That's what Ghastly thought. For everyone there, it all came down to Vile. Never mind what Skulduggery did or who he was before then - although for Solomon, that did seem to be adding fuel to the fire - or what the detective had done since then. If Skulduggery made one wrong move, this was how he would be judged for it.
Not that it wasn't justified, because it was. And Skulduggery knew that. That was probably part of the reason he kept things so close to his chest, and took stupid risks without telling anyone. One mistake, and everything he'd worked towards would go up in smoke. It made emotional sense, if not quite logical sense.
The thing was, they were all acting like children. Yes, it was fine to be angry. But they were rapidly reaching a point where Ghastly felt like he was trying to mediate a disagreement on a children's playground. A 'he did this, she started it, he hurt my feelings' sort of deal. And that was irritating Ghastly, because it was belittling everything about Vile that they should be angry over.
He turned to Wreath first, speaking with the sort of quiet calm that came naturally to him when everyone else around him was panicking. "Vile may have been inevitable. He may not have been. We'll never know, and it's pointless to try and argue. So stop it. And please, don't try to imply that I should not have been surprised that my best friend killed my mother." The tone of his voice managed not to waver, but something inside Ghastly clenched. He ignored it, took a moment, and carried on. "Unless you're trying to say Skulduggery, as he is now, would be capable of the same without a second thought, in which case you and I need to have a very different conversation."
He disagreed with other aspects, too. Skulduggery had changed. Maybe not in the way Wreath wanted him to, or anybody else wanted him to, but he had. And Ghastly was the only one with the right to say that, since he'd known Skulduggery from before they were both twenty years old, and he'd never abandoned the man.
"Skulduggery can be cold, yes," he agreed. He'd turned his attention mainly on to Erskine by that point, but he was still speaking to everybody. "He's calculating, and he's objective, and willing to do things most good people wouldn't dream of. But it was those exact qualities that made him so invaluable during the war, and it was what enabled him to save our lives more than once, Erskine. Do you remember that time in France, when we were forced to leave you and Rover behind? Meritorious wouldn't sanction any sort of rescue mission, so Skulduggery rallied the rest of us and we improvised?"
A smile twitched at the corners of Erskine's mouth. "Yes, I remember. We gave ourselves up for dead. Skulduggery risked a lot."
"Too much." Ghastly shared the smile. "Didn't stop him. And he turned out to be right. That was the only reason we got to Paris on time, and saved as many people as we did. Remember that, Dexter? You wouldn't stop bragging about your shields for weeks. Anton, since I seem to have become the resident therapist, anything you'd like to talk about?"
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Not that it wasn't justified, because it was. And Skulduggery knew that. That was probably part of the reason he kept things so close to his chest, and took stupid risks without telling anyone. One mistake, and everything he'd worked towards would go up in smoke. It made emotional sense, if not quite logical sense.
The thing was, they were all acting like children. Yes, it was fine to be angry. But they were rapidly reaching a point where Ghastly felt like he was trying to mediate a disagreement on a children's playground. A 'he did this, she started it, he hurt my feelings' sort of deal. And that was irritating Ghastly, because it was belittling everything about Vile that they should be angry over.
He turned to Wreath first, speaking with the sort of quiet calm that came naturally to him when everyone else around him was panicking. "Vile may have been inevitable. He may not have been. We'll never know, and it's pointless to try and argue. So stop it. And please, don't try to imply that I should not have been surprised that my best friend killed my mother." The tone of his voice managed not to waver, but something inside Ghastly clenched. He ignored it, took a moment, and carried on. "Unless you're trying to say Skulduggery, as he is now, would be capable of the same without a second thought, in which case you and I need to have a very different conversation."
He disagreed with other aspects, too. Skulduggery had changed. Maybe not in the way Wreath wanted him to, or anybody else wanted him to, but he had. And Ghastly was the only one with the right to say that, since he'd known Skulduggery from before they were both twenty years old, and he'd never abandoned the man.
"Skulduggery can be cold, yes," he agreed. He'd turned his attention mainly on to Erskine by that point, but he was still speaking to everybody. "He's calculating, and he's objective, and willing to do things most good people wouldn't dream of. But it was those exact qualities that made him so invaluable during the war, and it was what enabled him to save our lives more than once, Erskine. Do you remember that time in France, when we were forced to leave you and Rover behind? Meritorious wouldn't sanction any sort of rescue mission, so Skulduggery rallied the rest of us and we improvised?"
A smile twitched at the corners of Erskine's mouth. "Yes, I remember. We gave ourselves up for dead. Skulduggery risked a lot."
"Too much." Ghastly shared the smile. "Didn't stop him. And he turned out to be right. That was the only reason we got to Paris on time, and saved as many people as we did. Remember that, Dexter? You wouldn't stop bragging about your shields for weeks. Anton, since I seem to have become the resident therapist, anything you'd like to talk about?"