"What, you mean you can't detect him?" Raphael teased. "Thought you were a detective. My illusions are all breakin', bro. My belief in you has been shattered. Where's the prof been every other time you've come to visit him lately?"

There was only one answer to that. After how close Rafe had been to the healer to show him how to work his magic, the Archangel had seen quite a bit in him. Among those things had been his utter fascination with this new level of science, with this metaphysics of magic--unneeded proof that his work had meaning. An encouragement for what he was already doing.

And he'd seen endless hours spent in a single room, working, over and over again, with holy water to create medicines for injured angels.

The conclusion was obvious, Skulduggery really should have seen it, and Rafe had no intention of letting him off the hook for it. "I figured Gabe's presence has been throwin' you for a loop, but ..." Rafe tsked. "Where's all that vaunted focus? Really, man, I'm disappointed."