"Mum." Valkyrie reached out for Melissa's hand, but didn't quite snag it in time - possibly because she wasn't really trying in the first place. "He didn't mean - he just says things sometimes, it doesn't mean that he..."
That he meant them? No, Skulduggery silently agreed, probably not. But it was the same sort of thing that seemed to make the Dead Men furious with him over and over again, regardless of Vile or how Skulduggery felt. There was only so many times that could happen before you learned from it. He stopped the car when Melissa asked, and put it in park so that the running engine would remind them all not to stay in one place too long.
He had learned from it. Just not quite in the way anyone had expected him to.
"Solomon?" Skulduggery turned on the spot, turning his full attention onto his daughter, who had frozen at what she'd labeled before as his 'scary' tone of voice. "Solomon Wreath?"
His daughter nodded, wary now, her doll hanging forgotten from her hand.
"What did he say?"
"That he was a friend of yours. And he wanted to show me something. He called it shadow magic, and he wanted to teach me some."
Skulduggery's daughter was seven years old, but she was already wise beyond her years. Wise enough to believe she could fool her father, and young enough to actually try. It was easy for Skulduggery to read between the lines; Solomon approached her, yes, but his daughter was the one who had asked to learn it.
It didn't matter. She was seven. Children asked for many things they couldn't have, and most adults knew enough not to cater to them.
Most adults. And then there was Wreath, Solomon Wreath, who harbored an irrational grudge against Skulduggery and was Necromancer enough to want to act on it in the worst way possible. Was this what he considered paying Skulduggery back? Going after his daughter?
He channeled all of the anger and 'scary' out of his tone, pouring it instead down into the fist clenched by his side where his daughter wouldn't see it. "Did Solomon tell you where he was going?"
His daughter shrugged carefully. "The markets, I think."
Parents never wanted to be angry at their children, and would look for any excuse not to be. That generally meant finding a scapegoat, especially if there was a perfect one right there. And if taking all the blame for Valkyrie's deceit meant that her parents would direct their more explosive feelings towards Skulduggery rather than their daughter, Skulduggery was more than happy to help them along. He was used to being perceived as the bad guy. He could handle that burden better than most could, especially when that burden was deserved.
Because he should have gone to them from the beginning. If only because Gordon would have wanted him to.
He opened the door and stepped out without hesitation, resisting the desire to retract his skin.
no subject
That he meant them? No, Skulduggery silently agreed, probably not. But it was the same sort of thing that seemed to make the Dead Men furious with him over and over again, regardless of Vile or how Skulduggery felt. There was only so many times that could happen before you learned from it. He stopped the car when Melissa asked, and put it in park so that the running engine would remind them all not to stay in one place too long.
He had learned from it. Just not quite in the way anyone had expected him to.
"Solomon?" Skulduggery turned on the spot, turning his full attention onto his daughter, who had frozen at what she'd labeled before as his 'scary' tone of voice. "Solomon Wreath?"
His daughter nodded, wary now, her doll hanging forgotten from her hand.
"What did he say?"
"That he was a friend of yours. And he wanted to show me something. He called it shadow magic, and he wanted to teach me some."
Skulduggery's daughter was seven years old, but she was already wise beyond her years. Wise enough to believe she could fool her father, and young enough to actually try. It was easy for Skulduggery to read between the lines; Solomon approached her, yes, but his daughter was the one who had asked to learn it.
It didn't matter. She was seven. Children asked for many things they couldn't have, and most adults knew enough not to cater to them.
Most adults. And then there was Wreath, Solomon Wreath, who harbored an irrational grudge against Skulduggery and was Necromancer enough to want to act on it in the worst way possible. Was this what he considered paying Skulduggery back? Going after his daughter?
He channeled all of the anger and 'scary' out of his tone, pouring it instead down into the fist clenched by his side where his daughter wouldn't see it. "Did Solomon tell you where he was going?"
His daughter shrugged carefully. "The markets, I think."
Parents never wanted to be angry at their children, and would look for any excuse not to be. That generally meant finding a scapegoat, especially if there was a perfect one right there. And if taking all the blame for Valkyrie's deceit meant that her parents would direct their more explosive feelings towards Skulduggery rather than their daughter, Skulduggery was more than happy to help them along. He was used to being perceived as the bad guy. He could handle that burden better than most could, especially when that burden was deserved.
Because he should have gone to them from the beginning. If only because Gordon would have wanted him to.
He opened the door and stepped out without hesitation, resisting the desire to retract his skin.