“There!” said Alex. With his own gun drawn, they took off at a run, skirting the edges of the crowd. A ripple had passed through the angels at the death – they were now gliding in the same direction as he and Kara. Dozens of them, and he was still too far away to help the team.

Please don’t all be sticking together in a group again, he prayed as they ran. Their only hope was to use guerrilla tactics and hide in the mob, picking off the angels one by one. They’d be massacred otherwise.

Almost as soon as Alex thought it, he spotted Sam’s broad shoulders and blonde hair. He grabbed Kara’s arm and they ducked into the throng. Reaching Sam, Alex found him gazing up at the sky, blue eyes narrowed.

“Where’s the rest of the team?” he demanded, raising his voice above the shouts.

Sam leaned close, bellowing in his ear. “Don’t worry! I’ve got ’em posted all over. We’ve got our phones on vibrate too, so you can call us in when you need to. The designated meeting spot is over by the Palacio, near the main doors.”

Relief made Alex’s muscles weak. “Good work,” he called back. “Really good work, Sam; I mean it.”

Sam was squinting up at the sky again. “Yeah, it’s this asshole lead I’m stuck working under – guess maybe he taught me a few things.”

Alex clapped him on the shoulder. “Come on, we’ll fan out too,” he said to Kara.

She nodded. Her eyes met his as she slipped away into the crowd, and he saw the same thought that was in his own mind: without the security information, their attack on the Council might now be doomed – but at least they could do something about what was happening here. Alex’s jaw tightened. More than that, taking some kind of action might stop him from going insane right now.

Hidden by the battling crowd, Alex chose his moments carefully – only firing when he had a clear shot and trying not to get sucked into the fray. Soon he’d brought down three angels; as he aimed at a fourth it burst into glittering leaves of light. Nice one, he thought to whoever had gotten it.

“Alex!” called a female voice.

Willow? His pulse thudded as he spun in place. But the woman struggling her way towards him was around thirty years old, with shoulder-length brown hair. For a confused second Alex couldn’t place her; then his muscles stiffened. Christ, he’d never expected to see Sophie Kinney again – would have been just as happy not to, the way she’d left Willow to die in Denver. What was she doing here?