Skulduggery looked towards Erskine, Dex, and Corrival in turn as each of them spoke, finally holding Corrival's gaze and answering the Grand Mage without a hint of anything in his voice other than a level and calm attempt at explanation. "When we first discovered it was a possibility, Guild was still Grand Mage. It took Gabe months to reach me in that other dimension, and as far as we can tell, it took months to get back home from there - and that was with an Archangel who knew what he was doing. Rafe and Merlin would have been lost forever if Gabe hadn't helped them. Even if Lucifer did make it here, it wouldn't have been for a while, and we had more immediate problems at the time."
"A week, Skulduggery." Erskine's voice was practically cold, and he didn't care. "A week. We've been in office for a good few days. Corrival was unofficially in charge before that. Hell, you were standing right there when we talked about replacing the Cleavers, and you didn't say a word?"
"The angel statues were a good idea."
Erskine nearly laughed. He was glad he didn't; he didn't want to know what that would have sounded like. "And you didn't think we could come to that decision ourselves?"
"You didn't need the complication. Especially when there wasn't any other choice."
This was not Skulduggery. This was not the man Erskine fought alongside during the war. No one Erskine had fought alongside during the war distrusted him to this much of an extent. No one Erskine considered a friend would willingly, and for no good reason, keep him so firmly in the dark. This could not be Skulduggery Pleasant.
Except, Erskine realised with a spreading numb, it was. It was the Skulduggery Pleasant none of them had wanted to see. The man who would go out and murder millions, only to come home and pretend none of it had ever happened.
Erskine fisted his hands in his pockets to stop them from shaking. "You know, when Anton first told me you were Vile, the only reason I believed it is because he nearly tore himself open with his own Gist. I just couldn't understand it. I couldn't understand you. There's being an idiot, there's being guilty, and then there's being..."
He couldn't even find the words to finish the statement. Vile was evil, but more than that, he was a manipulator. Creative in a way few sorcerers under Mevolent were, because he seemed to know how to push peoples' buttons - how to add a twisted sort of method to his rampant destruction. Skulduggery Pleasant should have encompassed everything opposite to that, but he didn't. He was the one who betrayed his friends. The one able to make the tough decisions, the one able to play on peoples' emotions without a hint of regret. The manipulator.
"Now," Erskine finally managed quietly, "I can see it. Dex, would you mind driving me to the Hotel, please?"
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"A week, Skulduggery." Erskine's voice was practically cold, and he didn't care. "A week. We've been in office for a good few days. Corrival was unofficially in charge before that. Hell, you were standing right there when we talked about replacing the Cleavers, and you didn't say a word?"
"The angel statues were a good idea."
Erskine nearly laughed. He was glad he didn't; he didn't want to know what that would have sounded like. "And you didn't think we could come to that decision ourselves?"
"You didn't need the complication. Especially when there wasn't any other choice."
This was not Skulduggery. This was not the man Erskine fought alongside during the war. No one Erskine had fought alongside during the war distrusted him to this much of an extent. No one Erskine considered a friend would willingly, and for no good reason, keep him so firmly in the dark. This could not be Skulduggery Pleasant.
Except, Erskine realised with a spreading numb, it was. It was the Skulduggery Pleasant none of them had wanted to see. The man who would go out and murder millions, only to come home and pretend none of it had ever happened.
Erskine fisted his hands in his pockets to stop them from shaking. "You know, when Anton first told me you were Vile, the only reason I believed it is because he nearly tore himself open with his own Gist. I just couldn't understand it. I couldn't understand you. There's being an idiot, there's being guilty, and then there's being..."
He couldn't even find the words to finish the statement. Vile was evil, but more than that, he was a manipulator. Creative in a way few sorcerers under Mevolent were, because he seemed to know how to push peoples' buttons - how to add a twisted sort of method to his rampant destruction. Skulduggery Pleasant should have encompassed everything opposite to that, but he didn't. He was the one who betrayed his friends. The one able to make the tough decisions, the one able to play on peoples' emotions without a hint of regret. The manipulator.
"Now," Erskine finally managed quietly, "I can see it. Dex, would you mind driving me to the Hotel, please?"