“That’s good,” he said. “I still need to talk to him.”

“I listen to your podcast,” said Victor, who’d been quiet.

“You do?” Ángel said.

Marissa put in, “Everyone listens to it. People talk about it on the bus, in the grocery store. It’s good.”

“Everyone likes the elf-lord,” said Victor. “Made him seem like a nice guy.”

“That was the idea.” Ángel felt shyly pleased. Victor had never come to listen to Ángel perform, so far as he knew. He disapproved of his career as a musician.

But he liked the podcast, and in spite of the years of anger between them, a little flower of pleasure opened in Ángel’s heart.

“I’m sorry I sent you there, Ángel,” said Victor. “It was weak. It was wrong. I never should have done it.”

“It wasn’t so bad there, though,” said Ángel. “I like him. He’s extraordinary. I wouldn’t have met him without you. So it’s okay.”

“It’s not okay,” interrupted Chandler. “Ángel. Oberon is not your friend.”

He scowled. “Yes, he is. You know what he is to me.”

“I know that he used you,” she said. “And God help me, I and the rest of the DOR abetted him. He put you in an impossible position. He played with your mind. He made you think he needed you—”

“He does need me!” cried Ángel.

“He needed a warm body,” said Chandler. “To survive, he needed someone. If it hadn’t been you, it would have been someone else—Lily, or me.”

“That is such bullshit,” said Ángel. “If you think that, you don’t know him.”

“I’ve known him for years,” she said pitilessly. “I know what he is. He’s a creature that needs touch to survive. When he first arrived, he wanted to touch everyone—he tried to touch me—I know how awful it was.”

“No—”

“He procured you, and he took what he needed. And on one level I can’t blame him, because that’s what he needed to live. And maybe to live with it you need to pretend you had some kind of special relationship with him. But it’s time to wake up, Ángel.”

“He didn’t procure me,” spat Ángel. Both Marissa and Victor drew back.

Chandler faced him down. “He manipulated you!”

“He closed himself in his room and quietly started dying, all by himself. He didn’t ask for anything. I went to him.”

“You were groomed—”

“I’m not a child!” Ángel shouted. “I am not a victim. I did it because I wanted to. That make you uncomfortable? You feel better about it if you think of me as a poor innocent kid? Okay! I get that. But my eyes are open, Chandler. I do what I want. I have always done what I want, even if other people don’t like it.”