"Don't get too swelled a head," Gabe murmured with a teasing twinkle in his eyes as he got out of the car. "I'd hate to have to get someone to pop it." It was true that Skulduggery had his true name now, but he was a guardian, not an owner. Ultimately, all names went back to one source. Of course, that didn't necessarily mean he wouldn't feel it if someone tried the same thing China had--but Gabe certainly wasn't expecting him to have to be the one to take point on that battlefield.

Raphael looked around with wide-eyed interest as they moved inside, and once they had passed into the laboratory proper the Archangel clapped his hands, grinning. "Great! Where to first?"

Gabe laughed. "You two go find Kenspeckle and Solomon. I want to talk to Anton."

The thought that passed between Archangel's wasn't really a thought, but more like a spark. Just a spark, a transmission, context. Raphael's expression grew serious. "Keep an eye on him, Gabriel."

"I intend to," Gabe answered. "He's too good a man to lose to a thing like that." He grinned. "Good luck with Kenspeckle. I'll come find you and Sol later, Skul."

So saying, the Archangel separated from them down one of the other corridors. He wasn't really walking with an aim, but nor was he aimless; mostly, he simply walked, waiting until his awareness struck something that felt right and he knew he'd found Anton's soul. It wasn't all that hard to find. Even with their many similarities, there were things in Shudder's soul that Skulduggery wouldn't understand. He'd come close--but not quite get there.

For all Skulduggery's ruthlessness without control, he required the loss of it first. Anton was different. His ruthlessness came with control, out of necessity. It took a different kind of man to choose that kind of life, to be able to balance that with mercy--as evidenced by the existence of the Hotel.

Skulduggery was making do with horrific circumstances to which he'd been subjected. Anton had chosen it.

But Gabe found him, eventually. It didn't take all that long, really. The door was open, Anton moving slowly around the room in a set of his own clothes; his stance and bearing was the manner of a man who'd been told he could leave hospital, just as soon as he had reached a target mark to prove his wellness. For a moment the Archangel stood and watched. Watched the faceted window which indicated restraint. The shattered, but intact, panes where the Gist had almost broken through. They'd heal in time.

A strained-glass window, darkened by a storm, but less fragile than Skulduggery's thin panes. That was a difference, between those two. Anton accepted his darkness without giving it control. Skulduggery opposed it, every second of every day.

Differences. Little differences that made Shudder's being turn slowly, an axis of balance Skulduggery could never in a million years find on his own.

Gabriel knocked. Shudder's head snapped up and he stilled, inside and out, regarding the Archangel wordlessly. Gabe stepped into the room, meeting the sorcerer's gaze. He remained far enough away to give Anton the space he felt he needed, but came close enough to indicate that this wasn't a here-and-gone visit. "I'm sorry," Gabe said, "for making you think you had no hope."

Anton's shoulders tensed, his eyes tracking Gabe's circling movement. "I don't need your good opinion to validate me," he said quietly, but with an intense sort of assurance.

That was what Gabe could see. Where the light came from. Assurance. Assurance Anton had had before, but which was now solidified. The Archangel smiled. "I know. I just wasn't sure if you did. But the apology is earned. You didn't deserve my reacting like that. There's more grace in you than you might think."

Something in Shudder's brow crinkled, but he said nothing. For a long time they simply stared at each other, Gabe waiting patiently and Shudder stiff with wariness. It was the sorcerer who broke the silence. "Where's Pleasant?"

"Around," Gabe said vaguely. Shudder grunted, and as quiet as his outward reaction was, inside he was a twisted maelstrom of emotions. Fury that Skulduggery should fall short. Guilt because Anton should care more about what he'd done and he didn't. Self-rage for the same reason.

But the question was gone. The one he'd wanted to ask, the one that asked what hope there was for him. It could be either a good thing or a very bad thing. In some, it meant they'd given up. That they had nothing left, no reason to strive and live. In others, it meant they had accepted that, regardless of what others thought, their minds were their own. That they didn't need the vindication so many others demanded--not even their own.

Acceptance. So very, very few people knew themselves so well, and could accept themselves, all their flaws and strengths attached. Anton was close. The most important things, he knew where he stood.

Anton Shudder wasn't Skulduggery Pleasant. That was what mattered. In time, Anton would balance out his need for justice and his sense of mercy. It was already happening. Gabe could tell, because there was something ticking over in the man's soul, a minor-ish choice as he turned away to walk back to his bed and stoop to find his shoes.

Then, abruptly, the choice was made. "Wreath's gone, if you're looking for him. He left the Hibernian last night."

Gabe froze. "He--what?"

"He left," Shudder repeated, and straightened, shoes in hand, dark eyes sharp. "You've caused a lot of changes, angel. I'll hold my judgement on whether they're for better or worse until I've seen their strings tightened."

For a moment, Gabriel was chagrined to admit that he almost wasn't listening. Then he swallowed and forced himself to look back at Shudder, reading in him that quiet confidence of self. "That's fair," he said. "Excuse me. I don't mean to be rude, but if Solomon's left--"

"If he's lucky," Shudder said as Gabe turned, "his former compatriots killed him quickly."

"For once, that's the part that worries me," Gabriel murmured as he made all haste toward the door.