Skulduggery should have expected images like that from Sanguine. Maybe it was the fact that Gabe now had those images too, but something still clenched hard in the place where his gut used to be, underscored by a short surge of anger. Skulduggery fought it down. He wasn't even sure Valkyrie would still be his partner in the next few days; he couldn't assume anything for the moment about what might happen to her, or what she might want.
In the next few minutes Skulduggery found, with a numbing ability to think, that even the things he should have been taking for granted were being pulled firmly out from under his feet.
It wasn't hard to imagine that souls could slowly change over time. Contrary to popular belief, people could change; just not in the immediate, easy, and somewhat unhealthy way most people seemed to expect. Skulduggery was living proof of that, in more ways than one. So his soul being different from Sanguine's wasn't what struck the detective completely speechless.
It was the assertion that his soul could be, and was, soothing.
The claim that his soul was even remotely similar to the kind of comfort only another Archangel could bring.
The pause, Gabriel's pause, right before he made that claim. Like he was trying to gauge if now was the right time to bring it up.
The very first time Gabe caught a glimpse of Skulduggery's soul was that third night in the Institute, right after that first experiment, when the Archangel was trying to calm down a living skeleton he'd only just met, and ended up reeling with all the rage and the Necromancy flying through Skulduggery's mind at the time.
It was disconcerting enough when Gabe didn't run. Baffling enough when he was barely frightened in the morning. Confounding enough when Gabe revealed who he really was, and Skulduggery slowly realised what all of that meant - all of the forgiveness that entailed. But had Gabe forgotten about that first night? Was Skulduggery's soul a soothing stained-glass window then, when the backlash of fury left Gabe feeling angry and irritable all day? When Vile had been lurking just below the fragile surface of calm, so close that even Gabe's then-limited powers could sense him?
Skulduggery had drawn away from Gabe on the bed, and he couldn't quite tell if that was a conscious choice or not. This sudden and new inability to understand his own motivations was growing worryingly frequent and frustrating.
He let the silence envelop them both for a few moments, but it didn't bring with it any kind of comfortable calm. It wasn't often Skulduggery felt like he was in over his head. It wasn't often he didn't know why he felt like he was in over his head.
"You'd have endured it," he murmured eventually, more for something to say than because he was sure of that. "You said you didn't mind being near me. You didn't say it was helping."
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In the next few minutes Skulduggery found, with a numbing ability to think, that even the things he should have been taking for granted were being pulled firmly out from under his feet.
It wasn't hard to imagine that souls could slowly change over time. Contrary to popular belief, people could change; just not in the immediate, easy, and somewhat unhealthy way most people seemed to expect. Skulduggery was living proof of that, in more ways than one. So his soul being different from Sanguine's wasn't what struck the detective completely speechless.
It was the assertion that his soul could be, and was, soothing.
The claim that his soul was even remotely similar to the kind of comfort only another Archangel could bring.
The pause, Gabriel's pause, right before he made that claim. Like he was trying to gauge if now was the right time to bring it up.
The very first time Gabe caught a glimpse of Skulduggery's soul was that third night in the Institute, right after that first experiment, when the Archangel was trying to calm down a living skeleton he'd only just met, and ended up reeling with all the rage and the Necromancy flying through Skulduggery's mind at the time.
It was disconcerting enough when Gabe didn't run. Baffling enough when he was barely frightened in the morning. Confounding enough when Gabe revealed who he really was, and Skulduggery slowly realised what all of that meant - all of the forgiveness that entailed. But had Gabe forgotten about that first night? Was Skulduggery's soul a soothing stained-glass window then, when the backlash of fury left Gabe feeling angry and irritable all day? When Vile had been lurking just below the fragile surface of calm, so close that even Gabe's then-limited powers could sense him?
Skulduggery had drawn away from Gabe on the bed, and he couldn't quite tell if that was a conscious choice or not. This sudden and new inability to understand his own motivations was growing worryingly frequent and frustrating.
He let the silence envelop them both for a few moments, but it didn't bring with it any kind of comfortable calm. It wasn't often Skulduggery felt like he was in over his head. It wasn't often he didn't know why he felt like he was in over his head.
"You'd have endured it," he murmured eventually, more for something to say than because he was sure of that. "You said you didn't mind being near me. You didn't say it was helping."