The truck driver went back to the endless subject of his girlfriend, outlining her many failings and the ways in which she was going to have to improve. A few more flashes of the woman being bullied came to Seb as he droned on, so that by the time they reached Seb’s destination and pulled over to the side of the road, he could have happily choked the guy. Instead, he filched the pack of cigarettes and lighter from the trucker’s jacket pocket as they shook hands. He hadn’t picked a pocket since he was a kid on the Mexico City streets, but it gave him a certain satisfaction – though really, he should let the cabrón keep smoking, since it was bad for your health.

As the truck pulled away, Seb gave himself a quick shake, freeing himself of the unpleasant energy like a dog shaking itself dry of water. He was almost in the Sierra Madre now, standing on a hill in the gathering dark with the shadowy hulk of mountains rising up from the horizon. He focused briefly to make sure there weren’t any angels nearby, then sent his other self searching. As he soared he found the orphanage easily; it was about half a mile down the road, a sprawling building with a barren-looking playground. He pulled on a sweater from his knapsack and started walking, letting his other self keep flying as he did. The feeling of stretching his wings was nice; it had been a few days since he’d flown any distance.

Thinking of what he’d told the truck driver, Seb smiled slightly as he walked. Actually, where his mother had been from was almost the only thing Seb knew about her – she was dead now; the last time he’d seen her was when he was five years old. From the few memories he had, he knew that he looked a lot like her. Light chestnut-brown hair with a curl to it; high cheekbones and hazel eyes; a mouth that women sometimes called “beautiful”, which made him inwardly roll his eyes even more. It was a distinctly northern face; Sonora was a state where European immigrants had mixed for generations. On the streets, gringo tourists were always assuming Seb was one of them and asking for directions in English – clueless to the fact that millions of Mexicans didn’t look like the ones in westerns on TV.

As for his father, who knew? But Seb figured he couldn’t have been unattractive. None of them were.