As he’d thought, Sophie had taken some time to respond – he smiled as he imagined her frantically checking out what details she could on her own, before she’d finally, cautiously written back – but eventually she’d bitten, and he’d deftly reeled her in. And now she was down in Mexico City, in touch with Charmeine the friendly rogue angel – and doubtless very, very excited that she and Kylar were about to rid the world of the angel menace. Bringing back Sophie’s image, Raziel smiled. No need to thank me, he thought. Really. I’m only too happy to help you find him.

Because Kylar knew Sophie. He may not like her, but he knew her. He’d trust information that came from her. And that, thought Raziel as he snapped off his laptop, was the only way to beat Kylar at his own game.

Seb really couldn’t believe that Willow’s boyfriend was this stupid.

As the team took the Metro to the Zócalo, Seb stood beside Willow in the crowded subway car. Dozens of angel wings surrounded them, looking bent and bedraggled in the throng. The team was scattered throughout; Alex stood with Kara and Wesley, half a car-length away. He and Willow had barely spoken since officially breaking things off the day before – when they’d had to, they’d been cool and professional with each other. Now Willow stood quietly as the train sped them all towards the cathedral, her face expressionless. The crystal pendant she’d always worn was gone from around her neck. Though she’d made it clear that she didn’t want to talk about what had happened, Seb could sense her anger; the depth of her hurt.