There was more blood, as if to prove the point. Erskine grimaced, and found himself hoping Anton would submit to leaving the Hotel for a few days to receive proper medical attention. He shook that hope away the instant he realised it was there. Anton was going to receive proper medical attention whether he liked it or not, none the least because he couldn't even stand. Erskine would carry him, and there wasn't a damn thing Anton could say or do to change Erskine's mind. Hope had nothing to do with it.
He did help Anton over to the wall, though, steadying him when he nearly fell and only withdrawing his arm when the wall had completely taken over the task. Once he could straighten up again, Erskine was about to ask how the Hotel moved when the desk phone rang.
Erskine's own eyes closed with a hint more exasperation than Anton's. The existence of Archangels implied some sort of divine intervention, and he resolved to have Words with whoever was making this happen when they met. More business was the last thing Anton needed.
"You're still not going to be the one answering," Erskine pointed out as he finally got to his feet and stepped over. "Hiring extra help could be seen as a weakness. Any chance I'll get paid for this, by the way? Hello, welcome to the Midnight Hotel. You've reached a prerecorded answering machine. Please leave your name and number at the - "
"Erskine?"
Erskine paused, glancing towards the phone in his hand like it had done some great wrong in surprising him. "Ghastly?"
"You found Anton, then."
"Well, yes." In the overheated deserts of Syria, he refrained from adding. With no pre-mission information that might have helped me avoid a breakdown like this.
"How is he?"
"Peachy." And not at all currently sprawled against a wall, coughing up blood. "Doesn't particularly want anything more to do with any of you, though, and I have to say, I can't really blame him."
Another pause, this time on Ghastly's end. "How much did he tell you?"
All of it. "Enough. Look, I hate to rush this along, but I really don't think I'm going to get paid for answering phones." And Anton needs help. Right now. Know any incredible doctors in the Brazilian vicinity? "Why did you call?"
"Has anyone appeared in the Hotel within the last hour?"
"Appeared?" Erskine asked skeptically. "Like a Teleporter? Nope."
"No. Not like a Teleporter. He'd probably be collapsed. Black curly hair, looks vaguely Middle Eastern, he... well, if he's talking, it might be with a Southern American accent. It might be with an Irish one. He'd be wearing a t-shirt, shorts, and sandals."
Erskine nodded, almost patronisingly, as if Ghastly would be able to see it from halfway across the world. "Is that what Archangels look like nowadays?"
Ghastly paused again, and Erskine was half-afraid the tailor might try to deny everything before he sighed. "Yes. Apparently. It's Gabriel. Davina Marr rigged a Desolation Engine to go off in the Sanctuary, but Gabriel disappeared with it before it could work, and now we have no idea where he is. He hasn't appeared in the Hotel, has he?"
Erskine blinked. "No. Not unless he snuck quietly into one of the rooms."
"Can you check?"
"Of course I can check." Erskine hesitated, realising for the first time that if Anton was right - if Skulduggery and... and Gabriel... were truly together - then it easily explained the note of urgency in Ghastly's voice. Especially if Ghastly did know about Vile. Erskine was half a world away, and he was already getting goosebumps. "Have you tried praying?" he asked, half-jokingly.
"Not working. He isn't answering."
"Right." A tingle ran along Erskine's arm, and he shivered slightly. "And... I don't know, general praying? Have you tried that?"
"We're inside a church right now."
We. Skulduggery. Skulduggery was there. Suddenly, Erskine didn't want to spend another second on the phone. "Right. Good for you. I'm sure He'll answer, if, you know. He exists. Good luck. I'll let you know if I find anything."
Erskine put the phone back down in its cradle before Ghastly could respond, and took a deep, shuddering breath. "They've lost an Archangel."
It was, without a doubt, the strangest serious thing he'd ever said. And there were some close runners-up.
no subject
He did help Anton over to the wall, though, steadying him when he nearly fell and only withdrawing his arm when the wall had completely taken over the task. Once he could straighten up again, Erskine was about to ask how the Hotel moved when the desk phone rang.
Erskine's own eyes closed with a hint more exasperation than Anton's. The existence of Archangels implied some sort of divine intervention, and he resolved to have Words with whoever was making this happen when they met. More business was the last thing Anton needed.
"You're still not going to be the one answering," Erskine pointed out as he finally got to his feet and stepped over. "Hiring extra help could be seen as a weakness. Any chance I'll get paid for this, by the way? Hello, welcome to the Midnight Hotel. You've reached a prerecorded answering machine. Please leave your name and number at the - "
"Erskine?"
Erskine paused, glancing towards the phone in his hand like it had done some great wrong in surprising him. "Ghastly?"
"You found Anton, then."
"Well, yes." In the overheated deserts of Syria, he refrained from adding. With no pre-mission information that might have helped me avoid a breakdown like this.
"How is he?"
"Peachy." And not at all currently sprawled against a wall, coughing up blood. "Doesn't particularly want anything more to do with any of you, though, and I have to say, I can't really blame him."
Another pause, this time on Ghastly's end. "How much did he tell you?"
All of it. "Enough. Look, I hate to rush this along, but I really don't think I'm going to get paid for answering phones." And Anton needs help. Right now. Know any incredible doctors in the Brazilian vicinity? "Why did you call?"
"Has anyone appeared in the Hotel within the last hour?"
"Appeared?" Erskine asked skeptically. "Like a Teleporter? Nope."
"No. Not like a Teleporter. He'd probably be collapsed. Black curly hair, looks vaguely Middle Eastern, he... well, if he's talking, it might be with a Southern American accent. It might be with an Irish one. He'd be wearing a t-shirt, shorts, and sandals."
Erskine nodded, almost patronisingly, as if Ghastly would be able to see it from halfway across the world. "Is that what Archangels look like nowadays?"
Ghastly paused again, and Erskine was half-afraid the tailor might try to deny everything before he sighed. "Yes. Apparently. It's Gabriel. Davina Marr rigged a Desolation Engine to go off in the Sanctuary, but Gabriel disappeared with it before it could work, and now we have no idea where he is. He hasn't appeared in the Hotel, has he?"
Erskine blinked. "No. Not unless he snuck quietly into one of the rooms."
"Can you check?"
"Of course I can check." Erskine hesitated, realising for the first time that if Anton was right - if Skulduggery and... and Gabriel... were truly together - then it easily explained the note of urgency in Ghastly's voice. Especially if Ghastly did know about Vile. Erskine was half a world away, and he was already getting goosebumps. "Have you tried praying?" he asked, half-jokingly.
"Not working. He isn't answering."
"Right." A tingle ran along Erskine's arm, and he shivered slightly. "And... I don't know, general praying? Have you tried that?"
"We're inside a church right now."
We. Skulduggery. Skulduggery was there. Suddenly, Erskine didn't want to spend another second on the phone. "Right. Good for you. I'm sure He'll answer, if, you know. He exists. Good luck. I'll let you know if I find anything."
Erskine put the phone back down in its cradle before Ghastly could respond, and took a deep, shuddering breath. "They've lost an Archangel."
It was, without a doubt, the strangest serious thing he'd ever said. And there were some close runners-up.