"Then I don't want to be in Heaven for a century," Erskine retorted. "I never want to get used to this. I never want to see something like this and not stop to enjoy it every time. Can you feel his wings, Skulduggery?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"It's pertinent information to someone, I'm sure. Saracen?"

Saracen, who hadn't stopped staring at the pair since Gabe appeared, shook his head. "I got nothing." He hesitated, biting his lip. "Well, okay, I have something, but it's not something you'd be interested - well, okay, it is, but it's nothing important - okay, it's just not something I'm going to talk about."

"Why not?" Erskine demanded.

"Because it would be like kissing and telling, Elder Ravel. Besides, I need to be careful what I tell you from now on."

"Kissing and telling? Kissing and telling what?"

"Yes, Saracen," said Skulduggery, looking faintly bemused. "Kissing and telling what?"

Saracen was saved from having to answer by Rover, and turned to respond to him instead. It wasn't with anything productive, though - it was with an incredulous "Luci-poocy?" Which, to be fair, was exactly what Erskine was opening his mouth to ask, so no one was going to blame Saracen for it. Erskine could still barely believe the word had come out of Rover's mouth.

"Is that what the angels call him?" Erskine asked, contributing something slightly more productive to the conversation, and feeling vaguely comforted by that fact. "Is that how we should all see him?"

"That's probably a bad idea," Ghastly murmured.

"Like every other bad guy we ever took seriously during the war?" Erskine asked with an eyebrow raised.

"None of them was Satan."

"Mevolent came pretty close. It didn't stop us from imagining him as a big-headed baby. Remember that, Descry?"