"Mostly I just need you on the day," Gabe told Ghastly, taking Skulduggery's hand in lieu of being able to put an arm around his shoulders himself. He wasn't tall enough, for one, and Ghastly had that spot, for another. "Although if one of you could call Saracen to tell him we need him, that would be wonderful. And talk to Anton. He's not so aversive to helping as it seems--he just needs reason to realise it."
Anton was going to be the hard sell. If he refused, with Saracen that still made eight in the spell itself and seven holding the leashes. Seven was a divine number, eight the number of stability. He could work with that, and it would still be enough for their needs.
But it would be lessened. Lessened for the knowledge that one of them was missing, that one of them had chosen not to stand for Skulduggery's being. There weren't eight Dead Men, if Corrival could be included--and as far as their regard for him went, he was included. There were nine. Nine, the most perfect number. Nine in the spell, completing each other in ways Gabe had seen only very rarely, and eight holding the leashes for stability.
If they could get Anton Shudder to accept his place, it would be a bond Lucifer could never break.
"I don't think he'd accept the request from me," Gabe said softly. "But from one of you--you, Ghastly, or Erskine, or Dexter--he would." And if not one of them, then ... Rover Larrikin himself would almost certainly do the trick. That was where the bulk of the time was going to be needed; not setting up the spell, not drawing the sigils, but finding just in which part of the lifestream and thus Heaven Rover Larrikin and Descry Hopeless were residing. It could be done. Gabe had done it before. Just not from a completely different dimension.
He squeezed Skulduggery's hand, looking up to smile at them both reassuringly ... and mischievously. "Don't worry. All you'll really have to do is stand there and love each other. I'm sure you can do that."
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Anton was going to be the hard sell. If he refused, with Saracen that still made eight in the spell itself and seven holding the leashes. Seven was a divine number, eight the number of stability. He could work with that, and it would still be enough for their needs.
But it would be lessened. Lessened for the knowledge that one of them was missing, that one of them had chosen not to stand for Skulduggery's being. There weren't eight Dead Men, if Corrival could be included--and as far as their regard for him went, he was included. There were nine. Nine, the most perfect number. Nine in the spell, completing each other in ways Gabe had seen only very rarely, and eight holding the leashes for stability.
If they could get Anton Shudder to accept his place, it would be a bond Lucifer could never break.
"I don't think he'd accept the request from me," Gabe said softly. "But from one of you--you, Ghastly, or Erskine, or Dexter--he would." And if not one of them, then ... Rover Larrikin himself would almost certainly do the trick. That was where the bulk of the time was going to be needed; not setting up the spell, not drawing the sigils, but finding just in which part of the lifestream and thus Heaven Rover Larrikin and Descry Hopeless were residing. It could be done. Gabe had done it before. Just not from a completely different dimension.
He squeezed Skulduggery's hand, looking up to smile at them both reassuringly ... and mischievously. "Don't worry. All you'll really have to do is stand there and love each other. I'm sure you can do that."