This was not a substantial problem. Come morning René would generate some excuse to cover for the boy’s absence. He’d peddled such excuses before. If the others showed bruising from the needles, he would instruct David to tell them that in their drunken state they’d played around with heroin one of the kitchen workers had brought. Not to worry—what happened at Chalet Savoir Faire stayed at Chalet Savoir Faire. And that’s what would happen. The best way to ensure silence was to bury the truth beneath shame.

From over by the door, David coughed out a note of disbelief, hugging himself around the waist, his arms trembling. Dr. Franklin leaned against a cabinet, flushed from the scare.

René, too, was breathing hard, though not from fear. He’d never felt more alive. He looked down at the IV bag compressed in his fist, now depleted. In all the excitement, he had rapid-bolused the final unit into his arm. All that fresh young blood bathing his stem cells, turning back the clock.

With a furrow of his shiny forehead, Dex looked past Joshua’s slumped body at René. He seemed unclear which mouth the present circumstances called for.

René pointed to Dex’s right hand.

Dex raised the smile, folded it across his mouth.

Yes, that looked appropriate.

It was, after all, a happy occasion.

23. Destroying Angel

23

Destroying Angel

When Manny and Nando came to get Evan for his walk, he took some extra time to layer his clothes, donning two shirts and two sweaters. They’d brought both breakfast and lunch on the room-service cart earlier, making Evan stand against the wall with his back turned until they exited. The new procedures were effective. They maintained their spread now as they guided him down the halls and stairs to the foyer, one shotgun aimed at his face, another at his kidneys.

Manny gestured at the front door, his gold caps sparkling. “You get your yard time now. Just like in the prison.”

Evan said, “Trade you two cartons of cigarettes for a shiv.”

Manny looked at him, puzzled, then jerked his gun. “You go.”

The doorknob felt cold enough to stick to Evan’s hand. When he stepped onto the porch, the cold flew straight through the layers of clothes and tightened his skin. He stomped his boots, blew a breath that clouded and faded away, a ghost that couldn’t be bothered.