I tore my gaze away and tried to pretend I was back in Pawntucket, scraping through the hangers of the town’s single JC Penney, so bored that my eyes were glazing over. Even so, I couldn’t help staring when we passed what looked like the entrance to a small chapel. There was a skeleton sitting on a throne inside, wearing a tiara and a frilly white wedding dress. Flowers and lit candles were spread in front of it. There was even a glass of wine sitting there, as if it might decide to have a drink.

“Santa Muerte,” said Seb to my unspoken question. “Saint Death. Many people here worship her.” He snorted slightly. “At least she’s not wearing angel wings yet.”

I knew how much Seb hated being back here; I kept getting flashes of memory from him that made me cringe. But as he walked, his lean body had an indifferent look – as if he belonged on these streets and still had his switchblade in his pocket. His arm, looped around my shoulders, seemed just as relaxed. A few people glanced speculatively at us, took him in, and then looked away again.

And even though it was only Seb, who’d probably had his arm around me half a dozen times...something in me had gone very still at the nearness of him. Remembering the weird moment of jealousy that had come over me when Céline had kissed him – how, for a second, I’d actually hated her for the attraction that had shone so clearly in her eyes – I shook my head in confusion. God, what was wrong with me? I was still so conscious of the pain over Alex that it was like a boulder pressing on my heart. I couldn’t deal with whatever this was now; my emotions were tattered enough already.

Seb didn’t falter as he led me through a gap I hadn’t even noticed between two stalls. With a rustle of plastic, we were suddenly out on another street, just as crowded and tunnel-like as the first. No wonder the locals could tell who didn’t belong so easily; only someone who’d been raised in Tepito could prowl it with no hesitation. Seb stayed quiet as we wove through the stalls – and I knew that the violence and death we’d witnessed at the cathedral made his memories at being back here even more raw. Scrounging food from a trash can because he hadn’t eaten in days; hiding fearfully under a stall table, hoping his mother’s boyfriend wouldn’t find him. I swallowed. I’d seen images like this from him before, but never so loaded with emotion.