration. The feeling of being trapped. The desire to leave.

The controlled urgency to find someone.

"I think we're gonna have more trouble findin' that friend of yours than we thought," he said slowly, his pace quickening. He reached out for Gabe only to find his brother already halfway there.

'Solomon?'

'Anton says he left. I'm on my way.'

"Damn it." Raphael broke into a run toward the exam room down the hall and around the corner, slipping through the door as gracefully as a giant cat. Kenspeckle's head shot up; the man looked more harassed than he should have after at least twelve hours' sleep. His face fell slightly when he saw who it was, but then rose again as that same fact sank in.

"Well, at least you'll be better at searching than Clarabelle. Wreath is--"

"Gone," Rafe interrupted, and Kenspeckle's face froze. "Gabe just asked Shudder."

Kenspeckle's face contorted. "I told that girl to go ask--oh, never mind. He needs to be here. No one's ever given up Necromancy before, so I wasn't sure, but now I've looked at his case again I'm certain there's going to be a withdrawal period involved. This is Pleasant's influence." The last was said grumpily to no one in particular, let alone the handsome man who had entered with Rafe who looked nothing like an animated skeleton. "Any wise man wouldn't have left."

[skeletonenigma]

Raphael and Gabe only confirmed what Skulduggery was already suspecting. He was in the exam room very quickly after the Archangel, as calm and level after the brief burst of exertion as he was when he was a skeleton with no muscles or lungs.

Kenspeckle had no idea the irony of his words, and he never would. There was no trace of it on Skulduggery's face as he shook his head. "Solomon isn't a wise man." The sentence was an afterthought, absent-mindedly delivered, a quick response important enough to be said before Skulduggery moved on to the main point.

"It's not the withdrawal I'm worried about. Solomon can handle pain." The most volatile thing there would be the way Solomon told Skulduggery off for not warning him about said pain. "I'm worried about the Temple getting their hands on him. They'll either kill him, or convince him to go back. And if they manage that, there's nothing stopping him from telling them everything."

The news wouldn't make Tenebrae rethink his life decisions, either, like it did Solomon. If anything, the High Priest would do all he could to control it. And he'd be worse than China.

[comedianhealer]

"That much is ob--Pleasant?!" Kenspeckle cut off mid-word to stare at Skulduggery, and in spite of everything, Rafe found himself wearing a faint smile. Hey, it was funny. The professor was so genuinely nonplussed that it took him a few moments to shake his head and decide to ignore Skulduggery's ... well, face.

"Never mind. Wreath's choice of magic is deplorable, but after only two days with the man I can say with confidence that he won't be convinced easily. If he's as used to pain as you say, I'd be more worried about his mental health after they've broken him. That," this last was added with asperity, "is not within my purview, for the record."

"It doesn't have to be," Gabriel said as he came in through the door, moving with urgency but less speed than Raphael had been able to manage. His face was tight and his eyes oddly shiny, though, and when Raphael turned Gabe met his gaze and let him see the prayer that had rung through him just before he entered.

'Gabriel. I'm at the Temple. I'd like to come home now, if you don't mind.'

Michael was the one with the steady nerves. Gabe was the one prone to anxiety. Raphael fell somewhere in the middle. He could let things slide off his back, but sometimes things, things which seemed minor to anyone but an angel, could throw him. Like the reflection of Solomon in those words. Tired beyond tired. Injured in ways very few deserved. Yet echoing with acceptance, with a kind of rising amazement and wonder. Badly hurt, yes, but in a way that sloughed off all the metaphysical grime; in a way which revealed the measure of a man's greatness or weakness, to himself and to others.

A way which allowed a man to see their Lord's graciousness for what it was.

It was but an echo and yet it rocked Raphael into momentary speechlessness. That sort of righteousness, that sort of world-changing revelation--it happened. It happened, but infrequently, and it was always stunning when it did, because when true mortals touched divinity like that it was indescribably glorious. A soul cleansed by fire, hurting but healing, in awe of their own selves and what they had seen of the Creator.

"Skul," Gabe said, turning toward the detective, "you need to call Fletcher. And whoever else wants to come, but I need Fletcher. Solomon just prayed to me. He's at the Temple, and I'm going to get him."

The last sentence was said calmly and matter-of-factly, as if there was no other course of action. Except, Rafe noticed with quiet displeasure, Gabe had said 'I'.

[skeletonenigma]

"At the Temple? Already? How long has he been missing?"

But Skulduggery didn't really need an answer to that. It couldn't have been long. Kenspeckle would have said something at the safehouse if Solomon was already gone by then, so it could only have been within the last twenty-four hours. Plenty of time for the Temple to carry out whatever dastardly scheme they were planning, but Solomon would have prayed for help right away, so -

- except he wouldn't have. It wasn't any sorcerer's first instinct, but doubly so for anyone who'd been as scarred by the conventional religions as Solomon had.

Something deep within Skulduggery's newly-formed gut clenched. Solomon would have been in the grip of withdrawal, made even worse by being anywhere near the Temple. He had to have been there all night to be thinking so clearly now, and even that short time frame was pushing it. More likely, Solomon was just delirious enough to finally think of praying for help. And even that couldn't have been all, because Tenebrae wasn't merciful. Gabriel was near tears.

Gabriel was not-so-subtly telling Skulduggery he shouldn't come.

The anger flared, just like it always did, but it was easier to clamp this time. A combination of not knowing specifics, not being able to trust Solomon, probably some of Gabe's influence too. Skulduggery tried not to think too hard about that one. "What did they do?"

[impudentsongbird]

"What did they do?"

The question was, what didn't they do? The thought wasn't bitter but was resigned. Sorrowful. Solomon's prayer hadn't had the cadence of someone delirious, but someone clear-minded. He'd already endured his withdrawal. All of it. The only way that could have happened was if it had been deliberately quickened. And if that was the case ... if that was the case it was a miracle Solomon was clear-headed at all.

"I don't think I should tell you that," Gabe said quietly, meeting Skulduggery's gaze squarely and without flinching, but with a set in his posture that said he wasn't going to bend. "Because you can't come with me for the same reason I can't tell you, and if I do tell you, you will go whether you should or not. But it's bad, Skul." His voice softened, his gaze never wavering. "It's bad. And it's good. He's alive. He'll be okay, if we hurry. But you can't come with. Please. Call Fletcher."

[skeletonenigma]

In situations like these, it was almost second nature for Skulduggery to agree now and go right back on that word later. Call Fletcher, let them go, let them think he was staying behind, but go there on his own anyway as soon as he could. Easier than arguing, and better than having to punch anyone. It was also at least half the reason for his excellent timing in spur-of-the-moment rescues, which was why he continued doing it.

That wouldn't work here. Not even remotely, for two very important reasons. First of all, Gabe was an Archangel. Skulduggery simply having the idea meant Gabe already knew about it, and even exhaustedly strained as he was, he was powerful. He needed a Teleporter to avoid the strain, not because he was physically incapable of traveling the distance himself in the blink of an eye if he had to. He could stop Skulduggery, and he would.

But the other reason, and frankly the more important reason, was that Skulduggery didn't particularly want to disappoint Gabe. Whether or not that was a good thing remained to be seen.

He didn't need to be told it was bad, either. Skulduggery knew it was bad. Gabe wouldn't be refusing to tell him if it wasn't. So this time, when the detective agreed to stay behind, he actually would be staying behind, of his own volition.

It was such a new and frustrating feeling.

"If Solomon's said anything," Skulduggery warned while he took out his phone, "you're going to have to be careful. Tenebrae's one of those mysterious black-cloak bad guys who are dangerous precisely because they stop to think." He dialed Valkyrie's number and let the phone ring in his hand, looking blankly down at it while his mind churned.

"Valkyrie's going with you." Not a perfect solution, but at least Skulduggery could trust her to keep the other two from doing anything stupid, and to make the same decisions an objective version of himself might also make. It was more peace of mind than he'd have otherwise.

[impudentsongbird]

"All right," Gabe agreed after a moment. He wouldn't wish what they were about to see on any girl Valkyrie's age, or even on Fletcher's age, but it was a compromise and after what Gabriel was asking it was fair of Skul to make the request in turn. Actually, Gabe was a little surprised Skul hadn't argued more. Surprised, because in lieu of Skul, it was instead Raphael.

Which honestly wasn't all that much of a surprise.

"I should go," Rafe said with a frown. "You were just healed last night, Gabe. After that fight with Imemiah and the others, and the explosion, you have strength to husband."

"More than you?" Gabe asked, turning to his bother. "You've just arrived, you're still hurt, and you've had to heal me. I've more energy to spare than you, and Necromancy will hurt you worse than me. Michael might have cast the Fallen from Heaven, Rafe, but don't forget who sealed them to Earth. The Temple won't be any worse than Hell."

Rafe's mouth drew to a tight line. "At least let Merlin and I help you spin the wards. It would tax you to do it alone, against such a place as that. Between the three of us we can lighten the burden for any one."

Gabe hesitated. Merlin would be well able to do so, but Rafe ... Rafe was still injured and tired. More than Gabe, right now. "You're exhausted," Gabe said softly, holding Rafe's gaze. "You should let me and Merlin handle it alone." Raphael opened his mouth to object, but Gabe added quickly before he could, "Solomon will need you."

Rafe's mouth closed again and for a moment he looked at his brother with a keen gaze. Then he sighed and all the fight went out of him. "Very well. Merlin's still with Ms Sorrows, as far as I know. Mind if I borrow one of your phones?"

It was Kenspeckle who silently reached across to the other counter and handed his mobile over, eyes narrowed at the angels both. His thoughts, he kept to himself, though both angels could see them. Now wasn't the time for recriminations. Rafe gave him a nod and dialled the number he'd read from Skulduggery, raising it to his ear.

[neutralcollector]

Guilt wasn't exactly a new feeling. But it was rare. It was rare enough that China didn't even try sleeping herself, wonderful though a good night's rest would have been. In light of that, she'd offered Merlin her own bed as evening fell, but he'd staunchly refused and fallen asleep on the living room couch instead.

A perfect gentleman. Surprising, given all the legends about King Arthur and Camelot. Despite being exhausted, Merlin had insisted on helping China with her library; help which, she had to admit, was invaluable. His knowledge of magic seemed all-encompassing. China could have managed on her own, but nowhere near as quickly. Or efficiently.

It wasn't until after he was asleep that China realised she hadn't asked him one question about himself. That surprised her, but at the same time... she understood why. And she didn't really feel a need to rectify that fact, which was so unlike China that it left her dizzy.

She was slipping, ignoring important calls and avoiding certain people because she simply didn't want to deal with them - a bad idea for someone as renowned in their information-dealing as China was. Sooner or later, someone would suspect something. A part of her didn't care.

As luck would have it, she'd just stepped back into her apartment that morning (Well, morning to a point. It was actually just about midday now.) to check on Merlin when her telephone rang. The caller ID told her it was Kenspeckle Grouse.

She quickly ran through all of the reasons he'd be calling her before alighting on the most probable one - Merlin. That was the only reason she picked up the phone. If the professor had called only to try and get her involved in anything else, he was going to find himself on the other end of a tirade. China usually made it a point not to lose her temper over anything, but recent events had made a lot of old habits die surprisingly easily.

Her voice, when she answered, was warm enough. "Yes?"

[comedianhealer]

"China, it's Raphael." The Archangel's voice came through deep and smooth, but the lack of accent indicating something serious. "I need to speak to Merlin. If he's still asleep, put me on speakerphone and I'll wake him up myself."

Rafe waited a beat for China to do that and the phone's tenor to change to the ambient surroundings. Briefly he considered just how he might have chosen to wake Merlin up if he had been there in person, but in this case, given this seriousness, he decided not to do anything more than speak the man's name. Loudly. "Merlin."

Merlin's eyes snapped open, vaguely groggy but surprisingly clear. He blinked rapidly, took a few quick seconds to figure out where he was and why he was currently staring up into the face of a rather beautiful young woman, and then cleared his throat. "What?"

His voice still came out scratchy and irritable. Rafe grinned a flickeringly amused grin which died rather quickly. "We need you at the Hibernian. Kenspeckle's laboratory. Fletcher will pick you up." He added the last while he caught Skulduggery's eye so the skeleton could pass the same message on.

"What's happened?" Merlin accepted the phone from China with a nod, swinging his legs over the couch and still trying to blink the sleep away. He didn't take it off speakerphone. Having a mobile to his ear would probably give him a headache this soon after waking. (Phones. He was half convinced Lucifer had something in their creation.)

"Solomon Wreath's been captured by the necromancers."

Merlin paused for a moment and then said a little waspishly, "You realise that I have absolutely no idea who that is. Unlike some people, I don't read souls and have the manners not to read minds without permission."

There was a soft, apologetic chuckle on the other side. "He was a necromancer, but he saw Gabe and left their Temple. Now he's been taken back. Gabe needs help warding himself to walk onto their ground."

"Ah." Merlin winced. "I'll be there soon, then, I imagine. Thank you." One hand pressed to his temple against the faint, woken-too-quickly throb, Merlin turned off the phone and held it out to China with a sigh. "Thank you, Ms Sorrows. Do forgive me for the sudden leave-taking."

[neutralcollector]

China dimly wondered, when Merlin accepted the phone, if this was what her life would be now. Quiet, peaceful, normal, almost boring - until a divine being inevitably dragged her back into exciting events she wanted no part of? Skulduggery knew. She should be spending these days using her unique abilities to fortify herself in an isolated corner of the world where the skeleton detective would never find her, not...

Not entertaining Merlin himself in her library. Talking to Archangels on the phone. Being genuinely concerned over the capture and possible torture of a man she hadn't liked mere days ago.

Her instinctive response was to call Skulduggery and let him know. She abandoned that idea immediately. He would already know, of course, but that wasn't why she stopped considering it. She stopped considering it because her next idea was to offer to help.

No. That wasn't China. China didn't help people. People helped her. With Archangels on the case, Solomon Wreath was as good as rescued already. There wasn't anything China could contribute, or, she told herself sternly, wanted to contribute.

"Please," she said with a smile. "Thank you, Merlin. You're completely forgiven. Wish them all luck from me, would you?"

[impudentsongbird]

"I will do so." He finished pulling on his shoes and then rose, stretching each limb lightly. "I look forward to coming back, if you've no objection. It's rare to find a library of such depth and breadth, let alone a caretaker with as much an understanding of the language of magic as you do."

Fletcher, along with Valkyrie and Erskine, popped into view, all three of them rather tense, but Erskine with a twist of intrigue rather than true concern. Merlin bowed to China, kissed the back of her hand lightly. "Until another time, Ms Sorrows."

Then he laid a hand on Fletcher's shoulder and they vanished themselves, reappearing a moment later at the Hibernian. Gabe and Rafe, having a quiet but intense discussion, turned as one, both with that particular depth in their eyes that spoke of an age and a responsibility and an intent, and more particularly a power, which could be somewhat unnerving to those unused to it. Fortunately, Merlin was.

"How powerful a place is this Temple?" he asked, the final word edged with distaste.

"Powerful," Gabe said unhappily, and showed him a memory of his last visit. Merlin couldn't help but pale, and shook his head.

"Better you than me, angel. And you want to retain your cover in that, in your condition? The people here don't ask for much, do they?" He quirked a sardonically teasing eyebrow at Erskine and stepped away from the group.

"'Parently the people here object to angels," Rafe drawled deadpan. "Can't imagine why."

Gabe threw him a look of mixed amusement and exasperation and held out his hands to Merlin. "I need your magic," he said, and then added with some chagrin and a glance toward Raphael, "although some control wouldn't go amiss either. I'm still somewhat ... misaligned."

"Of course." Merlin took the Archangel's hands and felt, in the faint warming and tingle of the other plane, Gabe's wings close around him. The old sorcerer closed his eyes to better sense things, closing out the room around him. A warding against a place like that would take a bit of extra time and care, and in this they truly couldn't afford to mess up.

[skeletonenigma]

Erskine didn't want to say anything in the ensuing silence, but he was really rather impressed by the whole thing. He didn't know Solomon Wreath well enough to want to rescue him from the Temple for any reason other than because it was the right thing to do - plus an unhealthy amount of distaste towards Necromancers, and a sense of satisfaction at pulling one of their own right out from under them.

But he didn't want to say that, because Valkyrie was pretty obviously worried. That, and there was something about an old friendship between Skulduggery and Wreath, wasn't there? It was mostly dead by the time Erskine met Skulduggery, but redemption had a way of winning the detective over - for reasons that had become quite obvious over the last few days. Besides, there were Archangels in the room.

Archangels, and Merlin.

What had Merlin and China been doing all night? Just cataloguing books?

Erskine couldn't quite suppress a sigh. Ghastly, with all his disfiguring scars, had a gorgeous young woman who apparently liked to wear tight leather; a manipulative woman who used to be evil had a living legend - hell, even Skulduggery the living skeleton had bagged an Archangel. And here Erskine was, young and handsome and charming, and what was left for him?

It occurred to him that he was feeling sorry for himself in the presence of beings half the world's population would have given their left arms to meet, and Erskine mentally shut up. "I think I should do the talking when we're there," he said instead. "Assuming we are talking and not just sneaking in. Are we sneaking in?"

Skulduggery shook his head. "You don't have to. We have something to hold over the High Priest's head."

"And what would that be?"

"The Passage."

Erskine frowned. "That Necromantic Rapture thing? What about it?"

"They're planning to kill three billion people so that the other three billion will live forever."

Of all the possible responses Erskine was expecting, this one completely floored him. "They're planning to do what?" he practically spluttered, appalled. "And no one outside the Temple has ever figured this out?"

"They will," Skulduggery promised, "if and when we get close to it actually happening. Until then, we can use it as leverage. We practically control the Temple here as long as they don't find a Death Bringer."

[comedianhealer]

Under the circumstances, Raphael didn't laugh at the thoughts running circles in Erskine's head. He did, however, smirk and glance toward the man, amusement warring with the concern in his eyes even from where he stood back, arms crossed, to watch Merlin and Gabe as they spun the wards. There was, of course, no way Merlin and China had done anything other than catalogue books. Aside from Merlin's sleeping on the couch.

He didn't say anything, though. Humour, true humour, was still too new for him to muster it in a situation in which his little brother would be once again throwing himself into Hell's gates.

That little tidbit was something Rafe hadn't quite gleaned from Gabe, though, and the thought visibly shook him. "They mean to cut this world off from the lifestream?" he blurted, aghast. "They're insane."

"They don't know what they're doing," Gabe murmured, still paying half-attention to the rest of them as Merlin wasn't. "They understand enough to feel they understand it all, and nowhere near enough to know what they're doing would be disastrous." He opened his eyes, the cosmos in them, and his lips quirked. "Par for the course when it comes to people such as them, really."

Despite himself, Raphael laughed. Gabe continued. "I appreciate you coming, but I'm going to be the one to talk, thank you, Erskine. Auron Tenebrae will be an open book to me. Anything he tries to come up with to object, I'll know. Besides." He came very near to smirking. "I have a few tricks up my sleeves too."

"Just so long as you don't blow your arms off," Merlin muttered, stepping back and dropping Gabe's hands. "There. That should keep the taint from reacting to your glory, but don't stress it too much."

Gabe smiled, rueful and warm at once. "Thank you, Merlin. Okay." He held out his hands to Fletcher. "We'll start outside the graveyard, please. Let's not strain me."

[skeletonenigma]

Valkyrie couldn't really bring herself to care about the Passage at that point. She was much too worried about Solomon.

Skulduggery wasn't saying anything, but even if he wasn't once again wearing his new skin, Valkyrie would have been able to tell how he felt by the way his head was tilted down towards the ground. Now, though, that tilt was mirrored by the frustration and anger in his face, which was incredibly jarring after so long of seeing nothing but a skeletal grin there.

She didn't need to ask why he wasn't coming, but it did heighten her own dread. What did Tenebrae do to Solomon? It couldn't have been anything that bad, it - it just couldn't. Necromancers were still human. The most they should have had to worry about was Solomon giving in to the addiction of power.

She was glad Erskine was coming, though. Erskine, Fletcher, and Gabe. They'd be fine, as long as Gabe didn't collapse again. They'd get Solomon back no problem. So why were her hands still shaking?

Fletcher seemed to know what she was thinking. He reached out and tentatively squeezed her arm, giving her a soft smile. It surprised her, but she smiled back in appreciation. "Everyone ready, then?" Fletcher asked, glancing at Erskine.

The earlier intrigue was gone. Now, Erskine just looked grim. "Ready when you are."

And Fletcher Teleported the four of them to just outside the graveyard. Valkyrie could see the roof of the mausoleum that served as the Temple's entrance from where they were standing. It had never failed to send shivers down her spine, and without that ring on her finger anymore, the effect was doubled.