“I know, but ignore it,” he said, not breaking his stride. “We don’t want to get involved.” The police mostly seemed to ignore the Crusaders, unless things got violent – then, undoubtedly, whoever they arrested got dragged off to the angels.

Trish bit her lip, but nodded. When they were directly across from the slightly tilting mass of the Catedral Metropolitana – no, the Catedral de los Ángeles; he kept forgetting – Alex dug his cellphone out of his jeans pocket. Tapping the buttons with his thumb, he sent Kara a text: We’re at Zocalo. Where r u? Can u check out cathedral with us?

A few seconds later a reply came: I’m here 2. Meet u outside cathedral in 5.

Alex texted a quick Yes and tucked his phone away again. Good – he’d thought she’d still be here. Though he’d been to the cathedral several times now to study the layout, he felt twitchy with impatience suddenly – he wanted to see the place again; see if he’d missed anything. “Come on, we’re going to check out the cathedral,” he said to the others.

“Well hallelujah, we’re finally doing something,” said Sam with a grin.

Alex gave him a level glance. “Yes, we are. We are going to go in and look. Not start shooting. Got it?”

Sam gave a slight grimace, but nodded. “I got it, don’t worry.”

They headed across the broad stretch of the Zócalo, accompanied by the incessant beat of drums from Aztec dancers. Alex knew that in December the city usually erected a giant ice-skating rink in the square, but this year there was nothing – either el DF no longer had funds for it, or they’d decided it would detract from the glory of the converted cathedral. There were hardly any Christmas decorations up around the city, either; he’d heard on the news that a lot of people saw the holiday as lacking in meaning now. Many were planning to start celebrating Arrival Day – October 31st – as their main holiday instead, to honour the angels. Great, thought Alex in distaste, picturing it.

They passed through the cathedral’s wrought-iron gates; the faded red and black tiles that had once been underfoot were now celestial silver and light blue. Wesley glanced up at the golden angel.

“I still can’t believe they did that,” he muttered to Alex. “That angel was the most famous monument in Mexico City.”

“It still is,” pointed out Liz, overhearing. “Even more famous now. But that empty column on the Paseo de la Reforma just looks weird – like it’s waiting for something to happen.”

Kara was standing beside the cathedral’s massive wooden doors. Despite his worry, Alex held back a smile when he saw she had on a pair of pink satin angel wings. “They’re really you,” he said as they reached her. “Or have you got angel burn, and I should shoot you?”