"I might have to make up for that, then," Gabe said teasingly as Fletcher pulled back, and laid a gentle hand on the Teleporter's cheek. "I'm glad you're safe. Thank you, Fletch."
Eighty-thousand people dying all at once would have left a metaphysical ripple that Gabe wouldn't have been able to ignore. He wasn't sure what it would have done to him, to feel that much pain and horror. The Archangel chose not to bring that up at all. Skulduggery was worried enough.
Gabe let go of Fletcher's hands and paused before answering, glancing at Valkyrie. She knew it had been a mistake. She'd admitted it. The Archangel nodded to himself. "Valkyrie prayed for me," he said, "and frankly, I'm glad she did, seeing as Sanguine had his hands around her neck." He smiled small, teasing smile. "I figured you'd prefer I rode back here in a taxi than flew back to the safehouse alone."
Then, before Skulduggery could dwell too much on that, the smile dropped. "What's going to happen to Guild?"
Guild, as it happened, was currently being led away by Davina Marr, stoically not glancing back at his family. He did flinch, though, at the sound of his daughter's rising voice, asking where Daddy was going and why was he going there and wasn't he meant to come home now--
Corrival watched, his face blank, and let something in his chest twist and untwist. Ghastly had mentioned God before. Corrival still didn't know if that meeting had been true or a result of booze, but if God was real, Corrival would have liked to have words with Him right then. It was just all so damned complicated.
Guild had committed a war-crime. He'd murdered an innocent man--a pacifist. But maybe doing so had saved lives who would have been betrayed when Mevolent had gone against his word. Now he was going to go to jail, on his own confession, and his young daughter was going to grow up without a father. Would it have been better for him to keep quiet, to work toward redeeming himself in secret, so he could be with his family?
Guild wouldn't have been the only one who did it. Skulduggery was doing it. Skulduggery had murdered millions, and yet here Corrival was, covering for him. Making sure no one knew.
"Even now, the war leaves its mark on future generations."
Anton's voice was close enough, and Corrival deep enough in thought, that it made Corrival twitch with surprise. Not more than that, though. Silent Anton might be, but Corrival's instincts marked him as friend and defender. The Adept came to Corrival's side and watched with him as Mrs Guild hugged her daughter and the teddy-bear both, tears wetting her own cheeks.
"The outcome of war always leaves its mark on future generations," Corrival said, unmoving. "That girl may not exist right now, if we hadn't won."
That was something to remember. They had won. Skulduggery Pleasant and Thurid Guild, regardless of their crimes, had helped them win. It didn't change those crimes. It didn't automatically absolve them of those crimes. But it damn well meant they'd earned a second chance.
For a long few moments the pair were silent, watching the activity now Marr and the Cleavers had arrived. "Well," Anton said finally, "as charming as this impromptu reunion has been, I've been away from the Hotel for far too long. It requires refurbishment, for one, and has moved to Africa, for another. Perhaps--" and here his tone turned ironic-- "I can convince Renn to give me a lift."
He turned to leave and without thinking Corrival said, "Wait."
Anton paused and glanced quizzically over his shoulder. There was curiosity in his eyes, curiosity which hadn't left since Corrival had implied he was covering up for Skulduggery. Anton wouldn't ask, though. Unless it had directly to do with him, he never asked.
That was the problem.
For some long moments Corrival stood, staring after Marr and Guild and wrestling with himself. Anton was a Dead Man. He deserved to know. If they were going to keep this secret, and make sure Skulduggery didn't fall again, they would need all the help they could get. Corrival had always been a big believer in all the members of a team knowing everything the others did. Only as much as they knew, sometimes, but in a squad like the Dead Men, when there was no question that all of them were loyal, it was only detrimental to hide things from one another.
Except.
Except that of all the Dead Men, Anton would handle this the worst. Because he was the most like Skulduggery. Because he walked that line, and he would see the truth as a betrayal.
Yet, on the other hand, he would find out. Maybe not now, but later; at some point, Anton would find out, because now the truth was out and he was a Dead Man. Even if the rest of the world never knew, the Dead Men all would. Corrival wouldn't be able to stop that. He couldn't stop that, leave that divide between them. Shut Anton out. And when he did find out, his reaction would be all the worse for the betrayal of the rest.
"Come with me," Corrival said at last. "There's something we need to talk about first. At the safehouse. All of us--the Dead Men--or at least those of us here." He frowned a little. "Maybe Gabriel as well, I don't know. Either way, if you can spare another hour or so, it'd be best."
Anton remained still, staring at him, considering. Then he inclined his head silently, and Corrival nodded shortly back, and when the older sorcerer moved down the hall to find the others, Anton was a light-footed presence at his back.
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Eighty-thousand people dying all at once would have left a metaphysical ripple that Gabe wouldn't have been able to ignore. He wasn't sure what it would have done to him, to feel that much pain and horror. The Archangel chose not to bring that up at all. Skulduggery was worried enough.
Gabe let go of Fletcher's hands and paused before answering, glancing at Valkyrie. She knew it had been a mistake. She'd admitted it. The Archangel nodded to himself. "Valkyrie prayed for me," he said, "and frankly, I'm glad she did, seeing as Sanguine had his hands around her neck." He smiled small, teasing smile. "I figured you'd prefer I rode back here in a taxi than flew back to the safehouse alone."
Then, before Skulduggery could dwell too much on that, the smile dropped. "What's going to happen to Guild?"
Guild, as it happened, was currently being led away by Davina Marr, stoically not glancing back at his family. He did flinch, though, at the sound of his daughter's rising voice, asking where Daddy was going and why was he going there and wasn't he meant to come home now--
Corrival watched, his face blank, and let something in his chest twist and untwist. Ghastly had mentioned God before. Corrival still didn't know if that meeting had been true or a result of booze, but if God was real, Corrival would have liked to have words with Him right then. It was just all so damned complicated.
Guild had committed a war-crime. He'd murdered an innocent man--a pacifist. But maybe doing so had saved lives who would have been betrayed when Mevolent had gone against his word. Now he was going to go to jail, on his own confession, and his young daughter was going to grow up without a father. Would it have been better for him to keep quiet, to work toward redeeming himself in secret, so he could be with his family?
Guild wouldn't have been the only one who did it. Skulduggery was doing it. Skulduggery had murdered millions, and yet here Corrival was, covering for him. Making sure no one knew.
"Even now, the war leaves its mark on future generations."
Anton's voice was close enough, and Corrival deep enough in thought, that it made Corrival twitch with surprise. Not more than that, though. Silent Anton might be, but Corrival's instincts marked him as friend and defender. The Adept came to Corrival's side and watched with him as Mrs Guild hugged her daughter and the teddy-bear both, tears wetting her own cheeks.
"The outcome of war always leaves its mark on future generations," Corrival said, unmoving. "That girl may not exist right now, if we hadn't won."
That was something to remember. They had won. Skulduggery Pleasant and Thurid Guild, regardless of their crimes, had helped them win. It didn't change those crimes. It didn't automatically absolve them of those crimes. But it damn well meant they'd earned a second chance.
For a long few moments the pair were silent, watching the activity now Marr and the Cleavers had arrived. "Well," Anton said finally, "as charming as this impromptu reunion has been, I've been away from the Hotel for far too long. It requires refurbishment, for one, and has moved to Africa, for another. Perhaps--" and here his tone turned ironic-- "I can convince Renn to give me a lift."
He turned to leave and without thinking Corrival said, "Wait."
Anton paused and glanced quizzically over his shoulder. There was curiosity in his eyes, curiosity which hadn't left since Corrival had implied he was covering up for Skulduggery. Anton wouldn't ask, though. Unless it had directly to do with him, he never asked.
That was the problem.
For some long moments Corrival stood, staring after Marr and Guild and wrestling with himself. Anton was a Dead Man. He deserved to know. If they were going to keep this secret, and make sure Skulduggery didn't fall again, they would need all the help they could get. Corrival had always been a big believer in all the members of a team knowing everything the others did. Only as much as they knew, sometimes, but in a squad like the Dead Men, when there was no question that all of them were loyal, it was only detrimental to hide things from one another.
Except.
Except that of all the Dead Men, Anton would handle this the worst. Because he was the most like Skulduggery. Because he walked that line, and he would see the truth as a betrayal.
Yet, on the other hand, he would find out. Maybe not now, but later; at some point, Anton would find out, because now the truth was out and he was a Dead Man. Even if the rest of the world never knew, the Dead Men all would. Corrival wouldn't be able to stop that. He couldn't stop that, leave that divide between them. Shut Anton out. And when he did find out, his reaction would be all the worse for the betrayal of the rest.
"Come with me," Corrival said at last. "There's something we need to talk about first. At the safehouse. All of us--the Dead Men--or at least those of us here." He frowned a little. "Maybe Gabriel as well, I don't know. Either way, if you can spare another hour or so, it'd be best."
Anton remained still, staring at him, considering. Then he inclined his head silently, and Corrival nodded shortly back, and when the older sorcerer moved down the hall to find the others, Anton was a light-footed presence at his back.