"I think I should take umbrage at that," Gabe grumbled good-naturedly as he rounded to join the others on the pavement.
Solomon was the last out of the car. Not because he had to be careful, although that was part of it; he still felt a little groggy and even with the Bentley's low-level glow it took a moment to find his way out of the door. Even then, he had to pause, tilting his head down as he laid a hand on the car's side and the way the glow wisped around his fingers like a luminescent mist. As if he could manipulate it if he wanted to.
He didn't.
"You need to name this car, Skulduggery," he said absently, feeling for the roof before moving carefully out from it. Once upright, his gaze was drawn to the same thing it had while still in the car: the church. The Bentley wasn't the only thing glowing.
The church's light was different, though. The Bentley's was like a small shaft of sunlight, like a reflection off Skulduggery's own soul which occasionally oscillated by the light of those others in it. Such as his own. The church ... reminded him of Kian. Soft white light--truly white, the most pure it could be--so pure rainbows were both there and not. Like Kian, because Kian wasn't really his. A reflection of the giver.
A reflection of God.
He had to stare. He couldn't help it. But, like before--that distant-seeming memory when he'd used magic in this church--the light didn't seem quite as bright as it could be. A bit grimy, like a light with its casing fixture dusty and not cleaned in a decade.
"Alright there, Sol?" Solomon felt Gabe's hand on his arm.
"Mmm." He tilted his head as if that would change the view, tracking the way the Archangel's own light and that of the church were drawn together, crested as merging waves and became all the stronger and brighter for it. His head throbbed, and all of a sudden he wished they weren't here while the service was in session, that he were there alone, that he didn't have to see all these blinding and frankly mystifying sides of people and objects he hadn't even known existed. The carnival wasn't as much of a holiday when he couldn't escape the things that made his life so different.
"My brother's offer still stands," Gabe said quietly in his ear, so no one else could hear it, and Solomon stiffened. That was all the Archangel said, however; he squeezed Solomon's arm and then pointed toward the doors. "Aw, we'll be all right. See? There's Paddy comin' to see 'em all at the door. The service is over. Won't even have to wait."
Truth enough, even though Solomon couldn't see the doors open he did see a little swirl of currents that allowed something to wash up out of the church, like a tide leaving a brilliant pebble behind.
Paddy's soul was an odd combination of Ghastly's and Skulduggery's. It was bright, that was the first thing; bright like sunlight never ended. But it was earthen, too, like an oasis in the desert. Which made sense, really. Which was what ministers were supposed to be to begin with. Solomon wondered how many of them actually were.
Then he felt the gentle, encouraging pressure on his arm and stepped forward, following Gabe's direction up onto the pavement and toward the church.
no subject
Solomon was the last out of the car. Not because he had to be careful, although that was part of it; he still felt a little groggy and even with the Bentley's low-level glow it took a moment to find his way out of the door. Even then, he had to pause, tilting his head down as he laid a hand on the car's side and the way the glow wisped around his fingers like a luminescent mist. As if he could manipulate it if he wanted to.
He didn't.
"You need to name this car, Skulduggery," he said absently, feeling for the roof before moving carefully out from it. Once upright, his gaze was drawn to the same thing it had while still in the car: the church. The Bentley wasn't the only thing glowing.
The church's light was different, though. The Bentley's was like a small shaft of sunlight, like a reflection off Skulduggery's own soul which occasionally oscillated by the light of those others in it. Such as his own. The church ... reminded him of Kian. Soft white light--truly white, the most pure it could be--so pure rainbows were both there and not. Like Kian, because Kian wasn't really his. A reflection of the giver.
A reflection of God.
He had to stare. He couldn't help it. But, like before--that distant-seeming memory when he'd used magic in this church--the light didn't seem quite as bright as it could be. A bit grimy, like a light with its casing fixture dusty and not cleaned in a decade.
"Alright there, Sol?" Solomon felt Gabe's hand on his arm.
"Mmm." He tilted his head as if that would change the view, tracking the way the Archangel's own light and that of the church were drawn together, crested as merging waves and became all the stronger and brighter for it. His head throbbed, and all of a sudden he wished they weren't here while the service was in session, that he were there alone, that he didn't have to see all these blinding and frankly mystifying sides of people and objects he hadn't even known existed. The carnival wasn't as much of a holiday when he couldn't escape the things that made his life so different.
"My brother's offer still stands," Gabe said quietly in his ear, so no one else could hear it, and Solomon stiffened. That was all the Archangel said, however; he squeezed Solomon's arm and then pointed toward the doors. "Aw, we'll be all right. See? There's Paddy comin' to see 'em all at the door. The service is over. Won't even have to wait."
Truth enough, even though Solomon couldn't see the doors open he did see a little swirl of currents that allowed something to wash up out of the church, like a tide leaving a brilliant pebble behind.
Paddy's soul was an odd combination of Ghastly's and Skulduggery's. It was bright, that was the first thing; bright like sunlight never ended. But it was earthen, too, like an oasis in the desert. Which made sense, really. Which was what ministers were supposed to be to begin with. Solomon wondered how many of them actually were.
Then he felt the gentle, encouraging pressure on his arm and stepped forward, following Gabe's direction up onto the pavement and toward the church.