Wings, halo, the whole nine yards, Skulduggery had said. Valkyrie hadn't taken him seriously; the detective had just gotten back from who-knows-how-long of being tortured, and he did have a tendency of exaggerating stories he particularly enjoyed. If there was one thing Valkyrie had learned about the magical world, it was that creatures from myth tended to be exaggerated all over the place. Most of what was supposed to repel vampires, for example, were about as much use as throwing rocks at them.

But those were real wings. Real, giant, fill-the-room-up wings, made up of swan-white feathers just like she'd pictured. And even a halo, a golden halo of reflected light, and... Valkyrie was feeling faint again. For the second time in so many hours and only the third time in her entire life, she felt lightheaded enough to pass out. She was grateful for Clarabelle's entrance, which served as a helpful distraction, and even more grateful for Gabriel's good humor on top of that.

She couldn't have met the Archangel before. That was just absurd. He looked even less familiar now, like something beautiful and mysterious straight out of a book. But there was still that nagging sensation, and now there was something else, as well - a smell. Just lightly detectable under the pervading fresh smell of the room, but it was enough to make Valkyrie wrinkle her nose. Where was that coming from?

"Well, there's this," Ghastly offered, holding out the bottle he was holding. "Holy water. It was apparently helpful before."

Valkyrie wished she could go back and tell the real priest they'd spoken to what they needed the holy water for.