Lake. He sets it in front of me.
“I need sugar,” I say, pushing to my feet.
He shoves me lightly back to my seat and places the entire sugar bowl in my hands.
“You really are divine,” I say.
“I know.”
I set the spoon aside and dump a good quarter cup of the grainy goodness into my mug. He returns to his side of the study, and our fingers pound away at our respective keyboards. As mellow as the night’s become, and as horrific my findings, it’s a pleasant way to spend an evening. Working together. Quiet. Focused on the same thing.
The idea of spending many, many nights this way is so far beyond pleasant that I get a second wind, typing faster, my brain clearing. Of course, it could be the coffee.
The clock on Canaan’s desk has just chimed midnight when our companionable quiet is shaken. The music in the living room masks his approach, so we don’t hear Marco until he’s standing in the doorway of the study.
“Hey,” he says. I look him over. He looks clean, fresh. Well fed. Delia’s been taking good care of him. He decided to stay in her spare room for a while. I think being near the halo terrifies him. I stand and pull him into a hug. He accepts the gesture and pats me softly on the back.
“You wanna stay here tonight, Marco? You’re welcome to,” Jake says. “Canaan’s room is just sitting there.”
“I appreciate it,” Marco says, his eyes lingering on my empty wrist, on the spot where the halo normally rests, “but Olivia’s waiting outside. Just came back for my stuff.”
Olivia? I want to sit him down. Tell him we can explain. Rope him into our research. Anything but let him leave with her. She may have been victimized as a child, but I don’t like her here. I don’t like her near Dad or Marco. And something in Marco’s demeanor tells me I’m right to worry.
“Marco,” I say, tipping his chin up so his eyes meet mine. “You’re not going after Henry, are you?”
“You should have told me he was Olivia’s grandfather,” he says. His tone takes me off guard, but Jake steps in.
“We haven’t known for very long, man. We’re just putting the pieces together now. How did you find out?”
“Olivia.”
“How much time have you been spending with her?” I ask.
“We’re old friends. Remember?”
He turns on his heel and crosses the hall to Canaan’s room, abruptly ending the conversation.
Jake drags his hands through his hair. “Do you think he’s going after Henry?”
“I don’t know,” I say, shaking my head. “I mean, I know he hates Henry, but Marco’s not a killer. Is he?”
“We’re all capable of horrible things, Elle.”
Talk about an awful thought. “Okay, what do you want to do?”
Jake steps closer. “I think we should stop him. Make him stay. Get the PowerPoint out and explain angels and demons if we have to. Tell him what we know about Olivia. About Canaan and Helene. Tell him he doesn’t have to be afraid of the halo.”
Pixie dust!
“Jake, I left the halo on the kitchen counter. Maybe we should . . .”
“No, it’s okay,” he says, a hand to my hip. “I put it in my bag.”
Relief washes over me.
“Thank you,” I say. “I won’t . . . won’t leave it lying around like that anymore.”
“I’m not worried about it,” Jake says, squeezing my side. “So what do you think? We tell him?”
His hands are on both of my hips now, and really, what I’m thinking about has nothing to do with Marco. But another glance in Jake’s eyes and I can tell he has no idea what his touch is doing to me. I force myself to focus.
“If you’re okay with it,” I say, clearing my throat. “I’m all in.”
“I don’t think we have much of a choice,” he says.
He’s right. I know he is. Still, as Jake takes my hand and leads me down the hall, I pray that Marco will handle this information a tad better than he handled the sight of the morphing halo and tremendously better than he handled the vision of me dying in that fire.
We stick our heads into Canaan’s room, but it’s empty.
“His bag’s still here,” Jake says, nodding at the far wall. Marco’s backpack leans against the closet door.
“Probably just getting his stuff together,” I say. “He had some books in the living room.”
But when we reach the living room, Marco’s not there. Just Shane & Shane, singing, strumming, worshiping through the