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

[impudentsongbird]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

Comments

[impudentsongbird]

It was a bombardment of questions and Gabriel wasn't entirely sure which to answer first. In the end he smiled wryly at Valkyrie. "Magic comes out in different ways," he explained to her. "As the bloodlines became more diluted, the more specific their individual talents became. I know some who can turn into birds; obviously, they can fly. I know others who can turn into seals. They can swim like no other. Others who talk to plants. Others who are empathic. Still others who can heal with a touch. But magic came from angels to begin with, so in that sense, yes, you could say we are related."

He glanced sidelong at Skulduggery and added, "I wasn't expecting it, as I said. But I'd know that sound anywhere. There's no mistaking it."

Even without finishing, Ghastly's question was obvious, and Gabriel turned toward the front, nodding once, slowly. He tried to smile and it came out tight. "Lucifer's been a regular pain in all our necks. Technically speaking, anyone of the blood is related to him too. Demons were all angels, once." He faltered a little, picked up, went on. Being demonic ... there was a difference.

"Lucifer wasn't happy with the Ancients. He betrayed our Master and all of us, but those who became Ancients betrayed him in turn. That's why he tried so hard to make sure no one would trust them. To subvert and damn as many of their descendants as he could, using wile and power. Even ..." He looked to the mirror and caught Skulduggery's eye, and there was nothing but seriousness on his face, a specific sort of seriousness the Archangel knew Skulduggery would understand. "Even some forms of magic."

[skeletonenigma]

If there was any doubt still left in Skulduggery's mind over the path that Valkyrie had inexplicably chosen, Gabe wiped it. The Archangel had talked about Lucifer before, claimed that his brother - or a version of his brother - was responsible for everything happening at Landel's. It had been hard to put stock in the story at the time, but now? For some reason, it was easier to believe that a version of Satan might exist here than it was to believe Archangels and God were watching over them. And judging by the way Gabriel caught Skulduggery's gaze in the mirror, he knew about Valkyrie, and he agreed that it was all levels of wrong.

But Skulduggery wouldn't bring it up now. Everyone in the van probably knew, but this was a conversation he, Valkyrie, and possibly Gabriel needed to have alone. Besides, with the look Tanith and Valkyrie were exchanging, it seemed like the concept of Lucifer existing hadn't even crossed their minds. Not that Skulduggery could blame them, when he was still having a difficult time accepting it himself.

The van had grown uncomfortably quiet by the time the Hibernian cinema came into view, so Skulduggery expertly parked and twisted around in his seat. "Cheer up, everyone. Just think. In a few minutes, you're going to see something very few people ever do."

"And that would be...?" Valkyrie asked, just as eager to get her mind off the subject of fallen angels as she had been a few minutes ago to hear that she was, however far removed, related to them.

"What Professor Grouse does when he doesn't have an iota of experience," Skulduggery answered cheerfully, "and not the first clue how to start. Come on."

[impudentsongbird]

Kenspeckle Grouse was not a man predisposed to showing affection. Not usually, at any rate. Oh, he was fond of Valkyrie, and yes, he'd told her so. And yet it didn't seem to make one whit of difference over her safety. It wasn't as if she had to get hurt to come visit him.

Valkyrie hadn't been very easily-seen this past year, for obvious reasons. It would have been a lie for Kenspeckle to say he was sorry Skulduggery Pleasant was no longer an influence on the girl's life; in fact, she had hardly been injured at all ever since the skeleton detective had been pulled through the portal by the Faceless Ones. As far as Kenspeckle was concerned, that was only an improvement. True, the doctor didn't see her as often, but if seeing her meant she was going to be in mortal danger every time he did, well, it was a sacrifice he was willing to make.

So to hear her voice, and actually have her sound somewhat happier than she had lately--well, he'd been pleased. He'd been less than pleased to hear that someone, once again, needed his considerable assistance. After they'd hung up the doctor let Valkyrie's voice go round and round in his head, analysing her tone before finally deciding that, on this occasion, it probably wasn't her and she wasn't just trying to pretend otherwise.

That didn't mean he stopped being annoyed. Of course not. It just meant the annoyance was balanced with intrigue. Valkyrie hadn't mentioned names, so it was someone Kenspeckle didn't know; if it had been Bespoke or Low, or Renn, she would surely have said so. As she hadn't, obviously it was someone to be secretive over.

"Probably another stray they want me to hide and protect," he complained as he stripped off his gloves and dumped them in the bin, scowling fiercely around the empty room. "This is a research lab, not a safehouse! Clarabelle! Where is that girl?"

Muttering to himself, Kenspeckle checked his watch and then strode out of the room down the hallway. It was about time for Valkyrie and her friends to arrive. Probably they'd run into some trouble or other while on that fool's mission to save Pleasant. That was likely who the patient was; an informant.

Despite himself Kenspeckle sighed. It was dangerous, this quest of Valkyrie's, but no matter what Kenspeckle had said, she had merely waited impassively for him to stop talking, thanked him, and then went on with her little errand. That girl--she just never listened.

Clarabelle sailed through the door before Kenspeckle could get there, humming, clad in a bright-orange hazmat suit and carrying a basin full of something piss-yellow. Kenspeckle didn't want to know whether is really was piss, or if it was apple juice. Or maybe something else. It was just better not to ask or touch. "Valkyrie and Father Pleasant are here, Professor," she said cheerfully, and tilted her head thoughtfully. "I didn't know the priesthood accepted skeletons."

Kenspeckle stared after her as she moved on. Either the thing in that pan had hallucinogenic properties, or something else did, or Valkyrie had succeeded and Skulduggery Pleasant was the patient. The comment about the priesthood, he decided after a moment, he would just have to ignore in the face of Pleasant's possible return. Stupid, stupid girl! What had she sacrificed to make that happen? The professor turned on his heel and hurried to the door, his expression falling easily into a scowl.

~~~

This was, Gabriel had to admit, a very good place to hide a laboratory. It was dark and dusty, but the Archangel still looked around with interest as Tanith and Ghastly helped him move through the cinema and explained how the secret entrance worked.

"You know, we could probably use something similar," he'd said thoughtfully just before moving out of the cinema and into the laboratory proper. Most of the time, those of the blood had their own communities, and it was for the better. But for those who couldn't or wouldn't leave the cities ... well, it was a possibility.

It hadn't taken long before they'd run into the girl wearing the hazmat suit and carrying a basin of something Gabriel couldn't identify from looks alone. She had taken one look at Skulduggery, congratulated him on his vows, and mused that at least his presence would be very encouraging for people to keep to the Commandments. And then she had ambled easily through another door.

Gabriel had made his own head throb wildly with laughing so hard, and needed to lean on Tanith and Ghastly just to stay upright. He was still chuckling when an older man burst through the door, glowering thunderously. His gaze fell on Valkyrie first, Skulduggery second, and then stayed there, the scowl evaporating to be replaced by still blankness.

"I had," he announced after a moment, "better be imagining Skulduggery Pleasant standing in my research centre wearing a cassock and a rosary, or I shall not be responsible for my reactions."

[skeletonenigma]

Well, it was good to know that someone found this whole situation so funny, although Valkyrie had to admit that she very much felt like laughing herself. She and Skulduggery both usually tried to ignore Clarabelle, but when the assistant implied that Skulduggery might have willingly chosen to become a priest - and especially when the Archangel in the room began laughing - Valkyrie could almost forget that she might be distantly related to Satan.

It was the first time she could remember Kenspeckle's scowl disappearing when he saw the detective. Usually, Skulduggery was the cause of that scowl. Valkyrie had to hold a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing, which Kenspeckle would certainly not have appreciated, and might have put him in even less of a mood to help.

Skulduggery hesitated, his head cocked to one side. He really did strike an amusing image, dressed as he was, and carrying his original skull. He'd placed his hat and scarf on the cranium for the time being, making it look like a sort of demented, creepy doll. "Would it help you to believe that you're imagining me?"

"It was a convenient disguise," Ghastly explained from his position next to Gabriel, when it became clear that Skulduggery wasn't going to. "We found him in a church, and we needed to get here without drawing attention to ourselves."

A convenient disguise, Valkyrie thought, and appropriate, too. Although one could argue that an extremely thin man in a priest's outfit wearing a hat and a scarf on top might have been more noticeable than just draping him in a cloak or something.

Slightly worried about how Kenspeckle would react, Valkyrie gave a little wave to drag his attention back to her. "Hi, Kenspeckle." She smiled sheepishly. "Sorry it's been so long."

[impudentsongbird]

"It would help you if I believed I was imagining you," Kenspeckle snapped. "Then I could save my voice and the ears you don't have." He shook his head. "Bespoke, I don't want to know why he was in a church. I don't want to know why he needed clothes so badly that he'd steal from a priest. I don't want to know why he believed a rosary was an necessary touch to a 'merely convenient' disguise. Really, Pleasant, you've sunk to new lows."

Valkyrie's distraction worked, although she might wish it hadn't. Kenspeskle pointed accusingly, although his tone did soften ... just a touch. "You and I are going to have a talk, girl. I always knew what you were planning, but to actually go through with it--! Safer for us all if you'd just left him there. And now you're expecting me to fix him up for you, I suppose."

"Actually, I'm the one responsible for that." The man who spoke then initially drew Kenspeckle's attention only because he actually sounded sick. His voice was hoarse, which was more than he could say for Pleasant's. Kenspeckle waved the skeleton impatiently aside so he could get through and actually see the man talking properly. What he found was a young man apparently so taken with a fit of amusement that he was actively leaning on Tanith Low and Bespoke. He grinned up at Kenspeckle, rueful but not in the least bit contrite.

"Responsible for what?" Kenspeckle demanded, frowning. The last thing he needed was another idiot like Fletcher Renn around. This one wasn't even wearing shoes of any kind!

Yet as he got closer Kenspeckle could see the obvious lines of pain around the man's eyes, the paleness of his copper skin, the faint tremble in his shoulders and back that came from exhaustion. The man was holding up well, but he certainly wasn't in top shape. And from the way Low and Bespoke's weight was shifted, it was fairly clear the man needed the support.

"For bringing Skul back," said the man, and he smiled a sweet kind of smile that Kenspeckle imagined could be used in a love potion if only someone could bottle it. The professor's scowl deepened to cover the impulse to smile back. Any friend of Skulduggery Pleasant was certainly not a friend of his. "It wasn't something I could simply neglect, but I'm afraid I was rather badly injured doing so."

"Of course you were," Kenspeckle snapped. "He was in a reality with a few dozen Faceless Ones! It's a miracle you're alive at all, let alone our universe didn't get overrun all over again." He threw up his hands. "Why my patients have to be so irresponsible is beyond me. Guild is after you all, I suppose? That's why you're here instead of somewhere else?"

[skeletonenigma]

Given the choice, Ghastly would have preferred a much less crotchety welcome-back-from-hell for Skulduggery than Kenspeckle and his obvious dislike for the man. Skulduggery didn't exactly have hobbies, or many friends, but they could have planned a Dead Men reunion. Erskine was usually nearby, and Anton was never more than twelve hours away. Dexter might even have come back to civilization when he heard what happened.

But, as was often the case with anything involving Skulduggery, there wasn't much choice.

Ghastly didn't miss Tanith's minor wince, either. The four of them had discussed how Skulduggery would feel about Valkyrie's foolhardy plan to rescue him by reopening the portal, and effectively placing the whole world in danger. They'd managed to avoid directly mentioning it so far - not that Skulduggery wouldn't have guessed - but Kenspeckle had no such qualms, and Ghastly glanced over at Skul to see him watching Valkyrie. Valkyrie was doing her best to stare at the floor and avoid catching his eye.

Ghastly was not looking forward to when she'd have to tell Skulduggery about the Necromancy. Or, come to think of it, anything she'd done over this past year.

After a long moment, Skulduggery dragged his gaze away from Valkyrie and answered Kenspeckle's question. "We're here, Professor Grouse, because we need your expertise. There is quite literally no one else in the world who could even come close to accomplishing what we have to ask of you." It wasn't bribery, or even flattery, exactly; Skulduggery was just stating a fact. "If you'll hear us out, I think you'll agree that hiding from Guild is the only responsible thing to do."

"And," Ghastly added to Skulduggery's request, eyeing Gabriel, "you might want to be careful about who you call irresponsible." As friendly as Gabriel had been up until that point, Ghastly knew the stories from the Bible. He wanted to be able to trust that Skulduggery knew what he was doing, but his friend's judgment had been wrong before.

[impudentsongbird]

"Anyone who risks an entire planet to rescue one man deserves to be called irresponsible," Kenspeckle shot back. "God save me from arrogant youngsters." Gabriel, to his credit, managed to keep a straight face as Kenspeckle sighed with resignation, but the Archangel's shoulders quivered. "Fine. Come on, then. I'll bill you later, Pleasant. Flattery's not a wage."

He gave the detective a Look. "But if one single Cleaver or Sanctuary agent turns up outside my door, you can all leave. This is a hospital, not a war-zone."

Ah. Any amusement that had been in Gabriel's expression morphed into sympathetic apology. The last thing he wanted was for more people to get in trouble on his behalf. "Skul, if we're putting the professor in danger, are you certain there's nowhere else to go? Even in another country, if distance is what's needed?"

"Oh, no you don't," Kenspeckle said, pointing at the Archangel. "Pleasant has promised me, not in so many words, a challenge. Those are my terms only. Bespoke, Low, bring him through; let's see what kind of damage you're bringing me this time."

Without waiting for any other response the professor turned on his heel and strode through the door, leading the way to the largest room. Gabriel gazed after him ruefully.

"He's rather opinionated, isn't he," he murmured, taking a ginger step forward to follow and glancing up at Skul. "And he doesn't seem to have a very high opinion of you either. Why is that?" Did he know about Skul's past? Possible, Gabriel supposed, if from a source other than Skulduggery himself.

[skeletonenigma]

Opinionated was a rather mild way of putting it. Inexplicably volatile were the words Skulduggery would have used, if he wasn't at least trying to stay on the Professor's good side. "I don't know," he answered Gabe truthfully. Kenspeckle had plenty of reasons to distrust him, of course, but as no one except Gabriel knew about those, Skulduggery was still at a loss most of the time. "He seems to have a different reason every time I visit."

Ghastly sighed. "Professor Grouse is a very peaceful man. Skulduggery was one of the leaders in the war against Mevolent. We were all forced to do things we regret, but Skulduggery just happens to be remembered for them."

Thank god, Skulduggery thought, that isn't entirely true.

"He thinks Skulduggery's a bad influence on me," Valkyrie pointed out quietly.

Fletcher, who had managed to remain unnoticed until this point, scoffed. "What, because he's all hit first and ask questions pretty much never? Sorry, but I have to agree with the Professor there."

"You did bring a whole army of Cleavers here once," Tanith reminded him as Valkyrie shot Fletcher a glare. "And the Diablerie."

Skulduggery nodded. "All valid points. Which is why we shouldn't stay here any longer than we have to. Good luck. I'll be through in a minute."

Valkyrie turned back, suddenly alarmed. "You're not coming? What are you doing?"

"Nothing dangerous, I promise. I'm just going to give China a call, and then..." He paused. "Well, then I'm going to switch out my head. So maybe a little dangerous, but I should be fine. Run along now. You won't want to miss this."

"You want us to tell Kenspeckle?" asked Tanith. "When you don't even know how he's going to react?"

"To be honest," Skulduggery told her as he started in the opposite direction, "he might take the whole thing with a tad more geniality if I'm not in the room."

Valkyrie shook her head. "What makes you think he'd even believe us?"

Skulduggery shrugged. "Have Gabe give a demonstration. Reveal his wings. Turn water into wine. Just stop him from smiting the whole building." It had been a joke, but after a moment's consideration, Skulduggery turned back around, concern weaved through his tone. "Gabe, don't overexert yourself. If he doesn't believe you, he doesn't believe you. We'll figure something else out."

And with that, Skulduggery left the room, free hand instinctively reaching into his pocket for his mobile before he remembered he didn't have one at the moment.

[impudentsongbird]

It was, Gabriel realised all at once, a very delicate argument he probably shouldn't be involved in. 'Hit first and ask questions later' was very far from the experience he'd had with the detective, though there had, granted, been extenuating circumstances.

The fact was that the Archangel suddenly found himself in a position where, due to the nature of his being, any condemnation or support ran the risk of being accepted as his Master's Word. And although Skulduggery's beliefs about himself as damned were erroneous, he wasn't a perfect person, and whether or not he was a bad influence on Valkyrie was far from a subject Gabriel had any right to judge on.

So the Archangel said nothing on the topic and only smiled a bit wearily. "Luckily, I rather doubt there's anything around here in need of a smiting, and he's going to need to see my wings anyway. Thank you, Skul."

Kenspeckle was waiting for them impatiently down the hall, bustling around the room to check his equipment. It was one of the larger rooms, because there were a lot of people; Gabriel noted with relief that it ought to be just big enough to hold him. "About time," he snapped when they entered. "Pleasant's gone off on business again, I see. Good." He pointed at one of the examination tables. "You. Whatever your name is. Sit and off with your shirt."

"Gabe," Gabriel said with a friendly smile, and Kenspeckle's eyes narrowed. Gabriel ignored the obvious suspicion and leaned on Tanith as she guided him to the table. "My name's Gabe. Thank you, Tanith."

[skeletonenigma]

And this, Ghastly decided as he looked around the large room, is going to be the interesting part.

As amusing as Skulduggery had found their individual reactions by the end, even the detective had to have been feeling some trepidation at first, and Ghastly was certainly feeling that now. When you combined it with Gabriel's frankly worrying comment about Kenspeckle needing to see his wings, you had yourself a nauseating mixture that Ghastly did his best to shove down as the Archangel introduced himself.

Ghastly still didn't fully accept that an Archangel was sitting on the examination table. He was willing to bet Tanith, Valkyrie, and Fletcher were having a hard time as well. How were they supposed to explain it to someone else?

"That's short for Gabriel," Ghastly explained, figuring he might as well start somewhere. "You'll find it a little difficult to diagnose him. He... doesn't come from this universe."

[impudentsongbird]

The first response Ghastly got as Kenspeckle helped Tanith seat Gabriel on the table was a flat look. "Really, Bespoke? I wouldn't have guessed that at all, given that Fletcher here is the last Teleporter in this reality and he, apparently, didn't get the chance to be an idiot."

He turned back to Gabe, his eyes narrowed. The way the boy was moving, there was definitely some kind of muscular damage--a significant amount, Kenspeckle would say. The man could hardly move. He might not even be able to take his shirt off without help. (There weren't any bloodstains, but that didn't mean much. Extensive bruising? Quite likely.) "Clarabelle--oh, blast that girl. Low, hand me those scissors. I don't suppose I'm right in saying you're going to have trouble undressing? Of course I am. Pleasant will be able to provide you with new clothes, I'm sure."

The last half was directed at the man sitting on the table, an expression of patient, amused curiosity on his face. Kenspeckle ignored it, pulling on a fresh pair of gloves. Someone this young hadn't earned the right to have that kind of expression. At least the curiosity was a good sign; showed there was something in there.

[skeletonenigma]

While Fletcher seemed to be trying to figure out whether he'd just been insulted or not, Ghastly frowned at Kenspeckle. "He isn't a Teleporter. Or..." He glanced over at Gabriel, wondering what the Archangel was capable of in this reality, and all too aware of how much more uncomfortable the thought made him. "At least, that isn't all he is. Professor Grouse, you've heard of the scientific theory of multiple realities, that every conceivable energy state exists. Do you believe that means there is a universe out there where the Bible is historical fact?"

It may, of course, be easier just to let Gabriel reveal his wings (and there was a thought Ghastly had never planned on having). But Ghastly felt that they owed Kenspeckle at least some advance warning. Ghastly still had numerous debts to pay off, even if the others didn't; Kenspeckle had not only kept him during his two years as a statue, but worked day and night to try and find a way to force him out of the crystallized state. Valkyrie probably owed the man even more than that.

Was there some reluctance? Of course there was. That was probably why Ghastly felt the need to explain now, to try and delay the inevitable. But Skulduggery had implied seeing Gabriel smite something, and if he could still be friendly after that...

[impudentsongbird]

Despite the fact that it was entirely unnecessary for his shirt to be cut off at all, because it wasn't exactly a shirt, Gabriel submitted quietly to the professor's insistence, still with that tiny amused smile. He didn't mean the amusement in any bad way; if anything, when coupled with the way Gabriel watched the professor's actions carefully, it almost seemed delighted--as if Gabriel was genuinely fascinated by Kenspeckle's medical process.

It was giving Kenspeckle the heeby-jeebies. He would have liked to say he was grateful for a patient who didn't argue, but the quiet attention Gabriel paid him was almost inhuman. Not condescending, but still, there was something there that--

Bespoke couldn't possibly be implying what Kenspeckle thought he was implying. Talking about a universe in which Biblical events were real, with a patient named Gabriel? Ghastly could have at least been more subtle. The professor chose not to answer while he snipped at the shirt, careful not to cut Gabriel, his hands gentle as his tone and demeanour weren't. "It's possible, I suppose," he said at last. "Of course, even in this reality I imagine a lot of the Bible is historical fact. A great many things attributed to--" He snorted. "--divinity were merely cases of sorcerers revealing their powers to mortals. Take Jesus, for example!"

He was getting enthusiastic, now, despite himself, but wasn't completely clueless to any of the reactions around him or the gaze Gabriel rested on him. He ignored it. "It's fairly obvious he was an Adept," Kenspeckle continued. Snip, snip, snip went the scissors. "An exceedingly powerful and arrogant Adept, obviously, to be casting himself as the Son of God, but given the kinds of 'miracles' than went on at that time--well, there isn't really any doubt he was a sorcerer."

With one final snip the shirt parted and Kenspeckle laid down the scissors to push it off Gabriel. The man tried to assist, but he hissed between his teeth as he moved the wrong way and Kenspeckle gently slapped his hands away, throwing a look at Bespoke as he did. "I'm not unaware what you're implying, Bespoke. The Archangel Gabriel--the Messenger of God, if I'm not mistaken. You're some kind of Teleporter, I suppose?" That was directed at Gabriel himself. "It makes good sense. What could be better as a messenger than a Teleporter?"

He shrugged, wadded up the shirt and tossed it into the bin. "Of course, you're not actually an angel," he continued, pulling his tray closer and eyeing Gabriel critically. There was no evidence of bruising on his chest, so the professor moved around the table, dragging the trolley with him. "Physically speaking--on a basis of physics, of course, not biology--angels couldn't exist. There would be no way for any physical construct to contain the kind of power the Bible purports angels to have, and metaphysically speaking we'd notice if such large amounts of energy were being flung around. The construct of the universe wouldn't be able to tolerate it."

There was no evidence of injury on Gabriel's back, either. To all intents and purposes, the man looked like an ordinary, rather perfectly proportioned young man. Kenspeckle frowned and laid a hand on Gabriel's back, seeking out any evidence of harm with his magic, and found nothing. There was a tingle against his palm, the tingle of magic--foreign, but that was understandable--yet no injuries that he could sense. "What the Devil is going on here, Bespoke? Is this a joke? This man isn't injured at all."

Gabriel looked up at Ghastly, his expression equal parts ruefulness, amusement and patience, and his lips twitched.

[skeletonenigma]

Tanith had been wondering what an injured Archangel would look like, so she'd been expecting Gabriel to look perfectly normal and outwardly healthy. She'd even, in some recess in the back of her mind, known that Kenspeckle wouldn't find anything using his magic either.

What she hadn't expected was... well. Even ill and exhausted, the dark-haired man sitting on the pew in the church had been good-looking. Handsome, in a cute-puppy sort of way. Tanith had ignored most of that at the time upon discovering that he was an Archangel, but now, she was finding him good-looking all over again, and on a whole new level. Kenspeckle threw the ruined shirt in the bin, and even through the seriousness of the situation, Tanith couldn't stop staring.

To say that he was perfectly proportioned was like saying chocolate tasted sweet. It was true, but there was so much more to it, a taste that couldn't be explained until the person had tried it for themselves, and okay, that metaphor had gone in a whole new direction Tanith wasn't anticipating. He was the epitome, she realized; the epitome of what every man on Earth should be striving for.

It wasn't until Kenspeckle snapped at Ghastly that Tanith realized exactly what she was thinking, and who she was thinking it about. She looked away, cheeks burning, fervently hoping that Archangels couldn't read minds, and not particularly comforted to see Valkyrie doing the exact same thing.

"Not visibly, no," Ghastly answered, completely unaware of Tanith and Valkyrie's silent embarrassment. "But he's obviously in pain, Professor. Look, I understand how you feel, and I agree with you on most aspects of the Bible in our reality. But it would take someone of great power to bring Skul into a reality that isn't even theirs, wouldn't you agree?"

Ghastly paused, probably realizing that arguing with the Professor on matters of science was not to way to go about this. For the sake of efficiency, Tanith rolled her eyes and got over her embarrassment enough to clear her throat. "You know what?" she took over, summoning up the courage to look back at Gabriel. He didn't look annoyed in the least, which Tanith supposed was a good thing, on all counts. "Just show him your wings."

Honestly, a part of Tanith was looking forward to seeing this.

[impudentsongbird]

Kenspeckle narrowed his eyes at Ghastly, stepping around the table and opening his mouth to give the man a scathing retort, but he didn't get the chance.

"That would probably be wise, yes," Gabriel agreed, giving Tanith a rueful, but sweet smile. It was the only way the professor was going to be able to actually attend his injuries, anyway. Gabriel truly did hope Kenspeckle would be able to help his wings; it was the general strain in his body the Archangel was less sure about.

In any case, it was the most direct means of convincing the professor of the truth, and it was necessary besides.

"Please stand back," Gabriel said to the room at large, and gave them a few moments to do so before dropping his human cloak, slowly so as not to let his wings burst too suddenly into existence. He couldn't help a sigh as he did; usually, he would never even notice the drain. Even now, that drain was negligible, comparatively speaking, but the moment the cloak was gone he felt the ache in his body ease just slightly.

It was the glow that came first, really; not bright but soft and pervading. As it had in the other reality, it drew out the beauty in everything nearby; the tables and walls shone, the lights in the ceiling seeming almost dim themselves. The beauty in everything but one thing, that is. Valkyrie's ring was washed white, a stained and dirty-yellow sort of white, like old bone bleached in high sun. It emanated the smell of a pungent and rotting corpse, but that was easily overlooked beneath the scent of the antiseptic. The most pleasant parts of the latter seemed to be drawn out, so the room smelled clean and fresh, and banished anything offensive to the nose.

Tanith and Valkyrie looked like day-and-night goddesses; Fletcher an Adonis; Kenspeckle as an older man, yes, but hale and face shining with intelligence. Ghastly's scars, far from fading, were even accentuated--no longer horrifying, but fascinating and delightful.

Gabriel's skin was like bronze, and just as before, the light in the room shone off his hair like a halo. His wings ... his wings. They were curled around him, at first looking soft and downy, but then he spread them slowly. They trembled, and as his feathers parted the gaps in them came into view, the places where his flight-feathers had been torn out. The gouges where the Faceless One had torn into him weren't visible from the front, but griminess of its touch was visible in the sheen on his feathers at his wings' wrists and leading edges. They were ruffled, dirty, damp and slicked down by that oiliness.

The pain in the Archangel's expression was jarring and tragic, almost enough to make you want to weep. When he'd extended his wings as far as he could manage, enough to make their tips brush the far walls, he exhaled shakily, closing his eyes to brace himself and unconsciously gripping the edge of the table. It hurt. It hurt a lot.

All Kenspeckle could do was stare, his mouth closed, standing very, very still.

[skeletonenigma]

The overwhelming beauty was such that it took everyone at least a minute to notice the furrows in the Archangel's wings, clear even from the perspective of someone completely unfamiliar with what Gabriel was supposed to look like. They hardly detracted from the overall magnificence until you noticed the oily sheen on the torn feathers, and the tormented pain in Gabriel's eyes. Ghastly imagined, when he was able to think again, that the touch of a Faceless One should have done much worse than that. Perhaps this was all Gabriel was letting them see.

"Damn," was the first word out of anyone's mouth; Fletcher had been standing farther back than anyone else, which put him in the unique position of being right underneath one of Gabriel's massive wings. He looked immediately sheepish, rare enough so as to be a small miracle all on its own. "I mean..."

Ghastly agreed with the sentiment. It wasn't just Gabriel; it was everything, the way he turned the entire lab into a veritable Garden of Eden. Even Kenspeckle was standing taller, speechless and awestruck. It reminded Ghastly of the way China appeared to newcomers, except that if it was the same branch of magic, Gabriel was using it on all of them as well. Ghastly didn't need to glance around at everyone else to know that he was currently looking at the very best his life would ever allow; he could feel it, feel the surrounding beauty trickling down into the very core of his being.

Tanith, in particular, was more beautiful than he could ever remember her being - and that was saying something.

"Professor," he finally managed, expecting his voice to be at least a little as hoarse as Gabriel's, and mildly astonished to find that he sounded positively angelic. He had to resist the urge to say you were saying something? Not only was this not the time for it, but it simply didn't sound appropriate with a voice like that. "I hope you'll consider this a challenge worthy of your skills."

Kenspeckle didn't seem capable of doing much other than staring. While Gabriel needed medical attention as quickly as possible, Ghastly didn't think anyone else would mind the wait. It was hard to do much other than stare in the presence of everything an Archangel was.

[impudentsongbird]

Fletcher's sudden expletive made Gabriel smile. Shakily, and it didn't take away any of the pain in his eyes, but truly nonetheless. Kenspeckle was speechless, and Gabriel understood why. He didn't expect the professor to be able to tell the extent of his injuries simply from looking, so the least the Archangel could do was give an accounting of his injuries before Kenspeckle began. Then again, perhaps the man's magic would do the trick. Gabriel hadn't been anticipating that.

"The crossing between universes was a strain," he said, and somehow the rawness of his voice seemed even more obvious now that he wasn't actively pretending to be human. The hoarseness was almost harsh to the ears, discordant, an obvious unnatural flaw to something that was otherwise beautiful. "But it was the Faceless One who did the most damage, when it tried to ride me back to this reality. I couldn't defend myself. It--did something, when it was trying to hold on, or stop us from continuing. I'm unsure which."

He still wasn't quite sure what it did, too, except that the merest movement of his wings sent agony racing down his back and the joints, for lack of better words, where his wings touched his body.

Kenspeckle still didn't seem able to speak. Before Gabe could give him the time he needed to do so the door slammed open and the girl in the hazmat suit skipped in, humming. Her hands were empty, this time, and she'd already advanced some distance into the room before she abruptly stopped short, her eyes widening. "Oh ..."

Just like everything else in the room, Gabe's brightness drew out hers, but she didn't seem to notice. Instead she stepped closer, as awed as the rest but with a beam on her face that was more obviously delighted. Gabriel smiled at her gently.

"Did you know you have a halo?" she asked, and without waiting for an answer reached out a hand to run her fingers through some of Gabe's hair. She was gentle, inquisitive, quite obviously enthralled. The light shone off her palm, illuminating it as if the life in her was a physical glow; when she cupped her hand, it looked almost as if she was holding a light in her hand. She squealed with delight and bounced on her toes. Gabriel grinned at her, and the expression washed away all the pain that had been showing on his face.

Quite suddenly Kenspeckle stirred. "Clarabelle!" he barked. "Stop petting the Archangel and assist me!"

"Okay, professor!" Clarabelle beamed at him over her shoulder and withdrew her hand, skipping toward him. Behind her Gabriel laughed quietly, not at her, but with pleasure at her joy.

Clearing his throat, Kenspeckle turned toward Gabriel. "Well," he began, and his voice failed. A moment later he tried again. "Well, I can safely say I've never tended an angel before. You will have to inform me of any, er, customary means of healing. This way, girl! Around to his back!"

The last was directed to Clarabelle, who was now looking up at the underside of Gabriel's wing with fascination, reaching up to brush the softest inside feathers like a child trying to touch the leaves of a branch just out of reach.

[skeletonenigma]

Wings, halo, the whole nine yards, Skulduggery had said. Valkyrie hadn't taken him seriously; the detective had just gotten back from who-knows-how-long of being tortured, and he did have a tendency of exaggerating stories he particularly enjoyed. If there was one thing Valkyrie had learned about the magical world, it was that creatures from myth tended to be exaggerated all over the place. Most of what was supposed to repel vampires, for example, were about as much use as throwing rocks at them.

But those were real wings. Real, giant, fill-the-room-up wings, made up of swan-white feathers just like she'd pictured. And even a halo, a golden halo of reflected light, and... Valkyrie was feeling faint again. For the second time in so many hours and only the third time in her entire life, she felt lightheaded enough to pass out. She was grateful for Clarabelle's entrance, which served as a helpful distraction, and even more grateful for Gabriel's good humor on top of that.

She couldn't have met the Archangel before. That was just absurd. He looked even less familiar now, like something beautiful and mysterious straight out of a book. But there was still that nagging sensation, and now there was something else, as well - a smell. Just lightly detectable under the pervading fresh smell of the room, but it was enough to make Valkyrie wrinkle her nose. Where was that coming from?

"Well, there's this," Ghastly offered, holding out the bottle he was holding. "Holy water. It was apparently helpful before."

Valkyrie wished she could go back and tell the real priest they'd spoken to what they needed the holy water for.

[impudentsongbird]

Clarabelle's distraction had done a lot to ease Gabriel's pain, though she couldn't stop it from creeping into his expression again. Kenspeckle took a quick look at the Archangel's face and then ducked under his wing. Gabriel obligingly moved to shift it upward for him and Kenspeckle snapped, "Don't move unless you absolutely have to, you id--just. Don't move."

He'd just caught sight of what they couldn't see from the front. The feathers had looked grimy, and some had been missing, but now the professor could see the deep tracts in the wings where something with claws had raked Gabriel cruelly. If there had been bone, Kenspeckle knew he'd be able to see it; as it was, he wasn't precisely certain of exactly what he was looking at. It was as if the feathers and the form lent Gabriel an appearance that human eyes and human brains could accept, but under that ...

Kenspeckle shook himself. What he was looking at, he told himself firmly, was a very badly injured being. If Gabriel had been a bird of some kind, these injuries would almost be crippling. The professor glanced at the bottle Bespoke held. Of course. Antiseptic for the divine. Made sense.

"It's not going to be enough," he said shortly, looking back to Gabriel's wings and making some quick calculations. "Fletcher! Go with Valkyrie and get some more holy water. Two barrels." He paused, surveyed the wings before him, saw the way Gabriel's back had been gouged at the joints, and amended, "Make that three. I'll not risk running out halfway through. Gabriel, drink. You sound like you can use it. Unless, of course--" His tone turned dry. "--you'd rather it with tea."

Unseen to the professor, Gabriel grinned at Ghastly, but the relief on his face was obvious. "Plain water is fine."

[skeletonenigma]

"Three barrels!?" Fletcher sputtered. "We could barely convince the priest to give us one bottle! Don't you think he might be a little suspicious?"

Valkyrie was still trying to contain her giggling over Kenspecle's uncharacteristic polite demeanor towards Gabriel. Or, well... his more polite than usual demeanor, anyway. But Fletcher did have a point. "How are we supposed to convince him we need the rest, too? How often do people need barrels of holy water?" she wondered aloud.

"Well, you could always... not ask," Tanith suggested with a wary glance towards the Archangel.

That was probably what Skulduggery would do. Ask, and then politely knock the priest out. All for the greater good, of course; Valkyrie could almost hear him justifying his actions by saying 'We're helping an Archangel. Don't you think he'd be willing to help us out if he knew? He'd probably knock himself out.'

Valkyrie shook her head. "We'll think of something. And we won't steal anything," she added firmly, figuring she might as well rack up all the good karma she could get while Gabriel was around. She touched Fletcher's arm, and in an instant, the two had vanished.

[impudentsongbird]

"I hope they don't try to steal anything," Gabriel murmured a little worriedly as he accepted the bottle of holy water from Ghastly. "They're going to need someone bless that much water at once, and I'm not entirely sure it'd remain sacrosanct to steal it even if a church was holding it in reserve."

Kenspeckle harrumphed as the Archangel paused to drink. "Tell me if you can feel this," the sorcerer commanded, and laid one hand to the side of an injury. The grimy feathers felt like they ought to have been soft, but were coarse with grit or oil. Very carefully, Kenspeckle channelled some of his magic into the wing, a soothing touch. At first he felt the, for lack of a better word, muscles in Gabriel's wing tense up, but a split second later they relaxed again and the Archangel sighed.

"Yes. Thank you."

His voice sounded much better too, Kenspeckle noted as he cut off the experimental pulse of magic. "Don't thank me yet," he said gruffly. "Your body's not really physical, is it? None of my usual treatments are going to work. Plain magic and holy water it'll have to be, and apparently we might have an issue getting more of the latter."

At least he could take some of the pain away, but how long that would last, he really couldn't say. Pleasant was right; there was no one else on the planet who even had a chance of helping this patient.

"If necessary," Gabriel said, "I'll be able to bless some ordinary water--"

"You'll do no such thing," Kenspeckle snapped, using his hands but avoiding Gabriel's injuries while he felt out the lines of the Archangels tendons, or whatever, and how the wing connected under the apparent surface. "I may not know how your magic works, but you will not exert yourself more than is absolutely necessary, do you understand me? Recklessness," he huffed. "No wonder you're friends with Pleasant."

Which made him wonder why. Which made him wonder what possible reason an Archangel could have for saving someone like Skulduggery Pleasant. Both of which were questions Kenspeckle really didn't want to be entertaining right now, so he pushed them aside and concentrated on familiarising himself with a very unique physiology.

[skeletonenigma]

Kenspeckle seemed to get over this even quicker than any of the others had, which really only made Tanith feel worse. She practically had to keep pinching herself, even now - especially now - whenever Gabriel's wings fell back into her field of vision. And since they were pretty much always in her field of vision, the skin on Tanith's right arm was starting to hurt.

She felt remarkably useless right now, with even Clarabelle able to help the Professor. And if there was one thing Tanith didn't like feeling, it was useless. Adrenaline pumping through her veins was her natural state of being, and when she didn't have something to occupy that adrenaline, random parts of her body tended to jerk out without warning. Tanith started pacing for something to do, though she had to keep ducking under Gabriel's wing throughout the trek.

Skulduggery wandered back into the room a few moments later. Not for the first time, Tanith tried to imagine him with a face, and felt a little jealous that even Gabriel now knew what that looked like. Skulduggery glanced up at the massive wings for a moment, but otherwise gave no indication that anything in the room was strange to him, and continued walking forward.

Watching the aura in the room quickly illuminate everything beautiful about a skeleton would also no doubt become one of Tanith's most interesting experiences.

"Where's Valkyrie?" Skulduggery asked.

"Went with Fletcher to get some more holy water," Ghastly replied.

"Ah. Good idea. How are they going to get it?"

Ghastly's only response was a shrug, and Tanith wasn't too confident either. "Without stealing it?" she answered, a similar shrug on her own shoulders.

"Excellent. That should turn out well." Skulduggery turned to Gabriel, his tone softened slightly. "How are you holding up?"

[impudentsongbird]

Most of what Clarabelle was doing was a matter of standing by the professor, humming, and stroking Gabriel's feathers when Kenspeckle wasn't snapping at her to take down notes (or at least give him the notebook). The professor asked numerous questions regarding the nature of Gabriel's existence and usual method of healing injuries, some of which Gabriel couldn't answer in a way even Kenspeckle could wrap his head around (not that the sorcerer was in any way put off; if anything, it only put a greater gleam of interest in his eyes).

"I assume you do have some method of healing," Kenspeckle was saying as Skulduggery came in.

"Not personally," Gabriel admitted. "Rafe and Michael are the ones with the talent in healing, and neither of them usually have to use it on us. It--feels a bit similar to what you're doing, though. I mean, as far as I have felt them while healing."

"Hrm." Kenspeckle tried not to look too pleased by the fact his magic was compared favourably to the Archangels of healing and medicine, especially given he didn't really believe in all of this guff, no sirree. This was an entirely scientific occurrence. It had to be; if Gabriel existed, and he obviously did, his existence had to be scientifically bound in some fashion. Kenspeckle just ... didn't know what it was. He glanced at Skulduggery and lifted one eyebrow in a 'well, what do you want?' sort of fashion, and then went back to scribbling some notes.

"Quite well, all things considered." Gabriel smiled at Skulduggery. The Archangel looked and sounded much better, if only because the bottle of holy water was now empty and due to the experimental bouts of pain-numbing magic Kenspeckle had been giving him. They never lasted, but until the professor figured out just what it would cost him, keeping his magic in reserve was wise. "This head suits you much better. It's got higher cheekbones."

[skeletonenigma]

Skulduggery was planning to announce that he had his original skull back on - made even more impressive by how painful it had been getting it there - when Gabriel did it for him. And as the Archangel did sound better, Skulduggery pushed aside his other questions for now in favor of celebrating. "Thank you," he responded happily. Although no one could tell he was beaming, it would be hard to miss the pride in his voice. "I even have a spare now," he added; not that he ever intended to use it.

Ghastly frowned at him, the barest of smiles flickering on his face. "I can't tell the difference, Skul."

"What do you mean? There's a clear difference," Skulduggery retorted, sounding and feeling vaguely offended. "Gabe can tell. You've known me much longer than he has."

"I do feel the need to point out," Ghastly continued teasing, "that he's an Archangel."

"That's no excuse. I expected better of you, Bespoke."

"Where's your other skull?" Tanith interrupted, doing her best to keep a straight face and falling just short of the mark.

"In the van. I didn't think carrying it around was wise." He'd also dug around in the van until he found Ghastly's spare mobile, and one thing Skulduggery confessed he was not looking forward to: China meeting Gabriel. They wouldn't tell her the truth, of course, but there was no doubt in Skulduggery's mind that her inherent abilities wouldn't work on the Archangel, and China would want to know why. That was going to be a hazardous conversation.

Sobered by the thought, Skulduggery turned to Gabe once again. "Speaking of which," he began, aware that vans didn't lead directly to Archangels, but not particularly caring at the moment, "I assume your brothers know where you are. Michael and... Rafe. I don't want them trying to come through as well. Even Guild wouldn't miss that."

[impudentsongbird]

Kenspeckle snorted at the by-play, his head still lowered over his clipboard, but it made Gabe smile. Yes, this made it all worth it.

"Rafe does," he reassured the detective, "and he will have told Michael." The Archangel stopped short of saying his Master did too, because that didn't necessarily mean He would stop Michael or Rafe from trying to cross over if they got too worried. Besides, it probably wouldn't be all that comforting to the others.

"Did you manage to contact your friend China?" he asked instead, inquisitiveness all over his face. "You haven't really mentioned her before. Who is she?"

"Where's Renn and Valkyrie with that holy water?" Kenspeckle grumbled in the background, glancing around and then squinting at Skulduggery as if he had something to do with it.