"I hope they don't try to steal anything," Gabriel murmured a little worriedly as he accepted the bottle of holy water from Ghastly. "They're going to need someone bless that much water at once, and I'm not entirely sure it'd remain sacrosanct to steal it even if a church was holding it in reserve."
Kenspeckle harrumphed as the Archangel paused to drink. "Tell me if you can feel this," the sorcerer commanded, and laid one hand to the side of an injury. The grimy feathers felt like they ought to have been soft, but were coarse with grit or oil. Very carefully, Kenspeckle channelled some of his magic into the wing, a soothing touch. At first he felt the, for lack of a better word, muscles in Gabriel's wing tense up, but a split second later they relaxed again and the Archangel sighed.
"Yes. Thank you."
His voice sounded much better too, Kenspeckle noted as he cut off the experimental pulse of magic. "Don't thank me yet," he said gruffly. "Your body's not really physical, is it? None of my usual treatments are going to work. Plain magic and holy water it'll have to be, and apparently we might have an issue getting more of the latter."
At least he could take some of the pain away, but how long that would last, he really couldn't say. Pleasant was right; there was no one else on the planet who even had a chance of helping this patient.
"If necessary," Gabriel said, "I'll be able to bless some ordinary water--"
"You'll do no such thing," Kenspeckle snapped, using his hands but avoiding Gabriel's injuries while he felt out the lines of the Archangels tendons, or whatever, and how the wing connected under the apparent surface. "I may not know how your magic works, but you will not exert yourself more than is absolutely necessary, do you understand me? Recklessness," he huffed. "No wonder you're friends with Pleasant."
Which made him wonder why. Which made him wonder what possible reason an Archangel could have for saving someone like Skulduggery Pleasant. Both of which were questions Kenspeckle really didn't want to be entertaining right now, so he pushed them aside and concentrated on familiarising himself with a very unique physiology.
no subject
Kenspeckle harrumphed as the Archangel paused to drink. "Tell me if you can feel this," the sorcerer commanded, and laid one hand to the side of an injury. The grimy feathers felt like they ought to have been soft, but were coarse with grit or oil. Very carefully, Kenspeckle channelled some of his magic into the wing, a soothing touch. At first he felt the, for lack of a better word, muscles in Gabriel's wing tense up, but a split second later they relaxed again and the Archangel sighed.
"Yes. Thank you."
His voice sounded much better too, Kenspeckle noted as he cut off the experimental pulse of magic. "Don't thank me yet," he said gruffly. "Your body's not really physical, is it? None of my usual treatments are going to work. Plain magic and holy water it'll have to be, and apparently we might have an issue getting more of the latter."
At least he could take some of the pain away, but how long that would last, he really couldn't say. Pleasant was right; there was no one else on the planet who even had a chance of helping this patient.
"If necessary," Gabriel said, "I'll be able to bless some ordinary water--"
"You'll do no such thing," Kenspeckle snapped, using his hands but avoiding Gabriel's injuries while he felt out the lines of the Archangels tendons, or whatever, and how the wing connected under the apparent surface. "I may not know how your magic works, but you will not exert yourself more than is absolutely necessary, do you understand me? Recklessness," he huffed. "No wonder you're friends with Pleasant."
Which made him wonder why. Which made him wonder what possible reason an Archangel could have for saving someone like Skulduggery Pleasant. Both of which were questions Kenspeckle really didn't want to be entertaining right now, so he pushed them aside and concentrated on familiarising himself with a very unique physiology.