He resisted, but the smoke had made him weak. Kara half dragged him from the office. In the corridor, smoke lay heavy in both directions; taking the slightly better way, they found the paintings on the stone floor had almost burned out. They got past the sputtering flames and burst back into the relative clarity of the cathedral. Police had arrived, struggling with the rioters – Alex saw someone go down as an officer clubbed him over the head.

“They won’t like us any better,” gasped Kara. “We’ve got to get to that side exit Seb told us about.”

Alex was bent over coughing. He shook his head, wiping his streaming eyes. “No, I’ve got to keep looking – she could be in here—”

Kara gripped his arms, her nails gouging at him. “Listen to me!” she hissed. “There is an angel war going on outside, and your team’s on their own! If she and Seb are alive, they’ll take care of each other. If they’re not, it’s too late anyway, so come on!”

Even through his shirt, Kara was clutching him hard enough for her nails to break the skin. The pain cleared his head. She was right. He hated it, but she was right. With a last look at the bodies that lay scattered around them, Alex nodded. It felt like he was tearing his heart out and leaving it behind.

“Come on,” he said shortly.

As they escaped out the side door, he thought to do a scan, cursing himself for not doing it sooner. He lifted above his chakra points while they pounded back towards the Zócalo, searching feverishly. Around them shouting gangs were smashing windows; looting from stores; rocking cars over. He couldn’t feel Willow’s distinctive half-angel energy anywhere. So either she’d gotten away and was somewhere on these riot-choked streets, or she was dead. Alex gritted his teeth. No, he refused to believe the latter. He refused.

Take care of her, Seb, he thought as they reached the Zócalo again. Oh man, I beg you – take care of her.

There was no time for further thought. The riot raged through the square as Crusaders and Faithful battled it out; the police were there but not enough of them. Overhead, dozens of angels swooped like fiercely beautiful birds. In a bizarre way, the scene was reminiscent of the Love the Angels concert he and Willow had watched their first night here.

“Where’s the team?” Alex couldn’t see them anywhere.

Kara stood staring, her beautiful face smudged with smoke; she held a pistol half-hidden under her bag. “I don’t know! When I went in after you they were still near the cathedral, but—”

She broke off as a flying angel exploded into nothing near the Palacio Nacional.