"And Dex," Erskine added as he herded the last unwelcome bystander out of the hallway and pulled out his phone. "The idiot went and broke his ribs. He can barely breathe. Wreath, Tanith, and Dex, then China. Fletcher Renn," he said into his phone as he stepped out of earshot.
Dex would be wondering what all the commotion was about. Actually, Dex would be wondering why no one had come to tell him what all the commotion was about, and maybe complaining about being forgotten. Ghastly briefly toyed with the idea of going and doing it himself, but then settled for directing two of the healers into the interrogation room and turning his attention back on Skulduggery.
The detective didn't answer Gabe at first, which worried him. Skulduggery had already said no to a blanket soul-anchor swap, which would have rid him of all the anger and solved all their problems. And while Ghastly, with a lot of thought after the fact, could understand why Skulduggery was so reluctant about that, surely he saw why at the very least this idea of a soul-leash was so vital.
Skulduggery's shoulders sagged. "I don't, but do it anyway. I need the help."
It was a mark of how rattled Skulduggery was that he admitted he needed help at all, much less repeated the sentiment. Much less repeated it with a tremor. A tremor of very definite and very palpable fear running through his voice.
It was the first indication of any guilt. Oh, Ghastly had known the guilt was there, seen it effects, watched it both knowingly and unknowingly while it changed his friend. But this was the first real and solid and tangible proof. Despite everything, despite the armour lying a short distance away and the chaos throughout the Sanctuary and people Ghastly cared about getting hurt, he felt a small burden lift from his shoulders. "I'd drop everything," he assured Skulduggery. "So will the others."
no subject
Dex would be wondering what all the commotion was about. Actually, Dex would be wondering why no one had come to tell him what all the commotion was about, and maybe complaining about being forgotten. Ghastly briefly toyed with the idea of going and doing it himself, but then settled for directing two of the healers into the interrogation room and turning his attention back on Skulduggery.
The detective didn't answer Gabe at first, which worried him. Skulduggery had already said no to a blanket soul-anchor swap, which would have rid him of all the anger and solved all their problems. And while Ghastly, with a lot of thought after the fact, could understand why Skulduggery was so reluctant about that, surely he saw why at the very least this idea of a soul-leash was so vital.
Skulduggery's shoulders sagged. "I don't, but do it anyway. I need the help."
It was a mark of how rattled Skulduggery was that he admitted he needed help at all, much less repeated the sentiment. Much less repeated it with a tremor. A tremor of very definite and very palpable fear running through his voice.
It was the first indication of any guilt. Oh, Ghastly had known the guilt was there, seen it effects, watched it both knowingly and unknowingly while it changed his friend. But this was the first real and solid and tangible proof. Despite everything, despite the armour lying a short distance away and the chaos throughout the Sanctuary and people Ghastly cared about getting hurt, he felt a small burden lift from his shoulders. "I'd drop everything," he assured Skulduggery. "So will the others."
"I know. I never doubted that."