let me be the one you call / if you jump I'll break your fall

[impudentsongbird]

Book Four: Dark Days
1 | into the breach
2 | finding skulduggery
3 | retreat to the tunnels
4 | into the cacophony
5 | sanctuary in the cathedral
6 | reuniting old friends
7 | kenspeckle's new patient
8 | holy water and disinfectant
9 | objecting to china sorrows
10 | the roadtrip
11 | baffling guild
12 | shenanigans at the safehouse
13 | reassuring fletcher
14 | valkyrie's intervention
15 | solomon's revelation
16 | visiting the edgleys
17 | recalled to the sanctuary
18 | guild's confusion
19 | gabe is busted
20 | the psychic tattoist
21 | envisioning the cacophony
22 | angel's first migraine
23 | the morning after
24 | china and solomon
25 | detectives' council of war
26 | china's foolishness
27 | the collector dethroned
28 | finding crux
29 | skulduggery's vileness revealed
30 | sorrows in aftermath
31 | finding equilibrium
32 | the devil's number
33 | at the carnival
34 | meeting authorities
35 | solomon's confession
36 | the stray soul
37 | sanguine unsettled
38 | solomon's choice
39 | a cowboy underground
40 | in scarab's basement
41 | striking midnight
42 | craven contested
43 | emergency services
44 | on your feet
45 | and don't stop moving
46 | easy recognition
47 | a deuce of an evening
48 | engines roaring
49 | compromising judgements
50 | solomon's conflict
51 | axis turning
52 | thinking circular
53 | blasting the past
54 | reviling vile

Book Five: Mortal Coil
55 | sanctuary unsanctified
56 | shudder unravelling
57 | catching an angel
58 | layering dimensions
59 | dead men meeting
60 | when it rains
61 | power plays
62 | sing on gold
63 | the valley of death
64 | grand aspersions
65 | no evil feared
66 | new days rising
67 | angelic neuroses
68 | step-brothers working
69 | the many sorrows of china
70 | peacefully wreathed
71 | tarnished gold
72 | the secret in darkness
73 | magical intent
74 | scars worth keeping
75 | benefits of a beau
76 | grand magery
77 | lighting the darkness
78 | old dogs and new tricks
79 | flouting traditions
80 | drawing lines
81 | brothers and sisters in arms
82 | channelling angels
83 | return of the carnies
84 | the death bringers
85 | meriting agelessness
86 | knick knack, paddy
87 | give a dog a bone
88 | americans propheteering
89 | the right side of honour
90 | tailored shocks
91 | hosting angels
92 | elders anonymous
93 | rediscovered strays
94 | changings and changelings
95 | a state of reflection
96 | adding hope
97 | the devil's truth
98 | dead mens' hospitality
99 | lives half lived
100 | next to godliness
101 | devilish plans
102 | beached angels
103 | lights of revelation
104 | heroes worshipped
105 | new devilries
106 | angels under the yoke
107 | brains frozen
108 | father, mother, daughter
109 | parental guidance recommended
110 | driven round the bend
111 | ongoing training
112 | privileged information
113 | reasonable men
114 | passing the buck
115 | gifting magicks
116 | strengths and weaknesses
117 | immaturity's perks
118 | priests and prophets
119 | scaling evil
120 | blowing covers
121 | marring an afternoon
122 | lie detection
123 | five-dimensional pain
124 | reliving nightmares
125 | taking stock
126 | sampling spices
127 | sleeping prophets lying
128 | rueful returns
129 | dead men reunion
130 | medically-approved hugs

The life of an angel was a contradiction in changes and stability. On one hand, they understood very well the way the cosmos was shaped by events within it. On the other, they stood at one step apart from it—or at least had, for a very long time, up until their Master's recent wager with Lucifer. Changes in the recent past had, even for angels, been fast and turbulent, but there were none that concerned Raphael more than Gabriel's abrupt reserve.

In the aftermath of the wager Gabriel had been almost the only one to know where their Lord was at any given time, a fact which had put the Archangel very firmly under Lucifer's radar. Raphael had joked that Gabriel ought to arm himself with more jokes or worse clothes to drive the fallen angel away; Michael had offered the peace of the Garden Coast. (Rafe thought his idea was better.)

Either way, even though their Master was fair hidden, every angel knew that they had only to ask Gabriel and the Archangel would pass on a message.

Then Gabriel had simply blipped off the radar himself. Poof! Gone! No one had noticed at first, because, well, they weren't exactly in constant connection. It was just when Raphael had taken a whim to seek out his younger brother that he'd noticed it, and let it be, because there was absolutely a reason for it. Gabe did not just off and vanish, except that once with his self-exile, and that didn’t count.

But when Gabriel had come back, he had been strangely agitated and yet close-mouthed. The younger Archangel had vanished off to wherever their Master was hidden for a long chat Raphael was dying to have listened into, and yet couldn't (but only partly because it would have been rude). Now he was here, floating among the stars and examining a black hole with unnerving intensity.

For a time Raphael watched without letting on that he was there, but eventually Gabriel spoke. “I’d rather you came to join me instead of lurking, brother.”

Absolutely refusing to feel chagrined, Raphael let himself manifest with an arm around Gabriel’s shoulders and ruffled the younger angel’s hair. Gabriel threw a fond, longsuffering glance up at him, but there was something in his eyes, something distracted and sharp, which indicated that Gabriel still wasn’t truly present. Raphael only wished he knew where the other Archangel was.

“Just wondering what you’re doin’ all the way out here,” he said teasingly. “There’s a party going on down there on Earth, Gabe.” There was always a party going on down on Earth. “You oughta be down there bobbin’ for apples and switching up party-hats!”

“I can’t,” Gabriel said quietly, with a sort of seriousness Raphael had, for all Gabriel’s literalness, rarely heard from him. So Raphael fell into the same seriousness, lost his playful accent, and spoke directly.

“Why not, brother? You’ve been reserved of late. I conf—I’m worried for you.”

For a very long time Gabriel said nothing and stared into the slow-turning swirl of the black hole. Raphael waited patiently, his arm still companionably across the other Archangel’s shoulders. Eventually Gabriel spoke. “Did you know, Raphael,” he said, “that the universe you see around you here isn’t the only one our Master has created?”

Raphael was so startled that he couldn’t answer. That wasn’t what he was imagining. He hadn’t been sure what he’d been imagining, but that wasn’t it. “I’m not sure what you mean, Gabriel,” he said after a moment. “Our Lord told me the story of Creation not all that long ago, and he never mentioned anything of the kind.”

Gabriel nodded. “He told me that story as well. And then He asked if I really wanted to know details.” He hesitated. “I … admit, I declined. It’s something He said—about faith. I decided I didn’t need to know details. But it’s true, nevertheless. Just beyond this …” The Archangel reached out his hand and touched that gossamer and unbreakable fabric that supported reality. “There are other universes, even with different versions of us.”

“Different versions of us?” Raphael repeated, appalled and uncertain and entirely confused. How could that be possible? What could their Master want with more than one of any of them? What was going on? Where had Gabriel gone in that time he’d vanished? Then something occurred to him and he smiled with relief. “This is a joke, right?”

Gabriel looked up at him and smiled back with such a gentle understanding that for a moment Raphael felt very small indeed. “No, Rafe. I’m not joking. It was a shock to me too. That isn’t the point, though.”

“Isn’t it?” Raphael asked, feeling as dazed as an angel possibly could, especially when he wasn’t even inhabiting an actual physical body.

“No.” Gabriel returned to watching the black hole intently. “I met some people from other realities. One of them is in a kind of Hell, and he very much does not deserve it. I promised him that, if I could, I would save him from it.”

Which did not in the least explain why Gabe was staring at a black hole, let alone a million other questions Raphael would have liked to ask and for which he couldn’t find the words. Finally he found one. “How?”

“First,” Gabriel said with a sort of tranquillity Raphael had heard in his brother’s voice a million times but never after delivering so turbulent a piece of news, “I’m going to jimmy open a crack in the door through this hole.”

Raphael stared at Gabe, and then at the black hole, and then back at Gabe. He opened his mouth to ask whether their Master knew he was planning this and then closed it, because that was a stupid question. He opened it again to query if Gabriel had asked whether he could go around lifting the sheets and then realised that was also a stupid question, because whether he had or not, their Master probably would have told him to do what he felt was best.

It was equally clear that Gabriel very much planned to go through with this, no matter what Raphael said, and really, did Raphael have the right to object? Surely if this carried a risk, their Master would have already forbidden Gabriel from making the attempt?

“I’ll come with,” Raphael said at last, and this time when Gabriel glanced back the younger Archangel’s expression was startled. A moment later that expression shifted into grateful apology.

“I’m sorry, Rafe, but I’m not entirely certain I’ll make it through, and we can hardly leave Michael here alone.” He grinned. “Did you see what he was wearing last festival day on the Garden Coast? He hasn’t moved out of the eighteenth century yet. How would he possibly handle the rest of the world?”

Raphael laughed out loud, warm but startled, and the sound of it rang through space. Gabriel chuckled quietly beside him, and for a few minutes there was just companionable humour that faded into an equally comfortable silence.

Still, Raphael had a lot of questions. How did Gabriel plan to find his friend, let alone the universe he was in? How was he going to get back? What would he do if he met another version of himself? Or, worse, Lucifer? Finally the Archangel just asked, “Have you figured out how to crack open the door?”

“I think so,” Gabriel said, considering the black hole. “Once I figured out what to look for. I wouldn’t have gotten even that far if it weren’t for some things our Master said.”

Which meant that, in some fashion, this expedition was sanctioned by their Master, Raphael translated, and something tense in him relaxed. “Something do to with this drain here, I’ll bet,” he said, falling into his casual accent once more. “Gonna rip out the kitchen sink, li’l brother?”

“Just to see what’s hiding underneath,” Gabriel said with a grin.

“I’ll try’n keep it open for ya,” Raphael promised, and Gabriel sent him a smile which lit up the very space around them with its brilliance.

“Thank you, Rafe,” he said, and straightened. Raphael took his arm away as Gabriel lifted his hands, not exactly stepping back so much as giving Gabriel space. The youngest Archangel didn’t often reveal his power, but it was always a sight to see, a song to hear, when he did.

As it was now. Gabriel’s voice started deep, lifted high, split and wove and became more melodies than one would think a single being could possibly sing at once. The sound of it made Raphael’s heart soar, made him want to fly and laugh. It was so deep, so light, so resonating that it was physical; it touched the slow turn of the black hole and made it, for just the briefest of moments, still. In that moment Gabriel sent a carefully-aimed bolt of energy into the heart of it.

It was the kind of sight Raphael hadn’t seen in thousands of years, a play of physics and metaphysics which he hadn’t thought possible, let alone imagined. There was an eruption in the centre of the black hole, where gravity was condensed; the cascade of energy plumed upward and was dragged back down as quick, a tear in the fabric of the reality not allowed the time to widen or become a danger.

Raphael didn’t even know Gabe had moved until the younger Archangel was gone, he was so busy staring in awe. With a start the Archangel stretched out his senses and just barely managed to catch a glimpse of his brother shooting toward the hole at speeds few angels could have achieved through such a gravity well. Raphael certainly couldn’t have.

How, he suddenly wondered, was he meant to keep that open if he didn’t even have the speed of thought to track Gabriel’s movements through it?

Desperately the Archangel cast about for something to jam in the door, as it were. There was some dark matter nearby and with a thought he fashioned it into a spear and pitched it toward the centre of the black hole. It struck just as Gabriel flitted through the crack nearly wholly collapsed in on itself; the star’s gravity caught it, pulled it in, and plugged the opening like a metaphysical sink.

Slowly Raphael made every part of himself relax. For good or ill, Gabe was gone on this quest of his, and now Raphael should probably go and round up some of their younger siblings to guard the area. Just in case.


Book Four: Dark Days
into the breach | finding skulduggery | retreat to the tunnels | into the cacophony | sanctuary in the cathedral | reuniting old friends | kenspeckle's new patient | holy water and disinfectant | objecting to china sorrows | the roadtrip | baffling guild | shenanigans at the safehouse | reassuring fletcher | valkyrie's intervention | solomon's revelation | visiting the edgleys | recalled to the sanctuary | guild's confusion | gabe is busted | the psychic tattoist | envisioning the cacophony | angel's first migraine | the morning after | china and solomon | detectives' council of war | china's foolishness | the collector dethroned | finding crux | skulduggery's vileness revealed | sorrows in aftermath | finding equilibrium | the devil's number | at the carnival | meeting authorities | solomon's confession | the stray soul | sanguine unsettled | solomon's choice | a cowboy underground | in scarab's basement | striking midnight | craven contested | emergency services | on your feet | and don't stop moving | easy recognition | a deuce of an evening | engines roaring | compromising judgements | solomon's conflict | axis turning | thinking circular | blasting the past | reviling vile

Book Five: Mortal Coil
sanctuary unsanctified | shudder unravelling | catching an angel | layering dimensions | dead men meeting | when it rains | power plays | sing on gold | the valley of death | grand aspersions | no evil feared | new days rising | angelic neuroses | step-brothers working | the many sorrows of china | peacefully wreathed | tarnished gold | the secret in darkness | magical intent | scars worth keeping | benefits of a beau | grand magery | lighting the darkness | old dogs and new tricks | flouting traditions | drawing lines | brothers and sisters in arms | channelling angels | return of the carnies | the death bringers | meriting agelessness | knick knack, paddy | give a dog a bone | americans propheteering | the right side of honour | tailored shocks | hosting angels | elders anonymous | rediscovered strays | changings and changelings | a state of reflection | adding hope | the devil's truth | dead mens' hospitality | lives half lived | next to godliness | devilish plans | beached angels | lights of revelation | heroes worshipped | new devilries | angels under the yoke | brains frozen | father, mother, daughter | parental guidance recommended | driven round the bend | ongoing training | privileged information | reasonable men | passing the buck | gifting magicks | strengths and weaknesses | immaturity's perks | priests and prophets | scaling evil | blowing covers | marring an afternoon | lie detection | five-dimensional pain | reliving nightmares | taking stock | sampling spices | sleeping prophets lying | rueful returns | dead men reunion | medically-approved hugs

Comments

[impudentsongbird]

'Michael.'

Raphael's voice made Michael pause in the middle of showing a subdued teenager how to hold an axe. As much as technology had begun to grow into Taubolt at the end of the millenium, here in the Garden Coast it was a stain. Several of the younger Taubolt refugees were already plotting how they might combine magic and science in a way to utilise the best in both. If nothing else the wager had proven that they couldn't afford to turn a blind eye to the development of technology, and in itself it hadn't been evil. Perhaps there was a way to marry magic and technology so they could use such things inside the Garden Coast without making pipes and wires and phone-lines necessary.

But right now that goal was a very long way from being realised. More traditional methods of construction and careful development were needed, and that meant axes, saws and good hard labour.

Michael straightened up, his ponytail swinging, and looked around for someone to take over the kid's instruction. (The kid, seeing his distraction, looked hopeful.)

"I've got it, Jake," Swami said, managing to summon a rather weak smile. His dark eyes were worried but lit with a kind of hope Michael hadn't seen ever since the young empath had, er, overheard one of his and Raphael's conversations.

Michael couldn't discredit him. The boy had been wondering why Gabriel hadn't come to visit in weeks, and in the end the Archangels had told him everything. Even though Michael regretted the need for Swami to be burdened, there was less secrecy even among the Taubolt refugees than there had been. Swami's brothers knew what worried him. Most of the core group did.

Now, Swami's hearing Rafe's call would only be a help. Michael smiled and thanked him, and then stepped around a tree to flit off toward where Raphael was without alarming the other, less knowledgeable refugees in the clearing. To his surprise, when Michael stepped back into the physical world he found himself nowhere near the Garden Coast. Still it only took a moment of looking around before he recognised the location.

"Stonehenge?" he asked as he moved close to the elaborate ritual circle Rafe and Merlin had inscribed on the ground--in another plane, so as to avoid suspicion from the locals.

"Why not?" Rafe said with a shrug. "Full of magic rocks, full of potential doorways, a circle of power itself--perfect place to go around jimmying open cracks."

"We thought anywhere in Israel might be too close to some of Lucifer's forces," Merlin said dryly without looking up from the book in which he was writing. "Uluru is still too much a subject of interest given its recent ban on visitation, and while China and Africa have numerous places to choose from ..."

"Many of them lie within reach of their respective Gardens, are populated, or have none of the natural advantages of Stonehenge," Michael finished. Merlin shrugged. There were, of course, numerous other places around the world which were powerfully magical in and of themselves, but those nations were the ones who topped the list in terms of being seats of magic. Stonehenge had been in the public eye for so long that if anything strange happened about the place, people were more likely to dismiss it than not. Not so for many of the other potential spots.

What's more, Lucifer hadn't been here for decades. England had already fallen and wouldn't provide much in the way of entertainment for a while yet, as far as he was concerned. He was much more interested in wreaking havoc elsewhere.

Michael surveyed the circle, extending himself to feel the vibration of magic working between the sigils and the pillars of the Henge, and felt something in him turn over. "You're prepared, then."

"Yes." Raphael was following his gaze. Merlin was double-checking their wards and the glamour which protected the circle from prying demonic eyes.

Michael wasn't sure how to feel. When Rafe had first come to him, Michael had very nearly been overwhelmed by anger and fear--enough to snap at his younger brother that he shouldn't have let Gabriel go alone. That rage had died quickly, but the fear hadn't. Nor had the hurt. Gabriel hadn't even seen fit to tell Michael himself.

When Rafe had come to him again, to say that now Raphael was going to leave, Michael had been expecting him. It had been too long. Gabriel had been gone for months. Lucifer was beginning to notice. And Michael's own worry had only grown. Even through all that, he'd known that he would have to be the one to stay behind. Raphael had been enjoying their newfound capacity to shirk responsibility, as many of their younger siblings were. Michael was finding more joy than ever in embracing it and knowing he had done so because he now chose to.

The Archangel wasn't so sure about Gabriel. His little brother had been so very nearly broken, had found it so much harder to comprehend just what their Master wanted for them. Perhaps that, more than anything, was why their Lord had chosen to 'hide' from Lucifer. It gave Gabriel autonomy while making him feel useful in their Master's service.

Part of Michael wondered if this whole enterprise weren't deliberate. If it weren't their Master's way of letting Gabriel jump in the deep end of his own accord. If that was so, then it would be so for Rafe as well, and Michael couldn't interfere. It was their choice.

But now that it had come to it, Michael wanted to go with Raphael and Merlin so badly that it was a physical ache in him.

Rafe's hand clapping down on his shoulder made Michael start and realise he had been staring down at the circle, and that there had been something of his conflict on his face. "You probably could still come with," Rafe said in undertone, and managed a reckless grin born of fear and excitement and the wild awe of not knowing what was going to happen next. "I mean, free will and all that."

Somehow it was the look in Rafe's eyes which helped Michael's resolve firm. The eldest Archangel smiled at his brother, lifting a hand to rest it on Raphael's wrist and squeeze gently. "Yes, I could. But I won't. I am needed here. I enjoy my work here. And you were right, Rafe. It's possible you could have helped Gabriel sooner during the wager, if one of us had only gone to you. You're better suited to this spontaneity than I am, and if he's injured he'll need you more." He glanced away, across the rolling pastures around the Henge, closing his eyes and taking a breath and for a moment feeling all around them. The never-ending hum of magic in the stones. The sky, distant and close at once in equal amounts according to an angel's differing choice of perception. The sunlight, warm and bearing with it all the promise of the space beyond. His brother and nephew, determined and excited in turns.

Michael opened his eyes and looked back at Raphael, and his heart swelled with affection and pride. "I choose to be here. And I trust you, Rafe. Find him, and help him. I'll make sure Lucifer never finds this door."

For a moment Raphael looked at him, a smile on his own lips and eyes warm. Then the younger Archangel stepped in and embraced the elder, a gesture Michael willingly returned; for a moment (for a lifetime) they remained like that, a farewell the angels had never before required.

Then Raphael pulled away and turned without speaking, and Michael stepped back to leave the circle uninterrupted. Merlin glanced his way; their eyes met, but they didn't speak either, because speech wasn't truly needed to convey their regard.

Raphael spread his wings and gathered Merlin in his arms. Merlin began to speak. Magic gathered and the air filled with the scent of ozone. The stones hummed and the tone climbed to a high chorus. The wind picked up, tugging Michael's hair and clothes. Something appeared in the centre; not a rip, not a crack, but some sort of door fashioned in the curve of Raphael's wings. The sound that poured from it made Michael cringe and step back, but Merlin and Raphael were already working in concert to shape a ward against it.

The healer-angel took a step. The sound of Merlin's voice was all but drowned, but the protective curve of Raphael's wings remained steady. The resonances, left without a catalyst in Merlin's spell, fizzled and slowly the opening collapsed.

And they were gone, and Michael was alone.

~~~

For a moment that wasn't a moment, Gabriel was caught between the whisper and the crash and the sudden rising boil that was Skulduggery in his arms. His wings trembled and his song wavered, and it was only the knowledge that he could not let this overcome him that let him press on.

If he faltered, they'd both be lost.

'Skulduggery, don't!' he cried telepathically even as he added an under-weaving hum to the music which resonating all along his feathers and soothed the deafening power of the noise inside it. He flipped his wings, just a little, though he wasn't sure if his intent was to throw the Faceless One--Imemiah!--off or just unbalance him without breaking their cocoon. Im--the Faceless One lurched but didn't release him. Another underweave broke up the whisper, or tried--there were too many melodies at once, and the threads of his started to destabilise.

Keep it simple. Skul's true name, and the cocoon which split the water, the weave which let him step into the lee of each crashing piece of music. The noise settled like a boom in his head, loud but tolerable. His pace steadied. The music was still loud, but easier to bear; everything else, he let drift past. The Faceless One's whisper to threaded in and out of his, never catching, never interrupting. The roll of the music around them snatched it away, tearing at the once-angel on Gabriel's back.

For a moment--or an hour, or a day, or a year; it was impossible to tell--it seemed as though he'd got it, that they'd be all right. Then pain shot through his wings and Gabriel's voice shook with effort not to cry out and let the song break. He stumbled on nothing, caught himself, staggered on. His wings half-bucked, trembled, but he kept them tight.

It was hard to tell if Imemiah still strictly had fingers, but either way the once-angel dug into Gabriel's back and wings, tearing pieces out of him. Gabriel couldn't really tell whether he--no, it. Now only an it--was deliberately trying to throw him off or just desperate to maintain its hold. Either way, the Archangel's focus narrowed in that way that only an angel's could, set on that bright resonance of Skulduggery's name, and the thrum around him of his own music, and he set everything else aside.

He didn't know just when Imemiah was ripped away.

He didn't know when he hit the curtain of Skul's reality.

He just knew it when his foot hit solid ground, and there was a wild reverberation from the skull on the shelf, and that his whole body was afire.

With a whimper the Archangel didn't really wrap up the song so much as let it fizzle, sinking to the floor of Guild's office.