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]

Then Solomon was aware. Probably from before trying to do anything with the Cleaver, since neither of the angels had a chance to explain what he'd been so close to doing yet. Clearly, he'd never told anyone, or Tenebrae might have tried to cut his losses with Vile and try again.

That didn't exactly surprise Skulduggery. Admitting to having an ability Lord Vile was infamous for would have put Solomon right up there on that same level, and Solomon wasn't known for being an ambitious man. He was many things indeed, cruel and manipulative among them, but nowhere on the list was he ambitious. Certainly not suicidally so.

Skulduggery debated pretending that the fact wasn't new to him, simply because it was a detective's natural instinct not to give things away. He might have, except that this wasn't an interrogation. This was just a very serious conversation between friends. They needed to be on equal footing for it to work, and Skulduggery starting out with a lie wasn't going to make that any easier.

"It is." He looked away to spare Solomon the embarrassment of not being able to make proper eye contact. "I've never known anyone else to be able to. It... was a bit of a surprise."

To say the least.

He shifted all of his weight onto one arm and turned. "How long have you been able to do it?"

[peacefullywreathed]

He didn't remember. He really, truly, did not remember. That memory had been one of Solomon's worst fears, been one of the weights on his shoulders for so long, that he couldn't help but laugh in pure disbelief.

"You don't remember." It was obvious, and yet he couldn't help but say it. Solomon shook his head. "I've only ever done it once. This morning doesn't really count. It was a memory--it caught me by surprise."

He looked up again, searching for some evidence of that event in Skulduggery's soul. This close, the dark threads of Necromancy stood out in stark contrast to the light of the panes. This close, he could see the way that light shifted. "It was during that fight we had in the Temple, during the war. I always thought--"

Solomon cut himself off, not sure what he meant to say. "I always thought," he repeated slowly, "that I only survived because you were playing with me." Except ... did he? Was it because Vile was playing with him, or because some part of him remembered? Solomon wasn't sure he wanted to know. "But I was never sure whether that final volley was held back at all or not." He blinked and tilted his head. "You don't remember how I survived it?"

He wasn't sure what was in his tone. Confusion. Incredulity. Offence. Relief. He'd spent those whole five years terrified Vile might come after him to finish the job, just because he had touched a skill only Vile had mastered. All that time, Vile hadn't even known?

[skeletonenigma]

For a moment, Skulduggery still didn't remember.

But only for a moment. There were many so-called 'duels' in the Temple, most of which ended in death. The one with Solomon was unique for various reasons, Solomon's survival only the least of them. Now that Skulduggery was actively trying to remember, though, the details slowly swam up. Not just another death. Not just another death, because he'd gone in for the killing blow and been... distracted.

Distracted by 23 observers, who were there and yet not there. Somehow, someway, they'd been the ones who ended up dead. At the time, Vile hadn't particularly cared how it worked, or why. At the time, 23 simultaneous deaths was still enough of an overwhelming power surge that it distracted him from everything else. That changed as time went on, as he grew more powerful, as he needed more death just to remain stable.

He blinked as the implication of Solomon's words sank in. "That was you?"

Vile had been the one to absorb the power of those Necromancers' deaths, but he hadn't tried to drag them in. He hadn't expanded his awareness. Now that Skulduggery was able to think objectively about it, it had been more like their awarenesses were simply tossed into his.

Either Solomon instinctively reached out for extra power to defend himself, just like Vile had done the first time he discovered the ability, and Vile was more than powerful enough to intercept without realising; or, Solomon sensed what was about to happen, and... basically tried to feed the hungry lion before it ate him. Tossing slab of meat after slab of meat into the gaping maw without thinking.

Maybe it was some combination of the two.

"I wasn't holding back." The cars revved around the ring, slamming into each other with never-ending zeal, and they gave Skulduggery something to focus on as he spoke. The last time he talked frankly with Solomon about this, Solomon had been either delirious or unconscious the entire time. This, knowing the ex-Necromancer could hear and understand every single word plus a great deal besides, was a good measure harder. "I just..." Forgot. "... wasn't interested in you, anymore. By the time I might have been in a position to put two and two together, I wasn't giving anything or anyone in the Temple a second thought. Or a first thought."

That fight had probably haunted Solomon for the rest of his life, and Skulduggery was only just now remembering it. He didn't quite mind the guilt that threaded through his thoughts along with that realisation. It was a nice change of pace to feel guilty about something so comparatively trivial. Guilt for forgetting a duel, rather than guilt over killing someone.

"Is it ever going to happen again?" he asked.

[peacefullywreathed]

"That was me." Quiet, not exactly withdrawn, but simple. He wasn't looking at Skulduggery anymore; he was looking at the whirl of joy and amusement in the ring, now. Looking, without really seeing. "I'm not even sure how I triggered it. I was just reaching, and then I could sense other sources of power around me, and I ... flung them at you. Hoping they'd distract you. I didn't even know what they were until later."

Until two days later, when he'd finally woken up and heard just what had happened in the aftermath. That twenty-three Necromancers on the sidelines had been killed by the sheer power. That everyone was assuming it had been Vile who did it, even while they praised Solomon for surviving.

Solomon had known better, and he'd said nothing, and rightly so. It would have been suicide had Tenebrae known the truth.

He said nothing as Skulduggery spoke, but a chill ran down his spin and his gut clenched with an odd mix of apprehension and pride. Skulduggery hadn't been holding back. Skulduggery hadn't been holding back and he'd survived. A distinction that Solomon felt ridiculously proud of, even while he'd have rathered given it up. "They made me cleric because of that fight," he said a little distantly. "They made me cleric and immediately I volunteered for a scouting mission outside the Temple. To get away. Just in case."

He laughed then, relieved and ironic and a little bitter. "You're the only thing that's ever managed to inspire that kind of terror in me."

Not that he'd want to try it again without the driving force of that terror anyway. Would it be easier, now that he could see the lifestream? Or would the fact he had stopped Necromancy entirely be prevention enough? It wasn't worth the risk. Solomon didn't particularly want to see anyone die while like this, and that day had been near enough.

That terrifying day, and the man responsible was standing right by his side. It was easy to forget, with the difference. That memory was overlaid with his Sight, now, and there was an immense difference. He just had to keep that in mind.

[skeletonenigma]

Completely by accident, just as it had been for Skulduggery. The only real difference between Solomon and Vile was the source of the triggering panic, and how they tried to end it. Solomon, terrified of death, instinctively threw others to the wolves to save himself. Vile, terrified of being set adrift in a world of life he could barely perceive, reached out for something with which to stabilise himself. And he'd found death.

Vile had been powerful enough not to need that triggering panic again. Solomon wasn't. And now that Solomon had given up Necromancy completely, he never would be. Was that enough to stop it from happening again, even by accident? If what happened with the Cleaver was any indication, probably not. And even if Solomon's accidental attempt didn't work, it was a lot like putting alcohol in front of someone struggling against a drinking problem. Power was addictive. There was only so much Skulduggery could do to bar himself from it.

"In case anything ever manages to override that astute judgment," he said, in the same general tone and manner of someone discussing an unusual weather pattern, "just try to keep in mind that if I'm anywhere nearby, and particularly if Gabe is not, whatever it is that terrified you might well become the least of your problems."

Would it be such an issue if Landel hadn't run his experiments? That was hard to tell. Skulduggery would still be able to feel it when Necromancy was used; that had always been the case, and probably always would be. He might not feel such an inclination towards using it if it weren't for Landel, but they could debate that point until the cows came home and it wouldn't make the slightest bit of difference.

So instead, Skulduggery's face changed as he watched the bumper cars. "So you have me to thank for the promotion? Excellent. Not even a full day in power, and already one of the Elders owes me a favour. I'm not doing too badly so far."

[peacefullywreathed]

Reminding himself, over and over, that there was no way Lord Vile's black gravity could even remotely compare to the warmth of the sunlit stained-glass beside him had been helpful enough in Solomon's forcing the tension out of his limbs. It was subtle, but through the whole conversation he had instinctively been prepared for a fight.

It wasn't even about Vile. He and Skulduggery had been antagonistic for so long, and now that he was in somewhat better condition, it only added to the knowledge of who Skulduggery had been.

And that statement ... really didn't help. Solomon froze, swallowed, managed to speak. "Believe me when I say that I have not, for a single moment, forgotten the consequences."

The Cleaver had been opposite, order instead of chaos, and yet the same at once. In the middle of the newness of the lifestream, the shock he'd undergone through these past few days, he really couldn't be surprised by the flashback. Still, the confirmation that it might do something--that his attempt at a power he didn't really want might cause something to break in Skulduggery--was something he should know.

He just wish he didn't. It wasn't doing his nerves any good. Or his pounding heart, for that matter.

Solomon snorted, latching onto the humour and forcing himself into it, even with his hands tingling with adrenaline. His voice came out light, at least. "Owes you a favour? You almost killed me. I think my being promoted is the least you owed me. In fact, I think you still have a debt."

[skeletonenigma]

"Then it's a very good thing I'm working for you, isn't it?" Skulduggery shrugged. "Dock my pay if you still feel like you're owed something."

Skulduggery owed so many people so much that he'd long since stopped keeping track - if he'd ever been able to in the first place. One more name to add to the list, that was all. He'd handled that before. He could handle it again.

The question was whether Solomon would be able to.

The bumper cars, for all their reputation, crashing and screeching noises, were surprisingly relaxing to watch. Completely carefree activities always seemed to be. Skulduggery's eyes fell on Gabe's car, and he tried to imagine the same angel in all his awe-inducing glory - massive wings, golden light, halo, and all - purposely trying to crash into Rafe's brighter-coloured vehicle as often as possible. Then he tried to imagine God in Rafe's place. A little harder to do, since he had absolutely no idea what God looked like.

Should he be worried that God ostensibly enjoyed crashing into things? It felt like something to worry about. Enough meteors and asteroids flew by the Earth every year for it to be a legitimate concern.

"You can see their wings, can't you?" he realised with a start, turning to look at Solomon. "How ridiculous do they look, in such tiny cars?"

[peacefullywreathed]

"Perhaps I will." He wouldn't. Docking money was such a petty means of repayment, and besides, Solomon didn't really need the money either. His apartment might not have been as good as Skulduggery's house, but he'd gathered a tidy nest-egg through the years ... out of the Temple's eyes, naturally. How else would he afford his suits?

The angels were the only people Solomon could actually see in any given capacity, and they seemed to leave a reflection of their cars in their wake. It made it easier to track them, and there was something fascinating about the way they moved. As though they defined the area around them. Solomon watched, half mesmerised and half as if it would help him figure things out a little better. Mostly, it did the very opposite.

Then Skulduggery spoke, and Solomon laughed. "They don't, actually. I can only see an after-image of the cars, and they have their wings raised. Sort of ... occupying the same space most of the time. There seems to be an extra dimension involved. I'm not quite sure how it works."

He had all afternoon to figure it out. Not that the afternoon helped. The bumper cars were the worst, because of the small covered area, but most of the games in the carnival seemed like they should be too small for the Archangels to fit in any given capacity. Yet they did, not just well but gracefully. Rafe laughed when he saw Solomon frowning at them once, trying to puzzle it out. "Don't fight it, man. You'll only make your head split."

He wasn't wrong. Solomon decided to leave it alone when the persistent throb in his temples started getting worse.

The carnival was meant to be some kind of holiday. And it was, in a way. There were parts of it Solomon enjoyed, even though he didn't do much other than watch people. There just wasn't much he could do, in a physical sense. Well, there was that one trip on the Ferris wheel which Valkyrie had pestered him into. He gave in when she threatened to bring in the reinforcements of the angels, and it had actually been something of a relief to get out of the middle of the maelstrom. The lifestream had looked different from up high. There was that one go on the bumper-car too, of which Valkyrie had seized advantage when Solomon gave in that once previously. That time, it had been purely to shut up Ravel. And maybe drive him into the wall a few times.

As it turned out, Solomon was a better driver blind than Ravel was with two good eyes.

Either way, by the end of the afternoon when they left, as entertaining and educational as it had been, Solomon couldn't deny he was glad to be out of it. The headache hadn't quite left and he was tired. Not just physically; he'd spent the afternoon being confronted by all the things he couldn't do alone. And he was starting to actually think longingly of the damned wheelchair. No, thank you. He had his dignity.

Then, of course, was the question of where he was meant to go. He couldn't go home. He didn't really have a home, but now he no longer had an apartment. There was no need to go back to the Hibernian, and he didn't want to spend all night at the Sanctuary. Besides, there was someone he needed to see.

"I don't suppose someone could drop me off somewhere?" he asked the group at large, those with cars as well as angels. "I've someone I need to visit."

[skeletonenigma]

The last time Valkyrie had this much uninterrupted fun in one day, she was... actually, she couldn't remember when it was. Long before she met Skulduggery, though. And while she wouldn't give up her current life for anything, she kind of missed just days at the carnival with her parents. Life was so much simpler when your only choices were between the bumper cars and the Ferris wheel, and the only time someone betrayed you was when they stole your hot dog or your chips. Which Skulduggery did. Multiple times. Valkyrie's anger petered out when she remembered he'd never had a hot dog before, and she ended up buying two more for him out of some weird misplaced guilt.

The illusion meant he wouldn't have to worry about putting weight on or anything, either. Lucky.

They did garner a lot of stares as they moved through the carnival, but Valkyrie was pretty much used to those. Most of the people in the group were, for some reason or another. Barney wasn't, and he spent a good portion of the day trying to return as many of those stares as he could with a reassuring smile.

Ghastly advised him to give that up about halfway through the afternoon. It wasn't stopping the stares, and it certainly wasn't giving Barney any peace.

Valkyrie felt good and tired by afternoon's end. Properly, honestly good and tired, not just exhausted. Not just drained. Not just despairing about things ever going right. She hadn't felt like this at the end of a day in ages. Everyone was chatting amicably as they approached the parking lot, and Valkyrie knew exactly what she wanted to do with this newfound feeling.

"If it's the same person I'm thinking of," Skulduggery answered Solomon, "I'll drive you. He has my sunglasses. I'd like those back."

"I forgot about those," said Ghastly, halfway laughing at the memory. "You should probably also let Paddy know Gabe isn't close to dying anymore."

"You mean someone else hasn't taken care of that already?" Skulduggery tsked and shook his head. "Who is in charge of the country these days? Fletcher, would you mind Teleporting us back to the Bentley, please?"

"And take me home, too?" Valkyrie asked. Then, because Skulduggery tilted his head towards her with a puzzled expression on his face, she clarified quickly: "I'm tired. Good tired, but tired. I want to go home, spend the evening with my parents, and tell them I've been on a date. In fact, Fletcher, you're coming home with me."

"I am?" If he didn't look so surprisingly handsome in the dwindling sunlight, Valkyrie might have had to scold him for looking so terrified. "Seriously?"

"Seriously. They've already met you. They probably knew we'd date before we did. Where's the harm?"

"Where's the harm!?" Fletcher stared at her. "Who are you, and what have you done with Valkyrie?"

[peacefullywreathed]

"Is it just me, or is everyone getting together these days?" Solomon asked the air rhetorically and perfectly blandly. "Or is it that other phrase? Hooking up? I remember the days when people actually got courted. Skulduggery, I'm disappointed. Your manners have declined. You haven't even taken Gabe out for dinner yet, have you?"

One of the many good things he'd discovered over the course of the afternoon was that Skulduggery blushed. True, he couldn't exactly see the man's face, but the light behind his panes tinged pink, or red, when he was embarrassed. It was giving Solomon endless amounts of amusement.

The fact that angels blushed too was only the capper.

He grinned unrepentantly in the angel's direction. "And it is, by the way. I can't be held responsible for not keeping him updated, either. I was busy being tortured at the time."

"Technically speaking, no one was in charge of the country at the time," Corrival pointed out. "I'm not taking responsibility for things that happened while I wasn't Grand Mage. Technically speaking the duty then falls to the nearest Sanctuary official. Which would be the Prime Detective. Fancy that."

"By the way," Solomon added smoothly, this time looking to Skulduggery, "you owe me a cane."

[skeletonenigma]

"What's this? Tag teaming?" Skulduggery grumbled. "I think I need to object on the grounds that this carnival wasn't my idea."

He was aware that he was probably blushing, but only because Solomon mentioned the capability at one point while they were eating. That, and the way Valkyrie seemed to smirk and avoid direct eye contact with him in this circumstance. The blush didn't bother Skulduggery so much as everyone's reactions to it. One of the curses of building a reputation as a living skeleton, he supposed. Get given a face, and people were fascinated by the slightest facial twitch.

"Technically," he began, "I already have. It wasn't a very well-catered restaurant, and the food wasn't very good. There was a candle, though."

Now it was Valkyrie's turn to stare. "You what?"

"And I don't owe you a cane. I chose to commission one out of the goodness of the heart I don't have. When it's ready, you'll get it."

"You what?"

"And now I apparently have duties to carry out for the Sanctuary. Valkyrie, do close your mouth. You'll set a bad example for Allie."

"She's asleep!"

"All the more reason to close your mouth."

[peacefullywreathed]

Gabe, Solomon was interested to note, was spluttering on top of the blushing. But he was also looking thoughtful. Odd, how angels could apparently feel different emotions without being actively conflicted.

"There was, wasn't there?" the Archangel said. "'Cept for the part where it was comin' up on night-time and we were tryin' to avoid the nurses from turnin' into monsters when night fell, it was real romantic."

"I don't think hasty dinners under the threat of mindless killing-machines counts as a dinner-date," Solomon observed. "Especially not when you were both mental patients at the time. What would your doctor have thought?"

Someone was snorting laughter. Solomon couldn't quite tell who it was, and it didn't really matter. Solomon went on anyway. "There weren't even flowers, were there? Not even a single measly carnation? For shame. And you do owe me a cane, Skulduggery, because of that time you tried to kill me. I'm making it official."

[skeletonenigma]

Well, there were flowers. The parks in Doyleton were full of them. They were mainly daisies and dandelions, and it was difficult to appreciate them fully when you were dodging the aforementioned nurse-monsters and zombies besides, but they were there.

As for Skulduggery's doctor, he only ever met the man once, but he was pretty sure any legitimate medical licence was stolen, rather than earned. What would that doctor think of a dinner-date? He'd probably call the whole thing a healthy alternative to the 'delusions.' Or something equally ridiculous. For doctors who were supposed to be concerned with their patients' mental health, they were very good at ignoring all the complaints of monsters wandering around at night.

"There's not much I can do about it at the moment," Skulduggery repeated patiently. "Whether I owe you a cane or not, you're not getting it until it's finished. Don't rush perfection."

"You mean we can't pass laws that break the established laws of time and space?" Erskine sighed. "I think I'm disillusioned. Can I still resign?"

Barney, who was understandably a few steps back from the rest of the group, shifted slightly, drawing Skulduggery's attention to him. He was doing remarkably well for someone being given a whole new world to absorb in a matter of hours. He hadn't blinked once at all of their friendly banter just now, for example. That might have been because he'd grown numb to shock, but still. It was a step in the right direction. And Allie, once she woke up, would likely help him work through the rest of it. Children had a natural ability to accept magic for what it was, which Skulduggery always rather liked. He doubted Valkyrie would have been nearly as open to any of it if their meeting occurred even a year later than it did.

Magic made it easier to accept angels for what they were, too. Poor Barney was still sneaking looks at both Gabe and Rafe, like he'd been doing all day, probably trying to convince himself they really weren't human. Now, however, he was forcing himself to look directly at Rafe, and he cleared his throat nervously.

"Thanks. For... everything, today." He moved Allie's weight more evenly over his shoulders, gently and slowly, trying not to wake her. "What do I..."

He hesitated, swallowed, and tried again. "What's going to happen when we get back to the hospital?"

He didn't want to assume Allie had been healed, Skulduggery realised. Or that she was going to be. Even after everything today, his hold on hope was still fragile enough that he wasn't going to let himself believe anything had changed.

And yet, he asked. He was entertaining the possibility. If Skulduggery could see his own soul right now, there would probably be a small amount of pride in it. What did pride look like? Did it glow, like love apparently did?

[peacefullywreathed]

"I'll settle for just plain high quality, thank you," Solomon said. A moment later he added thoughtfully, almost as if actually considering it, "If we resign en mass, can we hold the laws of physics hostage?"

Could mass resignation of powerful enough souls cause a substantial enough change to the lifestream to change things elsewhere? Actually, that might explain that little saying about a butterfly flapping its wings and causing a storm on the other side of the world.

Definitely something to consider, and Solomon would have, except his attention was drawn by the way Rafe stretched his wings.

"Dunno if I like the place that much yet," Rafe mused. "But I betcha Gabe's boyfriend could talk him into anythin'." He grinned at Skulduggery, and Solomon snorted.

"I won't need to be talked into hitting you," Gabe answered deadpan. Rafe threw up his hands longsufferingly, turning to Barney.

"See how cruel my own brother is to me? I wanna meet this friend of theirs, but I think I need a bodyguard. How 'bout it? Princess'll be okay 'til then." Then, as if realising he hadn't answered the man's question he added, "Aw, weren't ya listenin' before, Barn? It's okay. I know how impressive I am." Solomon watched with amusement as the angel, quite literally, preened. "Just have their fangled machines take another mosey. Gotta stay on the down-low and all."

"I think your brother's due for a head-popping operation," Solomon heard Merlin murmur, and Gabe nodded agreement, his wings rustling.

"He'll just up and float away at any moment now."

"We can only hope," Solomon murmured, tilting his head. "That or he'll wind up plucking all his feathers out with his preening."

[skeletonenigma]

Barney didn't answer right away. He was a little too busy trying to sort out the multitude of conflicting feelings that swamped him when Rafe assured him that everything was going to be okay.

First and foremost - gratitude. That one was easy. That one was the overwhelming one. It was mixed with varying hints of relief, disbelief, and a joy that was quickly threatening to grow even stronger than the gratitude. Barney had resigned himself to the inevitable, much as he tried to rail against it - to put on a brave face for Allie. Now, suddenly, it was no longer the inevitable.

Now it was just the opposite. The possible. The probable, even. Allie had a chance. She had a real and proper chance, and Barney was the only person in the entire hospital who knew.

But, just as quickly as the joy rose up, so too did the familiar and well-worn doubts. He'd been warned by far too many doctors over the last year about the dangers of false hope. It couldn't really be this easy, could it? Nothing worth keeping in life was ever easy. It couldn't really be as beautifully simple as requesting one last test and watching the doctor's astonished face as he came out with news that was, at last, different from the usual. Life didn't work like that. And what about the money? There wasn't any more money for tests, let alone the operation that would save Allie's life. Insurance wouldn't cover it, and Barney would never be able to afford it.

The doubts weren't quite strong enough to make a dent in the joy - not in the presence of, of Archangels and Merlin and sorcerers and God knew what other miracles - but they still pestered. He'd just gotten his hopes up too many times in the past. Hope in him felt rusty and disused, lying in so many pieces on the ground.

It took him a moment, but then Barney decided to hell with life. To hell with life and logic and doubts. He hadn't laughed as hard as he had today in years. He wanted to see more of what these people got up to. And this late in the day, what was stopping him, really? Rafe was right. Allie would be fine on her own for a bit. Allie, if she were awake, would be demanding Barney to go on more adventures like this one.

Rafe. Raphael. Raphael and Gabriel.

"Sure," he nodded. "Why not? Just... I'm going to drive. If that's okay."

He didn't think he'd be able to handle Teleporting just yet.

[peacefullywreathed]

"If I didn't know any better I'd think you didn't trust my driving, Barn," Raphael whined, and then grinned. "Can I drive your car, then? Can I, can I?"

His wings were bouncing. Solomon stared, half incredulous and half just plainly amused. The Archangel's wings were bouncing with excitement. The ex-Necromancer was torn between thinking it was just wrong and musing that it actually kind of suited him. Rafe was rather like a giant puppy a good deal of the time.

Solomon decided to be amused.

"When you've brought the teenage Archangel back under control again, feel free to join us at the Catholic church on Chapel Street," the ex-Necromancer told Barney, turning toward Fletcher and holding out his hand for someone to take. "Who's servicing me this afternoon? You again, Ravel? I think I'd prefer someone with better driving skills, thank you."

"I need to go back to the Sanctuary before Tipstaff has his aneurysm," Corrival refused. "And I'm still too old for you anyway, boy."

"You're barely two centuries older," Solomon pointed out blandly and with an innocently-raised eyebrow. "Ghastly is over three centuries older than Tanith. Does that mean he's cradle-robbing?"

"Forget that," Rafe said with a wicked grin. "Gabe's sixty-five million years older than Skul-man here. Gabe, Gabe, Gabe." He tutted, ignoring the way his brother was growing steadily redder. "It's always the quiet--AWP!"

Quite suddenly, as if pelted by a sudden and very localised gust, the Archangel went tumbling head-over-heels, his feathers in disarray, beating hard and yet, somehow, interrupted so they didn't do anything more than make him land face-up hard on his back. Gabe looked away, whistling innocently, as he brought his own wing back in close again.

"I'd suggest you take note of the phrase you were about to finish and leash your mouth before he actually smites you," Merlin suggested blandly. Rafe looked up at him from the ground, blinking, and then grinned.

"Where'd be the fun in that?"

[skeletonenigma]

If Skulduggery didn't know any better, he'd think Solomon and the angels were trying to send Barney into some sort of catatonic state. It was a good thing the man had stopped taking things so seriously by now, or he really wouldn't have survived these last few minutes. Let alone the whole afternoon.

It was also a mark of just how long Ghastly and Skulduggery had known each other that even with one as a living skeleton, they were still able to exchange Looks - and frequently did. Ghastly just wasn't used to there being an actual face returning that Look. His involuntary start at the sight amused Skulduggery.

"I'm not a baby," Tanith muttered, a little too quietly for anyone but the people nearest her to hear.

"Ghastly and I are the same age," Skulduggery pointed out just before the tailor recovered. "We can't be on opposite sides of the spectrum. It doesn't work."

"And neither of you act like you're sixty-five million years old, anyway," Erskine finished. "I'd actually call Skulduggery the mature one of the relationship, and we're talking about a man who happily tricked an abusive baron into wearing his wife's clothes. Sacrificing the mission, I might add, just because he was bored."

"And the baron was evil," Skulduggery added quickly. "He reminded me far too much of Vengeous. His gullibility amused me."

Barney looked mildly like he was regretting asking to be told everything earlier, despite managing a laugh at the angels' antics. "Look, I'd much rather drive to the hospital, but after that... sure. Why not?"

"You might want to stop asking that so much," Erskine told him with a grin. "One of these days, it's going to get answered, but much too late for you to do anything about it."

[peacefullywreathed]

"Not even if it's a matter of perception?" Solomon asked, amused and fascinated by the strong resonance that rippled between the pair of sorcerers in that moment. He didn't know what they'd done, but it was so strong as to make Solomon wonder, nostalgically, if he and Skulduggery had ever had the same.

"I can too be mature," Gabe grumbled.

"Immature?!" Rafe squawked, laughing. "Gabe? We're talkin' about the angel who followed--"

"I don't think we needa talk about that," Gabe interrupted, cheeks a bit pink but mostly mild. "'Sides, it was part of my job!"

Rafe looked at him pityingly. "Gabe, even Michael agreed that Dad tellin' ya to get Jonah swallowed was just Him seein' how far you'd go to do what He asked."

This time Gabriel very definitely went red, so much so that his light looked like a sunset. "You're not much better," he said defensively. "You put Samson's strength in his hair!"

"It was a logical choice!" Rafe protested. "Nobody cut their hair back then! Rapunzel did it too!"

"You did it to Rapunzel," Gabe corrected.

"That was just an encore."

"If we leave them now, how long do you think it would take for them to notice?" Solomon asked the air rhetorically as Merlin, snorting, took his arm to lead him off the curb and nearer to Fletcher.

[skeletonenigma]

"Angels notice everything," said Skulduggery flatly. "They just pick and choose what to pay attention to. Or so Gabe has said before, and to be honest, I didn't really believe him then either." Prayers, perhaps, worked that way. Skulduggery couldn't quite imagine fielding hundreds of thousands of individual requests for help in the same second, but he also wasn't an angel.

Otherwise, Gabe was perfectly capable of being oblivious. Had he actually acted like a ridiculously old angel at the Institute, Skulduggery might have pegged him for it a lot earlier.

"Could I... withdraw that?" Barney asked. "I don't really think I want him driving my car."

It was interesting, how Barney hadn't even considered that he maybe should be deferring to the angels' judgment. Oh, there were moments he balked, but more out of shock than any sort of genuine realisation. That penny had to drop pretty soon. And in the spirit of that penny dropping, Skulduggery considered it imperative that Barney not be left alone with Rafe for any extended period of time.

Which worked out perfectly, because assuming Fletcher would take Corrival back to the Sanctuary, two people wouldn't quite fit in the Bentley. At least one of the two who went with Barney and Rafe would have to know how to handle Rafe, though, so the choice came down to either Gabe or Merlin. And Skulduggery preferred Gabe in the Bentley because yes, fine, he was biased.

"The numbers might work out better if they didn't notice us leaving," he mused out loud. "Alas, I don't particularly feel like being damned today. Merlin, would you mind keeping Barney sane?" Skulduggery stepped closer to take over as Solomon's cane, lowering his voice at the same time. "Try to keep Rafe from launching into any childhood stories about the Devil? Something tells me that wouldn't go over too well."

[impudentsongbird]

The conversation had, by then, devolved into accusations at Rafe for being late about raising Lazarus because the man--or rather soul--had been beating the wings off him at dice and Rafe just wanted to win back some of his favours before Lazarus returned to life, and responding accusations at Gabe for spoiling Mary and Elizabeth silly by taking them out shopping at bazaars until everyone came to their senses and stopped talking about stoning her.

Rafe grumbled that he was pretty sure Lazarus had been cheating, even though he hadn't quite had the imagination to figure out how at the time. Gabe claimed in his defence that it was better Mary was out shopping with a close female cousin who believed her instead of sitting around at home having her fate decided by self-righteous idiots who didn't believe women could have a sex-drive before marriage.

Rafe then demanded to know if that's what they were doing in Cairo in the 1960s when there had been that mass sighting of Mary. Gabe declined to comment, and asked how many favours he'd won back yet seeing as he'd now had nearly two thousand years to make up for lost time.

Merlin glanced over at the pair of arguing angels, amused and exasperated in equal turns. "I'd say that he's wise enough not to go that far, but given what example he'd been about to give before Gabe interrupted, I'm not so sure anymore. Consider it done."

He let Skulduggery take Solomon and then, with a quick glance around, reached out to yank on something in midair. Rafe cut off in the middle of his sentence with a yelp, a small gust of wind making his clothes billow. "Ow. Whatchoo pullin' my feathers for, Pops? That hurt."

"I considered using something to knock off your halo," Merlin said, "but I wasn't sure if you'd notice. Give Barney a hand with Allie, won't you? I'll be driving. I imagine--" This last was said with twinkling eyes at Barney. "--that you've had enough chauffeurring others around, so for once, if you'll allow me, I shall do the same to you."

[skeletonenigma]

An expression of such astonishment and gratitude crossed over Barney's face at those words. Merlin had that effect on people, Skulduggery noticed. He was that certain kind of charming, the kind that made you know immediately just how much you could trust him with. The kind that offered him opportunities only recently barred from an Archangel less than a minute ago. Too stunned for words at first, Barney's only response was a nod.

"But now we're one too many." Erskine glanced sidelong at the Ancient. "I don't suppose I could tag along as well? I don't think Solomon would appreciate me sitting in his lap, and I'd love the chance to get a photo of Merlin driving a taxicab through Dublin. Shame he doesn't have the star-spangled robes yet."

"The star-spangled - " Barney cut himself off before he could finish the incredulous thought. "Never mind. How are we going to fit the wheelchair in, with the four of us and Allie?"

"I can take that," Fletcher offered. "I can Teleport it to the side of the place and tell you where it is."

Barney blinked slowly at him. "Right. Okay. Thanks."

Fletcher gave an impressively modest shrug. "I'm Teleporting practically everyone somewhere anyway. It's just another pit stop."

[comedianhealer]

"Hey, why does he get to drive and not me?" Rafe whined as he moved over to the taxicab, pouting mightily.

"Because you're a child and not everyone enjoys being driven when the driver prefers to drive without hands," Merlin informed him, his eyes twinkling as he opened the doors and glanced speculatively toward Erskine. "'Yet', eh? I'll leave note of that."

"You're all meanies," Rafe grumbled, ducking in one side of the car and, in the heartbeat he was inside, pulled up another cloak. So it was that when Merlin opened the opposing door so he could help Barney put Allie into the seat, there was a ten-year-old dark-skinned boy with huge doe-like eyes and a pout holding out his arms for the little girl. "Allie's the only fun one among y'all," he informed them in an amazingly young, piping voice, and then grinned, revealing at least one missing tooth. "Reckon you can fit the 'chair in now, by the way."

"That's a good look on you, Rafe," Gabe teased, leaning over the car. "About your age, too." Rafe stuck out his tongue to blow a raspberry.

"Wonderful," Merlin grumbled. "I'm going to have a car full of children. Who's sitting in the back with them? I think it ought to be you, Barney. Erskine will encourage them enough from the front-seat."

[skeletonenigma]

Erskine was walking around the back of the car when he heard the voice. Hauntingly familiar, but very definitely... different. Younger, for one thing. A whole lot younger. He froze, staring at the back window, wondering if he wanted to know. Then the question was abruptly answered, and Erskine burst out laughing.

It was Barney's reaction that did it. Merlin may have opened the car door, but Barney had already leaned down to strap Allie into the seat. The sound of that voice, and the sight of Rafe, spurred Barney into jerking violently backwards. This consequently had the effect of making him crash his head into the top of the car door, which in turn caused him to reel back with an angry hiss that was probably deliberately put in place of swearing. The cabbie gripped his head and very nearly sank down onto his haunches, still hissing, but Erskine suspected it had less to do with the pain by then, and more to do with trying to work out what the hell had just happened.

Allie wasn't in his arms anymore. She'd somehow ended up in the car - cuddled up next to the childlike version of Rafe and fast asleep.

Erskine pursed his lips in mock consideration. "Maybe we should ease mortals into the whole 'visible magic' thing. What do you think?"

Ghastly, who was standing with the others a little too far away to see what had happened, frowned at the display. "Do we need to make Rafe meet us there separately? What's going on?"

Erskine wanted to answer, but he didn't think he was going to be able to say a word now without distorting it badly. The childlike version of Rafe was missing a tooth. Why? Just because. Petulant Archangels. Pouting Archangels. Erskine sorely wished he knew where and how to contact Dexter at the moment, because letting the Adept miss all of this was just a damn shame, and an unforgivable crime. It needed to be rectified as soon as was humanly possible.

[comedianhealer]

Rafe looked up at Erskine, his big eyes wide with utmost innocence. "Where'd be the fun in that either?"

Luckily for Erskine, Gabe answered for him, looking up with a grin. "Rafe's being a child. Not anythin' new."

Except for the fact that he was actually a child, which the others would be able to see when the Archangel poked his head out through the door, close-cropped hair and missing tooth and all. He looked like a street-kid. "Hey, man, I can do the old stuff in new ways if I wanna! 'Sides, Allie's all comfy now. Wouldn't wanna disturb her, wouldja?"

He pulled his head in and set about arranging the little girl in the middle seat, pulling a seatbelt around her and buckling it in as carefully and conscientiously as a big brother would. She stirred, yawned, and opened her eyes sleepily, mumbling, "Who're you?"

"Name's Rafe," he said with a grin.

"Oh." Allie's eyes slid shut and then came up to half-mast again. "You're a kid now."

"Yep."

"S'good." She smiled drowsily, her eyes closed. "Come play with me sometime again?"

"Duh." He grinned even though she couldn't see it and settled into the far seat so she could lean up against his shoulder. "Go back to sleep, princess."

"Okay." She was all set to do just that, but then opened her eyes again, this time with a little more effort. "Where's Daddy?"

Rafe pointed over her, just out the door. "Just over there. He's gonna sit with us an' Merlin's gonna drive for once."

Daddy was too far out the door to reach, and Allie could barely see him anyway because she was still sleepy from all the fun she'd been having, but she waved, still smiling. "Hi, Daddy."

[skeletonenigma]

It helped. It really helped. Allie's voice was like a grounding rod, not quite protecting against the weirdness of the afternoon, but at least helping Barney move through it more steadily. He already knew that magic existed, he told himself sternly. It wasn't like he hadn't believed them. It was just... it was magic. There was absolutely no way that could have possibly been anything other than real magic.

It shook him right down to the core, but he managed to shake off enough to wave back at his daughter. "Hi, sweetheart."

The memory of her hugging Dad - Grandad - Go - no, Grandad was close to resurfacing. In the interest of being able to walk under his own power, Barney didn't let it. How apt that they were now headed to a church - or would be, once they were finished at the hospital. The Catholic church on Chapel street.

"There's a GPS under the fare meter," he told Merlin as he finally managed to buckle himself in next to Allie, sparing Rafe no more than a second wary glance. He was about to ask if Merlin knew how to use it, and then decided that if Merlin could drive, he probably could. Then Barney debated asking if Merlin even needed the GPS, but since a question like that was already making his head pound, he elected to keep quiet and let the sorcerers work.

Erskine was the next one to get in. "If there is a single complaint about 'are we there yet,'" he threw carelessly over his shoulder, "I'm authorising Barney to shove you out the window."

Despite everything, Barney laughed. He twisted around to watch the others... Teleporting through the back windshield, but there was no sight of them. Already gone, he expected. Probably for the best that he didn't see them go.