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

[impudentsongbird]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

Comments

[impudentsongbird]

"I didn't think you were pregnant," Melissa said immediately, and then relaxed with a sigh of relief. "But I'm glad you're not. I might have had to bring out the Motherly Wrath on your new boyfriend, and I rather liked him. I would have preferred not breaking him with my Motherly Wrath."

She smiled as gently and encouragingly as she could manage at Stephanie, but she still couldn't keep the worried wrinkle off her brow. Because she was worried. Because if Stephanie wasn't pregnant, engaged or ill, then what could be making Melissa's cool, collected daughter so nervous? What was this about the cult?

Melissa knew about the cult. Des had told her a long time ago, about the cult his grandfather had been part of, the one he was sure Gordon had joined too. That was the only time they'd ever talked about it, because it had been the first time she'd seen him absolutely serious and absolutely terrified this might be the thing to drive her away. That his family was a little ... eccentric. Eccentric enough to believe in magic. She'd never mentioned it to him, but during that conversation she'd seen a wistfulness in his eyes. A wish that he could believe too.

Something cold slid through Melissa's chest and down into her gut. "Stephanie, are you part of Gordon's cult?"

[skeletonenigma]

"No." The answer was immediate and partly defensive, but a moment later Valkyrie smiled. "I'm not planning on becoming a writer or anything."

Her father, Valkyrie grew nervous to see, wasn't even smiling at the joke.

This was going to be every bit as hard as she thought. Suddenly fiercely wishing that she hadn't brought it up until after dinner, Valkyrie followed her dad's example and pushed her food away. "Skulduggery, couldn't you just take your skin down?"

He raised an eyebrow, something a small part of Valkyrie still thrilled to see whenever it happened, despite the circumstances. "That would defeat the whole purpose of you telling your parents the truth, wouldn't it?"

He was right, of course. But Valkyrie had an ulterior motive in asking the question, and she was glad to see it worked; her father's face had cleared slightly and now showed mostly confusion. She leaped on the opportunity before he could ask.

"I can do magic," she blurted. "Real magic. Like Gordon wrote about in his books, and like Gordon believed existed, and like all of the stories your grandfather used to tell you guys. It's all true. And I know I sound absolutely insane, but it's true. I can show you proof if you want."

"Steph - "

"I'm not crazy. Look." Valkyrie held out her hand, snapped her fingers, and kept her palm flat to show that the flame dancing in her fingers wasn't coming from any sort of fake magic trick.

[impudentsongbird]

In all the years she'd known the family, Melissa had frequently, in the depths of her mind where Des wouldn't be able to see it in her eyes, wondered just what sort of 'cult' Gordon's might be. She remembered the first time she met him, the way he had been mysterious and open at once.

He'd never hidden his eccentricities. It was just that back then ... he'd never hidden that he believed some strange things, either. Later on, when he became famous, he tended to keep things quieter, and covered up those particular beliefs with other eccentricities. Or maybe it was before that. When he and Fergus had had their falling-out.

Either way, it was actually one of the first things that had attracted her to Gordon: the fact that, at the time, he'd seemed to have one foot in a fantastical world she'd never seen before. It had been exciting. And, in some ways, dangerous. Melissa had never been the type to go rushing off on an adventure without checking her bag first. Even when she liked being with him, she could see how dangerous it was. How uncontrolled.

Desmond was like that and wasn't. He was in a way that was even more outlandish and reckless when let go, but at the same time he needed an element of security Gordon hadn't ever seemed to want. It kept him secure. Melissa knew she wouldn't have to fight anyone, or anything, for him. Gordon was always halfway in another world.

All these things had blurred over the years to simple things taken for granted, things she knew were true and didn't have to think about. All of them, suddenly brought into a stark clarity with the sight of flames dancing over her daughter's fingertips. Melissa stared and then dazedly found herself reaching forward, unsure if it was in shock or wonder, to touch the flames.

The heat of them radiated off her palm, licked at her fingers, and with a squeak she pulled her hand back to blow on them. "It's hot."

Her voice, she noticed peripherally, was oddly calm, but for the first time in a very long time she felt as if she was on the edge of an extremely dangerous but potentially wonderful precipice. That very same precipice which had driven her away from Gordon in the end.

Oddly, it was that thought, more than what she was staring at, which made her stomach clench.

[skeletonenigma]

"Yep," Stephanie agreed with a halfway-startled nod. "Fire usually is."

Desmond decided he couldn't look at it. He had no idea what part of him was in charge of making that decision, or how they arrived at that decision, or what intermediaries they went through to process all of the information his eyes were still claiming couldn't possibly be happening. But whatever it was, it made the decision for him, and Desmond looked away.

That seemed to be all his subconscious mind was offering up, though. Desmond was left staring down at the tablecloth, waiting for another decision to be made for him, and nothing came. The path was too well-worn. He'd left this world behind a long time ago, made a conscious decision to live in the real world, because there was no point in indulging fantasies that weren't real. No matter how much he wished they were. Living in a fantasy world was something writers did, to an unhealthy extent, and Gordon was no exception. Gordon believed enough for the both of them, and Desmond reluctantly accepted that as the way of things far too long ago to start accepting anything different now.

And with no idea how to accept anything new, he had no idea how to react. In the end, all he could really manage was a slightly strangled tone. "Right. How long have you been able to do that, then?"

"Since..." Stephanie swallowed. "Since Gordon died."

Since Melissa started commenting that Stephanie seemed more distant. Another piece of the puzzle to slot into place. Des just had no idea where to slot it into place. "Where did you learn it?"

The words had scarcely left his mouth before he figured out the answer for himself, and turned to look at Mr. Pleasant. Skulduggery Pleasant was a name Des had recognised from the lawyer's office the last time Stephanie paraded her new friends in here, but hadn't mentioned because Stephanie didn't. He and Melissa both made it a point not to chase Stephanie up over things; she was honest where she needed to be, mature enough to know when she needed to be honest, and wise enough to know that nothing in life lasted. Des still believed that. She was telling them the truth now.

It didn't soften the surge of anger he suddenly felt towards Pleasant. "You were teaching her? This whole time? Did you know she was keeping it all a secret?"

"I did." Pleasant's head inclined to the side. "It wasn't my place to tell her anything different."

"Not your - " Des stopped, took a deep breath, and calmed himself down. "Can you... do magic, too?"

"Yes."

"And you?" he directed towards Gabe. "And what was his name, Fletcher? Could Gordon?"

[impudentsongbird]

"Yes," Gabe said quietly, holding Desmond's gaze and putting down his glass. His accent was gone. "So can Fletcher. Gordon could ... but he chose not to." He smiled gently, and his gaze shifted to Melissa. "Using magic is a choice."

Her breath caught at the look in his eyes. It wasn't exactly a knowing look, but there was something to the words which tallied with her thoughts just before. About leaving Gordon. About Desmond needing security. About how he chose to let go of his 'childish' fantasies.

Not so childish.

"It's in the family, isn't it?" she said, and her voice was still very, very calm. "Stephanie can do it. Gordon could do it. Desmond ... could do it too, if he wanted, couldn't he?"

"Only if he wanted," Gabe said simply.

Melissa looked at Stephanie. Her heart was pounding in her chest, but she wasn't sure what was driving it. Whether it was anger. Whether it was fear. Whether it was excitement. Maybe it was all of them at once. Maybe it was just adrenaline.

Only if he wanted. And, apparently, Stephanie wanted.

It was, very suddenly, very easy to be okay with that, on a simple level. All children wanted magic. She'd wanted magic. It was just that not every child got magic. Magic was incredible. It was amazing, and exciting, and mysterious.

It was very, very dangerous. Melissa hadn't even known what she was seeing in Gordon's eyes back then, but she did know now, and now it was obvious just what was making things around him dangerous. Dangerous like ... like driving a car.

Melissa could get that. She didn't know anything about magic. She didn't know anything about science, either, and things that people didn't know anything about were always mysterious. Was magic any more dangerous than a bomb?

She didn't know. She didn't much care right now. Because something had been off about her daughter for the past three years, and they'd known it and hadn't known how or why. Because Stephanie hadn't told them. When when she spoke her voice was sharp and wavering, and this time it was definitely caused by fear. "Why didn't you tell us this before?"

[skeletonenigma]

No. No, that was the last thing Valkyrie wanted. Yes, her father could probably do magic, but that didn't mean he should. And if he thought it was the only way he could properly keep an eye on Valkyrie, or the only way he thought he could get involved, help to keep her safe, then... well, he had a long history of jumping recklessly into things without thinking.

Then again, he constantly surprised Valkyrie whenever the subject of Gordon's cult came up. Maybe he'd just be angry.

Maybe he'd be something worse.

Valkyrie flinched at her mother's tone. "I was just... I didn't want to worry you, that's all." Her voice had grown very small. "I thought you'd want to stop me."

"When have you had time?" her dad jumped in before Valkyrie could feel too sorry for herself. "You come home every day right after school, you spend most of your time locked away in your room doing homework..."

Valkyrie didn't realise it until right at that moment, but it wasn't the revelation of magic that had been worrying her. It was this. It was the reflection. It was explaining to her parents that not only did she hide the truth for three years, but she actively lied. And it wasn't even her doing the active lying. It was a soulless shell created by magic.

But if she didn't do it now, she never would.

Valkyrie swallowed down some water before speaking. "It's called a reflection," she started slowly. "It's a... copy. Of me. It... is me, basically, a reflection of me from the wardrobe mirror in my room brought to life. When I need it to, it can pretend to be me."

She slowly sped up as she talked until she was practically tripping over her own tongue to try and get the words out.

[impudentsongbird]

"Stop you!" Melissa didn't know what her tone meant. It was incredulous, it was angry, it was afraid. Would she have tried to stop Stephanie? She didn't know. She just knew that for three years Stephanie had been part of this amazing and frightening world and they'd never known. What if she'd gotten hurt? What if she'd gotten sick?

She opened her mouth to say something else, though she had no idea what, but Stephanie went on before she could. Melissa's mouth closed and she went grey.

No. This was worse, much worse, than merely their honest daughter lying to them for three years. This was their daughter not even being there. This was their daughter giving them a copy of herself. As if it was enough. As if that was all they needed. As if they could be fooled.

Her Stephanie wasn't even real. Not anymore.

Without her being aware of it Melissa was on her feet. She reached out for Stephanie, cupping her face and looking into her eyes with shaking hands, as if she could peer into Stephanie's eyes and see the true her. But she couldn't. Three years. Stephanie had been lying to them for three years. Not just lying. She hadn't even been there. Her life of magic had been more important.

"Who are you?" she whispered, and there were tears in her eyes, on her cheeks. "Do I know who you are anymore?"

[skeletonenigma]

"Yes!" Valkyrie's voice and face didn't hide even a hint of her desperation anymore. "Yes you do! I was home every holiday, and every birthday, and as often as I could be. I even went to that stupid reunion thing two years ago. She's - "

A brief noise coming from somewhere in Skulduggery's direction made Valkyrie falter. "It. It's never said anything I wouldn't have, or done anything I wouldn't have, or - it's me. It's Stephanie." She was crying now too, and couldn't really bring herself to care. "It isn't some robot that walked around and looked like me. I didn't want to trick you, I just wanted - "

She just didn't want to change her life completely. Not if she didn't have to. Not if she could have some semblance of normality to come home to. But Valkyrie couldn't fit those words past the choking lump in her throat, so she simply squeezed her eyes shut and rose into a standing hug.

It had been a long time since she sought real comfort in her mother's arms. She'd wished for it, countless times, while Skulduggery was gone. But Valkyrie never dared ask for it, because she wouldn't have been able to hide how wrong everything was. Now, she didn't have to. She was still crying, probably harder than she ever had since she was a child, but not because there wasn't any hope. It was more like a carefully constructed dam breaking. Like everything she'd bottled up for the last few years had finally found a small outlet, right in the only place it ever would have.

[impudentsongbird]

Every holiday and every birthday. Melissa had only seen her own daughter every holiday and every birthday. A handful of times. The rest of the time it had just been ... it had just been a reflection. Melissa was crying hard now too, and she hugged Stephanie tightly like the girl was about to be stolen right out of her arms, and this time Melissa would never see her again.

They were trembling, but Melissa wasn't sure if it was her or Stephanie, or both of them.

"It's Stephanie," Stephanie had said. Like she wasn't Stephanie anymore. She didn't even realise what she'd said, and the thought made Melissa cry harder.

She didn't let go. She didn't let go, but words were crowding her mouth and she had to let them out. "But it isn't you. It's just a--a reflection. A fake." She held Stephanie tighter, painfully tight. "I don't know where you've been or what you've been doing the past three years. How can I say I know you?"

And she wanted to. That was the part that hurt, the fact that Stephanie didn't seem to want them to know her. Even that part didn't matter as much as the lurching horror at the thought of what might have happened to her, and they wouldn't have even known. It was that thought that made Melissa pull back almost abruptly to stroke Stephanie's hair back and brush the tears off her cheeks and ask with trembling worry, "Are you okay? You're not hurt? You're not sick? You're really okay?"

[skeletonenigma]

There were many, many answers to that question. Valkyrie debated them all silently and quickly - or tried to. She seemed incapable of experiencing anything other than raw emotion right now, though. So Valkyrie took the instinctive response, the truthful one, the one that would stop her parents from freaking out before they knew everything. "I'm fine," she whispered. "Totally fine. It's magic, Mum. If I ever do get hurt, I can get healed in two hours."

Valkyrie's father, meanwhile, had turned back to Skulduggery again. "You taught her?"

"I'm teaching her a bit of magic, yes." Skulduggery had done his best thus far to stay on the sidelines, but he knew that wouldn't last. He knew that, sooner or later, Valkyrie's parents would start taking an interest in the one adult they knew had been in the young girl's life since Gordon's death.

"Is that all?"

Skulduggery hesitated. Lies were all well and good, but Valkyrie was trying to break through them now. More of the same wouldn't help. "No. It's not. Stephanie should be the one to explain the rest."

"What has she been doing with you for the last three years?"

"Detective work. Again, she should be the one to explain the rest."

"Detective work?"

Skulduggery sighed. "I can see where she gets her inability to listen to simple instructions from."

[impudentsongbird]

If she meant for it to keep Melissa from freaking out, it didn't work. The way Stephanie said that she could get healed, just like that--as if it had happened before. As if she'd been hurt before, and gotten healed, a lot--like it was no big deal.

Melissa paled. "Who healed you?" she demanded. The terror in her voice blurred the sharpness. "Who--you say that like it's happened before. Who healed you? How bad was it? What--what happened? Why didn't they tell us about it?!"

Surely, surely, doctor's ethics meant that this healer, whoever it was, should have told Stephanie's parents what had happened! Or was there no such thing as guardianships in this world of magic? No such thing as children able to be protected and defended, and not have to be responsible for themselves? Melissa had visions of grim children playing with fire having to fend for themselves, and looked up at Skulduggery Pleasant, her eyes narrowing.

"Who are you?" Her voice rose, and without her being quite aware of it she had clutched Stephanie closer. "Who are you to drag my daughter out on wild escapades of magic where she needs healers to fix her in two hours, and not tell us that it's happening!"

[skeletonenigma]

Who healed you? How bad was it?

Valkyrie hadn't planned this far ahead. She didn't think there would be a 'this far ahead.' But there was, and she was at a loss for how to answer because the truth was the last thing her mother needed right then. Broken bones? Concussions? A chipped tooth, given to her by one ill-placed punch from a self-proclaimed sociopath? Driving a van off a cliff when she was only thirteen?

Gabe said sometimes you had to trust the people you loved enough to tell them about your burdens, but Valkyrie finally decided there was a time and place for that. Just because she had to tell them the truth didn't mean she had to tell them everything all at once. They'd probably both have heart attacks.

"I didn't know you." Skulduggery's tone was lighthearted, like he was talking about a peculiar turn in the weather lately, but there was something in it... an edge, something that made it abundantly clear his attitude and thoughts were anything but. "I knew Gordon, and I knew Stephanie. Stephanie told me she didn't want to say anything, and I respected that, because she's an amazing girl who's more than capable of making her own decisions. I'll admit, at the time I didn't think she'd continue the charade this long, but I haven't let her do anything she couldn't handle."

That, Valkyrie thought wryly, really depended on your definition of 'handle.' Kenspeckle would have taken issue with the statement, and she was pretty sure her parents would as well. But that was one of the reasons Valkyrie had liked Skulduggery from the start. He was the first person to treat her like an adult. He still had authority over her, because anyone who could make her sit down and learn about World War II as part of close-combat bodyguard training couldn't not have authority over her. And he had, occasionally, left her at home. Even in the beginning, he made her go to school if they weren't in the middle of a crisis.

This wasn't Skulduggery's fault. He grew up fast. He expected everyone else to do the same.

"As to who I am," he continued just as lightly, and just as seriously, "my name is Skulduggery Pleasant. I'm a detective with the Irish Sanctuary, the governing body of sorcerers in this country. This is Gabe, a temporary partner, who I'm sure will agree with me when I say that you both have raised a fantastically talented, creative, intelligent, and persistent daughter."

Valkyrie pulled away from her mother's embrace, just enough to be able to look her in the eye. "Skulduggery wouldn't take me anywhere if I didn't want to go. Please don't blame him for this. I'm sorry I - " Her voice cracked, but she pushed through it after only the briefest of pauses. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner."

[impudentsongbird]

"How long did you know Stephanie before you decided that?" Melissa asked scathingly. In spite of Stephanie trying to pull back, the action only made Melissa hold on more tightly and protectively. But she did look down and her expression softened, her hand coming up to brush Stephanie's hair behind her ears. She chose her words carefully.

"That isn't the point, Steph. You're fifteen. You were twelve when you first met him. People that age don't always want to do things in ways that are good for them. I know I didn't. And that's okay. At that age you're allowed to be irresponsible. That's what parents are for; they help their kids figure out how to make their choices in the best way they can." She smiled wryly, thinking of her parents. "No matter how old their kids get."

Then her head snapped up and she shot Skulduggery a poisonous glare. "But we can't do that when someone who is meant to be responsible doesn't see fit to tell us. Or do you make a habit of assuming all parents are incapable of helping their children follow their dreams in the best way possible, Mr Pleasant?"

She didn't care of Stephanie wanted to be a doctor, a housewife, an engineer, a magician. She just wanted to have actually been in her life. Stephanie was young. Everyone made stupid mistakes even when they weren't young. Melissa knew that they would need to have a lot of talks about her actions in the near future, and she was okay with that. She was not okay with someone supposed to be responsible for her daughter choosing to cut Stephanie's parents out of her life, even if it was with inaction.

Someone Melissa and Des didn't even know. Someone they didn't know had used inaction as an excuse to put Stephanie in danger, and had the gall to say it was because he didn't know them well enough! "In fact," she said, and her voice was rising, "We don't know you either! Where is your right to choose whether to act or not where our daughter is concerned?!"

He'd tried to direct attention off him, onto his partner. His partner who was remaining very quiet and letting things unfold. Well, as long as he did she wasn't going to yell at him. Yet.

[skeletonenigma]

Skulduggery didn't answer. Neither did Valkyrie, at first, and she didn't try to look around at the detective, for several reasons. First and foremost, she was pretty sure she'd start crying again, and that was the last thing anyone needed. But she also knew what would be on Skulduggery's mind, and - for the first time since she met him - she knew how angry the memory would be making him, whether he wanted it to or not.

She didn't know what else she could say, though, to take attention off of him for the few moments he no doubt needed. Well, no; she knew what she could say, thus sentencing herself to a lifetime of being completely grounded, but she didn't want to give her parents those aforementioned heart attacks. Besides, would it soften her mother to know Skulduggery once had a daughter of his own? Probably not.

As it turned out, it didn't matter. Skulduggery spoke first. "You're right. There were any number of opportunities where I could have put my foot down, and I didn't. I should have involved you on the first day. I apologise for not doing so."

Why didn't he? Valkyrie couldn't help wondering. Was it really because he thought he didn't have any right? Because he thought everyone had the right to their own decisions? Or was his intent just a little more selfish than that?

She couldn't tell. But she did know that right here, right now, he was genuinely apologetic. Valkyrie wasn't sure how to feel about that.

Her father, who had been uncharacteristically quiet until now, shifted noticeably in his chair. Valkyrie imagined that his hands were fisted on the table, and shaking. Because his voice, when he spoke, was uncharacteristically quiet and shaky. "Your skin." She heard the chair creak as he leaned forward. "What the hell does that mean, 'your skin?'"

Only then did Valkyrie turn to look at Skulduggery, who in turn had glanced towards her with a question in his illusory eyes. He was, as usual, leaving the choice up to her. That was fine, though. On an unforgivably selfish level, Valkyrie really just wanted her mother to be shocked into silence by something. It was like listening to Kenspeckle being mad at Skulduggery, but about a thousand times worse.

So she nodded, and watched Skulduggery reach up to brush the sigil on what appeared to be his chest under his suit. The skin retracted off his skull, in reality taking up the space of a second, but in Valkyrie's perception taking more like an eternity. For the first time, she noticed every little detail of the transformation, like someone had unzipped a zipper and just let the clothes fall. Only Skulduggery's skin didn't fall anywhere. It retracted off his skull, fell down through the shirt collar, and then disappeared.

It was normal for Valkyrie. She preferred things this way. So while the familiar sight of his bone-white scalp helped her relax a little, it was a completely different story for her parents. Desmond Edgley reeled backwards in his chair, almost kicking it out underneath him, barely managing to keep from falling by clutching the edge of the table.

In spite of everything, Valkyrie almost laughed.

[impudentsongbird]

Melissa flinched back hard, so hard she almost pulled Stephanie off her feet. Her knees went weak and she felt numb, unconsciously using her daughter to lean on as she stared, white-faced, at the man--the skeleton--across the table.

"Mr Pleasant," she heard herself say very calmly, "you're a skeleton."

She was going to fall down. She could feel it. Her knees were shaking. She was going to fall down, but she didn't, because someone took her elbow and eased her into the chair behind her. She was vaguely aware of that same person putting Stephanie's chair closer so she could sit down too, without them breaking apart. That was good, because right now Stephanie was the only solid thing in the room, and Melissa was fairly sure if she let go she'd go spinning off into some mental void.

She felt a hand on her shoulder. "Take a deep breath."

Melissa took a deep breath and then wrenched her gaze away from the skeleton who might have been looking back at her from across the table, only she couldn't quite tell, because he was a skeleton. The first thing she saw was another skeleton, this time printed on a T-shirt and dressed in ... well, in exactly the same suit Mr Pleasant was already wearing. It would have been hilarious if Melissa felt like she wasn't going to go insane. If she started laughing she didn't think she'd stop.

"He's a skeleton," she repeated to Gabe, and now her voice was shaking. He smiled at her gently.

"Yep. Reduced to his bare bones."

"But you--and he--"

How did that even begin to work? They were so obviously together, but one of them was a skeleton.

Gabe shrugged in a very resigned way. "It's more of a soul thing, really."

Melissa could still see the skeleton out of the corner of her vision. Like a magnet, it drew her gaze back and she stared, trying to imagine the handsome young man that had been there before. It wasn't exactly easy. Her daughter was doing detective work with a detective, who was a skeleton, who was in a literally soulful relationship.

"Oh."

[skeletonenigma]

The skeleton's head tilted to the side. "That's what your daughter said the first time we properly met. Right before fainting, if I remember correctly."

"I didn't faint." Stephanie let Gabe guide her back into the chair right next to Melissa, but didn't take her eyes off Skulduggery. "I passed out. I was allowed to. Come on, we've been over this."

"What's the difference between passing out and fainting?"

"Passing out's classier, and it doesn't make me sound like an old woman."

"Ah."

The very last thing on Desmond's mind was how a potential unconfirmed relationship worked. He was alternating between staring at the skeleton and at Stephanie, their light conversation flowing over him like water, until finally one statement stood out from the rest. "How do you eat?"

It took Desmond a moment to realise that he was the one who spoke, not Stephanie. Something about watching his fifteen-year-old daughter bantering easily with a living skeleton had given him control of his voice back, if nothing else. "Or drink?" he added more bluntly. "Or... exist?"

"I don't eat. I don't drink. And magic."

"Yes, but - " Yes, but. Des had to check himself just to remember how to make his tongue work. "You're walking around."

"Not at the moment."

"You were. You were walking around. You were talking. You are talking." Des decided numbly not to add that the skeleton bundled himself up on that day in Mr. Fedgewick's office. Stood right in plain view of everyone there, where just a slight slip in the disguise would have... what? Given him away? Would Des himself really have assumed anything more than a skinny albino?

"It's all magic," the skeleton explained calmly. Like it was no big deal. "Stranger things happen all the time."

"Is there a... a race? Of skeletons?"

Stephanie burst out laughing. Skulduggery's head cocked all the way to the side, and at an angle this time, which actually looked rather menacing until he spoke and the amusement in his words was obvious. "No. I'm the only one. I was alive, once."

"What happened?"

"I died."

Desmond gave up. He couldn't take this. He couldn't handle this. A living skeleton sitting right in his dining room, a living skeleton who took Stephanie away from them and left them with a fake doppelganger, who taught her magic and God-knew-what-else, because Des and Melissa had wondered where Stephanie was getting so strong, and why did she need to be that fit? What was this whole other life she was leading?

Desmond pushed himself shakily to his feet and walked over to the kitchen doorway. Paused for a moment against the doorframe, took nice deep breaths. When the world had stopped spinning, he turned back around, and his gaze landed on Gabe. "What about you? Are you really a ghost under there?"

[impudentsongbird]

Gabe laughed a little. Not a bad laugh. Not a disdainful laugh, just a quiet one in amusement the same way Stephanie's was. "No, I'm not a ghost. Don't believe Skul when he says stranger things have happened; he kind of sets the bar for the Twilight Zone, even for sorcerers."

"If you're not a ghost," Melissa said, "then what are you? You're obviously not American."

Gabe grinned again. "No, I just put that accent on because it's fun. I'm ..." He hesitated, and something in the way his eyes flickered made Melissa regret the question.

"I don't want to know, do I?"

"Um. Probably not."

"Are you--" Human, she was going to ask, before deciding that even that was too much right now. She shook her head. "No, never mind. I don't want to know."

She didn't want to know because he'd already implied enough about not being human, or not completely human, even though he apparently didn't want to break them. Which she appreciated. Really. She also needed an urgent subject-change.

"Is it just you?" she asked Gabe and Mr Pleasant at large, though without actually looking Mr Pleasant in the skull. "Who knows Stephanie, I mean. You two and Fletcher."

[skeletonenigma]

"Stephanie is my partner," Skulduggery answered. "A detective-in-training. Work experience, if you will. So no, we're not the only ones who know her. People I come into contact with on a daily basis know her. That includes people at the Sanctuary, the Elders - our ruling mages - and various other friends of mine. Although they all know her under a different name."

Kenspeckle Grouse didn't work for the Sanctuary and couldn't exactly be counted as a friend, but Skulduggery didn't think mentioning a magic-science healer as one of the people who knew Valkyrie would go over too well. Likewise, he didn't mention any of the numerous criminals they'd encountered and arrested. Or the number of times Valkyrie was nearly killed, thrown off buildings, or shot. He was, under the circumstances, keeping things very gentle. And yet, it probably wasn't gentle enough.

They'd be proud of her, once they knew and accepted this part of her life. Skulduggery was. Gabe was. It was only natural that her parents would follow. And Gabe had a point; their influence wasn't a bad idea either. Sometimes Skulduggery forgot that Valkyrie was only a teenager - or what that meant. Her parents never would.

"A different name?" Desmond turned blankly towards Valkyrie. "You changed your name?"

"I - had to. People can be controlled through their given names. I had to come up with something new."

"Something new."

Valkyrie didn't say anything, but her grip on her mother tightened, and she nodded.

"You changed your name, you left us with a... a reflection, went and - have you even been going to school?"

"Yes," she said quietly. "I haven't missed a day."

"You, or this reflection?"

"I'm passing all the tests," she insisted. "I know everything the teachers said. The reflection can transfer its memories to me. I haven't missed a day."

Desmond only looked at her for what felt like an age even to Skulduggery, and then his eyes flickered toward the detective in that way of someone who was trying not to notice something obvious about the other person. In this case, most likely Skulduggery's skull. "I want to meet these Elders."

It wasn't exactly the response Skulduggery had been expecting. "Excuse me?"

"You heard. I want to meet these ruling mages who didn't try to stop a twelve-year-old girl from running around in this world of magic. I want to know why nobody told us what was going on."

[impudentsongbird]

"The reflection isn't you," Melissa said angrily. The fact that Stephanie seemed to think it was sent shivers down Melissa's spine. How long might this have gone on? How long until the reflection was all they knew and Stephanie decided she didn't need them in her life at all.

Abruptly she stood, her legs suddenly feeling much steadier. The action didn't exactly yank Stephanie to her feet, but since Melissa didn't let go of her, Stephanie had to follow. "I want to meet them too." Melissa looked down at their uneaten dinner and then up at Des. "I'm sorry, dear; I don't feel very hungry anymore. But we can put it in the fridge for later."

"That's easy done." Gabe had risen as well, found the cling-wrap and was already bringing it over to put it over the plates. Melissa hesitated for a moment and then decided she didn't really want to let go of Stephanie long enough to help, so she let the--sorcerer?--continue. There was something very definitely odd about him. He was ... helpful. And open. Mysterious, okay, but in a different way to Mr Pleasant.

"There's just one thing to keep in mind while you talk to them," Gabe said, finishing with one of the plates and looking up at her. "Magic is rejuvenating."

Melissa went very still. "When you say that--how do you mean?"

"I mean," Gabe said gently, "that anyone who uses magic lives for much longer than usual."

Much longer. She didn't look at Mr Pleasant--but she pointed, and her finger shook. She didn't want to talk to him directly right now. "How old is he?"

"Just over four hundred."

Four hundred. She needed to sit down again, but Gabe caught her arm before she fell and between him and Stephanie she managed to stay upright until the dizziness passed. "What does this have to do with anything?!"

Gabe had his arm around her shoulders, but he looked at her even from this close distance, and there was a sort of wry sorrow on his face. "Because most of the sorcerers in charge were born in an era where children had to grow up fast. In those times, if children as courageous and perseverant as Stephanie could make a mark for themselves, they were regarded as adults. No matter how young they were."

"That's no excuse!" Melissa glared at him, her arms sliding around Stephanie to hold her close.

"No, it isn't. It wasn't meant to be. But that's how people of Skulduggery's generation, and older, and quite a bit younger, were raised." His gaze shifted to look at Stephanie. "When they look at your daughter they see someone who has proven themselves intelligent, observant and worthy of their respect. They don't see a child, even when they should."

And because he was so sad and quiet, because he wasn't trying to make up excuses for his boyfriend's friends, Melissa didn't even feel angry at him. Angry, in general, at the circumstances, but not at him. She didn't particularly want to listen to his words, but they made sense, and she put them aside to think about later--when she didn't want to be angry.

[skeletonenigma]

Desmond had forgotten all about the lasagna. When Melissa called his attention back to it, he blinked with surprise. "Oh. Fridge. Yes. The fridge is fine." They could dump the whole thing in the trash, for all he cared. One of their guests couldn't even eat it.

He listened to the ensuing conversation with an odd sort of calm. Not a calm before a storm, or a strained calm, or a forced calm. Just a calm. The calm of someone who knew they'd be experiencing a lot of shocks in the coming days, and was mainly resigning themselves to those shocks now to save themselves a lot of trouble later. It was easier to do that when Melissa was asking the questions for both of them, reacting for the both of them, and hugging Stephanie for the both of them.

But there was something Melissa obviously hadn't thought of, and Des couldn't help asking about. "How much longer? How much longer do magic lives get?"

Mr. Pleasant was the one who answered. "About eight hundred years."

Des was glad he was still leaning against the kitchen door. He didn't think he would have been able to stand up under his own power otherwise. "Stephanie's going to live for eight hundred years?"

"If she keeps using magic, yes."

Stephanie was intelligent. And observant. And worthy of respect. But she was also fifteen, and while Des could understand treating her like the mature young woman she liked to present herself as, there was a difference between that and treating her like the child she still was. The very fact that she hid such a huge part of her own life from her own parents was proof of that. You could be the most level-headed and intelligent person around, and you were still capable of making stupid mistakes, especially when you still had the emotional maturity of a teenager.

"We'll talk about that later," he decided out loud, and meant to continue, but Stephanie cut him off.

"Dad, I'm not going to stop practicing magic. I don't want to stop being Skulduggery's partner. We save people. We've saved a lot of people. I'll tell you anything you want to know, and I'll listen to whatever you have to say, but please don't ask me to just stop."

"Steph..." Des shook his head. In all the father-daughter teenage scenarios he'd ever rehearsed inside his own head over the years, he'd never come across anything to help with this. "I'm not saying anything right now except that we'll talk about it later. And that you're going to school tomorrow, and showing us this reflection thing tonight so we won't be fooled again."

[impudentsongbird]

It was a wonder Stephanie could even still breathe, Melissa kept holding her so tight. Melissa couldn't help it. After everything she'd just discovered, there was no way Stephanie was getting out of her sight until school tomorrow. She'd probably wind up sneaking into the teenager's room just to watch her sleep, and had no guilt-feelings whatsoever about doing so.

Whether Stephanie was going to continue learning magic or not was a moot point. If they said 'no', Melissa already knew with stark certainty that their usually honest daughter would continue anyway. 'Usually' honest daughter. Stephanie hadn't been honest for three years.

If only Stephanie had come to them from the start, the choice would have been easier. Now Melissa halfway felt as if letting Stephanie continue would be a reward, yet if they didn't, Stephanie would disobey them for the last time. She'd hidden things from them once. She'd do it again in an instant.

That thought filled Melissa with a cold chill and before she could stop them the words were out, quiet and filled with tears and dread. "You'd choose magic over us."

This wasn't fair. The position Stephanie's mentor ... the position Stephanie had put them in wasn't fair. Making a child choose between her family and her dream was something Melissa had promised to never do to her children, and she wouldn't have if she'd known from the start. Now she was faced with having to give in to her daughter's blackmail to keep her.

No, she corrected. Not give in. She'd let Stephanie keep her magic, if that's what she wanted--but with limits this time. No more lies. No more danger. No more forgetting she was a child, even as incredible as she was. And those limitations would be heavy at first, not because of the magic, but because of the lie.

"Mel?" She knew there were tears in her eyes as she looked up at Gabe. He smiled at her encouragingly. "The food's all packed away. Shall we go?"

Gabe was strange. He was magical, and the way he had talked about 'Skulduggery's generation' made it sound like he came from a totally different one. Part of her wondered which generation he was from. Another part didn't want to know. But most of her, right then, was very glad he was there. He seemed to be far more stable a force even than his imperturbable boyfriend.

"Please." Melissa let Gabe take her arm to steady her, and gripped Stephanie's hand, and let them walk her out of the house.

[skeletonenigma]

"No." Damn it, Valkyrie was going to start crying again. "That's the whole point of telling you the truth now. So I won't ever have to make the choice, and I won't ever make the wrong one."

Because she would have. Skulduggery would never have stopped her. Tanith liked to remind Valkyrie of the life she was missing out on, but even Tanith never actively forced her to change anything. Valkyrie would never have stopped loving her parents, and she certainly wouldn't ever have loved them less, but - what was it Skulduggery said? Worse, by then the choice will seem obvious. All done in the name of protection, of course.

She would have given her parents away to keep them safe. Her parents, and her unborn little sister. Or brother. Right then, entrenched in her mother's arms as she was and feeling the heat of her dad's eyes on her back, Valkyrie couldn't imagine ever leaving them again.

"We'll take my car, if no one has any objections." Skulduggery passed them on the walk and led the way down to the Bentley. Valkyrie was about to object that they wouldn't have enough room, but the complaint died on her lips when she realised what Skulduggery was doing. Not having enough room was precisely the point. She'd either be squeezed in between her parents in the back, or sitting on her mother's lap. Or some combination of the two.

"Gabe." Her father caught up with them just as they reached the car. "I'd like to take the front, if you don't mind. I still have questions. And you." He jabbed a finger at Skulduggery. "We're in public, and you tip the scale for disconcerting. Put your skin back on."

After a beat, Skulduggery did so, and the face that rippled quickly into view had a measure of confusion on it. "You want me to answer your questions?"

"Yes. It's the very least you owe us, don't you think? How are we supposed to make informed decisions as parents if we don't know everything?"

"Like most parents do, I'd imagine." Skulduggery unlocked the Bentley. "But, you have a valid point. I'll answer what I can."

"Thank you. Nice car, by the way."

"Thank you."

[impudentsongbird]

"Of course," Gabe said as he opened the door to usher Melissa and Stephanie into the car. It was a little bit awkward, given Melissa was still refusing to really let her go, but after a moment she squeezed into the back and pulled Stephanie firmly down onto her lap, wrapping her arms around the teenager's waist.

Gabe grinned over the car. "Let's be fair. He's disconcerting even when he's got his skin on."

"You're a little bit biased," Melissa pointed out just a bit tightly, because it was true.

"True," Gabe admitted. "And I put all that effort into making it, so he'd better use it."

"You made it?"

"I'm a musician," Gabe said simply as he moved around to get into the other side, almost as if that explained everything. "You can do a lot with music, magically I mean, if you know what to do with it."

"I didn't hear any singing when he pulled it up."

"No, it's just some notes carved onto his breastbone, really. Words can have a lot to do with musical magic too."

"Oh." It wasn't exactly a shock. It was just some more information about something about which Melissa had only dreamed. Gabe talked about it so matter-of-factly that it was easy to not dwell too much on how absurd it really was. "Are you teaching Stephanie that too?"

"Not exactly," Gabe admitted, but then grinned at Stephanie. "Unless she suddenly decides she has a burning passion for singing."

[skeletonenigma]

"No," said Valkyrie. "I'm good, thanks."

As a descendant of the Ancients, Skulduggery wondered if Valkyrie was actually capable of learning manipulations of the metaphysical plane. Solomon could do it, to an extent. It was an interesting idea, even if it was one that never got entertained.

"What are you teaching Stephanie?" Desmond asked, the first of no doubt many questions to come.

"Elemental magic," Skulduggery replied. "The quieter course of magic. It's the manipulation of the four elements, and one of two types of magic sorcerers can specialise in. People who practice it, such as myself and Stephanie, are known as Elementals."

Desmond nodded, like he already knew that. Which, Skulduggery remembered, he might well have, if he grew up on the same stories as Gordon. "And what else?"

"What else what?"

"What else are you teaching her? Unless magic changes you physically, Stephanie's doing a lot more than just learning magic."

Skulduggery hesitated, and chose his words carefully. "Being a private detective in a world of magic and wonder is a little different from being a private detective in the world of mundanity. There's more call for self-defence. More call for being able to rely on yourself and your own magic. Stephanie's magic isn't strong enough yet, and won't be for a while. So she's been learning self-defence from several excellent teachers - Kenpo Karate, Muay Thai, Krav Maga, and Capoeira, to name a few forms."

"Why?" Desmond had turned all the way around in his seat. "How dangerous is this work? Is it anything like in Gordon's books?"

"Oh, no. No, not even close."

"Really?"

"Really. We've never been stuck in the middle of the Saharan Desert before."

"Skulduggery." Valkyrie glared at him in the rearview mirror. "Stop talking."

"Why? We haven't. Gordon's characters seem to enjoy throwing themselves into danger solely for the sake of the danger. We've never done that. We take danger very seriously."

Desmond was staring at him. Skulduggery sighed, turned on the engine, and pulled smoothly out onto the road as soon as everyone's seat belts were buckled. "Your daughter is my partner for a reason. She's taken on grown men and won, every time. She's solved mysteries. She's advancing in both magic and martial arts faster than I've ever seen anyone take to them. She's saved my life, and many others, more than once. She has, in fact, saved the world. Three times, now. There are many people, sorcerers and mortals alike, who would get down on their hands and knees to thank her if they could. Or, indeed, if they knew they owed their lives to her."

He gave a one-shouldered shrug. "I'd remember that, before I punished her too hard."

[impudentsongbird]

Hearing about the Elemental magic was perfectly fine. Melissa could handle that. It was just like hearing about Gabe's magical music. She was also okay with Stephanie learning some martial arts, and always had been. A girl couldn't be too careful, and Stephanie was obviously fit and healthy. The extent to which she'd been taking it without really involving her parents had been the concerning part.

A lot of people did martial arts for protection. For fun. For exercise. But the more Mr Pleasant talked, the stonier Melissa got. She tensed up in her seat. She caught the sight of Gabe sighing and shaking his head ruefully beside her.

Pleasant's words rang in her head. "She's saved my life, and many others, more than once. She has, in fact, saved the world. Three times, now. I'd remember that, before I punished her too hard."

"Stop the car." The words were out before Melissa could stop them, cold and quiet, and she could barely hear them over the pound of her heart in her ears. It wasn't often that Melissa got angry. She didn't see much point in it. But she was angry now. She was very, very angry, and this close to doing something she'd regret while the car was in motion.

"Stop the car."

'I'd remember that, before I punished her too hard.' How dare he. How dare he, after all this, try to dictate to her how she should handle her daughter's three-year-long lie. Him, the man who had been throwing her into those situations in the first place.

After a moment the Bentley pulled smoothly to the curb. Melissa set Stephanie down on the seat beside her, only letting go once she'd pulled Gabe's arm around her, and then got out of the car. She stood by the driver's door, her arms crossed. "Get out of the car."