I felt Alex’s muscles tense; when we stopped for another light, he whipped towards me again. “I don’t believe it – that angel’s the most famous statue in Mexico City! It’s always been on top of a column on the Paseo de la Reforma, and now suddenly it’s up there on the Catedral Metropolitana.”

“The what?”

“The Metropolitan Cathedral,” he said. His jaw was tight. “It’s the oldest cathedral in the Americas – it’s been here for, like, four hundred years. And I’ve got a really bad feeling it’s a Church of Angels cathedral now. It must have happened just recently.”

“Oh,” I said weakly. That...didn’t seem like a good sign.

“Anyway, it’s on the Zócalo – we’re almost there. And guess what?” Alex added, nodding at a brightly-coloured poster on a street lamp. “That sign says there’s a ‘Love the Angels’ concert going on in the square tonight.”

My eyes met Alex’s; I knew we were both remembering the dancing crowd in my dream. A terrible sense of inevitability came over me – déjà vu times a hundred. Just like when I’d realized that I had to go to the Church of Angels in Schenectady, to try to help Beth. The comparison wasn’t comforting, when the entire congregation had tried to kill me and I’d only barely escaped.

“So,” said Alex finally. He faced forward again, lifting his voice as the traffic started to move. “I guess we should go check it out.” I could tell he was thinking about his gun, and how many cartridges he had left.

I cleared my throat. “Yeah,” I called back. “I guess we should.”

A convertible filled with people wearing angel wings passed by, honking. We turned onto the same road they did, leading to one of the streets that bordered the Zócalo. I stared as the square came into view, taken aback by how accurate my dream had been. The Zócalo was huge, with people streaming by the thousands into its broad expanse.

And just like in my dream, a stage had been set up at the cathedral end of the square, bathed in floodlights. There were food stands, and vendors moving through the crowd selling angel wings, holding them up in feathery white clusters like giant dandelion heads.

It didn’t look as if you were supposed to park on the streets surrounding the square, but people were doing it anyway. Alex pulled over too, angling the Shadow alongside a car. We got off the bike. We were in front of the long, official-looking building from my dream, with the cathedral rising up to our right. I stiffened as I took off my helmet – there were three angels gliding over the square.