Fletcher leaped back with a yelp, practically dragging Valkyrie along with him. The poor kid was probably used to being the only Teleporter in existence. That, or he was feeling a schoolboy's nonspecific guilt over being confronted by a teacher.

"You're all doing this on purpose, aren't you?" Saracen's voice came out vaguely muffled, because he'd buried his face into Dexter's shoulder almost as soon as Rafe appeared and refused to come up again. "Please let me go crawl into a hole for a minute."

"We have a shortage of holes at the moment," Erskine told him as he eventually decided an Archangel's word probably had precedence over anything a dusty old book had to say, and enveloped the younger sorcerer between himself and Dex. "We can, however, make you one."

"Do you realise what you just - "

"Yes. I don't care."

He felt Saracen shift slightly and chuckle faintly. "You'll probably have to ask my father for permission on that one."

"Alas, Descry isn't available, so I'll just have to endure getting permission from each and every one of your uncles. How about it, Dex?"