"You did say that being dead is what made you so powerful," Ghastly pointed out. Necromancy fed off death. And, apparently, off anger. It was a lethal combination. What if Skulduggery's focussing object was actually his skeleton? Getting rid of the armour would still pose its own problems, but if Gabe was right, then it wouldn't affect Skulduggery. Not in any major capacity. Especially if they were all sharing the burden of resisting.
Skulduggery was quiet for a moment. "Maybe," he admitted. "I did wonder about Vengeous."
And he wouldn't have told anyone, because as far as anyone else knew, Lord Vile was dead. Of course Vengeous could use the focussing object of a dead Necromancer. Why would anyone apart from Skulduggery have questioned that?
"If I'd gone after you," Ghastly said, "the day you disappeared, would that have stopped you?"
Again, Skulduggery didn't answer right away. But this time, the silence spoke volumes. Ghastly nodded to himself, keeping as firm a grip on his sanity as he could, and reminded himself of the one very important thing - he may have failed Skulduggery, but all the deaths at the hands of Lord Vile were not Ghastly's fault. He didn't order them. He didn't cause them. He could have prevented them, but in the same way that someone could probably have prevented Hitler's rise to power. He didn't, and that was a mistake, but that was all the mistake was.
Skulduggery was the one living with the guilt. If Ghastly could help with that now, maybe it would make up for failing him before.
The Sanctuary cafeteria was a small one. Ghastly had only been in it a couple of times before, and he'd never tried the food. There were mixed opinions about the food. Myron Stray was standing awkwardly off to the side with someone Ghastly hadn't met before, but knew from secondhand stories would be Valkyrie's father.
The moment Valkyrie's father saw them, he hurried over. "What was that all about?"
"Problems we thought we dealt with a long time ago came back to haunt us," Ghastly answered, holding out his hand. "Ghastly Bespoke. You must be Desmond."
It wasn't a huge surprise when Desmond stared. Ghastly waited patiently for him to realise what he was doing, snap himself out of it, smile sheepishly, and shake his hand. "Yep. That's me." He hesitated. "No one got hurt, then?"
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Skulduggery was quiet for a moment. "Maybe," he admitted. "I did wonder about Vengeous."
And he wouldn't have told anyone, because as far as anyone else knew, Lord Vile was dead. Of course Vengeous could use the focussing object of a dead Necromancer. Why would anyone apart from Skulduggery have questioned that?
"If I'd gone after you," Ghastly said, "the day you disappeared, would that have stopped you?"
Again, Skulduggery didn't answer right away. But this time, the silence spoke volumes. Ghastly nodded to himself, keeping as firm a grip on his sanity as he could, and reminded himself of the one very important thing - he may have failed Skulduggery, but all the deaths at the hands of Lord Vile were not Ghastly's fault. He didn't order them. He didn't cause them. He could have prevented them, but in the same way that someone could probably have prevented Hitler's rise to power. He didn't, and that was a mistake, but that was all the mistake was.
Skulduggery was the one living with the guilt. If Ghastly could help with that now, maybe it would make up for failing him before.
The Sanctuary cafeteria was a small one. Ghastly had only been in it a couple of times before, and he'd never tried the food. There were mixed opinions about the food. Myron Stray was standing awkwardly off to the side with someone Ghastly hadn't met before, but knew from secondhand stories would be Valkyrie's father.
The moment Valkyrie's father saw them, he hurried over. "What was that all about?"
"Problems we thought we dealt with a long time ago came back to haunt us," Ghastly answered, holding out his hand. "Ghastly Bespoke. You must be Desmond."
It wasn't a huge surprise when Desmond stared. Ghastly waited patiently for him to realise what he was doing, snap himself out of it, smile sheepishly, and shake his hand. "Yep. That's me." He hesitated. "No one got hurt, then?"