"And whose fault is that?" Erskine retorted, but his grip lightened. "There are easier ways to attract the attention of an Elder, you know."
Ghastly didn't hear any of the exchange between Solomon and Skulduggery, and didn't particularly want to. He knew what it was about, and as he'd told Solomon, he needed more time - much more time - to accept things for himself before he could talk about Vile's abilities as straightforwardly as the pair of them could. For now, Ghastly helped Tanith slowly back to her feet, avoiding putting any pressure on her broken arm and watching for any signs of a permanent head injury.
She seemed alright. She insisted she was alright. With her arm cradled against her, though, she looked almost meek, and it made Ghastly smile.
The smile vanished when he heard a scream from out in the hallway.
An expression of helpless frustration crossed Tanith's face - she couldn't leap immediately to the rescue. But she could stand on her own two feet, so Ghastly did, following Skulduggery and Solomon out of the door with a cry of encouragement from the similarly-occupied Erskine.
For a moment, he couldn't see what people were running from. Gold lit up the hallway, the same colour gold that Ghastly had seen in Solomon's eyes just a few moments ago, blinding Ghastly to whatever was at the end of the corridor, and for a wild second he thought maybe Solomon had gone insane and was trying to kill everyone in the Sanctuary.
Then he saw it.
Lord Vile's black armour, beyond the brilliant golden light, in a tight circle of shadows.
It advanced. Or it tried to; whatever Solomon was doing, it kept Vile back. But that wasn't for a lack of trying. The shadows swelled around it, flowed and congealed and pushed back hard. Wherever those shadows met the light, they swelled and broke, like a wave on a beach, relentless. A crashing tide. Impossible to understand, and even more impossible to watch.
Numb with shock, Ghastly glanced toward Skulduggery. The detective had, for the first time in Ghastly's recent memory, taken a step back.
"Erskine." Ghastly was mildly impressed that his voice wasn't even shaking. "Get out here."
It wasn't a tone to question, and Erskine didn't. Seconds later he was at the door, and cursed with a sharp intake of breath. "That's... no. Wait. How is this possible?"
Ghastly didn't even have the presence of mind to shrug. He couldn't. What were they going to do if Vile broke through the golden barrier Solomon put up? No one had ever defeated him before. The only ray of hope during the war had been that Vile disappeared because someone finally did. Now Ghastly knew that wasn't true. Terror gripped his gut, a terror not even Skulduggery at his side could vanquish, because Skulduggery's step back meant that he was feeling that exact same terror himself.
Hang on. Ghastly had seen Vile defeated. And it wasn't all that long ago, either. Like a drowning man Ghastly clung onto that memory, one he'd tried so hard to forget, and forced his eyes shut.
no subject
Ghastly didn't hear any of the exchange between Solomon and Skulduggery, and didn't particularly want to. He knew what it was about, and as he'd told Solomon, he needed more time - much more time - to accept things for himself before he could talk about Vile's abilities as straightforwardly as the pair of them could. For now, Ghastly helped Tanith slowly back to her feet, avoiding putting any pressure on her broken arm and watching for any signs of a permanent head injury.
She seemed alright. She insisted she was alright. With her arm cradled against her, though, she looked almost meek, and it made Ghastly smile.
The smile vanished when he heard a scream from out in the hallway.
An expression of helpless frustration crossed Tanith's face - she couldn't leap immediately to the rescue. But she could stand on her own two feet, so Ghastly did, following Skulduggery and Solomon out of the door with a cry of encouragement from the similarly-occupied Erskine.
For a moment, he couldn't see what people were running from. Gold lit up the hallway, the same colour gold that Ghastly had seen in Solomon's eyes just a few moments ago, blinding Ghastly to whatever was at the end of the corridor, and for a wild second he thought maybe Solomon had gone insane and was trying to kill everyone in the Sanctuary.
Then he saw it.
Lord Vile's black armour, beyond the brilliant golden light, in a tight circle of shadows.
It advanced. Or it tried to; whatever Solomon was doing, it kept Vile back. But that wasn't for a lack of trying. The shadows swelled around it, flowed and congealed and pushed back hard. Wherever those shadows met the light, they swelled and broke, like a wave on a beach, relentless. A crashing tide. Impossible to understand, and even more impossible to watch.
Numb with shock, Ghastly glanced toward Skulduggery. The detective had, for the first time in Ghastly's recent memory, taken a step back.
"Erskine." Ghastly was mildly impressed that his voice wasn't even shaking. "Get out here."
It wasn't a tone to question, and Erskine didn't. Seconds later he was at the door, and cursed with a sharp intake of breath. "That's... no. Wait. How is this possible?"
Ghastly didn't even have the presence of mind to shrug. He couldn't. What were they going to do if Vile broke through the golden barrier Solomon put up? No one had ever defeated him before. The only ray of hope during the war had been that Vile disappeared because someone finally did. Now Ghastly knew that wasn't true. Terror gripped his gut, a terror not even Skulduggery at his side could vanquish, because Skulduggery's step back meant that he was feeling that exact same terror himself.
Hang on. Ghastly had seen Vile defeated. And it wasn't all that long ago, either. Like a drowning man Ghastly clung onto that memory, one he'd tried so hard to forget, and forced his eyes shut.
Gabe, he prayed. It's Vile.