“Come on, we’ll go this way,” said Alex to his own group. He took them down another path. “Start scanning, everyone. Tell me what you can sense.” He’d already found angel energy about a quarter of a mile away – wanted to see how long it took the others. Angel spotters were supposed to be good, but he didn’t know what their training had been like; the CIA had recruited them all.

A moment of concentration. “That way,” said Sam and Trish almost in unison, motioning down the path. “Not too far,” added Trish with an earnest glance at him. “And more than one, I think.”

“Yeah, I got that, too,” said Alex. “Okay, let’s start cutting through the trees.” He looked at Willow as they made their way up a slight rise, wondering if she was all right. She was walking silently, staring down at her purple sneakers. She’d been quiet all day.

As if feeling his gaze, Willow looked up as the other two pulled ahead. To his alarm, he saw that her eyes were miserable, almost frightened. “Alex, listen, I – I can’t take part in the hunt,” she blurted out. “I know this is really bad timing, and I’m so, so sorry – I should have told you this yesterday – but—”

“There!” called Sam from ahead. “Oh hell, it’s a whole goddamn feeding party!”

Alex’s head jerked up. Whatever Willow had been about to say was forgotten as he saw Sam sprinting off, with Trish following after, both pulling out their guns as they ran. Oh Christ, didn’t they know any better, after all the hours he’d spent drilling strategy into them?

“Sam!” he called as loudly as he dared. “Trish, wait!” Trish stopped in her tracks, looking sheepishly back over her shoulder; Sam went on, barrelling through the trees like a guerrilla warrior.

Alex pounded after him; caught up with him and grabbed his arm, yanking him to a halt. “Stop,” he hissed. “Are you completely insane? You don’t just go racing in, you have to scope things out!”

He could see the angels for himself now, a hundred yards away down a small hill where the path curved past. Sam was right, it was a feeding party: four angels clustered around four people. Their touching wings made a shining flower shape, their halos bright and pulsing as they fed.

“We have to hurry!” Sam cried, jerking away from him. “Those people are being hurt, right this second—”

“Get down,” said Alex, not taking his eyes off the angels. Sam didn’t move. “Get down,” he repeated in a snarl, shoving hard on the Texan’s broad shoulder. Sullenly, Sam lay on the ground beside him, both of them flat on their stomachs. Trish joined them and did likewise, her usually neat ponytail rumpled. Her face paled as she regarded the scene.