Skulduggery didn't need to be a psychic to see that Gabriel was thinking the same thing. But where the idea unnerved Skulduggery and caused him to treat it like another one of his cases - a mystery to solve - it brought Gabe serenity. And of course it would. The Archangel went to theme parks with Him. To Gabe, He was nothing more than a loving father and protector, everywhere at once and solid, irrefutable fact.

So then He wasn't... or maybe He was. Skulduggery was having a hard time justifying his thoughts even to himself right now. Hell, he was having trouble thinking the name, let alone imagining that He might have been there all along. Been here all along.

At the risk of using hackneyed cliche, this was way above Skulduggery's pay grade.

Finbar had grown quiet and still, almost like he'd been sleeping the entire time. Gabriel's soothing touch was enough to gently tug him out of the heightened state characteristic of most of his visions, and the tattooist slowly sat up with a short groan.

Unlike most psychics, Finbar's faraway gaze was his more usual state of being, and the intensity that blazed in his face and eyes before and after visions like this was always startling to anyone who knew him. But Skulduggery was grateful for it this time. More likely than not, it meant there wasn't any lasting damage, and he could release the metaphorical breath he'd been holding.

As Skulduggery watched, that intensity faded, and Finbar Wrong was back. He blinked once, twice, glanced up at Gabe. "Did it work?"