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

[peacefullywreathed]

"The good guys?" Dexter laughed, and his soul rippled with amusement. Vex's soul was a banner, a crest--a banner in the breeze bearing the arms of a rampant lion and a dove. "Since when have you--oh. Right. Never mind." The banner quivered sheepishly on its non-existent pike.

"In this case, I'd have said practicality would be more prudent," Solomon noted, following behind just a little faster than he would have liked because Dexter was keeping up with her. At her words, however, he stopped short, and Vex came to a sudden halt to avoid tugging at him. (Scrupulous had had no such braking ability.)

"If we take care of Bliss first, we'll have a period of no defence while you experiment. There's at least two dozen more statues in the basement. If you can animate one now, we can get Sanctuary linguists to animate the rest, and have a security force by the time Bliss has been freed. So if you please ...?"

He inclined his head toward the door. It was closed; the only reason he knew it was there because of a kind of thin-ness in the lifestream where it would open. Her eagerness was curious. Bliss could stand to wait another few hours. Maybe she just wanted to get it all over with--or maybe there was something else he couldn't see.

[neutralcollector]

From the sounds of things, Vex had already been brought up to speed. Far from feeling offended by that, China was grateful. One less person to have to explain it to. She should probably have been worried about how little she seemed to care, but there were so many other things to worry about that China didn't think twice about letting this one go.

Solomon's argument made sense, too. And since she really couldn't think of a counterargument, China stopped and turned an amused eye on Solomon. "You're in an awful hurry to have dozens more angels wandering around the Sanctuary, Elder Wreath. Is there something I should know?"

Then again, she was also in an awful hurry to bypass the practicality and rescue Bliss. Was that solely to get back to her library as quickly as possible, or was something about Skulduggery finally rubbing off on her?

No, China decided. No, she just wanted to get this all over with. Yes, there was... trust, of a sort, but she wasn't going to dwell on it. She wasn't going to greet Bliss with open arms and catch him up on the last year. She wasn't going to make any sort of effort once Bliss was free, partly because it was too dangerous and partly because there was no point. There was trust, but there wasn't any sort of intent behind it. There wasn't any sort of intent in front of it. This was solely because Bliss was her brother, and he deserved better than what his current fate was.

Rather than trying to explain any of that, China didn't give Solomon time to answer her question before pulling open the storage-room door. "This might take a while," she warned them. "If you could make sure no one comes in, I'd appreciate it." Her mouth twitched up into the beginnings of a smile. "It would be terrible if someone saw golden light underneath the door, and came to investigate thinking their Elder was in trouble again."

[peacefullywreathed]

"Obviously, if the Sanctuary's Prime Detective can have two angels at his beck and call, an Elder ought to be able to have dozens," Solomon said with an easy shrug in spite of China's attempt to move on. "It would look bad to the other nations if a mere underling could command angels and his superiors couldn't, wouldn't it?"

It might have been an attempt to give him a few extra seconds of thought. It wasn't that he was surprised that China already knew about that, exactly ... it's just that it was the first time someone who hadn't been there had brought it up. It was a probe and a tease at once.

Not that he let on that he needed the time, of course. "Of course it would," he agreed. "We wouldn't want my fans to be disappointed when they find out I had nothing to do with it after all."

And he did have 'fans', apparently. Or at least people who were curious enough to trail him through a few corridors, wondering what on Earth the powerless ex-Necromancer had done to ward off an assassin. Dexter hadn't exactly helped, what with his pointing them out and asking if they wanted autographs. "I'd like to observe, however," Solomon added, shifting forward to feel for the edge of the door and gesturing wryly at his face with his other hand. "Professional curiosity, you could say."

"You know, if the two of you wanted to be alone you could've just said so from the outset," Dexter said mock-censuringly. "I'll just be outside, pretending to chaperone and telling people they're hearing things. Don't leave too much of a mess, now."

Oh yes. Solomon was going to have problems with one of the Dead Men as his bodyguard. Solomon spared a moment to mentally and exasperatedly ask the air if there really wasn't anyone else appropriate and then said with great affected dignity, "Jealousy is a sin, Dexter Vex. Just so you know."

[neutralcollector]

"Ah, but two angels being at the Sanctuary's Prime Detective's beck and call isn't common knowledge." China had to admit, she was rather looking forward to the general public's reaction. Dozens of stone angels, working together in unison just like the Cleavers they seemed to be replacing. Deadlier in battle, too. Probably a tad more intimidating than the helmeted Cleavers, to boot.

Those who didn't know the magical theory behind the statues would likely assume the Sanctuary was becoming even more pretentious, viewing themselves as guardian angels defending the mortal world. The thought made China smile. She hadn't yet met a single sorcerer who truly cared about protecting mortals, no matter what they claimed. Mortals were more of an annoyance than anything else, or a hindrance at best - or, in rare cases, an anonymously large group of people that simply existed to further a cause. Oh, there were people who fully embodied the principle of protecting them - Meritorious came easily to mind - but even then, it was for an end, and he sat a world apart.

China hesitated before turning to the first statue. No, Skulduggery seemed to genuinely care. He might be the only sorcerer she'd ever met who did. And annoyingly enough, he seemed to inspire the same feeling in most people he associated with.

"I'm flattered, Dexter," China threw carelessly over her shoulder. "But I'm afraid Solomon's always been the only man for me."

Oh, she'd missed this. It felt good to be able to act like nothing had changed. Two days of working on a pair of problems involving nothing but pure and unshaded magic did wonders to the mindset, it really did.

The statue she was faced with very much looked like an angel, but the traditional sort. It stood a little taller than Skulduggery, and had a devastatingly beautiful face just like Gabe did. Gabe, and his brother Raphael. But there, all similarities ended. The statue wore carved robes, and had a pair of wings put to eternal shame by the real things. They were impressive by themselves, naturally. Ornately sculpted, extending nearly all the way down to the floor, and absolutely perfect for China's purposes. Given a little time, she might even be able to make these statues fly.

The one right behind it was also obviously an angel, but differently so. It had been made by someone different, someone with different ideas, and different ways of implementing them. China observed the two for a moment, tapping her thin scalpel absentmindedly against her palm. "I may have to do each statue individually," she decided aloud. The basics would be the same, but tiny nuances in each would mean microscopic differences in the sigils to make each work. Possible, of course, but greatly time-consuming.

[peacefullywreathed]

"Details." Solomon waved a dismissive hand as he stepped carefully in behind her. He'd visited this room before out of curiosity and a sense of ... responsibility, he supposed. The angel statues had been his idea, and part of him wanted to see the process as it happened. So he knew the room was supposed to be empty aside from the statues, but not precisely how many were in there since yesterday morning.

"From what I've heard, you have a thing for half-angelic legends too," Dexter shot back. "You're developing a type, China. First the divine sorcerer, now the soul-seeing prophet. Soon no one but the Son of God's gonna be good enough for you." Solomon almost missed a step, turning sharply, and Dexter exploded into laughter. "You--should see--the look on your face," he managed to say.

It was incredulous. Solomon knew it was and couldn't help it. He could joke about a lot of things, but he found that subject was a little tougher than most. He didn't think he could be blamed for that, given he wore the Son of God's scars on his body like an excruciatingly tailored suit.

"That," he said, his tone a mixture of amusement and incredulity, "was deplorable." The ex-Necromancer turned away from the door, taking a step with his hand out to find one of the statues, and strove to ignore Vex's giggles by re-focussing on China's words.

He still couldn't help rubbing the scar on his uninjured hand on the stone, or from closing the other's fist to feel the throb of the wound in his palm.

"Because they're different?" he asked. "Most of them came from the same two masons and are each alike, but I believe we have a few from various others. Perhaps those can serve as permanent guards for specific areas." China wouldn't have to animate them right away; what they needed now was a main force to take over from the Cleavers.

[neutralcollector]

It took China a moment to remember the connection that existed somewhere between Dex's comment and reality, but remember it she did. Ravel was with Fletcher when they picked up Merlin from her library. Ravel had, unsurprisingly, told Vex. Either one or both of them had drawn the ridiculous conclusion.

It was a moment longer than China would have liked to make such an obvious connection, but she was still recovering. It was only to be expected. More importantly, while she didn't dignify Vex's comment with a response, Solomon almost seemed to take personal offense by it. It was enough to make China wonder whether Christ himself had put in an appearance as well. Either that, or Wreath really was going to convert. These days, nothing would surprise her.

"Perhaps." To be honest, China wasn't overly interested in how the statues were used. She was more interested in how they performed; what the Council of Elders did with them after that wasn't any of her concern. "But unless you hired masons to mass-produce these statues, I'll still need to do each one individually. The slightest imperfection in the stone could become a problem if I tried a one-size-fits-all solution. They'll need to be able to fight." She stepped towards the first one with a sigh. "This was why I preferred the Cleavers. Every one was the same. Simple. Elegant. I didn't keep getting asked to create more."

Because she knew that would be the price here. Statues would get destroyed or defeated in their line of work, and she'd be expected to keep up with the demand. The demand in a Cradle of Magic. The demand in Ireland, where Skulduggery Pleasant was the Sanctuary's Prime Detective.

"Vex?" She favoured the man with a radiant smile. "Would you be a dear and lay this statue on the ground for me? I need access to its base."

[peacefullywreathed]

"That is exactly what we did," Solomon said dryly. The first lot to come in had simply been as many as possible; it was only after that they'd realised how different each would be, and that it would probably affect China's ability to animate them quickly. "We've narrowed it down to two masons who had them in storage, in bulk, or can produce them quickly enough for our purposes. The odd ones out can be novelties or experimentations, as you like, as long as the others can be animated quickly at need by our own linguists."

Those were the ones in the storage room, because they were the ones best suited to their purposes.

"But of course, China darling." Vex's sauntering footsteps came into the room, and Solomon removed his hand to take a few steps straight back until he found the wall. He folded his arms, a smirk already lurking around his mouth as he heard Vex shift the statue and then groan.

"Oh, I see how it is. Passive revenge by giving me a hernia. Gimme a minute."

It took almost ten minutes for Vex to lever the statue onto the floor without dropping it on any part of himself. Or the floor. Solomon was counting, idly tracking the ticks of the pocketwatch the Detectives had rescued from his apartment.

"A minute?" he asked, dangling the watch pointedly from a couple of fingers.

"It's not my fault you need to put your guardian angels on a diet before they can fly," Vex grumbled, panting and moving back toward the door with a dull thud that indicated he'd collapsed against the wall.

[neutralcollector]

China considered that, as Vex worked to lower the statue without breaking it or himself. "Then yes, I can probably keep it general enough. Just don't come complaining to me when any of them act odd or out-of-place." She frowned. "Or do; fixing them should be simple enough." Simple for her, of course, if not quite for any of the Sanctuary's so-called 'expert' linguists.

"Has my diabolical plan succeeded?" she asked lightly, kneeling down in front of the statue's base without so much as a glance towards Vex. "Should Elder Wreath call you a surgeon, Dexter? How good are the health benefits for someone on the Sanctuary's payroll?"

The base was nice and wide, thankfully. China flipped her scalpel around and got to work, quick and efficient movements of her hands so ingrained in her memory that she barely noticed them. There was always a bit of basic math involved in complicated calculus problems, and it was easy to skim over that without thinking. Or, in China's case, internally debating. Unlike many mathematicians, she was never in danger of making a silly mistake due to inattention, because she never stopped paying attention for a moment. She simply assigned varying amounts of her attention to where they were most needed.

[peacefullywreathed]

"We wouldn't dream of experimenting with such a task on our own," Solomon agreed with a perfectly straight face. He was teasing, but it wasn't untrue; there was too much to risk if one of the Host started acting contrary to their programming. They were, literally, being animated by belief, and angels, after all, had free will enough to Fall.

"We could always find out together," Vex suggested impishly. "Or you could suggest some other gorgeous lady to put me to the test. I don't mind. And you'd have to ask Sol about health benefits. I'm not the one who got stabbed by Sanguine's razor."

"Well, I am still alive, so there's that," Solomon murmured.

"No, seriously," Vex persisted. "What was all that about throwing pieces of the lifestream? By the time Ghastly got around to telling that part of the story last night I was already drunk."

"If you didn't bother to pay attention, then I'm not going to enlighten you, am I?"

"And here I thought you'd learned a sense of humour, Necromancer," Vex grumbled.

"I have a sense of humour," Solomon answered, lifting his eyebrow. "I simply choose to have a subtle, devious one." He was watching China as she worked, but in truth he didn't really know exactly what she was doing, whether he could see the effects or not. So he let Vex occupy him with the banter, paying enough attention to the statue to be able to see the way the lifestream rippled around it with every change China made.

[neutralcollector]

Throwing pieces of the lifestream. China recalled the last time she saw Solomon, and the way he pushed his hand down on thin air to create a golden light very similar to the one described in eyewitness accounts of the attempted assassination. He'd pushed down like his hand was resting on top of a river, and light wisped around it as water gathering in a shallow pool around a large rock. China had thought it looked like sunlight back then. Knowing it was somehow an effect of the lifestream updated the analogy in her mind.

People who were calling their newest Elder 'helpless' were in for a bit of a surprise. Those who underestimated him were in for a nasty shock, as Billy-Ray Sanguine could no doubt attest to.

"You don't want me playing matchmaker," China assured Vex, distantly and a little belatedly. "I'm far too good at it. Best to stick with your various and questionable conquests, of which I will not be one."

She had to work to make the scalpel move anywhere in the rough stone, even with all the metal's magical enhancements. A feat made more difficult when one considered that a cut being even a millimetre off in depth could change the whole outcome. Still, China worked with the diligence and efficient speed of a master - particularly when she tuned out the banter behind her - and soon enough, she was getting back to her feet. "I'd like it back upright now, please. I have a few more to do."

[peacefullywreathed]

"You're deliberately giving me reason to need nursing, aren't you?" Vex asked, but Solomon heard his footsteps move back toward the middle of the room and the grunt as he heaved the statue back upright. The man kept talking, but Solomon tuned him out, only answering absently on occasion in favour of watching the way the lifestream was beginning to coalesce around the statue.

It wasn't a soul, exactly. It was brighter than with the Bentley, because it was honed as if shining through a prism, but it still wasn't a soul. What China was doing was drawing out inherent parts of the statue and making them obvious in the physicality of the stone--enough that as they moved and worked, the stone itself would follow.

It wasn't a soul, and yet he could still see the ways in which it would turn. It was like a simple melody with an exceedingly broad range of possibilities, but still limited and without the capacity to play itself as a human soul could.

When the final sigil snapped into place there was a soft pulse around it, illuminating its dimensions. Solomon started a little when that didn't fade, when he realised he could see it--not like a real angel. Like a shadow. He stared as it opened its eyes and looked back.

Gabe and Rafe's eyes had the cosmos in them. This angel's eyes were like an artist's rendering of space. Pretty, imaginative ... nothing like the real thing. Piercing enough to be unnerving, and yet still oddly hollow. Waiting for an instruction. It didn't speak, and yet the way it radiated its light toward him--a specific rainbow arc--seemed receptive. As if it recognised him. As if it was waiting for orders. He could almost hear a question--not exactly hear. Not with his ears. Just a ... sense.

Solomon's back prickled. "China," he said slowly, "what sort of limitations did you program into it?"

[neutralcollector]

"Limitations?" China glanced back towards Solomon. "Was I supposed to include some? Pity. I completely forgot."

It would do, she decided. It would do for now. There were several additions she wanted to make, flight and increased flexibility among them. But as a basic defense force until that could be arranged? It would do. She stood and watched the stone angel watch Solomon unblinkingly, completely unbothered by its more intimidating aspects even if it was only because China knew exactly what made it tick. She'd written exactly what made it tick. The trepidation in Solomon's voice, on the other hand, was completely understandable. China wondered how much of the angel he could see - and what, specifically, translated into his new world of sight.

"It won't talk," she answered more seriously. "None of them will. That's a basic precaution. They'll recognise and obey the Irish Elders without question. That might even run a little deeper than the Cleavers did - obeying your intent, for example, rather than solely spoken commands. They'll also recognise anyone on the Sanctuary's payroll. Obeying them is a different matter, but I'm anxious to hear of any complaints you might have as you start using them."

Honestly, there was every chance in the world these angels would revolt. China was only animating them. She wasn't giving them personality, she wasn't individualising them; she was leaving them a lot more free range in their behaviour than she was strictly comfortable with. That was, again, another reason the Cleavers were such a brilliant idea - reflections of Bliss would never have a thought that Bliss himself wouldn't have. She was, very basically, leaving these angels' antics up to interpretation - the interpretation of worldwide belief. Theoretically strong and unshakeable, but China had her doubts. You could never count on something so immaterial as belief.

[peacefullywreathed]

"I see." It was a decent precaution. An understandable one, even a wise one--in the event on of them 'fell', they wouldn't be able to reveal any secrets. However ... just because they couldn't speak didn't mean they couldn't communicate. Surely they couldn't use magic? They were physical fighters. Or would the belief give them that as well?

If it did ... if it did, Gabe and Rafe regularly used telepathy.

He spoked directly to the angel. "Do you hear me?"

It inclined its head. Yes. Waiting.

Its mouth didn't move, but there was a ... vibration. Not quite telepathy, but something similar. Something he knew only he could hear/see/touch. He took a step away from the wall and a few to the side, slow and measuring. The angel's gaze followed him. It knew him. Not well, but it did. "Go to the Grand Mage's office and join the Cleaver at guard there."

Yes. Going now.

He heard the split and grind of stone as it spread its wings for balance and hefted its sword, the patter of flakes hitting the ground, and then its step--strangely light given it was stone. Solomon watched the way its prism shifted the light within it. It was potential, he realised with a mental start. Rainbows collected and placed in a box, but unbound. This was an object capable of learning--at least as far as its box let it. Could it develop telepathy?

Solomon watched until it strode out through the open door and vanished from his Sight, save the afterglow of rainbows in the hall. "Well. I'd say that was a success."

[neutralcollector]

"I'd be forced to agree with you." China couldn't help her smile as her new creation left the storage-room. "And unless I'm very much mistaken, none of you bothered to warn the rest of the Sanctuary that this would be happening."

The answer to her implied question came only a moment later, in the form of a startled yelp from out in the hall. China was going to do her part to make sure the world believed these stone angels to be the subject of the worldwide visions, but it didn't look like she'd have to work too hard. That sort of conclusion would spread easily enough on its own. Shock was a good reactant in these circumstances.

It did, however, leave an unsettling question. China looked around to the other statue, frozen and inanimate for the moment. "The visions Sensitives have been having," she started, brow furrowed in thought. "They're not about these statues. They're about Gabriel and Raphael." That much she knew everyone would agree on, despite the phrase 'figures in white.' Maybe they represented themselves in the vision as something the Sensitive would be able to recognise. It didn't matter. "All the visions speak of them protecting our dimension from something. From what?"

Not from the Faceless Ones. There was no need; that portal was closed again, and there weren't any more Isthmus Anchors. But that made the question seem somehow even more unsettling.

[peacefullywreathed]

"Of course not," Solomon said blandly. "Where would be the fun in that?" Then he tilted his head toward China, his mouth quirking. "Tipstaff knows, but he's the only one who does, because he handled the transactions. We decided not to make what we were planning common knowledge to avoid people asking too many questions."

"You could really stop people asking questions if you told one of them to stand in a corner with its hands over its eyes," Vex said, sounding torn between glee and unease.

This was such a non sequitur that Solomon blinked, reran his words, and then looked at him. "You'll have to explain that to me."

"Doctor Who," Dexter explained delicately. "The new shows have got reality-eating time-warping angel statues which only move when you blink."

"Ah. Tell it to Ravel, I'm sure he'll come up with something."

"Is that an order? That was an order. I'm taking it as an order." The way Vex's banner snapped wildly and freely in the warm breeze spoke of glee.

Solomon chose not to answer in favour of turning sharply toward China before stopping. She was right. The visions meant something, and in amidst Solomon's personal trials he hadn't had time to stop and thing them over any further than as an acknowledgement of what was real. "You're right," he said slowly, "but there's one obvious thing. Things, rather. The Faceless Ones." He turned his head again to look at China more fully. "When I was undertaking my withdrawal, I witnessed my Necromantic memories backward, with the Sight. Including Aranmore Farm. I saw the Faceless Ones as they are. They're Fallen Angels, China. From Gabe's dimension. Fallen Angels turned insane by the journey between universes."

Which had explained why Skulduggery was so adamant about Gabe not leaving. Which explained why Gabe wasn't leaving--at the time. Which explained why he still walked with a hitch even after Rafe had healed him. And why Rafe himself was so exhausted after travelling here. "If I had to make a guess, I'd say the Faceless Ones are a good bet. Again."

[neutralcollector]

Maybe it was another unintentional side effect of China's disastrous excursion to the safehouse, but the revelation that the so-called 'dark gods' she'd worshipped most of her young life were in fact Fallen Angels wasn't so shocking to her. It made a lot more sense than what sorcerers had twisted their visage into. China had seen them, after all. Three of them. They were not gods. She'd suspected they didn't belong in this dimension, already theorised that they'd found their way here by accident and set themselves up to be worshipped by the vastly inferior beings they encountered.

Fallen Angels were just the next logical leap from there. China nodded once to cement the idea in her mind. Fallen Angels, and from Gabe's dimension specifically. If that were the case, then they could surely find their way here, just as two Archangels already had.

... And yet. China wasn't convinced. If the Faceless Ones could have broken through, they would have by now. Gabe was with them for however brief a time while rescuing Skulduggery, and yet again, he escaped while they were left behind. Trapped. If they were going to succeed this time, it wouldn't be without help.

And it was that help China was worried about.

"Perhaps you're right." She smiled to hide her further suspicion, despite knowing Solomon would see it anyway. "What worries me is that the visions don't tell us who wins. But perhaps it's not a battle we should be worrying about. Did that test satisfy you, or am I animating more before we start on the Cleavers?"

[peacefullywreathed]

She was right. Solomon did see it. He saw it and he had nothing to say, because even though she was right again, they knew too little to speculate. "Visions are rarely clear enough to tell outcomes with impunity," he pointed out, and then smiled. "Since we're apparently now an item, China, you should know that I'm very rarely satisfied. I'd like a dozen minimum before we start on the Cleavers. That will cover all the Sanctuary entrances with some to spare. If, however, you feel you're not up the task I'm sure I can request some of our linguists to come and lend you hand for expediency's sake."

It was a taunt, a tease, a challenge--yes, he did want more before they destroyed the Cleavers. Enough to maintain a safeguard around the Sanctuary. However, it would be prudent for China to show the Sanctuary linguists how it was done, since there ought to be enough of that style of statue to animate for their purposes that day. That could come later, if China's pride didn't allow her to play mentor right now.

Without even waiting for China to accept--because she would--he turned toward Vex and held out his hand. "The rest of them are stored downstairs," he said. "This way."

[neutralcollector]

China laughed. It sounded more like her old laughs, less bitterly defeated and more genuinely amused over the idea of anyone being able to repeat a feat she'd discovered all on her own. She was, in fact, feeling a lot more like her old self in general these days. There were still some things that were new, or disconnected, and they still made her trip occasionally. But apart from that, China felt much more in control of herself. The good-natured teasing was evidence of that, as was her bell-like laugh.

"Expediency's sake?" She shook her head, pocketing the scalpel. "Shouldn't you leave me to my own devices, in that case?" The Sanctuary's linguists, while perfectly professional, weren't imaginative. They had perhaps a drop of creativity between the lot of them, and worse, they actually grew irritable when the fact was pointed out to them. China would get much more done without their 'help.'

"If you're still insistent on extra hands," she added, "I'm sure my own students would be eager to provide. Mine, however, should be more than enough."

She saw what Solomon meant once they arrived in the Sanctuary's lowest cellar. A great number of the statues already there perfectly resembled the one she'd just animated - at least, at first glance. She wouldn't change the sigils for now, although she suspected that even when she did, the changes would be minimal. That was good; it meant less work on her part, and a greater chance of the statues synchronising together right away. She turned back to Solomon and Vex before approaching the first, after realising she should probably explain that bit as well. "They'll be telepathic to each other. It might take some time for that to blend together with the Sanctuary's defences, but once it does, they'll be able to read your intent. Very much the same way you do, I imagine, but without the added benefit of a free consciousness. They'll need instruction, and near-constant use."

[peacefullywreathed]

"I dare say some of your students might find themselves with some job offerings," Solomon admitted. "I've spent all morning interviewing people and it still amazes me how many incompetents can get hired in a seat of government."

"You mean that's unusual?" Vex wondered.

"No, but it's still generally amazing when you stop to think about it." Craven was effective in his own dismal way, Quiver very definitely competent, and so was Solomon. Tenebrae had valued creativity--to a point. Meritorious and his compatriots had valued safety, and it showed. The people they hired didn't have a whit of wit, so long as they retained the status quo. Solomon wasn't particularly enthused by that, and the Dead Men had never been able to work like that under Corrival's command. All of which meant that a good chunk of the Sanctuary employees were going to get a rather unpleasant shock by the end of the week.

The cellar was always a bit difficult to get down, but Solomon managed, moving more slowly than China and with one hand firmly on the wall. "They may well turn out telepathic to us as well," he said, and finally stepped down onto the floor proper. "You left them with a lot of potential, and the belief of angels-as-messengers leaves them in need of some form of communication. I don't imagine instruction and use will be much of a problem."

Shadows they might be, but the angel had had a tenor of unbridled potential--like a swath of malleable rainbows, fit for their painting. The Cleavers sucked everything in and left nothing to mould. "And they will," he added in afterthought, "very much be able to read things as I do. Do let me know if I can take credit for that inspiration. I get the impression my resume needs some padding."

[neutralcollector]

"Oh, you were very much the inspiration," China assured Solomon, her smile turning sly. "When you were almost assassinated yesterday, I decided you would need servants able to tell something was amiss immediately from the other side of the Sanctuary, and act accordingly with all due speed. If they had to wait until you were screaming, they wouldn't be very efficient as a defence force, would they?"

All of which was true, to a degree, teasing though her tone was. Sanguine's appearance yesterday was certainly what spurred China into finishing her work early. For her recovery to be effective, she needed stability around her, and her social standing to be well and truly established. None of that would be the case if the Irish Sanctuary underwent any more changes than it already had. Instability invited conflict, which wasn't a bad thing in and of itself, but which could be disastrous to all involved if China wasn't prepared for it.

But Solomon was right. The initial inspiration came from his rather unique way of seeing the world. When he'd convinced her to help rescue Bliss, the unerring way he saw right through her was what gave her the idea. As well as the suggestion that perhaps these statues shouldn't be able to talk.

"Eleven more?" she asked once more for confirmation. "That shouldn't take too long, provided Dexter's put on some muscle in the last few minutes. Perhaps you should help him, Elder Wreath. Lifting the rock you've been living under for the last few centuries must have taken its toll."

[peacefullywreathed]

"That would be useful, I admit, whenever my mysterious would-be assassins try again." He said it lightly, but it came out more heartfelt than he meant it to, because they would try again. The Council had agreed on that the day before, after the others had left. For whatever reason, someone was trying to kill Solomon and set the Temple up. The question was which part was more important: the Temple taking the fall, Solomon's death, or the chaos that would ensue after the loss of an Elder so soon after election.

Right now, they were leaning toward the last. It made the most sense. It also left them with a broader field of perpetrators, but that was Skulduggery's job. There was every chance it was connected to why Marr had tried to destroy the Sanctuary.

"Who, me?" He lifted an eyebrow and his bandaged hand. "I'm an invalid. I'm more likely to tip it over onto Vex's toes, and then I'd be without a guide."

"You might be without a guide anyway, if I have to lift eleven statues," Vex complained.

"Here I thought you'd appreciate the opportunity to show off," Solomon said, amused, and laid his good hand on the wall, speaking directly into it. "Tipstaff, I need a strong man down in the cellar, if you please."

He could have asked for a couple of Cleavers, but he frankly wasn't sure what would happen if he had to be around them too long. He'd endured the last couple of days by not being in the room with one for more than a minute or two, and not looking directly into them. If Bliss saw him and tried to break out, he would have fewer reflections to add to the final.

Within a few minutes an uncertain-looking man had come downstairs, and Solomon directed him to help Vex tip up the statutes. One by one, as the Host were finished, he sent them out to various specific guard stations. Eventually, someone noticed.

"Are you the one sending angels stalking through my Sanctuary?" Corrival demanded the instant Solomon picked up his vibrating phone.

"Maybe. How do you like the prototype standing outside your door?"

"It's very pretty," Corrival said dryly, "and submissive, and intimidating, and explains why I didn't have anyone bringing me paperwork for the last hour. How many are you making?"

"China will finish a dozen now to secure the Sanctuary. Then we'll go to the mirror-hall Gabe's brother made to train Valkyrie and Fletcher just outside of Dublin. You should start sending the Cleavers there so they've assembled by the time we arrive."

"The mirror-hall Gabe's brother made. Of course. So much for non-interference." Corrival's tone was a mixture of exasperated and amused, and Solomon grinned in turn.

"Be fair. He made it for training purposes. How on Earth was he to know we'd need it?"

"I can think of a dozen ways offhand and all of them are impossible. Right. Keep me in the loop." The phone clicked off and Solomon lowered it, laughing quietly to himself and settling back against the wall to watch as angel after angel came to relative life.

[neutralcollector]

The first time Erskine rounded a corner on the way back to Corrival's office and ran into a fully animated angel statue, he'd jumped back in shock. He had it on good authority he wasn't the only one, at least, but for a single crazy moment there, he'd thought he was either going insane, or more of Gabriel's brothers had arrived and decided to show themselves.

Not real angels, though. That much was obvious once Erskine's mind caught up with his imagination. China must have finished her sigils. The angel he'd run into tipped its head toward him in a sort of greeting, and carried on down the hallway unaware of just how creepy it was being.

Erskine stared after it. The Cleavers didn't greet people. Not even the Elders. They acknowledged orders, and made it known when they were confused, but they did not genially greet passersby in the hall. The sight of it was worrying.

On a whim, Erskine bypassed the turnoff towards the Grand Mage's office and ended up in the front lobby instead. An angel was standing guard there, situated with a full view of the room and the staircase opposite, right next to a desk Tipstaff normally occupied and which was currently mercifully empty.

Erskine had gotten to know Tipstaff surprisingly well over the last couple of days. A thought struck him.

"Can you hear me?" he asked the statue.

It inclined its head, but didn't speak. Well, that was good. They couldn't very well follow orders if they weren't able to hear. "As Elder of this Sanctuary, I hereby command you to stand right where you are and keep doing exactly what you're doing, but to cover your eyes with your hands and not to move, unless an Elder orders otherwise. Or we're attacked," he added belatedly. "Protecting the Sanctuary is a primary concern, of course."

It didn't even question the strange order. The angel just put its hands over its eyes and stood like that, stock-still and silent. It unnerved Erskine, and he'd never even seen the show.

But Tipstaff had. And the strangled yelp that followed Erskine as he made his way down to the basement moments later made this whole ordeal very much worth it.

"I'm a terrible, terrible man," he confessed when he arrived. "I may have just made all our lives that much more difficult. Hello, China. Dexter. Prophet Wreath."

"I'll admit, I prefer the company of terrible men." China was working on the base of another of the statues, kneeling down on a stone floor with thin scalpel in hand as Erskine had never seen her - actually working. "They make life far less boring."

"How many of these are you making?"

"Twelve." China glanced up at him. "This is the last one. I hope you're not already misusing them."

"Me?" Erskine asked with mock offense. "Misusing them? Now, why would I ever do a thing like that?"

[peacefullywreathed]

"I thought I was the only man for you, China," Solomon observed. "I'm hurt and possibly jealous. What did you do, Reveller?"

He'd done something, that much was clear just from a mere glimpse of his soul and the way its leaves were quivering. Judging by the disconcert in their helper's soul, Ravel's expression was probably equally unnerving.

"Just so long as you didn't steal my idea," Dexter grumbled. "I had a great idea. I liked my idea. You've already stolen my idea, haven't you? Have you even seen Doctor Who yet?"

Despite himself Solomon snorted and then laughed as their souls resonated with one feeling that said yes, Ravel had stolen Vex's idea and no, he wasn't sorry. "You posted one near Tipstaff, didn't you? That poor man. If he has a mental breakdown and Corrival asks why, I'm going to blame you when we have to break in a new Administrator."

Which, he had to admit, really wasn't helping the swirl of disconcert in their helper's soul. He was intrigued to note that it was accompanied by something warm too--interest. Curiosity. A sort of regard which said that while the man found his new Elders unnerving, he wanted to know what might happen next.

[neutralcollector]

"Oh, he won't have a mental breakdown," said Erskine with a dismissive wave of his hand. "He already knew we were planning this. He's a smart man. He'll figure it out. I've never seen Doctor Who, Dex, but did you know Tipstaff has? Convince him to have a drink or two with you, and he won't stop talking about it."

Solomon knew about that too, apparently. Well, being a soul-reader, that could only be expected. Erskine was forced to seek out more conventional ways of getting to know the people he was technically entrusting his life to, and while a little less efficient, they were just as good, if not better. And definitely more enjoyable.

"I would appreciate a few hours of warning if you manage to get the entire Sanctuary upset with you," China spoke up from her spot on the floor. "A minimum safe distance, too. Perhaps I should work on befriending Tipstaff. That is," and she glanced up at Wreath with an impish gleam in her eyes that threw Erskine off-guard, "if Solomon gives me his permission to see other men."

Erskine was imagining it. They were joking. They had to be. Deciding for himself that a joke was definitely the case, Erskine grinned and leaned back against the wall. "If you're going straight to the Cleavers after this, I'd like to come along with, if nobody minds." He nodded towards the unfamiliar man keeping well out of China's way. "Greetings, my good man. I don't believe I've had the pleasure."

[peacefullywreathed]

When China was amused or teasing, the threads of her soul glittered in sunlight. It was an oddly compelling effect, somewhat like a beautifully alluring but ultimately deadly insect. Solomon tilted his head at her, the corners of his mouth quirking his amusement. "Oh, that depends. I may have to hire a chaperone."

"If you two lovebirds are going to start having a marital spat, you can at least let us get the popcorn first," Vex told them. "Thanks to this hernia you've given me, my only chance of fun now is to live vicariously through someone else."

Their helper, the man with the earthen soul, jumped at suddenly being included in the conversation. Solomon heard the scrape, even if he hadn't been able to see the way his soul rustled like reeds. The man wasn't exactly bright, soul-wise, but he was more pleasant than a lot of the other Sanctuary employees; solid and unassuming, but steady. "Um ..." he stammered, clearly startled by the fact that an Elder was talking to him almost like an equal. "John, sir. John Doe."

There was a brief pause before Dex blurted, "Seriously?!"

"Um. Y- yes, sir?"