If Valkyrie had been panicking before, it was nothing compared to how she felt when Solomon reacted so violently to her touch.
His words were starting to come out in Gaelic, which Valkyrie had learned enough of in school to recognise, but not to understand - at least not with how difficult it was to even hear the words in the first place. But that was normal. That was what you expected someone in shock to do - to ramble, or be completely unaware of their surroundings. You didn't expect them to jolt awake when you put your hand on their shoulder in comfort, terror in their eyes so deep it practically cut right through Valkyrie. She withdrew her hand quickly, and wondered if he was sensing something else about her, something beyond just the Necromancy. Or maybe the timing was a complete coincidence. Maybe he'd been dreaming.
Da.
It occurred to Valkyrie that she was so used to everyone around her being at least a century older that she never thought about them being young. Her age. Having parents, and a family. Some discovering magic the same way she had. Others born into it. She didn't know much about Skulduggery's life from before he died, but Valkyrie suddenly realised that she knew even less about Solomon's life at all.
And if he died now, she'd never find out. She'd never find out just what about his Da made the Necromancer - the former Necromancer - jolt awake with terror like that.
"Okay," she told him, throwing open the cab door as soon as it had come to a full stop. "We're here. Just a little further, Solomon. You can do this." She gently but firmly pulled him back around to a sitting position, keeping his leg as steady as she could. No more panicking, and no more freezing. Not here.
The cabbie had come around to help, and together they hauled Solomon carefully out of the car. He'd grown weak enough that the cane he held wasn't even helpful anymore, his weight almost completely on their shoulders. Valkyrie nearly stumbled underneath it, but she locked her knees and managed to stay upright.
Still, the cabbie had noticed, and he shifted to take on more of the weight. "I've got him. You run ahead and get someone to help. A gurney would be much appreciated."
Valkyrie grit her teeth, nodded, and ran ahead.
~~
Ghastly had done a lot of strange things in his life, even by the standards of sorcerers. But he was having a hard time remembering any of them, in the wake of telling God war stories as they walked towards the Dublin Methodist Hospital - a God who was still holding six teddy bears and making it look like the most natural thing in the world, while Ghastly was juggling five of them and barely managing to avoid dropping any on more than one occasion.
They garnered stares, that much was obvious. But it was nowhere near the number of stares Ghastly had been dreading. And three guesses, he told himself wryly, as to why. The question wasn't why so few people were staring; it was why anyone was staring at all. Humour? Amusement? Maybe some sort of ridiculous punishment?
"Oh good," he muttered as the hospital came into view around the corner. "We're here."
He had mixed feelings about that. The walk was enjoyable, in its own unique way. God was good company. Genuinely interested in the stories Ghastly had to tell, even though He would have known every single one already. Quick to laugh, slow to judge. Almost jolly, really. Like Santa Claus.
The problem, though, was exactly that. Ghastly had to keep reminding himself of exactly who he was talking to, and the surreal aspect was starting to give him a headache. A part of him was still trying to argue that this wasn't right, could not be right, could not be so easy, and that Ghastly should be... repenting, or something. And ignoring that small voice, as he knew by now he should, was proving to be a challenge.
no subject
His words were starting to come out in Gaelic, which Valkyrie had learned enough of in school to recognise, but not to understand - at least not with how difficult it was to even hear the words in the first place. But that was normal. That was what you expected someone in shock to do - to ramble, or be completely unaware of their surroundings. You didn't expect them to jolt awake when you put your hand on their shoulder in comfort, terror in their eyes so deep it practically cut right through Valkyrie. She withdrew her hand quickly, and wondered if he was sensing something else about her, something beyond just the Necromancy. Or maybe the timing was a complete coincidence. Maybe he'd been dreaming.
Da.
It occurred to Valkyrie that she was so used to everyone around her being at least a century older that she never thought about them being young. Her age. Having parents, and a family. Some discovering magic the same way she had. Others born into it. She didn't know much about Skulduggery's life from before he died, but Valkyrie suddenly realised that she knew even less about Solomon's life at all.
And if he died now, she'd never find out. She'd never find out just what about his Da made the Necromancer - the former Necromancer - jolt awake with terror like that.
"Okay," she told him, throwing open the cab door as soon as it had come to a full stop. "We're here. Just a little further, Solomon. You can do this." She gently but firmly pulled him back around to a sitting position, keeping his leg as steady as she could. No more panicking, and no more freezing. Not here.
The cabbie had come around to help, and together they hauled Solomon carefully out of the car. He'd grown weak enough that the cane he held wasn't even helpful anymore, his weight almost completely on their shoulders. Valkyrie nearly stumbled underneath it, but she locked her knees and managed to stay upright.
Still, the cabbie had noticed, and he shifted to take on more of the weight. "I've got him. You run ahead and get someone to help. A gurney would be much appreciated."
Valkyrie grit her teeth, nodded, and ran ahead.
~~
Ghastly had done a lot of strange things in his life, even by the standards of sorcerers. But he was having a hard time remembering any of them, in the wake of telling God war stories as they walked towards the Dublin Methodist Hospital - a God who was still holding six teddy bears and making it look like the most natural thing in the world, while Ghastly was juggling five of them and barely managing to avoid dropping any on more than one occasion.
They garnered stares, that much was obvious. But it was nowhere near the number of stares Ghastly had been dreading. And three guesses, he told himself wryly, as to why. The question wasn't why so few people were staring; it was why anyone was staring at all. Humour? Amusement? Maybe some sort of ridiculous punishment?
"Oh good," he muttered as the hospital came into view around the corner. "We're here."
He had mixed feelings about that. The walk was enjoyable, in its own unique way. God was good company. Genuinely interested in the stories Ghastly had to tell, even though He would have known every single one already. Quick to laugh, slow to judge. Almost jolly, really. Like Santa Claus.
The problem, though, was exactly that. Ghastly had to keep reminding himself of exactly who he was talking to, and the surreal aspect was starting to give him a headache. A part of him was still trying to argue that this wasn't right, could not be right, could not be so easy, and that Ghastly should be... repenting, or something. And ignoring that small voice, as he knew by now he should, was proving to be a challenge.