The Angel Killers’ plot was unlikely to succeed without some help, though. Fortunately, he’d be happy to provide a bit of fatherly assistance from behind the scenes. Soon Charmeine would be travelling down to Mexico City for a brief preliminary trip with some of the other Council lackeys. It would be child’s play for her to meet this Luis person and give things an angelic helping hand. And in due course, once Willow and her boyfriend and their little team of assassins had fulfilled their purpose and done away with the Council for him, he’d have them all put to a slow, lingering death.

Assuming anyone was still alive at that point, of course.

Chapter Eight

THE GIRLS’ DORM WAS A large room on the second floor with terracotta tiles underfoot, an arched window and four single beds. Though I was so tired it felt as if I’d been wrung out like a dishrag, I lay awake that first night in my borrowed pyjamas for hours. Curled tight on my side, I tried to tell myself that somehow we were actually going to defeat the Council, and everything would be okay – that the premonition of sorrow that had hit me in front of the house hadn’t meant anything at all.

Or the feeling of dread in my dream, come to that.

It wasn’t easy to convince myself though, when the hunting pack over the Zócalo had been exactly like what I’d seen. Recalling the rest of my dream – the strange boy in the park – I frowned into the darkness, a flutter of worry passing through me. If the events in the Zócalo had come true... I shook my head, irritated at myself. There was just no way. The idea that I could ever care for another boy the way I did for Alex was insane.

Forget the dream, I decided. Not all of it was accurate; that was completely obvious – and reality was more than enough for the time being anyway, with Kara and the others all half-afraid of me, watching my every move. They’ll get over it once they figure out I’m basically as human as they are, I thought. I stared at the window; a street light shone through the thin curtains. It’ll just take time.

Remembering the atmosphere in the dorm when Kara had brought me in, I sighed. Okay, maybe a whole lot of time. Liz and Trish looked nothing alike, but could have been twins, the way they’d stood watching me side by side with their arms folded protectively over themselves. Liz’s expression had been cold, her black hair half hanging over her face. Trish had looked scared and anxious, biting her lip – somehow the look didn’t really go with her freckles and cheerful snub nose.

“So she’s staying?” said Liz.