Hershel took a few tentative steps forward, as though Don Paolo's eyes would suddenly spring open and the man would leap at Hershel, a mad flare in his eyes. Certainly, the men were in good terms ever since their misunderstandings were cleaned up, but now he was an Angel. He aimed a gun at Hershel's friends. Something was clearly amiss with him.
While the unconscious Angel remained in slumber, Hershel stopped by his side and studied the man carefully. Bags around his eyes, his skin a little more stretched than usual. Regardless, this was most definitely the self-appointed ex-rival of Hershel Layton. And now he was falling into old habits perhaps?
Grosky entered then, snorting.
"None of us can quite make sense of it, not matter what angle we spin it. It was my understanding Don Paolo was of a gentle disposition now."
Hershel glanced at the Professor, blinking once. "That is correct, Chief Inspector. I have no idea what could have turned his mind back towards darkness."
"Hmm..."
The Chief Inspector mused over the whole predicament a few seconds longer before excusing himself. Hershel took a seat then, facing the man who had been such a mystery in his life. A jealous fellow student in Gressnheller, to the self-titled archrival of Professor Layton, to a man struggling with Claire's loss in an entirely different manner on their previous adventure. He had taken the guise of Dimitiri Allen, too afraid to show his true face. As if the great mastermind Don Paolo couldn't show any signs of weakness.
Hershel had spoken to the man in great length after that adventure, the two helping to cope with things. Don Paolo understood his jealousy was a hindrance, and had been stopping him from living his life, except in one regard – something which Hershel enlightened him to. Don Paolo was an inventor, and though most of his contraptions were made to harm Hershel, many could be used in other ways. From upgrades to everyday items to ingenious contraptions like his helicopter machines and floating bubble craft. Don Paolo had promised to go on and make sure his inventions helped the world. That was how Hershel had left him.
Now...
Sighing, Hershel closed his eyes and let out a long, ragged sigh. This was all becoming rather too stressful. Old friends returned, though not in the way he would have liked. The Ascot and the Marauder family were both attacked by the Angels; Flora and Clive were almost shot – and it was his fault for bringing them – and now Don Paolo was a villain once more.
There was a knock on the door behind him, and Hershel turned to see Flora standing with that grace she had always carried, yet had matured as she did. She really was a fine young lady.
"May I come in?" she asked quietly, putting her hands together, resting them across her dress.
"Of course, Flora. You needn't ask."
Nodding, she entered and took the seat beside Hershel. A long while passed before she rested her hand in his and gave it a squeeze of reassurance. Hershel raised an eyebrow, cheeks reddening.
"You've always had everyone else's back," she said in that same gentle tone. "But now you need someone at yours."
"And that shall be you, Flora?"
A voice started Hershel from the doorway.
"And I, Professor," Clive smiled. Stepping in, Hershel offered him his seat, but he declined.
"I'll stand."
Nodding, Hershel took his seat once more and turned to inspect the two people that meant the most to him. Hershel took Flora's hand now, and gave her a reassuring squeeze of his own.
"We just wanted to make sure you were OK?" Flora muttered, eyes darting over to Don Paolo. "This has been a lot to take in, and you have gone through great pain."
"Pain," Hershel sighed thinly. "Which you shouldn't have had to witness."
"It was terrifying," she nodded, casting her eyes down. "But it did demonstrate just how much we mean to you, even if you didn't need to show it in the first place."
Hershel shook his head.
"No one should have stooped as low as I did."
"That's not the case," Flora countered, shaking her head slightly. "You never hurt anyone. You never allowed yourself to become lost to the darkness, only seduced by it, and that can happen to the best of us."
Hershel didn't respond for a while, but when he did, he spoke in a trembling voice.
"I may not have hurt anyone, but I wanted to. I wanted to make Costillos pay for what he... What I thought he did to Clive." Hershel's eyes now found the young man, who so far had been gazing out the window, lost to thoughts. Now Clive looked to him and moved closer.
"But you didn't. You were hurt, Professor. Deeply hurt. But that's to be expected. I mean look at me, I was lost to darkness as you almost were. You got a taste; I was consumed by it. It's not pleasant, but I pulled through, and because of you two, I never feel burdened by that part of me. You've always made me feel welcomed... Wanted. That's a rare feeling after so many years..."
Flora beamed at Clive and echoed his sentiments.
"You see, you are so busy caring for so many others, changing lives, that you never once stop to consider your own. You've been strong for so long, it's only natural you stumble along the way."
Hershel glanced up sharply at that. That same word... Stumble. He had given similar advice to Luke, and now he struggled to follow his own words. It just took two incredible individuals to do that. A smile found it's way onto his face.
"Truly, you two make my life complete when I fail to take full grasp of the situation. It was hard... Terribly hard after losing Claire, and I fear that void may never be filled, but you certainly work to keep me standing every day."
Flora and Clive found wide grins on their faces, and so too did it seem, that someone else in the room did.
Harsh laughter caused them to jump, and spinning around, they saw Don Paolo was now awake. More than that, his eyes told a terrible story. They were pulsing, streaked with red lines and something else... Like they were swept by madness.
"Fools! You all cling to hope, but you have been judged and found guilty!"
Hershel leapt to his feet and moved over to the delirious man. He didn't try and attack Hershel, but merely sat there, a twisted sneer painted across his face.
"Don Paolo!" he cried, hoping to find a method to this madness. "What has overcome you?"
"Overcome me?!" Don Paolo spat, followed by a cackling that chilled Flora to the bone. Others heard and soon Grosky and a few others had entered the room. Only Randall seemed to be missing still. "Nothing has overcome me, Layton! I've just seen the truth! I've seen the glorious path set out for us, a path that lacks a certain top-hatted fool and his dim-witted apprentice!"
Hershel gritted his teeth then.
"What does Luke have to do with this?!"
"Everything!"
Grosky pushed through the crowd and moved to the other side of the bed, hands gripping Don Paolo's shoulders. He shook him like a rag doll.
"Tell me, man! What has broken inside of you? What has that madman done to turn you into a lunatic?!"
Don Paolo shrieked with a laughter so terrible, Hershel found himself more frightened of the man than the whole time he was pursued by Don Paolo and his ferris wheels of doom.
"Cassiel has done nothing to me! If anything, he has enlightened me, and many others." He glanced over at Clive then, a wicked glee in his eyes. "Certainly boy, you too would have been enlightened if you weren't do darned close to Layton. You are too close to his corruption, and so therefore you must perish along with him and all those who fell from grace."
Hershel was bewildered, struggling to find words.
"Fell from grace... What on Earth are you talking about? Don Paolo... I thought you were stronger than this."
"Don Paolo!" the twisted Angel roared, almost losing himself to hysterics. "I am not Don Paolo, and Don Paolo is not me! I am Gabriel, messenger of God!"
"Gabriel... Cassiel..."
Don Paolo, or rather Gabriel, gave Hershel a knowing wink.
"You see, you are getting it. Too bad it won't matter in the end. Soon enough my fellow Angels shall return, and we shall lay out vengeance on all of you."
Grosky poked Don Paolo with a pointed finger then before crossing his arms.
"About that, why exactly do you have it out for us, or specifically, Hershel Layton?"
Don Paolo scoffed, rolling his neck like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"He is the meddler of time, the ruiner of lives! It is up to us felled, fallen Angels to bring justice upon this world!"
"And who are these Angels?"
"There is Cassiel our leader, of course, and Michael, our commander in the field, Raphael, our silent agent, Uriel, bringer of repentance; Raguel the knife of vengeance in our crusade, Ramiel, our bearer of instructions, and Sariel, our protector and enforcer, with me rounding off our mighty force as messenger of news both superb and terrible!"
"That's it?" Grosky snarled, fists clenching in outrage. "There are that few of you, and you've managed to cause all this mayhem?!"
Don Paolo flashed the Chief Inspector a proud grin.
"You don't need many people to change the world."
Hershel scratched at his chin.
"I am aware that there are seven archangels in the Bible, though your numbers reach eight."
Don Paolo rolled his eyes, waiting for the clever Professor Layton to get it.
"You and the others..." Hershel murmured. "You are the force seven strong, but Cassiel was always seen as an observer, watching the events of chaos unfold. He may lead your little force, though he allows you some autonomy."
"We decide our own actions as much as he leads us," Don Paolo sniffed, a smugness wrapped about his face.
"You say you are a messenger, though you are my friend, Don Paolo. Why can't you snap out of this and see that?"
"Gabriel! My name is Gabriel! Can't you see that! I am not bound to my Earthly body! I am ascended now, doing the bidding of God himself!"
"And what does God bid you to do?" Hershel demanded, feeling fear rise in his throat like bile.
"To deliver a message to you now!" Don Paolo's face went pink, as though holding his breath in concentration. Then when he spoke again, it was with a booming voice, deep with the authority of one who is delivering grim news.
"Doom to the thief, who steals lives, meddler of time. Doom to the curse against nature, the impossible man in the top hat. Doom to the gentleman and his apprentice. Doom to he, for he shall die first."
Hershel stepped back, his stomach churning, Flora and Clive reacting very much the same.
"You mean to... To kill Luke?"
Don Paolo let out a frustrated sigh.
"That is what I said, isn't it?"
Hershel found himself a loss for words then. Flora covered her mouth with one hand, the other reaching for Hershel's hand. She found it, though it took a few seconds for Hershel to return the gesture and hold her hand.
Finally, Hershel gained some confidence, tipping his top hat down.
"I'm afraid Luke is in another country entirely."
Don Paolo shook his head then, the same smile of the devil creased on his face.
"Not so, Layton. Our agent in London reported seeing him just an hour ago leaving the city with two companions. We already have a tail on him."
"How... How could you know that?" You've been unconscious this whole time?"
"Again, you are quite mistaken there. Much of my extended absence of consciousness was much exaggerated. I was able to get in contact with an agent nearby."
Flora looked around as though she might see a white-clad man standing in the corner of the room, watching them silently. Of course, that was a silly idea.
"So Cassiel knows of our movements then?" Hershel inquired, the hairs on the back of his neck tingling as he realised they weren't even to have one moment of peace.
"Oh yes. And once we have the boy, then we'll show you the true wrath of God, and only then will you be allowed to join him!"
Hershel moved to the doorway then, ignoring Flora's gasp of surprise.
"I've had quite enough of this. We must reach Luke before the other Angels."
Don Paolo once more lost himself to hysterics.
"Oh yes, Layton, and how exactly will you do that? You are without an airship, and my fellow Angels will no doubt be halfway to London as we speak."
Hershel turned his head, not quite looking at the delusional man he once called friend.
"That may be so, but that has never stopped us before."
*****
Outside in the hallway, the others filed out, only the two agents remaining to secure Don Paolo should he try to escape. Flora ran to her father's side, looking up to him with expectant eyes. She was worried for him, quite certain Hershel was allowing a dark side of him to come to the forefront. She said as much to him then.
Hershel shook his head.
"Do not fear, Flora. I am scared, for my friends... For Luke. But I am not going to lose my way again. You and Clive have seen to that." He smiled briefly before adopting a stern expression once again. "I have to be strong though, and determined if we are to save those we love."
Grosky coughed, raising an arm in a gesture of dismissal.
"What can we do, Hershel? Help is on its way, but it will take at least a day for it to arrive. We are stranded here."
Hershel shook his head, the idea which only before formed as a bubble, now blossomed into something quite extraordinary.
"Not quite, Chief Inspector. We do have a means of escape: the Bostonius."
Hershel moved off now, the others following, struggling to keep up with the Professor's swift pace. They were down the stairs, heading towards the hospital entrance when Grosky addressed the obvious concern.
"The Bostonius is in ruins right now."
"Indeed, Chief Inspector," Layton nodded, pushing through the doors as he went on through to the hospital courtyard. It was only a short walk to the central courtyard where the Bostonius had crashed. As they approached, they could see much of the damage was undone, parts gathered, fires put out, leaving a poor, but less mangled mess than they had found themselves exiting from the previous day.
"However," Hershel continued. "Much of the Bostonius is still intact, and I know just the man to fix it."
He turned to face the Chief Inspector, who raised an eyebrow, awaiting an answer.
"The messenger Angel himself," Hershel beamed. "Gabriel, or as we know him: Don Paolo."
*****
"You're off your totter if you think that lunatic will raise a finger to help us!" Grosky barked, dogging after Hershel as he picked through the wreckage, inspecting the damage.
"Chief Inspector, Don Paolo is clearly under some form of mind control, and that became quite clear to me when I remembered his eyes, you see."
"His eyes?"
Hershel nodded, glancing around to take it all in. Flora stood over by the ship's rear, examining an upholstered chair that now lay quite far from its original position. Clive clambered through to the inside, picking up various bits and pieces. Sofia and the others stayed back, listening intently. Alexai ran over to Flora, leaping over pieces of shrapnel, his mother calling after him to be careful. Still Randall remained noticeably absent.
"I've seen eyes like that before," Hershel elaborated, recalling memories that were better left buried. "It is most definitely the work of Costillos and his company's research, or at least, when Auriolus was still around.
"You see, during our trial with the man, we uncovered lot of dark secrets, perhaps one of the largest that Costillos was working on brainwashing."
Hershel was met with a few gasps, and he reached down to pick up a discarded metal rod, not sure if this was the same one he wielded against Costillos. As he stood, he tuned to face them all once more.
"That little discovery was just one of many, but one that undoubtedly turned the tides on the position corrupt government officials held following the trial. I suppose to explain, we shall have to pick up where we left off."
Hershel gestured to the hospital, a weariness about him. Flora and Clive moved over to join him, Flora standing proudly by his side, sharing her courage with him.
"Come," he called to the small group before him. "If I am to finish this story, it is best to do so if everyone who was present is there to finish it with me."
As they made off for the hospital then, eyes set on the room where two injured agents sat then, Hershel looked around, willing Randall to come out now. And still he didn't.
How peculiar, he thought to himself, quickly discarding the thought when the pressing nature of time brought itself to the forefront of his worries. He needed to finish this tale, and fast. If what he had in mind would work, this could very well turn the tide back in their favour, just as it had done so for their tumultuous time in court not two years before.