This close to Sanguine, in Gabe's condition, the Texan's pain wasn't precisely a distant observable thing. No, it was more an echo of the pain Gabriel was already feeling. Like fingernails on a chalkboard. It was almost impossible to notice while they were in motion, but when Sanguine stopped?
Gabe grit his teeth and focussed on his breathing, keeping it even but not too deep, just the way Skulduggery had told him to. He couldn't slip into a proper meditation, but he could give himself back some measure of control. It didn't take long before the space felt uncomfortably hot--at least, uncomfortably hot for anyone who wasn't an angel.
"Well I ain't tossin' around fireballs," he grumbled. "Stupid question, Billy-Ray." It wasn't actually an answer, but it implied one. He could toss around a few fireballs, but that would have blown his cover just a little.
"What makes y'think I wasn't already there?" he asked. Questions controlled the conversation. Keep Sanguine talking, maybe he'd let something slip. Not that Gabe was going to fight too hard against the 'truth'; Guild already thought he knew it, after all. The problem was just that Sanguine thought Gabe was a Sensitive and not a Teleporter.
So it would probably be best if Gabe avoided the conversation coming to that.
~~~
The way Renn's eyes hardened was a surprise. The fact he didn't retort was even more so, and only made the reaction even more pointed. Solomon didn't recall the Teleporter ever being so restrained, mature or even cognizant of subtleties. It reminded the once-Necromancer that even this child, now, could beat him easily in a fight.
It also made Solomon wonder: just how many changes had the Archangel already wrought? He'd only been in this universe for a day.
Wordlessly Solomon watched Father O'Reilly as the man sank down into his seat, his face pale. It didn't show on his face, but Solomon wasn't sure what to do. He wasn't a nurturer. He was a good mentor, but he had no experience with helping those who needed comfort. It was strangely bothering that he even felt the urge. A niggling feeling. Not guilt, not quite regret. Just a feeling of something new and uncertain, something a bit frightening.
"Valkyrie was with you?" Solomon murmured, but he wasn't really talking to Renn. He wasn't surprised, exactly, but the idea of Valkyrie in a church, pretending to be an angel, made the ex-Necromancer think of what he had seen of his student's soul. The way Necromancy had clung to her. The way it had been strangling what light had been in the heart of her.
Solomon started laughing under his breath, an ironic laugh with a hysterical undercurrent. Valkyrie pretending to be an angel, and she might already be damned. He had damned her.
It was, oddly enough, Father O'Reilly's own laugh which made the ex-Necromancer stop. If they were both hysterical, there'd be no one to take control, and Solomon had no intention of bringing Fletcher Renn into his personal crisis. He'd only tell the others. Discreetly the sorcerer took a deep, slow breath.
"At least he won't be difficult to recognise," Solomon said dryly, "providing he's still wearing the guise of a cowboy. I presume he's still wearing the guise of a cowboy? Or has he moved on to something else?"
no subject
Gabe grit his teeth and focussed on his breathing, keeping it even but not too deep, just the way Skulduggery had told him to. He couldn't slip into a proper meditation, but he could give himself back some measure of control. It didn't take long before the space felt uncomfortably hot--at least, uncomfortably hot for anyone who wasn't an angel.
"Well I ain't tossin' around fireballs," he grumbled. "Stupid question, Billy-Ray." It wasn't actually an answer, but it implied one. He could toss around a few fireballs, but that would have blown his cover just a little.
"What makes y'think I wasn't already there?" he asked. Questions controlled the conversation. Keep Sanguine talking, maybe he'd let something slip. Not that Gabe was going to fight too hard against the 'truth'; Guild already thought he knew it, after all. The problem was just that Sanguine thought Gabe was a Sensitive and not a Teleporter.
So it would probably be best if Gabe avoided the conversation coming to that.
~~~
The way Renn's eyes hardened was a surprise. The fact he didn't retort was even more so, and only made the reaction even more pointed. Solomon didn't recall the Teleporter ever being so restrained, mature or even cognizant of subtleties. It reminded the once-Necromancer that even this child, now, could beat him easily in a fight.
It also made Solomon wonder: just how many changes had the Archangel already wrought? He'd only been in this universe for a day.
Wordlessly Solomon watched Father O'Reilly as the man sank down into his seat, his face pale. It didn't show on his face, but Solomon wasn't sure what to do. He wasn't a nurturer. He was a good mentor, but he had no experience with helping those who needed comfort. It was strangely bothering that he even felt the urge. A niggling feeling. Not guilt, not quite regret. Just a feeling of something new and uncertain, something a bit frightening.
"Valkyrie was with you?" Solomon murmured, but he wasn't really talking to Renn. He wasn't surprised, exactly, but the idea of Valkyrie in a church, pretending to be an angel, made the ex-Necromancer think of what he had seen of his student's soul. The way Necromancy had clung to her. The way it had been strangling what light had been in the heart of her.
Solomon started laughing under his breath, an ironic laugh with a hysterical undercurrent. Valkyrie pretending to be an angel, and she might already be damned. He had damned her.
It was, oddly enough, Father O'Reilly's own laugh which made the ex-Necromancer stop. If they were both hysterical, there'd be no one to take control, and Solomon had no intention of bringing Fletcher Renn into his personal crisis. He'd only tell the others. Discreetly the sorcerer took a deep, slow breath.
"At least he won't be difficult to recognise," Solomon said dryly, "providing he's still wearing the guise of a cowboy. I presume he's still wearing the guise of a cowboy? Or has he moved on to something else?"
The last was directed at Fletcher.