“I’ll be sitting with you and Seb; when you go up, I’ll go too,” went on Alex. “Willow, I’ll be on the other side of you as you’re being blessed, ready to cover both of you if you need it. Seb, I’m going to give you a gun, but I want you to spend the rest of today and tomorrow practising with it.”

“Yes, all right,” said Seb, his voice just as detached. Though we weren’t standing right next to each other, the edges of our auras were touching; I could feel his anger at Alex, like a low, simmering fire.

“That doesn’t affect you, does it, Willow?” continued Alex. “You can do the aura work on your own now, right?”

The sentence seemed laden with meaning, but again, his tone was bland. I cleared my throat. “Yeah, I think I’ve got it now. In fact, maybe I should get in some target practice, too.” I was heat-pricklingly aware of the rest of the team standing right there watching all of this – and what the topic of the day must have been once Seb and I left that morning. Kara’s brown eyes were aloof as they flicked over me, her face giving away nothing.

“Fine, if you think you need it,” said Alex. “But don’t stop practising the aura work; maybe do half and half.” He turned back to the map, pointing. “Sam, I want you and Trish stationed here, about five rows back – in aisle seats, if you can get them. Kara, I want you in the front row like we discussed, or at least as close to it as possible. Wesley, Brendan and Liz—”

I tuned out as I stared down at the map. Alex had already returned by the time Seb and I got back to the house. He’d been in the TV room watching the news with the others – there was a special on about the Crusaders for People’s Rights, who were planning a rally the next day, to coincide with the cathedral’s special service. No one seemed to have been paying much attention, though. There’d been this awful sense of everyone waiting for us...and an even more awful sense of Alex being unsurprised that I’d been out with Seb all day. He’d said hello to me coolly, not moving from the sofa where he sat with Kara and Sam; it had felt impossible to ask for a few minutes alone with everyone staring at us.

Taking in the smooth line of Alex’s neck where it disappeared into the collar of his T-shirt, a spike of anger pierced me. Was he really willing to throw away what we had this easily? How could two people who loved each other so much be communicating so badly? When one of them was psychic, even?