Anton knew they were leading up to something big, and he knew it had something to do with Skulduggery. The longer the explanation went on, the more it felt like an excuse, as if Skulduggery was laying the groundwork for something he knew that Anton wouldn't like. Or it would have, if not for the calm radiating from him.
The truth was still nothing Anton expected. He didn't know what he'd expected. It wasn't this.
In the wake of those words Anton sat quietly, watching Skulduggery back. Part of him felt as though he should be reacting. Outwardly reacting, that is. The rest of him was icy calm, the sort he knew would fracture with the least movement and allow everything to come swamping in.
It wasn't disbelief, exactly. No objections, no calls that it couldn't be true. Corrival and Ghastly believed it, and the subject of Lord Vile had always been something to take with every seriousness. Worse, it made sense. It made perfect, logical sense. He and Skulduggery Pleasant always had walked that tightrope edge.
Anton had just always believed Skulduggery was too skilled to fall off it.
How did they know he'd climbed back on?
His hands were trembling. Anton clasped them together in his lap. "And how is it," he said, choosing his words not-quite carefully but in a measured tone meant to avoid jarring those walls of glass, "that Lord Vile should leave and Skulduggery Pleasant return?"
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The truth was still nothing Anton expected. He didn't know what he'd expected. It wasn't this.
In the wake of those words Anton sat quietly, watching Skulduggery back. Part of him felt as though he should be reacting. Outwardly reacting, that is. The rest of him was icy calm, the sort he knew would fracture with the least movement and allow everything to come swamping in.
It wasn't disbelief, exactly. No objections, no calls that it couldn't be true. Corrival and Ghastly believed it, and the subject of Lord Vile had always been something to take with every seriousness. Worse, it made sense. It made perfect, logical sense. He and Skulduggery Pleasant always had walked that tightrope edge.
Anton had just always believed Skulduggery was too skilled to fall off it.
How did they know he'd climbed back on?
His hands were trembling. Anton clasped them together in his lap. "And how is it," he said, choosing his words not-quite carefully but in a measured tone meant to avoid jarring those walls of glass, "that Lord Vile should leave and Skulduggery Pleasant return?"