That usually means unavailability. 'Usually,' of course, in a world that wasn't used to the existence of Archangels. And even then, this world was already primed for it. Just look at Skulduggery. Up until a couple of months ago, no one knew why he was still walking around. And most people still didn't. There were dozens of other examples as well, from vampires to zombies to ghosts and everything in between.

Why couldn't Archangels bring people back from the dead?

Erskine hadn't thought about that before. The idea just hadn't occurred. He'd grown so used to the pair of them, Descry and Rover, being dead and gone that he'd stopped trying to find alternatives or convincing himself there was still a way to change things a long time ago. He had, in a nutshell, gotten over it. Except that now, with the way he snapped to attention and didn't stop staring at Rafe, you wouldn't have thought it.

When Rafe didn't say anything else, Erskine rounded wordlessly on Saracen. But Saracen didn't say anything either, too busy being unreasonably tense and staring at a very specific point just over Dexter's shoulder.

"They're here?" Erskine looked too, but he didn't see anything, not even a vague outline. Because they both would be, not just Descry. If there was a chance in hell, pun completely and definitely intended, that they could all talk... Rover Larrikin wouldn't miss it for anything.

"They're here?" he repeated, this time at the African angel. "Right now?"