Was Oberon’s voice cooler? Ángel nodded. Oberon pulled the latest model iPhone out of the pocket of his shirt and leaned back in his chair, crossing his ankles, delicately tapping the touch screen as he made a call. “Good evening, Chandler,” he said. “Very well, thank you. Ángel wants the songs from his phone. Will you please upload them to the house computer? Yes, that will be fine.” He rang off, glancing down at Ángel. “Will that do?”

Feeling outmaneuvered, Ángel said, “Uh-huh, thanks.” He silently watched the music list between his hands expand as his own songs appeared, one by one: Celia Cruz. Pérez Prado. Buena Vista Social Club. The Afro-Cuban All Stars.

The incident was an awkward reminder that he didn’t understand his status here. Was he a guest? Employee? Prisoner? Sex slave?

“You seem comfortable with computers,” he said.

“We don’t have them at home,” said Oberon. “I’ve had to learn.”

“How do you send the music home?”

“With spells. I’ll show you, if you like.”

Ángel wasn’t sure he could handle spells, after everything else. He stood up. “Actually, I’m kind of tired. I guess I’ll turn in for tonight.”

“Keep that tablet,” said Oberon. “Your room has speakers, like this one, so you can listen to music there.”

Ángel nodded. The tablet had a wi-fi connection. “I’d like . . .” he said, hesitantly. “Could I use this to email my friend Marissa? I want to let her know I’m okay.”

“Is she on Chandler’s approved list?”

“Yes. She got clearance from the DOR.”

“Very well. All emails from that tablet go to Chandler; she’ll make sure it’s safe before forwarding it on. She gets all incoming emails too, of course.”

“Of course she does.” Ángel glanced at Oberon doubtfully from under his eyebrows. “Is that really necessary?”

“You don’t think it is?”

“No, it’s not,” Ángel said. “The DOR researched me and Marissa both. You know we’re not connected to any plot against you.”

“No, but you’re connected to me,” said Oberon. “By asking you to come here, I brought you into considerable peril. If the people who want to hurt me learn that you are here, they could try to get at me by hurting you. They could try to get at you by hurting those you love. Secrecy keeps both you and your friends safe.”

It had never actually occurred to Ángel that he might be in danger from anyone except Oberon. He wasn’t sure he believed he was, but then he remembered the brick-throwing sign-wavers that Chandler had showed him, and the back of his neck prickled.

“Chandler is very good at what she does. You should trust her,” added Oberon.

“Right. Okay. Um, thanks for the . . .” Ángel waved a hand vaguely around his head, to indicate the music.