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 almost shied away from the contact.

Objectively, he knew why. Objectively, he understood that the earlier possibility of being controlled was a little more ingrained in his mind than he would have wanted to admit. Objectively, he knew he'd only been alright with everything - the beach, the decision to stay, the admittance of any sort of feeling - because of that fact. Objectively, although he trusted Gabe as a friend, there was a reason for it all; a reason that he could accept and eventually do something about. He no longer had that reason.

Subjectively, shying away from the contact felt wrong. Not bad, or awkward, or shameful. Just... wrong. It made all the sense in the world, and it still felt wrong.

The shock on Valkyrie's face was enough to draw Skulduggery's attention back to what it should have been on in the first place. "When you do something as monumental as give up an addiction, Valkyrie, and something physical comes from it, you don't let it go. It's a very sentimental human trait. We need our accomplishments as much as we need anything else."

Valkyrie shook her head in confusion. "So Solomon's just going to be blind for the rest of his life?"

"Don't exaggerate. He'll see souls, apparently."

"He'll start aging again!"

"That remains to be seen. And probably isn't his first concern, either way."

"What about y - " Valkyrie cut herself off before she could finish. "What if he gets attacked? He won't be able to defend himself. He's practically helpless."

"'He,'" Erskine interjected, "is right there, you know."

[peacefullywreathed]

"Of course I'm practically helpless," Solomon said, his voice as soft as before. He was going to fall asleep no matter what, very soon. His body and soul had been through a wringer, and it felt as if Saint Raphael's presence was drawing off everything uncomfortable that would have nudged Solomon awake. "I've been awake and in pain for the last twenty-four hours."

"Besides," Saint Gabriel said with a smile from where he still stood beside Skulduggery. Solomon finally dragged his gaze away from Saint Raphael toward the other Archangel, and if he could he would have blinked at the sight that met him. It was blurry, but very definitely recognisable as Saint Gabriel's wing curled around Skulduggery's rainbow soul.

It was strangely adorable.

"Metaphysical Sight is only the tip of the iceberg, Valkyrie. He can see the lifestream. Most people have no understanding of it at all, but once he's learned it well enough, he ought to be able to manipulate it in some fashion. His magic has to go somewhere. His new Sight will just make for a conduit."

"Yeah, sorry about that, man." Saint Raphael grinned down at him and Solomon looked back. "You don't get to become an old fogey that quick."

"Heaven forbid," Solomon murmured drowsily with a faint smirk. He was aware of Kenspeckle's hands on him, of a faint ... tingle, he supposed, was the nearest description. It was visible but not at the same time. Like static electricity. Kenspeckle's magic.

"The concussion and your scraped fingers are treatable," the professor informed him. This close, Solomon could see the darting bolts in his soul; they seemed to come more quickly, but not land, and a moment later Kenspeckle's voice came out confused. "It's these rest I'm not sure about. They weren't caused by Necromancy, but they're resistant to healing."

"Stigmata," Solomon said. "The marks Christ bore when he was crucified."

"Not even I could heal those, Kenspeckle," Saint Raphael said softly. His voice wasn't like Saint Gabriel's. It didn't leave ripples, didn't affect everything around it; but it still seemed to knell like a huge, pleasantly resonant drum. "Those wounds, borne truly, are a mark of the saved. They're tied more to soul than body. I wouldn't heal them even if I could. Y'know." Solomon saw him grin over at Skulduggery. "For sentimental reasons."

There was a very long pause. Then: "Oh. I'd better leave them alone, then, shall I?"

Solomon was still laughing quietly when he finally dipped properly into true sleep, guided by the gentle, warm hand on his forehead.

[skeletonenigma]

Valkyrie mistakenly thought she could handle sticking around for the surgery.

She didn't even make it past Kenspeckle removing the bandage.

Fletcher left well before that point, ashen-faced and trembling. A few minutes later, Kenspeckle not-so-subtly suggested Solomon might deserve some privacy, but Valkyrie didn't even think about leaving until the doctor took that bandage off. Her stomach heaved, her emotions flared up, and Valkyrie immediately decided it would be a very good idea to follow Fletcher outside.

Merlin, to her surprise, came out after them. Neither Valkyrie nor Fletcher had known what to make of that, or known exactly how to treat the Ancient. But it didn't seem to matter; Merlin asked all the questions as they aimlessly wandered the Hibernian. He asked a lot of questions. Valkyrie and Fletcher did their best to answer, one of them occasionally lapsing into silence while the other talked. Valkyrie was actually happy about that. Fletcher had been too quiet lately. It was good to see him talking and being animated again.

Besides which, Merlin. They were talking to Merlin. He was fascinating. And way better than any teacher Valkyrie ever had. Everything he did seemed to hold extra weight, from the aimless walking, to his reaction upon meeting Clarabelle during their trek through the labs.

They were approaching the exam room again for the fourth time when Skulduggery and Gabriel came out. Valkyrie grinned and pulled ahead from the others, leaving Fletcher to field the remaining questions. "Skulduggery!"

The detective looked up, a little smile tipping the corner of his mouth as he caught sight of her. Valkyrie stopped in her tracks, wondering if he smiled like that a lot. His head was ever-so-slightly tilted; she tried to imagine the blank white skull that should be there, tried to remember if he'd ever tilted his head in that specific way before, and what it meant if he had. "Hm?"

Yep. That was definitely how his head tilted whenever he saw her. Valkyrie's grin returned, and grew. Skulduggery had a Valkyrie-specific smile. "Remember that troll who was in love with you?"

The Valkyrie-specific smile faded. "Oh, vaguely."

"Remember when I promised you I was never going to pass up an opportunity to tease you about it?"

The Valkyrie-specific smile disappeared. "Don't you want to know how the surgery went?"

"It's Kenspeckle Grouse," Valkyrie reminded him. "The surgery went perfectly, Solomon's going to be fine apart from voluntary blindness, and he's going to be sleeping for the rest of the day. Are you two actually - "

"You're wrong," Skulduggery interrupted her, probably quite deliberately. "Not for the rest of the day. He'll probably wake up very soon."

"Well, I'll go see him when he does. Are you guys seriously - "

"You don't want to know the details?"

"Good God, no. Are you guys - "

"Not even if I make it mandatory as part of your ongoing training?"

Valkyrie folded her arms. "No. Are you done coming up with stupid excuses?"

"Wonderful weather we're having," Skulduggery remarked in a very affected absent-minded tone.

[impudentsongbird]

Merlin may not have known who Solomon Wreath was, but he didn't have to. The Archangels' care, their words, the man's own reactions and the sheer peace in his body said enough. His injuries were horrific; there was something viscerally terrifying about one like that especially. It had obviously been healed with magic, but not completely--the loss of his eyes had left the lids sagging into the sockets, his flesh red and raw just like a wound mostly-healed but still tender.

The Ancient had lived a very long time. Merlin had seen injuries like that before, and didn't fear them. That didn't mean he wanted to be present, particularly since he didn't know the man and the professor was quite right in suggesting Solomon deserved some privacy.

Besides, Merlin rather felt the children could use a distraction. Images like that lingered in the head. So he talked to the children, asking them questions about themselves and their lives and their universe, trying to keep them both attentive. The meeting with Clarabelle had been rather an amusing delight; few people were as free as that girl, Merlin saw almost at once.

There were ulterior motives. It let Merlin distract the children, let him learn the layout of the facility, and let him learn about them. Gabriel had given Skulduggery his name. Gabriel was going nowhere. Archangel or not, Merlin wanted to know that he'd be alright in this universe for the foreseeable future. At least it would stop Michael from making a trip over if they could report back in the optimistic.

In the meantime, Merlin learned a great deal, and more than the children suspected. He learned that Valkyrie was unaware that she was abandoning her family for the sake of the excitement of a job a child should not have, and that sooner or later she would discover, to her very great cost, what a mistake that was. He learned that Fletcher had grown up alone, knowing no one could be trusted to look at him on his own merits, and therefore assumed he had to draw attention in his own way and his own manner--to his own detriment.

He learned that Gabriel's presence had already begun to change them both. Typical of angels, really.

Eventually they meandered back toward the exam room, just in time for Skulduggery and Gabriel to emerge. Gabriel glanced up at him and smiled, but there was an edge of worried resignation in that smile. Something more had happened during the trip to the Temple than a mere blackmailing, then.

Amused, Merlin watched as Skulduggery systematically thwarted each of Valkyrie's attempts to tease. Gabe, his cheeks only slightly pink, finally said, "If I didn't know any better, Skul, I might think you were ashamed of me."

There was a tease in the quirk of his smile, though. A tease, and a shine in his eyes when he looked at the detective which Merlin had never seen on any angel who remained an angel.

Quietly, still standing back from the trio enough that a conversation wouldn't draw their attention, Merlin asked, "What do you think of Gabe, Fletcher?"

[skeletonenigma]

"He's awesome," came Fletcher's immediate response. It was only another question in a list of questions, after all - he didn't even stop to think about it before answering. But a couple of moments later, after he did have time to think about it, Fletcher's eyes grew wide. "I mean, yeah, I like him. He's been great to me. He became a din - He's been great to me. We all like him. Skulduggery - "

It took Fletcher far too long to decide he shouldn't really be talking anymore, and clamp his mouth shut.

But then he frowned, watching Gabe standing next to Skulduggery further down the corridor, and wondered. Why was he being so self-conscious? After the week he'd had? Fletcher remembered the exhilaration that possessed him while whole buildings in Dublin turned red, the pure adrenaline rush and the thrill, and quickly shook his head. He was being stupid. "Gabe's awesome. He became a dinosaur once just because I asked if he'd ever done that before, and he let me ride him. Rafe helped me paint half of Dublin red this morning. He didn't just let me, he helped out, and we had a blast. I never knew angels could be so much fun."

Valkyrie, meanwhile, was grinning her head off. Teasing was so much more satisfying when you had help, and when you could actually see the target's facial expressions. Right now, Skulduggery's was at a crossroads between annoyance and... not embarrassment. It couldn't be embarrassment. Could it?

"It's a good thing you do know better then," Skulduggery replied before Valkyrie could say a word. "Making friends with Merlin, are we?"

"Yep." Valkyrie nodded, and smirked. "At least all I'm doing is making friends."

A slight hesitation before Skulduggery's next words was the only indication Valkyrie had that he understood, or was affected at all by the tease, but it was enough to send her thoughts into a cartwheel of glee all over again. "Really? I've taught you better than that. How much have you learned about Merlin?"

Now it was Valkyrie's turn to hesitate. "Uh..."

"As I thought. You've abandoned your basics. I'm disappointed, Valkyrie. You should be doing much more than simply 'making friends' at any given time, regardless of our current case. Am I to understand you've become my personal conscience? Do I have a curfew now?"

Valkyrie should probably have been offended, but all she could do was laugh. "That's as good as a confession, I hope you know."

"Does that mean you'll stop bothering us?"

"Never."

Skulduggery sighed. "How important was this important thing we needed to talk about, Gabe?"

[impudentsongbird]

"They can be, once you get past all the rumours," Merlin agreed softly and with a smile. He was still looking at the others to give the boy some privacy, but keeping a corner of his eye on Fletcher. Something in his chest tightened, just a little, at the vulnerability in the Teleporter's words, his tone; he wasn't even aware of how much he was revealing about himself.

"I've known Gabriel since I was seven years old," he said. "He saved my soul. You see, when angels fall, the nature and tenor of their magic changes. It becomes something darker. Something like necromancy--or rather, necromancy sounds and feels something like demons do." His smile took on a rueful, accepting cast. Not a bitter one, but ... melancholic, almost. "My father was a demon, but my mother had no magic at all. When I was born, all the power I had was tainted by what he had been. It was ... very difficult, almost impossible, to deny the nature of that magic."

He watched the trio at the door; watched Valkyrie laugh, Gabriel grin, Skulduggery look torn between embarrassment and fond irritation. His words didn't come at a remove, but they came at a distance--a distance of over a thousand years. "Mother had me baptised as soon as she realised just what my father was, of course, but it's only a beginning. Being good or evil is a choice, Fletcher. At that age, it felt as if Mother and her priest were simply trying to stop me from having fun. To them, I must have seemed terrifying; using magic at a whim, and often cruelly. It was Gabriel who made me realise there was even a choice to be had."

Gabriel, with his cover as a simple groomsman, with the way he sat and genuinely listened to a young boy's rants and raves, with the soft-spoken questions that seemed silly but appealed to Merlin's burgeoning sense of critical thinking. It had been Michael who trained Merlin in his magic, but it was Gabriel who had helped him choose the path he wanted to follow.

Tearing his eyes from the others down the hallway, Merlin turned suddenly to Fletcher, and now his smile was of soft fondness. "Did you know he was the first angel to truly choose free will? And it was for love that time too. For the love of my grandson, and for the love of his Lord. It never seems to matter how big or small a person thinks they are; once his, Gabriel does not forget them."

Clapping a hand to the boy's shoulder and giving him a light squeeze, Merlin turned to stroll toward the others just as Gabriel was saying almost apologetically, "It was fairly important, Skulduggery."

"You're having a Talk, are you?" Merlin asked drolly, lifting a sardonic eyebrow. "An important one?" He turned to Valkyrie. "Did I ever tell you that I got the Talk from an angel? I actually asked Gabriel, but he refused."

"You make it sound like I was embarrassed!" Gabriel protested.

"You told me to ask Michael," Merlin pointed out, and his eyebrow tweaked higher.

"Michael's a woodsman and a healer," Gabe countered. "He knows more about anatomy."

"You're the patron saint of childbirth, Gabe. If there was anyone who'd know how the process went, I'd think it would be you." Eyes twinkling madly, Merlin glanced back at Valkyrie. "I was fourteen and convinced that if it embarrassed an angel, it must be worth knowing."

"I wasn't embarrassed," Gabriel grumbled, "I just wasn't sure if it was something I should have been telling you."

"Are you certain it's something you should be telling Skulduggery?" Merlin asked innocently. "Perhaps Raphael should perform that honour."

Gabe's cheeks started going pink, but he lifted his chin a little. "Need I remind you, Myrddin, that the reason you were asking to begin with was because you were convinced you were in love with a young lady from the court?"

"As I said, I was fourteen," Merlin pointed out. "Teenagers are allowed to be stupid. It's expected."

"Yes, but it was also your first love. I think it's only fair that I get to tease you about yours if you tease me about mine." The Archangel crossed his arms. "And if that doesn't work, please do recall I've known you for over a millennia. That's a lot of embarrassing stories to tell."

"Blackmail, Saint Gabriel?" Merlin asked, his lips twitching. "Twice in one day? I think Skulduggery is a bad influence on you. I think we may have to have you separated."

Gabe's eyes widened and he flushed deeply, and for several moments he spluttered, "That wasn't--I don't--" Finally he started laughing. "You're awful!"

"Fathered by a demon," Merlin said, deadpan and with utmost dignity, and then finally let the grin break through with a deep chuckle.

[skeletonenigma]

And that, Valkyrie decided, was about as close to either Skulduggery or Gabe admitting feelings for each other as she was going to get. It wasn't even an admittance, really, but a heavy implication on the Archangel's part. First love. Her grin, if it was possible, grew even wider.

"And how was your day?" she pictured her mother asking.

"Oh, I watched Merlin accuse an Archangel of being embarrassed about sex. Because he was teasing said Archangel about a relationship with a living skeleton who doesn't look like a skeleton anymore. Because they actually do love each other, the non-skeleton just won't admit it. You know. The usual."

Skulduggery's face was carefully blank, and his head tilted thoughtfully to the side. "I have never taught Gabe how to blackmail anyone. I'm not fourteen. Raphael is the last person I'd like hearing any of this. And you." Skulduggery turned his whole head towards Gabe, which was probably a leftover habit from when no one could see where his eyes were pointing. "If this all-important and urgent thing is in any way related to that Talk, I know a certain carnival we'd all be much more interested in attending."

Valkyrie begged to differ, but she kept her mouth shut this time. She knew what Gabe probably wanted to talk to Skulduggery about. She'd kind of been hoping she could be there for that conversation, but given what Skulduggery's reaction might be? She was okay with letting an angel handle that one. "Hey, Fletcher. Want to go to a carnival?"

Fletcher crossed his arms. "No. For the first proper date, the guy asks the girl out."

"What?"

"It's the rules. I know that much. The guy has to make the first move. You don't get to decide where we're going."

"Seriously?" Valkyrie rolled her eyes. "Outdated notions of chivalry aside, ask me already."

"Want to go to a carnival?"

"See, how was that any different?"

"It just was." Fletcher grinned and offered Valkyrie his hand. "May I have the pleasure of this dance, m'lady?"

Valkyrie pursed her lips. "I've changed my mind. I could get used to this."

[impudentsongbird]

"I never said you taught him," Merlin noted blandly. "Only that you were influencing him. I can't imagine who else it might have been. I'm certainly not irresponsible enough to teach angels bad habits."

"So it wasn't you who helped Raphael and I get Michael drunk last festival day in the Garden Coast, then?" Gabe asked innocently, and Merlin coughed.

"Certainly not." He grinned. "But I happen to know where the pictures are, in the event anyone is interested. In the meantime, Valkyrie, Fletcher, I think I should chaperone you on this outing of yours. From a distance, of course. Perhaps the other side of the carnival. It has been a while since I went to one."

The last was said rather wistfully, but with a twinkle in the Ancient's eyes, and a moment later all three of them were gone.

Still red, still half laughing at himself and Merlin and the whole situation, Gabriel turned to Skulduggery. And sobered rather quickly. "We should talk somewhere Kenspeckle won't overhear. That room over there should do."

It wasn't as if Gabriel wouldn't sense anyone coming close, after all; the main issue was making sure they weren't within earshot.

[skeletonenigma]

Skulduggery wondered if Gabe had any idea how well that spoken thought segued from what they were just discussing. Or any idea just how deep Valkyrie's teasing would go if she were still around to hear that last bit. Probably not. Neither did Skulduggery, but that was more willful ignorance than naivete.

The room Gabe had indicated was a recovery room. Very identical to the ones Kenspeckle put Valkyrie in, but with only one bed. And it sat far more isolated from the places Kenspeckle would normally be working than the Professor usually liked his patients to be. As such, it didn't look like it had been used in a while; and yet interestingly enough, the place was spotless. Clarabelle's doing? Kenspeckle had to be putting up with her for a reason. Maybe she was extraordinarily good at cleaning.

And speaking of Kenspeckle, there were very few things Gabe could want to talk about that Kenspeckle didn't already know.

Skulduggery turned in the middle of the room, quite suddenly missing his hat. "What is it?"

[impudentsongbird]

Quietly Gabe closed the door behind them and then moved to the centre of the room himself. His gaze was steady, but he bit his lip in that way he'd developed at the Institute, when something was happening that he didn't like and he was trying to figure out how to approach it to make the best possible outcome happen.

Part of him wished he could draw up a hat, the sudden desire for it ringing loud in Skulduggery's soul, but that was a superfluous use of magic he wouldn't have been able to justify to the detective.

"Remember when you asked me why you didn't die properly?" he said softly, not really a question so much as a lead-in. His gaze was steady in Skul's face, near enough that the Archangel could reach out to touch the detective if he needed to. "I know why, now. It was Tenebrae, Skul."

He went on, watching Skulduggery's face carefully, his voice soft and slow enough that he could stop at any moment if he needed to. "He knew you were an ambidextrous sorcerer because he saw you in a skirmish before you died--when you accidentally picked up his knife without realising, and used necromancy, and it didn't kill you. When Serpine went to the Temple to learn the Hand spell, Tenebrae taught it to him. But he was afraid Serpine might use it against you, so ... he left a loophole in the teaching. So that it wouldn't kill you, if Serpine used it. So Tenebrae could still have his Death Bringer in the end."

[skeletonenigma]

"Tenebrae."

Skulduggery's voice rang hollow in his own ears, but that was almost a conscious choice. It wasn't an echo of anything, and it certainly wasn't a reflection of how he felt. It was a concerted effort at keeping all of his feelings out of his voice, and it actually turned out rather well. Too well, in fact.

There was nothing quite like searching for a divine hand most of your life, impossibly discovering that one existed, and then finding out it had nothing to do with your resurrection.

That instead, it was a Necromancer.

A Necromancer with nothing but selfish goals in mind.

Skulduggery remembered the day Gabe was talking about, too. Tracking a raiding party across the mountains, some of the only surviving Necromancers in tow, Tenebrae among them. Back then, the Necromancer was only a lowly acolyte, and Skulduggery had saved his life from an unfortunate-looking man with bad teeth named Jeremy. He didn't particularly remember how. He'd never given the episode any thought beyond belated surprise the necromancy in the knife hadn't killed him.

So he'd always had an aptitude for it. This wasn't just something gained from being resurrected. This was Skulduggery's own doing from the very beginning. The Necromantic magic, Vile, everything. And, just as Skulduggery had always suspected, none of it was for a reason.

There was something almost relieving about not having to hide any of those feelings - not even being capable of hiding them - or having to put them into words. Almost relieving, but not quite. The knowledge still sat heavily in Skulduggery's mind, burning dimly where even Gabe's presence couldn't seem to reach it. It wasn't that thought which suddenly startled Skulduggery into a smile; it was what that thought helped him remember. "This is what you blackmailed Tenebrae with?"

[impudentsongbird]

Gabriel watched Skulduggery carefully, but when the darkness swirled abruptly into amusement the Archangel couldn't help but laugh. There was something chagrined in the laugh, something relieved too, but it was also amused. "Actually, yes. Well, that and his fear of you. He already knew you'd been Vile. I just pointed out that he didn't want to give you reason to come to the Temple to rescue Sol yourself. And that the other Temples wouldn't be happy to find out he couldn't control you. I didn't even need to use my knowledge of the Passage."

The Archangel caught his breath, sort-of, and looked again at the way the shadow in that stained-glass was scrubbed off by humour. He marvelled at it, a smile on the corner of his mouth. His eyes were soft, fond, as Gabe took a step closer and put a hand on Skulduggery's chest. Not like before--at the Church of the Faceless Ones. It was a touch, yes, but a firming touch more than a brush of the soul. Something to ground Skul, reassure him, same as the wing around his shoulders.

"I'm sorry this isn't the answer for which you were hoping," Gabe said softly but earnestly. "But I can tell you with certainty that my Lord's greatest delight comes in the goodness which springs from the broken. And so much goodness has sprung from you, Skulduggery. You helped win that war. You've saved many, many lives. It doesn't change what you did in the past, but what you experienced has made you great in the present. That's what gives your death meaning."

[skeletonenigma]

It wasn't a point Skulduggery could argue. Or wanted to argue, frankly. And for once, it wasn't because he couldn't think of a response, or didn't want to respond, or could only agree that yes, he was currently a pretty marvelous person.

It was because he agreed with all of it, and was grateful for the specification.

Skulduggery was still perfectly alert, as well, which meant the hand on his chest wasn't touching his soul at all. At least, not according to his limited knowledge of such things. For a given definition of 'limited,' anyway, since he had been waist-deep in an angel's soul only yesterday. And currently had an angel's memories. And already experienced an angel rummaging through his own soul for a name.

What that meant was his agreement and gratitude came solely from him. No angelic influence. No angelic manipulation. Just a grounding anchor.

Skulduggery nodded once, a final confirmation of Gabe's words, and struggled up past the burn in his illusory gut now linked to Tenebrae and that whole Temple. "I have to say, I think my crowning achievement might just be influencing an Archangel to blackmail. You're a natural. Taking Solomon back without a fight, and without losing the ace up our sleeves? My work here is done."

[impudentsongbird]

If he was honest, Gabriel had conflicting feelings about that statement. His first reaction was a bright, beaming smile at the pride in Skulduggery's voice and soul, but it faltered a moment later as he realised what it meant. Him, a natural. At blackmailing. For an angel, that had implications Gabe didn't particularly want to think about.

But Skulduggery was also right. He'd rescued Solomon without violence, and without even revealing anything Tenebrae didn't already know--except that Gabe knew some things Tenebrae didn't expect him to. And Skulduggery was proud. Gabe chose to feel happy about that. Especially because of the way it made the detective's soul feel like a warm sunbeam through the glass panes. So the Archangel's smile came back a moment later.

"That sounds like a confession to me. I think I should warn Merlin after all." Then he laughed, just because he could and Skulduggery was handling this so well, and the detective wasn't the only one who was proud. Without stopping to think, or even really wanting to stop and think, the Archangel took a step forward to pull Skulduggery into a tight hug.


Several miles away, further underground, Corrival waited just long enough for a certain functionary to leave the office before putting his head down with a thud and reaching for his phone. Without looking he speed-dialled Erskine, brought it to his ear and said, rather muffled, "We're doomed. I just had an English lackey come to tell me that the rest of the world is demanding we elect a government as soon as possible, and if I'm being nominated, boy, you can be sure I'm dragging you along with me. Five o'clock, tomorrow afternoon, the usual place."

Then he let his phone drop without actively ending the call and told the desk in front of his face, "I need a drink."

[skeletonenigma]

The hug came as a surprise.

It wasn't entirely unwelcome, though.

After a moment of stunned immobility, Skulduggery decided to stop over-thinking things when it came to simple hugs, and returned it.

They'd both earned the comfort, after all. The level of pride in the room was quickly reaching dangerous levels, and Skulduggery instinctively knew it wasn't all his. Whatever their souls did back at the safehouse, he hadn't needed to ask to know that there would be permanent effects. Of course, he asked anyway. "Is half of that you?"

The air shifted on the other side of the door, warning Skulduggery a little too late that someone was about to open it. "Hello?" Erskine called as the door was shoved open wide. "Anyone in here? Corrival just called, and - "

In the split second of silence Skulduggery knew he would have, he tried to figure out what the best course of action would be. The answer he arrived at was absolutely nothing. There was absolutely nothing he or Gabe could do or say to stop Erskine from at the very least commenting on this, and more likely relentlessly teasing.

So Skulduggery stepped away, unhurriedly and unconcerned, and turned to face Erskine. "What does Corrival need?"

Erskine stood blinking in the open doorway, and then abruptly grinned. "I can come back in a few minutes."

Skulduggery inwardly groaned, but he kept his face perfectly level. "That really won't be necessary."

"Are you sure? You might want to be careful about what potential Elders walk in on, you know."

Skulduggery took the new information in stride, and aimed Erskine's grin right back at him without missing a beat. "The day there's anyone who could replace me as Prime Detective is the day any Sanctuary Elders would get to successfully intimidate me."

"I don't know, Skulduggery. Gabe's pretty good at this. What do you say, Gabe? Decent pay, horrific hours. Not that it would matter."

[impudentsongbird]

"Maybe," Gabe acknowledged with a laugh, resting his cheek for a moment on Skulduggery's shoulder. Dangerous the levels of pride might have been, but they were each pride in another. That made it a lot more acceptable and easier to bask in. And he was basking, he would easily admit. It felt good.

Which was why he didn't sense Erskine's soul until the man was already at the door and opening it. The Archangel pulled away as well, but with surprise that he hadn't sensed Erskine coming more than out of embarrassment or chagrin. There was nothing wrong with a hug. And it had been a nice hug.

Then Erskine started teasing and Gabe's cheeks went a bit pink, even as he grinned in response as well. "Who, me? Sorry, Erskine, but then I'd have people looking at me all the time. I can't have ... anyone ... getting jealous. That would just be cruel."

[skeletonenigma]

"I thought Skulduggery was showing you how to be cruel," Erskine mused. "You mean to tell me he isn't slowly corrupting you? What sort of a relationship is this?"

"The sort we're not answering questions about," Skulduggery told him.

"Why not? I'm sure people like the Pope would love to know." Erskine smirked. "That's prime blackmail material, actually. You two could change the face of the world if you slip up. Does Valkyrie know?"

Unlike Gabe and Merlin, Skulduggery had no idea who or what Erskine's first love was. Or at least, he didn't know enough details to be able to use it in any fashion. He did, however, know about some of Erskine's more questionable conquests, from tales told around the campfire at night. And if Erskine wasn't very careful, Skulduggery would start using those.

When a roll of his eyes was Skulduggery's only reply, Erskine hesitated before sighing dramatically. "Ah, well. I might just be your superior, soon enough. I could always order details."

Skulduggery shot him a smile, and reveled in the fact that he could now actually shoot smiles at people, rather than bullets. "Are you sure you'd want them?"

That, predictably, stopped Erskine in his tracks. He stared blankly for a moment, then struggled to form words. "You're not actually - you're not really - are you? No. No, you're not. You can't be. For God's sake - "

And Erskine froze again, leaving Skulduggery to chuckle quietly while he tried to regain some semblance of composure.

"Right. Yes. Well, Corrival just called, and we're electing a government tomorrow afternoon at 5. Usual place. Naturally, you're both expected to be there, as official agents of the Sanctuary, and I will try very hard not to, uh... take the Lord's name in vain again."

[impudentsongbird]

It didn't just stop Erskine in his tracks. Gabriel went red and choked slightly on words that didn't quite want to come out. It was Erskine's sudden concern over using his Lord's name that finally enabled the Archangel to break the cycle with a sudden laugh.

"Only if you don't want Him to overhear you. Skulduggery had a bit of trouble with that too, but really, if you call His name, why wouldn't He look to see who's calling and why?" Gabe grinned at Skulduggery, but really, it was only logical. When Gabe's name was called, he fielded the prayers, even when he couldn't or shouldn't answer them. Which he had done for a number of them, the ones he could and were most urgent, in the couple of days before Marr attacked the Sanctuary.

His Master certainly didn't leave prayers lapse. He listened. It was just that most people had stopped thinking of His name as a calling-card.

Gabriel sobered a moment later. "I'll have to decline that request, though. Me and Rafe, and Merlin too. This isn't our world. Your world has to be defined by you, not by us. I realise the the Observer Effect is in play here and the line's hard to draw, but deciding your government is something we really shouldn't be involved in. And we're not," he added finally onto the end of the last, changing subjects on a dime. His cheeks reddened a little further before he lifted his chin and gave Skul a dazzling smile. "Skulduggery, you're very pretty, but I'm just not interested in you that way."

[skeletonenigma]

"That," Skulduggery answered, "might just be the first real thing we have in common. Apart from a mutual dislike of Landel."

Erskine hid a quick sigh of relief. Not that he'd doubted himself at any moment whatsoever during the conversation, but hearing it confirmed was still very much appreciated. It meant he could go back to teasing. As often and as loudly as the Dead Men had teased each other during the war about being in various and sundry relationships with one another, the teasing had been good-natured because it simply wasn't true. Erskine liked it that way.

"What," he couldn't help asking, "that neither of you are interested, or that you both think Skulduggery's pretty?"

Skulduggery shrugged. "Both. Neither. Whatever makes you happy, Erskine."

That. That exactly. Good-natured teasing. Perfect. Erskine laughed and shook his head as he took a step backwards out of the room. "Wouldn't want to encroach on an angel's territory, thank you very much. Tell Valkyrie she's invited too, if she's interested. I'd say she'll meet interesting people, but..." Erskine gestured in Gabe's general direction. "Rather hard to top Merlin, don't you think?"

And with one last grin, he left them to it.

[peacefullywreathed]

The last day-and-a-half had been, Solomon reflected, extremely interesting. In one fashion. Extremely traumatising, in another. When he'd woken up that morning, after a good fifteen hours' sleep, it had been because his exhaustion had worn off enough for him to start to have nightmares. They weren't of the torture, precisely, though there had been overtones of pain.

They'd been of his memories.

He remembered knowing they were nightmares, but not being able to stop them. Then he'd felt a warmth, a peace, a whisper of a deep voice he later recognised as Saint Raphael's, and the nightmares had faded. Soothing as the Archangel's touch had been, the stun of the nightmare had been enough to make Solomon's body decide enough sleep was enough. His injuries were healed, the ones that could be; the stigmata had faded to years-old scars Saint Rapahel assured him would only become active under certain circumstances Solomon could well imagine. His Sight ... it was strange. It was at once better and worse than before. Better, because the clarity no longer made his head ache. Worse, because now he could see things for which he was in no way prepared, and the clarity induced a different sort of headache. At least now he could actually stave it off, somewhat, by closing his eyes.

Soon after his waking he'd discovered that, apparently, a Grand Mage was being elected. Quickly, this time. It was almost amazing. He'd also discovered that he was expected to be there, and Skulduggery had commissioned an emergency suit from Bespoke for him, because obviously he couldn't look anything other than his best. Kenspeckle had given a token objection, but his eyes, the worst of his injuries, were in as good condition as they were going to be. (The good professor had still given him a bottle of some sort of holy-water and pain-killer combination that was meant to help with the metaphysical headache.)

The morning and early afternoon had passed in a flurry of activity such that Solomon hadn't been able to dwell on anything. Not the previous day. Not the fact that Saint Raphael wasn't a dream. Not that the teddy-bear still in his hand when he awoke was very much real. He considered it something of a blessing, because the serenity he remembered feeling had gone the way of his exhaustion, and now he knew that if he stopped to dwell on things too long he would panic.

Solomon wasn't sure why. He'd already done the hard part. But he would panic. So, while Solomon knew that sooner or later he'd have to slow down and examine things, and truly let his new life sink in, for the moment, he didn't. (Part of him felt that was probably deliberate. He tended to adjust better to things on the fly--the things he couldn't change, the things to which he could only react. They were forcing him to do nothing but react, now, and in the end, he knew he would be able to accept.)

So when Saints Raphael and Gabriel forced him to stand up and walk, or be driven as the case may be, to Bespoke's shop, he hadn't resisted. When Bespoke had given him a suit into which to change, Solomon had done so alone. (It wasn't completely black. The shirt was blue, apparently.) When Skulduggery then drove them all to the Great Chamber, Solomon quietly accepted Valkyrie's presence at the door as soon as it was open.

His feet already on the pavement, Solomon looked at her, at her soul--stared past her face, in reality--and his lips quirked at the gingerness of her touch in his elbow. "I'm not made of glass, Valkyrie."

He felt for the door, aware of how awkward it must look, and found the top edge of it. Between that and Valkyrie's guiding hand, her presence nearby telling him vaguely where were the limits of the soulless objects, he managed to find his way out of the car. No, he wasn't made of glass. But he was battered, and apparently Corrival Deuce felt that a single morning was enough for him to adjust.

Solomon found he didn't actually mind. Better this than being left to wallow alone in the Hibernian--again.

[skeletonenigma]

Valkyrie felt a stab of self-consciousness that she angrily resisted. "You're blind," she pointed out, as if Solomon hadn't already known that. "Plus, you had magic holes ripped pretty much everywhere. It doesn't really matter how sentimental they are, they still hurt you. I'm just trying to be gentle."

"You'll have a cane soon enough, Solomon," Skulduggery said from the other side of the car. "In the meantime, you can consider kind gestures justly earned, whether you want them or not."

He was back to being a skeleton again. For 'professional reasons,' he'd explained. Apparently, walking into a room full of sorcerers who were old enough to recognise his human face would pose a bit of a problem. Valkyrie felt oddly ambiguous about it. On the one hand, his skull was very much preferable. It was how she was used to dealing with Skulduggery, what he looked like in most of her fondest memories, and honestly, just plain cool. But on the other hand, it really wouldn't have taken her long to adjust, and she kind of loved the twinkle in his eyes when he smiled. And his face, in general. It was a very handsome face.

In the end, Valkyrie decided, she liked the skeleton better. Because while the illusion gave Skulduggery a face, it also gave him a muscular stature. A very obviously muscular stature. And that was highly unnerving.

Gabe wasn't with them this time, having decided angels couldn't interfere in the important events. Valkyrie nearly laughed when she heard that, but who was she to object? Ghastly, however, did come along, after hearing about everything he missed out on because of his shop. And Tanith. Especially Tanith.

Tanith elected to stay behind along with the angels, although she sent with them her best wishes of electing a Grand Mage whom they could all trust.

Valkyrie had to admit, though, she wasn't really looking forward to this meeting. It was going to be boring, she just knew it. Oh, she was looking forward to seeing Erskine Ravel again, because he was the kind of man you never disliked the company of. And she was anticipating the end result, obviously. But beyond that, Valkyrie couldn't really bring herself to be interested. The carnival the day before with Fletcher had been about a million times more fun. Even spending the night with her parents was undoubtedly more of a thrill-a-minute than this meeting could ever be.

But Skulduggery insisted she come. 'Mandatory ongoing training.' Valkyrie was getting sick of that phrase. It only ever came before being forced to do something she really didn't want to do.

When Solomon was safely out of the car - the car which, apparently, didn't have a soul as Skulduggery was worried about, but did have an... imprint, whatever that was - Valkyrie glanced up at the alley Skulduggery had parked in front of.

It was a narrow alley. There were a couple of trash dumpsters outside it. Nothing inside, as far as Valkyrie could tell. "This is the Grand Chamber?" she asked dubiously.

"The Sanctuary's in a Waxworks Museum," Ghastly reminded her. "Neighbourhoods sorcerers live in tend to be squalid places."

"I know, I know," Valkyrie muttered. "Magic and all that. I get it. Is this also underground?"

"In a way."

"What kind of way?"

Ghastly hesitated. "An underground kind of way."

"Like the Gaol? And the Sanctuary? Is everything underground? Can't we ever walk into a building that's just a building with some boring company name on it? It doesn't take a whole lot to make people lose interest in something, you know."

"If you're any indication," said Skulduggery, "sometimes I wonder why we ever worry."

[peacefullywreathed]

"It wasn't a criticism, believe me." What could he say? He wasn't all that good at the reassurances. So Solomon said nothing as Valkyrie helped him out of the car, but he felt very extremely vulnerable having only one person to lean on to find his way. Every dip and rise and pebble in the ground underfoot seemed to be huge, and it took a great deal off effort not to shuffle along like a ... well, like a blind man, though Solomon had never seen a blind man who did shuffle simply because they had all the tools they needed to not shuffle.

The sorcerer reigned his thoughts in, lightened his grip on Valkyrie's shoulder, and smiled blandly. "I've always suspected it's the Elemental influence," he said. "The one element they've never quite managed to tame is that of earth. Obviously, it's a sign of their compensation issues."

The smile became more business-like. "More seriously, most of the sorcerers' important places were built centuries ago. Skyscrapers were a mortal impossibility back then, and would have drawn far too much attention. Our buildings are underground simply because mortal architecture wasn't advanced enough for us to put them anywhere else and still have them hidden. Entrances shift and doorways change over the years, but their locations stay the same."

As he spoke, they moved down the alley, and Solomon felt the drag on his arm just before they paused. There was a faint grind of iron, something he knew he wouldn't have heard two days ago and which he assumed was the door, and then Valkyrie tugged him around. If he recalled, there were steps here ... yes. Gingerly Solomon felt for the wall, and then slid his foot forward for the first.

He glanced down automatically, saw the way Valkyrie's soul washed across the floor at her feet, and exhaled slowly. The lifestream caught on living things, but souls touched magic. And there was magic in this place. A lot of it. It was enough to give him some sense of its dimensions, even though he wouldn't be able to see any debris in his path. Something as steep as a stairwell was discernible, at least.

It still took far too long a time to get down into the corridor, and when Solomon automatically placed his hand on the inside wall to steady himself from the descent, the feel of the carvings made him freeze.

He'd forgotten. Or not forgotten, exactly, but it hadn't been in the forefront of his mind when he knew where he was going that there was a magical history carved on these walls. It was hidden and ridiculously ostentatious in the way most magical things were, but Solomon had always approved of them being there. The past ought to be remembered.

It was just that he couldn't remember the details. And now he never would. Because it struck him, at that moment, that he would never be able to see them again. Not unless he asked Saint Raphael to heal his sight properly, and he couldn't do that. Not after what he'd said, the pride they'd all shown in him. The idea of disappointing the Archangels and their Master filled him with a deep, abiding dread. He couldn't ask for that.

So he'd never see the carvings again. He'd never see anything ever again.

And even though it had been his choice, in that moment it struck him as it hadn't throughout the day just what that meant, and he had to stop, head lowered and throat working, to gain control of that sudden, sharp stab of loss.

[skeletonenigma]

"I think I should take offense about compensation issues," Ghastly murmured as they approached the iron door in the alleyway. "Earth saved my life. I'm feeling rather grateful for it at the moment."

Skulduggery nodded. "We've never mastered Earth because most Elementals don't bother to learn. When you have months of nothing to do and nothing to look forward to, you start experimenting."

"Experimenting?" Valkyrie glanced over. "Experimenting with what?"

"Earth."

He didn't say anything else while they took the steps slowly down underground, but he didn't have to. Valkyrie knew what he meant. Skulduggery was talking about his year with the Faceless Ones. He'd tried to use the earth power to turn himself to stone. It made sense - pass the torture in the blink of an eye without any pain whatsoever. Only it wouldn't have worked, because the Faceless Ones were probably more than capable of speeding up that time. Or ceasing the ability altogether. Or even making him aware of the time and hurting him regardless.

Skulduggery probably tried multiple times before giving up.

But since no other Elemental had the luxury of time or ability to practice, Skulduggery currently had way more experience than any other Elemental alive. Which implied that he'd taught himself a new trick.

Valkyrie waited until they were all at the bottom of the stairs, and Solomon wasn't in any more danger of falling, before she turned back to Skulduggery. "You mean you can manipulate Earth now?"

"To an extent. Nothing grand. If I'd had a little more time," he added with what sounded remarkably like wistfulness but couldn't be, "I might have learned how to fly. Alas, I don't get vacation time without a torture package."

Valkyrie stared. "You want Gabe to have waited a month?"

"Good God, no. I'm just saying extra time would have been useful." Skulduggery's head tilted. "Are you alright, Solomon?"

For the first time since they stopped at the beginning of the hallway carvings, Valkyrie realised Solomon hadn't moved. His head was down, hand still on the wall for balance, and she nervously stepped closer to him.

[peacefullywreathed]

He would not weep. He would not. He wouldn't, but his mind was still cartwheeling over everything he no longer had. He would never be able to see the stars. He had enjoyed the stars. He'd never see a sunrise, either. Or the ocean, ever again. He'd never--

Reading. He wouldn't be able to read. The written word was barred to him.

Despite his best efforts, Solomon's breathing grew slightly ragged, his fingers trembling. His name in Skulduggery's voice sank in, but it was Valkryie's close presence which made him flinch.

Enough.

Solomon counted to ten. Ten more seconds to let himself wallow in self-pity. Then he told himself sternly that he had been born into a world with oral traditions, and he could adjust to them again. That although he wouldn't see the stars, he could feel the sun. That he could listen to the waves on the shore.

Most of all, that of all the things he would no longer see, he could now see things no one else on this Earth could imagine.

"I'm alright." His voice was quiet and only the faintest bit unsteady. His eyes burned and his throat was still tight, but he had kept the tears properly at bay. Another slow inhale, held, then exhaled, and Solomon lifted his head with a smile. It was a slightly twisted smile, twisted with all the things he was containing and with nostalgia.

"Do you remember when you first brought me here, Skulduggery? It was for my sixteenth birthday, if I recall. I asked a great many questions, and you answered each and every one of them. I believed every word you said, of course, but most of them were completely made-up, because you'd only been here once before yourself. Do you remember that?"

[skeletonenigma]

Skulduggery hesitated before answering, for a variety of reasons - none of which included not remembering that day.

He'd been wondering when this would hit, actually. The only emotion on Solomon's face before the surgery yesterday was relief, and that was what kept Skulduggery sated throughout, even as he knew that said relief wasn't going to last. It was a lot like what Skulduggery had felt, when he first pulled himself out of the river. Relief at an end to the pain. Relief, exhaustion, happy just to have survived. But relief was always short-lived; it tended to disappear in the face of the aftermath.

Skulduggery first realised it for himself when someone brewed some tea, and he'd instinctively tried to drink a mug of it. It seemed Solomon was going through his now. What triggered it, Skulduggery had no idea, but he knew what the slight tremor in Solomon's voice meant.

And he knew Solomon would need a distraction. Something beyond nostalgia.

"I remember," he nodded. "I remember bringing you here, certainly. But I don't remember making anything up. I don't think I told you a single inaccuracy that entire day. In fact, I'm fairly sure that honesty was your birthday present."