He swam down to the bottom of the deep end, where a black scum of fallen pine needles and twigs drifted in the turquoise corners. He hung there, hooking his fingertips into the grille at the bottom of the pool to hold himself below the icy water.

This is only the second day, he told himself. Day two. You got four years to go.

Four years, every instant of it on camera.

When he needed to breathe, he swam back up to the surface and, almost numb with cold, hauled himself out. Carefully, he squelched across the slate patio toward the back of the house. The door there opened into a mud room off the kitchen, where Lily was waiting for him. “What are you doing?” she demanded at the sight of his shivering, streaming form. “Oberon just called me to say you were swimming!”

“Por supuesto,” said Ángel, taking the towel she handed him. “Nice pool.”

“It’s fifty degrees out!” she yelled. “You’ll freeze to death!”

“It’s August.” He was shivering so hard his teeth were chattering. “Perfect day for a swim.”

She lightly slapped his arm. “You shouldn’t make him worry like that.”

He headed upstairs. “Well, now he can watch me take a shower and see that I’m fine.”

Chapter 7

After his shower, Ángel spent the afternoon in his bedroom, practicing classical fingerstyle arpeggios. He usually played with a pick, but he admired fingerstyle guitarists, and wanted to be better at the technique.

He wasn’t hiding. He really did need the practice. And the sound of his fingers stumbling repeatedly over the strings had to be far too boring to listen to.

Dinner was noodles with stir-fry vegetables and stilted, polite conversation. Ángel could think of nothing to say to Oberon, and as far as he could tell, the feeling was mutual. The envoy sat aloofly and ate very little of his food. Flat-voiced, he repeated his invitation to Ángel to come to his room for the night and, when Ángel shook his head, retreated to his office. Ángel was chilled.

Before bed, the tablet pinged. Ángel picked it up and found that Chandler Evanston had forwarded an email from his brother Michael. Michael was fine, his wife was fine, their brother Ned and his wife and children were fine. The weather in Georgia was good.