Skulduggery would have been very surprised if Gabe's response was anything different. Smiting, as the Archangel had said before, was a last resort, and even Skulduggery didn't want to see Wreath getting killed over this. He'd simply been trying to follow his beliefs. Twisted though these beliefs might be, Wreath had a right to practice them, so long as nobody was getting hurt. Technically, Valkyrie wasn't getting hurt. But Skulduggery would have been lying if he'd said he didn't enjoy watching Wreath's body reacting so violently to the truth.

He would also have been lying if he said he was happy with Wreath, of all people, being let in on the secret. But it wasn't like they could hide it now.

"He's not big on smiting," the detective explained when Wreath looked at him. "I've only ever seen him do it once. It was very impressive, though. A mountain was in our way, and Gabe decided he didn't want to take the time to look for alternate routes."

Maybe he didn't want Solomon to get hurt, exactly, but Skulduggery had no qualms with unsettling him as much as possible. Valkyrie saw right through the words and turned to glare at him, but he paid her no mind. She always seemed to get irrationally upset whenever he insulted people, no matter who that person was or how much they deserved it.

"He's joking," Valkyrie tried to reassure Wreath with a small smile. "He's just messing with you."

"No, I'm not," Skulduggery objected. He paused. "Well, yes, but I'm not joking." He took a deep breath. "Gabe, this is Solomon Wreath." He should really add more, but what was there to add? That he was a Necromancer? That he was teaching Valkyrie Necromancy? That he was a high-level cleric? "Wreath, this is Gabriel."

A very simple introduction, as introductions went. Yet Skulduggery was bracing himself for the fallout.