It was Elaine's turn for an improved memory. Saint's blood, that's right. She looked thoughtful as she carefully arranged her doughy foliage. "Well, I've met a few, but I don't spend a lot of time with them, personally," she said, glancing at John. "Raphael is a healer, last I heard he was working in a hospice. I met him when..." She trailed off, her hands stilling on the edge of the pie crust. He'd passed through the institution she'd been sequestered in. She'd forgotten until this moment, spending time with the angel, sitting on a bench in the sun with him and talking... talking literary nonsense, most likely. She blinked a few times and made herself shake it off. "But angels can't conceive, I don't think. Or don't want to. Many saints are celibate. So finding one that isn't would narrow it down. Johnny, I believe your Friar Tuck might be familiar with a few?"