She’d brought a smorgasbord of vegetarian Thai takeout. They crowded the dining room table with cartons and shared, and Mendel asked Marissa about the orchid. Marissa admitted that she didn’t know anything about orchids, so Mendel eagerly told her about them, their habitat and range. Ángel noticed that Oberon was only picking at a container of spicy papaya salad and growled, “Stop stirring it around and put it in your mouth.”

“I’m not very hungry.”

“I don’t care. You’ve been sick and you need to eat. Do you want soup instead?”

“No.” Oberon ate.

Marissa stared at Ángel, her dark eyes huge and glowing. “Sassy,” she murmured.

“Shut up, bitch.”

She laughed, then smiled shyly at Oberon. “I guess he really likes you,” she said. “He’s pretty polite to people he doesn’t like.”

“His manners were excellent when we first met,” agreed Oberon.

Recalling those times reminded Ángel to ask: “I miss Lily. Is she okay?”

“She is well. She was in the gatehouse when the assassins came in. I miss her very much too—I don’t know if I’ll ever see her again. She and John work for the DOR, and they’re keeping us here. They won’t let me call her.”

“What is going on with the DOR?” demanded Ángel. “What was their plan? Lock you up here by yourself with no plants and no music, and not give you anything you can eat, and wait to see if you died?”

“There was cheese and lettuce.” Mendel touched Oberon as he spoke, petted him, and Ángel was beginning to recognize the smell of hero-worship. “But I ate it all. I’m sorry. I don’t like the Hot Pockets.”

Oberon patted Mendel’s hand. “The DOR seems to be in considerable disarray,” said Oberon. “No one expected Mendel, of course, and he arrived right at the moment of greatest chaos, when I had been attacked by a member of my own security team, and Ángel had vanished. I think they had no idea what to do. I don’t know why they tried to keep us apart, though.”

“Neil Jeremy seems to have felt guilty about me. Like I was an innocent lamb who had been corrupted to evil ways by you. He said he thought that since Mendel was here, I could go.”

“It’s not the same at all,” said Mendel.

“No, and even if his intentions were good, he could have talked to me. I’m able to make decisions; I don’t need to be shielded.” Ángel glanced at Marissa. “Not by Chandler, either.”

“I didn’t think Chandler liked you,” said Oberon.

“I don’t think she likes either of us.”

“Adult child of an alcoholic,” said Marissa. “Overdeveloped sense of responsibility. It’s easier for her to try to control other people’s lives than to deal with her own issues.”

“Wow,” teased Ángel. “All that and pretty too.”