There were nuances happening in the room. Souls speaking to one another. A face and an identity at the forefront of Valkyrie and Ghastly's minds--and Tanith and Fletcher's--which grew clearer the longer Gabe let it slide passively under his metaphysical sight. The Archangel saw the details just a second before Valkyrie spoke, and with a groan he buried his face in his hands.

"Vampires," he mumbled. "I ... don't like vampires. They make my head ring."

There was something curious about the way Valkyrie had said that, though. As if Caelan was cognizant enough to actually deal with them. With a sigh Gabriel lifted his face again and looked rather tiredly at Valkyrie. "You say that as if he's got the awareness to make transactions. I thought the vampires here are insane, as they were back home, unless they had some kind of chemical--like this Dusk guy."

Maybe Caelan did have this chemical. That wasn't the point. Draw the attention to him. Drawing the attention to him would take it off Skulduggery and give the detective the chance to regain control of the ripple of darkness beneath the crystalline stained-glass of his soul.