"Someone who won't give me a headache," Solomon answered deadpan. "You're not one of them. Cleavers aren't either, in case that wasn't obvious. Ghastly is. Tanith is. Fletcher is. Erskine is, though I'd like to be there if you try to 'assign' him to my guard-duty so I can object to his running me into walls. Otherwise, I'm open to suggestions."
He pushed open the door and entered, relieved when Skul didn't follow. It was a perk of Elder offices to have en suites, apparently, which meant the bathroom was empty. That was all Solomon wanted at the moment: a bit of space. Just to be a tad spiteful, he took his time, though not so long as to have Skulduggery burst in under the pretence of 'rescuing' him.
It was only when he turned back toward the door, one hand on the edge of the mirror, that Solomon realised something was wrong. He frowned. Underground as it was, the whole of the Sanctuary left a presence in the lifestream--not enough for him to tell where things were, but enough for him to sense walls and doors to rooms now he had a better handle on how it worked. It was enough for him to see the gentle ripples of the wards and sigils which created the whole facility. Enough for him to notice a quiet bell of a sigil on the door which hadn't been there before.
A chill of warning ran down his spine and he felt something shift under his hand, a surface tension of warmth giving way under a sudden cold current. The ex-Necromancer jerked away, his heart suddenly pounding in his chest, but he still felt someone seize his arm and yank him forward into the hard stone of the wall.
no subject
He pushed open the door and entered, relieved when Skul didn't follow. It was a perk of Elder offices to have en suites, apparently, which meant the bathroom was empty. That was all Solomon wanted at the moment: a bit of space. Just to be a tad spiteful, he took his time, though not so long as to have Skulduggery burst in under the pretence of 'rescuing' him.
It was only when he turned back toward the door, one hand on the edge of the mirror, that Solomon realised something was wrong. He frowned. Underground as it was, the whole of the Sanctuary left a presence in the lifestream--not enough for him to tell where things were, but enough for him to sense walls and doors to rooms now he had a better handle on how it worked. It was enough for him to see the gentle ripples of the wards and sigils which created the whole facility. Enough for him to notice a quiet bell of a sigil on the door which hadn't been there before.
A chill of warning ran down his spine and he felt something shift under his hand, a surface tension of warmth giving way under a sudden cold current. The ex-Necromancer jerked away, his heart suddenly pounding in his chest, but he still felt someone seize his arm and yank him forward into the hard stone of the wall.