So far, talk was all it was – the angelic presence wasn’t as great in Europe yet – but Raziel had had little doubt that in the wake of the Second Wave, these plans would go ahead. By then, he’d expected to be in charge of most of the Americas and imagined setting himself up akin to the Pope, with ruling angels under him. Once the Council had finally settled in this world and seen what was going on, it would have meant all-out war for them to try to wrest control back from him – and by then he’d have had more than enough allies to take them on.

At the moment, the Church stood on the brink: it was poised to take over the world, and those angels who were on Raziel’s side could help him do it. And so any reports back to the Council had always carefully downplayed the importance of the Church of Angels, and Raziel’s growing power base.

Or at least, that’s what he had thought.

As he turned off the shower, it hit him suddenly: Mexico City. The half-angel was there – and she too was aware of the Council. The knowledge was as fleeting as a soap bubble, gone as quickly as it had arrived. Raziel was left frowning, water dripping in his eyes as he wondered whether he was going insane. Forget the half-angel, he thought. He could still hardly bear to use the word daughter. He had more important things to think about right now.

When he emerged again, Charmeine had moved to the sitting room. After putting on a pair of casually expensive grey trousers, Raziel went in and found her curled up, catlike, in his favourite armchair. He knew they’d made a striking pair, once – her with her delicate moonlight beauty, and him with his crisp black hair and poet’s features. If he was the sentimental type, this might have caused him to view her with less suspicion. Fortunately, he wasn’t.

“So what are you up to?” he demanded, buttoning a midnight-blue shirt. “Why are you tipping me off that there’s trouble?”

Charmeine looked amused. “Old time’s sake?” she suggested.

“How wonderfully altruistic of you,” replied Raziel, tucking his shirt in. “Please remember this is me you’re talking to, and how very, very well I know you. What’s your game?”

“No game,” said Charmeine. Her beautiful gamine face was impossible to read. She rose and came over to him, lazily circling one of his shirt buttons with a fingernail. “I just have a feeling you’re going to need a friend in this world soon, that’s all. And I think our mutual needs could work together very well.”

Raziel’s expression didn’t change as he looked down at her. “Does the Council know about you and me?” he asked sharply.