Kara rolled her eyes; the long, braided wig she was wearing made her look like Cleopatra or something. “It’s called camouflage, dear. You should probably all get some too, so our group doesn’t attract attention. This is Church of Angels central – where the people are whacked-out and the angels are plentiful.”

Sam recoiled. “What, us wear those things? No way.”

“No, it’s a good idea.” Alex reached for his wallet; taking out a few hundred pesos, he handed the notes to Sam. “Here, go and get us some, okay?” As Sam opened his mouth, he added, “And no complaining, Tex, or I’ll make you wear the pink ones.” The others snickered; Sam gave him a dark look and headed off to one of the angel-wing vendors wandering around the square.

“Listen, I was just about to text you myself,” said Kara in a low voice. “I finally managed to get the security code today – the whole thing, first try. If they only change it once a week, it should be good for another three days.”

Alex’s heart leaped. “Really? Are you sure?”

“Yeah. And I’ve got an idea of when the best time might be for us to try to break in too, but...meanwhile, something’s come up.”

“What?” Alex felt his exhilaration fade. The look on Kara’s face did not herald good news.

She fell silent, her beautiful features twisted in thought. “Let’s wait till we get inside,” she said finally. “You can see what I mean for yourself.”

Sam returned with a cluster of angel wings and they put them on, helping each other straighten them. “Perfect – you all look like real devouts now,” said Kara. “Just gaze around wonderingly, and you’ll fit right in.”

The white wings on his back felt ridiculous. But the team looked ready, Alex saw with approval – alert and reasonably relaxed; a big change from only two weeks ago, when they’d had their first hunt.

“Okay, I want all of you scanning and prepared, in case any of us is attacked,” he said. “Stick together – don’t anyone go wandering off. If we do have to defend ourselves, try to do it without being noticed; I’d sort of like to avoid starting a riot today.”

“Riots, bad – got it,” muttered Brendan.

A cavernous coolness fell as they entered the cathedral. When Alex had been here years ago, an altar had stood just inside the entrance. Now it was gone, as was the organ behind it, turning the cathedral into a vast airy space. White pillars marched in a silent line to the single, lavish golden altar far away down the aisle – it stretched from floor to ceiling, ornate with detail, glinting like liquid. A golden angel took pride of place here, holding a trumpet to its lips as smaller angels cavorted around it. From some unseen source, harp music fluttered through the air.