To be perfectly honest, the idea that Skul might think Gabe had rifled without permission didn't even occur to the Archangel, simply because it was something he wouldn't even consider. So when Gabriel turned back forward to meet Skulduggery's gaze in the mirror, the Archangel's expression was guileless.
"I can feel it in her, Skul," he said simply. "I confess it surprised me, badly, when she first came into the church; I was expecting the magic in your world to be entirely different to the kind I know, despite the fact our oldest magicians share the same name. In my world, they're the source of all the magic in humanity; every sorcerer, every imp and bard and user of magic, has Ancient blood running through their veins. It's been diluted since the days of old, but it's still there."
Now he looked back at Valkyrie, tilting his head as if listening to something no one else could hear. "I will always know it's there, because of what the Ancients were. They had another name, you see. Not a good one. As far as religious myth goes, they're not looked upon kindly--my demonic siblings' fault, that. The Ancients were also known as nephilim." He glanced up at the mirror again, at Ghastly, searching for recognition, but continued on for the benefit of the rest, turning to speak directly to Valkyrie. "The Ancients were fallen angels who repented and became mortal, so that when they died they could return Home to our Master. The Ancients' bloodline is mine." He paused. "Or it would be, if I had blood. In either case, I can hardly miss the particular sound of my younger siblings' magic. I just ... I wasn't expecting it to be here."
But he should have. If he'd had the moments to spare to think over all the possibilities, to let recent events sink in, it would have occurred to him to wonder. His younger siblings had been here--insane and Fallen though they were. Why wouldn't Skulduggery's Ancients be of angelic blood? They apparently had enough physicality to leave parts of themselves behind.
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"I can feel it in her, Skul," he said simply. "I confess it surprised me, badly, when she first came into the church; I was expecting the magic in your world to be entirely different to the kind I know, despite the fact our oldest magicians share the same name. In my world, they're the source of all the magic in humanity; every sorcerer, every imp and bard and user of magic, has Ancient blood running through their veins. It's been diluted since the days of old, but it's still there."
Now he looked back at Valkyrie, tilting his head as if listening to something no one else could hear. "I will always know it's there, because of what the Ancients were. They had another name, you see. Not a good one. As far as religious myth goes, they're not looked upon kindly--my demonic siblings' fault, that. The Ancients were also known as nephilim." He glanced up at the mirror again, at Ghastly, searching for recognition, but continued on for the benefit of the rest, turning to speak directly to Valkyrie. "The Ancients were fallen angels who repented and became mortal, so that when they died they could return Home to our Master. The Ancients' bloodline is mine." He paused. "Or it would be, if I had blood. In either case, I can hardly miss the particular sound of my younger siblings' magic. I just ... I wasn't expecting it to be here."
But he should have. If he'd had the moments to spare to think over all the possibilities, to let recent events sink in, it would have occurred to him to wonder. His younger siblings had been here--insane and Fallen though they were. Why wouldn't Skulduggery's Ancients be of angelic blood? They apparently had enough physicality to leave parts of themselves behind.