The floor is yours,” Ares chimes in. He moves just like the shadows, silent and stealthy. I didn’t hear him enter or come up the stairs. He’s holding four pizza boxes aloft in one hand, with a six-pack of brown glass bottles in the other. Everyone ignores his comment as the guys rise. Our conversation stops in its tracks by his interruption, or the smell of food alone. I think it’s the latter when they all converge on the boxes like hungry wolves.
I have to admit, the smell is divine. For the first time in days I’m actually hungry. Milo opens a cabinet next to the fridge, pulling down a stack of plates. Sliding my hands in my back pockets, I rock on my toes with uncertainty.
Ares grabs the first plate in the stack and lifts the lid of every box, placing a slice from each on the dish. Expecting him to take a seat on the couch, I’m surprised when he bypasses it and instead heads straight in my direction. Ares extends the full plate to me. When I make no move to take it from him he clasps my hand, lifting it to the dish. “I wasn’t sure what you like so I just guessed.” I look down at the variety and my stomach growls. He releases my hand and steps back, leaving me with the pizza.
“Thank you,” I mutter, lowering myself to the floor and folding my legs beneath me. I examine each square slice, deciding on the Hawaiian. Groaning the moment I take the first bite. It’s amazing, the crust is crunchy and thick with buttery goodness coating my fingers. The pineapple is sweet and the ham is salty, providing the most perfect flavor combination.
Looking up I find Dante and Milo on opposite ends of the sofa, while Ares is perched on the arm next to Dante. Ollie comes back to sit next to me on the floor. His dish is filled in much the same way mine is. “S’good?” he nods around a mouth full.
I dust my hands together, spreading the grease without meaning to. “It is. I love deep dish.” We eat in relative quiet; someone has turned the volume of the television up a few notches providing necessary background noise.
I try each slice, deciding Hawaiian is definitely my favorite, but the bacon and pepperoni is a close second. I’m stuff with two almost full pieces remaining. The guys have taken turns getting up to restock their plates more than once.
With my plate balanced in my lap I lean back on my hands. My thoughts continue to circle with the images of Ollie’s hands on fire—they look absolutely normal now, I’ve checked—and Ares’s eyes going black. I think about all the movies and books I’ve read where that happens, and the person is a demon or monster. My eyes dart to the sophisticated man balanced on the arm of the couch and I can’t reconcile the two. He just went and got us pizza, and served it to me, how evil could he be?
Dante catches my attention, when he leans over and tugs the phone from his front pocket. He looks at the screen then tosses the thing on the table like it offended him. Milo leans forward to peer at it with interest. I glance back at the TV as Ollie erupts in a fit of laughter, the canned response from the show echoes along with him.
“Since I was left out of the revelation that you guys found our Synergist—or she found you—why don’t you catch me up on why I was kept in the dark?” Ares folds himself onto the sofa, straightening the cuffs of his white dress shirt. He’s not looking at anyone, but I can tell by his tone he’s not all that happy about the situation. Ollie looks over his shoulder at Ares, then shifts his body to face the trio behind us.
“We wanted to be sure before we told you. Most of us gave up on ever finding our match.” Ollie’s eyes glance at Milo, who shifts in his seat. “But things got complicated.” Now his eyes find me. “Laura wasn’t raised like us, she knows nothing about any of this. We told you yesterday to come home because we thought we had found her—”
“No,” Ares cuts him off. “I called Dante. You only told me yesterday because I already knew something was up.” He voice is hard, his posture rigid.