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]

In spite of the revelations of the night before, or possibly because of them, Gabe was feeling rather marvellous today. Then again, there were probably other reasons for that as well, and he wasn't about to deprive Skulduggery of all due credit. In all honesty, even though Skul was Gabe's first or second choice for getting a massage, the Archangel hadn't quite expected him to be as good at it as he was. Then again, maybe that was just Kenspeckle's specially-made oil. Or maybe it was their metaphysical connection. Gabe wasn't entirely sure, and in the end he supposed it didn't really matter.

Not that it had been entirely smooth in execution. Skulduggery had been as awkward as Gabe expected in the beginning, so the Archangel had dealt with it all matter-of-factly--because, as far as he was concerned, it was a matter of fact. This sort of injury almost wasn't even an injury, and angels didn't need to be injured to get a grooming to begin with. It was just nice to have once in a while, especially when they hadn't seen each other for a century or two.

But since he did need the attention for health reasons, he treated it as such. Skulduggery apparently hadn't quite realised how literally metaphysical an angel's physiology was, or that their surface tension reflected mundane physics for a reason. It had taken a bit of time to go over exactly what needed to be done, by which time Skulduggery knew for sure that Gabe hadn't been joking when he said it was an endeavour that took the better part of days. It wouldn't solve the aching problem completely, but it did help.

(Gabe wasn't going to mention it, but Rafe had already offered the grooming, if not the healing quite yet, since Gabe had already done his in stages. Gabe had been holding out. The only reason Rafe hadn't actually teased them about it in public yet was because Gabe had threatened to muss up his feathers, and followed through.)

The real problem, the thing that Gabe had actually, genuinely forgotten to mention was the fact that angels enjoyed being groomed. They enjoyed being groomed the same way a cat who wanted to be petted enjoyed being petted. Completely, unashamedly, unrestrainedly.

It had taken Skulduggery a little while longer to get over that perceived awkwardness. In the end, taking into account the night and the first part of the morning, they'd only managed to get Gabe's torso done. Since that covered the bulk of his wing muscles, it was actually a pretty good start. Then Desmond had rung Skul to ask if he was available for a chat, which he had been, and since Gabe had to go into the shelter anyway he thought he'd go in early so he could give Janet his contact details and ask about any sort of orientation.

So he had. The problem was that he'd gone in humming and feeling somewhat more balanced and contented than last time. The problem was that he hadn't noticed the smirks and sly looks he'd been getting. The problem was that he hadn't even noticed the amusement in the souls of the women around him.

All of which meant he'd just been confronted with a situation he was very much not expecting.

"I--what?" he spluttered at Kelly's grinning face, aware his cheeks were red and only just restraining the urge to make them not be red in a fashion which would have indicated something very strange was going on.

"I knew it!" Kelly crowed, chopping three sticks of celery with such speed that Gabe felt anxious just watching her watch him and not the knife. "Girl got laid last night!"

They were cooking lunch. Gabe had never cooked before, so he'd just been stationed to stir the pot of stew. Right now, he was failing at even that, glancing around for some help and finding nothing but grinning faces all around him. Some of the girls, granted, were at least trying to hide it--but not all. Abused women or not, all those present were volunteers or had been at the shelter long enough to be able to tease one another. Especially teasing one another about men.

They'd just found a new target. A new target who was red as beet.

"Oh, come on," said Gloria with a shake of her head, motioning at him with a spoon. She was a resident of the shelter who had simply, as time went on, naturally taken to helping more and more until she was affectionately known as the fourth-floor's den-mother. "You weren't even trying to hide it. You've got that glowy newly-in-love, cat-with-the-cream look all over you."

"I don't!" Gabe objected, and then stopped. "Do I?" He'd seen plenty of people with that very same aura. He just hadn't exactly stopped to look in the mirror before coming to the shelter. Angels didn't need mirrors.

The women exchanged looks. "Yes," they chorused, and laughed.

"I have been told I don't know the meaning of the word subtle," Gabe muttered, looking determinedly down into the stew and stirring it, and not quite able to withhold the twitch of his mouth.

"Whoever said that is one-hundred per-cent accurate," said Kelly.

"To be fair, now we don't have to worry until the honeymoon period is over." Sherridan came over to plop a bowlful of chopped potatoes into the pot. "And at the very least we can be assured Mare's getting everything she deserves. At the very least, this bloke of hers is good for her in bed."

"Having a man who's actually good in bed for the lady is a consolation prize for when she decides to dump him," Gloria agreed.

"How do you know he was good for her in bed?" Kelly asked with a broad grin and a twinkle that made them all pause, look at each other, and then dissolve into giggles at the look on Gabe's face. He tried to explain, badly, that it hadn't been like that, that sex hadn't been involved, that nothing had happened except a massage; at which point Sherridan had protested, "Only a massage!" and Gloria wanted to know if Gabe's boyfriend had a brother.

Gabe had given up, let them think what they wanted, and wound up smiling over his pot as they moved onto equally ribald topics. (He may have encouraged them, just a little, by bringing up 'Dillon's' brother who was both a tailor and a boxer and unfortunately attached; his other brother who was a reluctant politician and extremely good-looking and very much unattached; his third brother who was a roving architect just come into town, also unattached; and finally his youngest brother, recently blinded, not-quite-attached. The conversation had spurred talk of past conquests, right after Gloria had slipped her phone number into his pocket with a wink and a stage-whisper to pass it on to one, or all, of the above.)

That particular topic of conversation didn't die, but it did move smoothly on, as other residents started coming into the kitchen to pick at pieces of the stew. Some of them wouldn't have taken to the teasing quite so well. Kelly sidled close to Gabe as he ladled out the soup with warm smiles, herself passing out bowls until there was a lull in the line for the stew (and a corresponding blockage by the bread and butter).

"You're okay, right?" she asked, and he was almost startled by the concern in her soul, enough to blink at her for a moment.

"Yes, of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

Kelly shrugged. "Janet said you were from Israel. Things aren't exactly the same there."

Gabe thought of the real Mary, and of her cousin Elizabeth, and their whispered, giggling conversations about their prospective husbands. He smiled. "I think you might be surprised. Even in Israel, women can find safe places to talk about men any way they want."

"Oh." Kelly looked relieved and curious in equal turns. And, at the same time, assessing. "But you weren't one of them, were you? You weren't lying when you said the two of you hadn't had sex yet. You’re too shy about the topic." She paused for a moment. "Is there a reason for that? For either of those?"

Her tone was not exactly wary, but on that edge of being defensive on Gabe's behalf, and that willingness to defend him--someone she barely knew--made him smile. If he had been human, he might have felt guilty about lying to her about his perceived gender, but he wasn't and he didn't. There had been several centuries when he'd worn his female cloak as his default.

"Yes," he said simply. Her eyes narrowed, but he went on before she could get up too much mental heat, his voice soft. "Not for the reasons you're assuming. Dillon was married once. His wife and daughter both died. He's said outright that what he wants from me is very different to what he had with her, and their relationship was very physical."

"Physical like giving out massages?" Kelly asked dryly, and Gabe laughed.

"Well, no. Sexually physical. And honestly that's not something I've ever been interested in. So it's not something we're interested in." He shrugged. "I have something of an ongoing, but eventually curable, medical condition. Massages help. This was the first time I got him to do it. He'll never let you know, but--" He flashed her a mischievous, dimpled smile that made her laugh. "--he's really rather adorable when he's embarrassed and trying to be a gentleman at the same time."

Kelly caught her breath, and Gabe was warned by the responding glint of mischief just before she answered. "So what I'm really getting from all this, then, is that you're a pure, innocent virgin." She shook her head. "That's sad. That's really sad. I think it's our duty to dirty you up. Make him really gentlemanly embarrassed."

"Or," Gabe replied, "I can just parade him in front of the shelter doors and let you girls do it for me."

They laughed again and the ensuing discussion about platonically embarrassing people lasted throughout the lunch-rush. Gabe kept a metaphysical eye out the whole time. Kelly remained stationed by him, introducing him to anyone who asked and pointing out newer residents of the shelter--people who might benefit from his gentle touch or people who probably wouldn't react well to him for whatever reason. The newest arrival, Gabe was pleased an amused to see, was one Saffron Sweetgrass.

"She arrived last night, about nine o'clock," Kelly said after pointing her out. Gabe watched without staring. Saffron sat alone in the furthest corner where she could see the whole room, her back rigid with uncertainty but her expression a mixture of curiosity and deep, deep yearning she probably wasn't even aware she was wearing. "Father Patrick O'Reilly brought her in, said a friend had asked him to help her."

"I know Paddy," Gabe said with a quiet smile. "He helped me adjust to being in the country."

Kelly nodded. "He's a good man. One of the few men we'd let into the shelter at all, and even then he doesn't go upstairs. Sometimes he ministers to the girls, even the ones who aren’t Christian. We've seen women like Saffron before, but not many--girls on the other side of the class divide, who have been taught that they're better than everyone else, but then are knocked around just as badly. She's not as bad off as some I've seen, though. I've seen abused girls who just couldn't let go of being rich princesses. Saffron at leastwants to be in on things; she just doesn't know how. You can see it in her eyes."

Kelly wasn't wrong. Saffron looked exhausted, like she hadn't slept well, and she moved strangely in the threadbare clothes. On one hand, as if she wasn't used to an outfit that had been stitched up half a dozen times, but clutching it to her as if she wasn't used to her clothes being properly warm, or at least something she’d been able to choose. The way she looked around was with a prey's eye, wary and liable to either shy or be proud if spoken to, but at the same time hungry, confused and curious.

Gabe took note of all this, reminded himself to give Solomon an update, and carried on with his lunch duties.