Something was wrong. Anton had never met Valkyrie Cain, but from all accounts she was a very driven young lady who would stop at nothing to get what she wanted. Anton hadn't wanted to meet her. It was her choice what she did, but she was young and who ever knew what they wanted when they were young? Skulduggery was enabling her.
But Anton had heard a great deal, about how they were always together, and the lengths to which Valkyrie was going to save Skulduggery. Anton hadn't wanted to get involved to help; none of her pursuits had touched his Hotel, and what she was doing was foolish in the utmost, and he suspected Skulduggery himself would have objected if he could. But Anton hadn't felt the need to intervene either, danger or not.
Just in case she succeeded.
That she was taking time off? Now, when she (assumedly) had achieved what she meant to do? Was she injured, perhaps? It would explain why Skulduggery was so concerned about Kenspeckle Grouse's kidnapping, the detective's duty to the public aside.
Something was ... different. Something, perhaps several somethings, beyond Skulduggery's time with the Faceless Ones. Anton didn't know whether it was good or bad. Slowly, without taking his gaze off Skulduggery's eye-sockets, Anton nodded. "Yes, I think I should. Come this way, please."
He stepped out from behind the counter, leading the way into the living-room where Sanguine was lounging.
~~~
The note of hysteria in Valkyrie's voice made Solomon turn in surprise to face her. She was furious, yes, but there was something in her eyes and face, a panic, he hadn't expected. Why, he wondered, was she here? Had the Temple truly contacted her as he'd been assuming? Why would she worry? She knew now what he'd had planned for her.
Why did she still care?
For a moment he stood there, extraordinarily still, his eyes studying her face. "That," he said quietly, "is precisely why I did."
This wasn't changing his decision. He couldn't regret something he couldn't even change. But he sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose, and moved with that sort of awareness of his space to an chair, taking a seat on the edge of it. Ready for a fight. Just in case the Temple had followed her.
"We were wrong, Valkyrie," he said. "The Temple, about what happens to our souls after we die--our souls as Necromancers. We were assuming we simply entered the lifestream like everyone else." He held out his cane, letting it roll on his palms, and chuckled bleakly. "But Necromancy is powered by death, and what better power source to use than its own practitioners? What I saw ..."
He faltered, and in his memory he saw the infection in her soul, and looked away. "What I saw after attempting to attack Saint Gabriel was Necromancy as it truly was--as he must see it: an endless Scream of agony. A fate worse than death." A Hell. Solomon stared tiredly out the window and wished he hadn't sat down. He really shouldn't have sat down. Now he halfway felt he didn't have the strength to get up again.
"I saw your soul," he said heavily, "and knew what I'd been doing to you, and feared for the state of mine."
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But Anton had heard a great deal, about how they were always together, and the lengths to which Valkyrie was going to save Skulduggery. Anton hadn't wanted to get involved to help; none of her pursuits had touched his Hotel, and what she was doing was foolish in the utmost, and he suspected Skulduggery himself would have objected if he could. But Anton hadn't felt the need to intervene either, danger or not.
Just in case she succeeded.
That she was taking time off? Now, when she (assumedly) had achieved what she meant to do? Was she injured, perhaps? It would explain why Skulduggery was so concerned about Kenspeckle Grouse's kidnapping, the detective's duty to the public aside.
Something was ... different. Something, perhaps several somethings, beyond Skulduggery's time with the Faceless Ones. Anton didn't know whether it was good or bad. Slowly, without taking his gaze off Skulduggery's eye-sockets, Anton nodded. "Yes, I think I should. Come this way, please."
He stepped out from behind the counter, leading the way into the living-room where Sanguine was lounging.
~~~
The note of hysteria in Valkyrie's voice made Solomon turn in surprise to face her. She was furious, yes, but there was something in her eyes and face, a panic, he hadn't expected. Why, he wondered, was she here? Had the Temple truly contacted her as he'd been assuming? Why would she worry? She knew now what he'd had planned for her.
Why did she still care?
For a moment he stood there, extraordinarily still, his eyes studying her face. "That," he said quietly, "is precisely why I did."
This wasn't changing his decision. He couldn't regret something he couldn't even change. But he sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose, and moved with that sort of awareness of his space to an chair, taking a seat on the edge of it. Ready for a fight. Just in case the Temple had followed her.
"We were wrong, Valkyrie," he said. "The Temple, about what happens to our souls after we die--our souls as Necromancers. We were assuming we simply entered the lifestream like everyone else." He held out his cane, letting it roll on his palms, and chuckled bleakly. "But Necromancy is powered by death, and what better power source to use than its own practitioners? What I saw ..."
He faltered, and in his memory he saw the infection in her soul, and looked away. "What I saw after attempting to attack Saint Gabriel was Necromancy as it truly was--as he must see it: an endless Scream of agony. A fate worse than death." A Hell. Solomon stared tiredly out the window and wished he hadn't sat down. He really shouldn't have sat down. Now he halfway felt he didn't have the strength to get up again.
"I saw your soul," he said heavily, "and knew what I'd been doing to you, and feared for the state of mine."