The angels around Raffe fan their wings as Uriel approaches. If Raffe doesn’t fan his wings, too, Uriel is bound to notice him. Maybe he’ll stop to talk to him. Will he recognize Raffe’s voice? Walking into an angel party with demon wings is a little like walking onto a shooting range disguised as a target. I try to warn Raffe with my eyes as we drift over to him, but he seems to be in a trance as he stares at me.
