If Ghastly had known what to expect, had any idea what the secret was going to be, he might have shot Crux himself. China was a sly, unpredictable, and untrustworthy woman who didn't deserve a drop of sympathy. But she didn't deserve to die. And she was right; Skulduggery could forgive a surprising amount, when he looked objectively at something. But this was about as far from objective as it was possible to get. Skulduggery was going to kill her, and it wasn't going to be painless.
Gabe had tried to stop Crux from speaking, and even that physical movement was causing him enough pain to stumble and stop. Ghastly couldn't count on the Archangel to help just now; he was injured enough as it was. Valkyrie, Fletcher, Tanith - none of them knew precisely what Skulduggery could be capable of. And China had sunk to her knees on the floor, completely and utterly useless. He couldn't even count on her to escape when she had the chance.
"Skul." Ghastly stepped in front of his friend, barely managing not to flinch at the growing, unrestrained, and pure rage on Skulduggery's fake face. He hadn't seen the rage so clearly in a long time, but he knew it. He knew it well. He'd calmed Skul down before, and that was exactly what Ghastly needed to do right now. His own barely restrained contempt for China needed to be put aside. "Skul. Look at me. Skulduggery."
He'd learned long ago that trying to reason with Skulduggery didn't work. The detective was already past that point when the desire for revenge set in. It was a red-hot anger that could only be tempered by equal feeling, in some other aspect. Anything. In the past, it had been friends, brothers-in-arms.
Ghastly stuttered to a halt when he realised, with growing horror, that this was Skulduggery's family they were talking about.
His wife. His daughter.
There wasn't anything strong enough to temper that. This was the cause of all the buried anger in the first place, for God's sake!
China, he managed to think with some semblance of coherency, what have you done? There was, quite literally, nothing in the world that would stop Skulduggery right now if he didn't want to be stopped. Ghastly turned to snap at the woman, resisting the urge to send her flying through the air himself. "Run."
She did, or at least she tried; she stumbled to her feet and got to the threshold before pausing, her eyes completely dead. Devoid of anything. She'd already resigned herself to this, god damn it.
Ghastly turned back to Skulduggery, prepared to fight his friend. Hold him back. Knock him out, if it came to that. Skulduggery would thank him later, once the ability to reason set back in.
But... what?
Shadows.
There were shadows rising off Skulduggery's arms. Wherever they touched him, they melted the illusory skin right off, melted it all back to white bone. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as Ghastly stared at the misty darkness, trying and failing to make a sound, to ask a question. Any question. The shadows rose in a small stream in front of Skulduggery, coiled back, and slammed into Ghastly's side - enough to send him reeling back and over a pew, completely and utterly stunned.
The physical damage his body suffered was nonexistent. Ghastly was too stocky, had spent too long fighting, to be hurt by such a blow. Mentally...
Ghastly flashed back to a similar event years and years ago. Back during the war. When he'd just watched his mother die, had just been blinded by anger so hot it tore him apart, had just rushed a man an entire army wasn't powerful enough to stop and been tossed aside like a rag doll. Those same shadows, those same coiling shadows, that killed dozens at a time - about to kill him without a second thought. And Ghastly hadn't really cared at the time. He'd wanted to die. The well-meant distraction that stopped the killing stroke couldn't have come at a worse moment.
Necromancy.
The word almost formed a gravitational pull in Ghastly's mind. No thought could venture far beyond it, no matter how much it struggled. No thought wanted to.
He couldn't sit up. He could barely look back around, just in time to see Skulduggery... him.... it. It striding toward China, Necromantic shadows swirling in an angry haze around it, strengthening and protecting exactly where the armour would have been. Jabbing angrily towards China as it approached her. Forming furious spikes that Ghastly could imagine piercing her where she stood, even without an object for all that power to be coming from.
The disguise had melted away completely. Ghastly's mind struggled to comprehend the image. The impossible image. The skeleton Necromancer, so impossibly powerful, so dangerously evil.
It was impossible, but... Vile?
It didn't make any sense. Where was Skulduggery? Had he left the church? They needed him, for God's sake. They needed him to stop Lord Vile.
no subject
Gabe had tried to stop Crux from speaking, and even that physical movement was causing him enough pain to stumble and stop. Ghastly couldn't count on the Archangel to help just now; he was injured enough as it was. Valkyrie, Fletcher, Tanith - none of them knew precisely what Skulduggery could be capable of. And China had sunk to her knees on the floor, completely and utterly useless. He couldn't even count on her to escape when she had the chance.
"Skul." Ghastly stepped in front of his friend, barely managing not to flinch at the growing, unrestrained, and pure rage on Skulduggery's fake face. He hadn't seen the rage so clearly in a long time, but he knew it. He knew it well. He'd calmed Skul down before, and that was exactly what Ghastly needed to do right now. His own barely restrained contempt for China needed to be put aside. "Skul. Look at me. Skulduggery."
He'd learned long ago that trying to reason with Skulduggery didn't work. The detective was already past that point when the desire for revenge set in. It was a red-hot anger that could only be tempered by equal feeling, in some other aspect. Anything. In the past, it had been friends, brothers-in-arms.
Ghastly stuttered to a halt when he realised, with growing horror, that this was Skulduggery's family they were talking about.
His wife. His daughter.
There wasn't anything strong enough to temper that. This was the cause of all the buried anger in the first place, for God's sake!
China, he managed to think with some semblance of coherency, what have you done? There was, quite literally, nothing in the world that would stop Skulduggery right now if he didn't want to be stopped. Ghastly turned to snap at the woman, resisting the urge to send her flying through the air himself. "Run."
She did, or at least she tried; she stumbled to her feet and got to the threshold before pausing, her eyes completely dead. Devoid of anything. She'd already resigned herself to this, god damn it.
Ghastly turned back to Skulduggery, prepared to fight his friend. Hold him back. Knock him out, if it came to that. Skulduggery would thank him later, once the ability to reason set back in.
But... what?
Shadows.
There were shadows rising off Skulduggery's arms. Wherever they touched him, they melted the illusory skin right off, melted it all back to white bone. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as Ghastly stared at the misty darkness, trying and failing to make a sound, to ask a question. Any question. The shadows rose in a small stream in front of Skulduggery, coiled back, and slammed into Ghastly's side - enough to send him reeling back and over a pew, completely and utterly stunned.
The physical damage his body suffered was nonexistent. Ghastly was too stocky, had spent too long fighting, to be hurt by such a blow. Mentally...
Ghastly flashed back to a similar event years and years ago. Back during the war. When he'd just watched his mother die, had just been blinded by anger so hot it tore him apart, had just rushed a man an entire army wasn't powerful enough to stop and been tossed aside like a rag doll. Those same shadows, those same coiling shadows, that killed dozens at a time - about to kill him without a second thought. And Ghastly hadn't really cared at the time. He'd wanted to die. The well-meant distraction that stopped the killing stroke couldn't have come at a worse moment.
Necromancy.
The word almost formed a gravitational pull in Ghastly's mind. No thought could venture far beyond it, no matter how much it struggled. No thought wanted to.
He couldn't sit up. He could barely look back around, just in time to see Skulduggery... him.... it. It striding toward China, Necromantic shadows swirling in an angry haze around it, strengthening and protecting exactly where the armour would have been. Jabbing angrily towards China as it approached her. Forming furious spikes that Ghastly could imagine piercing her where she stood, even without an object for all that power to be coming from.
The disguise had melted away completely. Ghastly's mind struggled to comprehend the image. The impossible image. The skeleton Necromancer, so impossibly powerful, so dangerously evil.
It was impossible, but... Vile?
It didn't make any sense. Where was Skulduggery? Had he left the church? They needed him, for God's sake. They needed him to stop Lord Vile.