Chapter 3

"Who wants pizza?" I singsonged as I waltzed through the front door of Aaron's house, three large boxes held dramatically above my head.

Aaron appeared in the doorway that separated the hall from the living room. Hands tucked in his jeans pockets, he arched an eyebrow. "You mean the pizza I ordered?"

"Don't let the boxes fool you," I declared loftily, breezing past him. "I made these pizzas with my own two hands."

He followed me into the dining room. "Tell me you at least paid the delivery guy."

"What, you think I tackled him and stole the food? I'm not the Hamburglar." I slid the boxes onto the table and flipped the top on the first one. "Ham and pineapple?"

"With extra pineapple." Aaron flashed a grin. "Might as well get our fill before Kai is back to discriminate against our topping selections."

I set the first pizza aside and opened the second box. "Deluxe pepperoni with …" I shot Aaron a disbelieving stare. "With pineapple?"

Aaron's grin widened.

Pushing that box out of the way, I flipped up the third lid. "Chipotle chicken with—"

"Pineapple," a smooth voice whispered in my ear.

I shrieked and my hand mashed down into the hot pizza. I yanked it back, my palm coated in sauce and cheese. "Ezra!"

He stepped around me, his fingers brushing my waist—a brief touch, there and gone. Matching Aaron's grin, he held his phone above the table. The flash went off.

"Did you just take a picture of the pizzas?" I asked bemusedly.

"No," he lied, straight-faced as his gaze turned to his phone, thumbs already whizzing across the screen. "And I'm not sending any photos of our extra pineapply pizzas to Kai, either."

"Pineapply isn't a word."

Aaron picked up a slice of pineapple-pepperoni. "Make sure to tell him that the chicken one is messed up because Tori stuck her hand in it."

"Hey! That wasn't my fault." I held my cheese-smeared hand out like it was contaminated with radioactive waste. "Ezra, don't—"

"Oops. Already hit send."

I stomped into the kitchen to wash my hands. When I returned, Ezra and Aaron were perched on chairs and already on their second slices. I grabbed a ham and pineapple slice before they ate it all. How could they pack away an entire pizza each and still look that freakin' good?

Ezra had one bare foot propped on his chair, his messy curls damp from a recent shower. If I had to guess, he'd only just stepped out of the shower and pulled on a t-shirt and sweats before sneaking upstairs to scare the crap out of me.

Yeah, that was exactly what had happened.

Trying not to think about him in the shower—if only I'd arrived a few minutes earlier—I took a big bite of pizza. Delicious, but not as good as Ezra-in-the-shower would've been.

His phone chimed, and he slid it off the table without shifting his pizza slice too far from his mouth. Peering at the screen, he let out a whoop of laughter—and choked on his mouthful.

Coughing, he shoved his phone at me and grabbed for the can of soda Aaron was holding out to him. He took a long gulp.

I blinked down at the screen. Kai had replied with a photo of his own—a selfie of the dark-haired electramage himself, staring disapprovingly into the camera while taking a sultry bite of his pineapple-free pizza.

Laughing, I passed the phone to Aaron and stuffed more food into my mouth. He chortled over the image, amusement brightening his eyes for the first time in days.

"Wednesday night pizza triumphs!" His delight faltered as he studied the photo. "But shit, look at that place. Where is he?"

Ramming the last of my slice between my teeth, I snatched the phone back and looked again. I'd been so focused on Kai's face—and pizza choice—that I hadn't noticed the background of the photo. He was sitting on a white sofa with curvy lines, and behind him stretched a massive suite with two-story-high windows in place of walls, the glowing lights of Vancouver ending at the dark water of the ocean. Aside from the designer sofa, everything in the room seemed to be made of glass or white marble.

"Is that a glass staircase?" I muttered, peering at the spiraling structure descending from the ceiling. "That's terrifying. Do you think it's slippery?"

Ezra reclaimed his phone and typed a reply. When his eyes, sparkling with mirth, darted to me, I made a wild grab for the phone again. With his stupid demonic reflexes, he spun in his chair and I ended up lunging into his back.

"Sent!"

"What did you type?" I growled, leaning over his shoulder.

Aaron leaned in from the other side to read the screen.

Ezra's reply glowed beneath Kai's photo: Tori wants to know if you've fallen down those stairs yet.

The phone chimed and Kai's response appeared: Yeah. I think I cracked my tailbone.

My forehead scrunched. "Is he serious?"

"Good question," Ezra muttered. "Should I ask—"

Another chime. Kai had added to the message: Makiko spilled a glass of water. They were slippery.

I pulled my arms from around Ezra. "Wait. Are they staying in the same suite?"

"You mean," Aaron corrected, "are they staying in the same bedroom?"

Dropping back into my seat, I clenched my hands. "He better not be sleeping with that woman."

"He wouldn't."

"He's slept with tons of women."

"And none of them were part of his life, which was the whole point." Aaron took another slice. "Well, that and the sex. Maybe the sex was more the point."

I snorted. "Okay, but—"

"If he is banging her, then it's all part of his escape plan."

"Sleeping with the enemy, huh?" I muttered, avoiding thoughts of Izzah, who was head over heels in love with Kai and had no idea why he'd dropped her like a nasty river rock covered in algae slime.

"The important question here," Ezra said, staring grimly at his phone, "is whether he really fell down the stairs. Because I think he didn't but I'm not sure, and the fact I'm unsure means that whether he fell or not, he still wins."

"Wins what?" I asked.

Ezra and Aaron looked at me with identical expressions of disbelief.

"Never mind." I chose another slice of pizza.

When most of the pizza had been devoured and the remaining slices arranged in one box to form a new Franken-pizza, we retired to the living room and played a dozen rounds of Aaron's favorite racing game. We laughed and razzed each other and drank through a six-pack of beer, and it was almost like normal.

Almost like normal, except for the empty spot on the sofa.

Almost like normal, except Ezra lost every other round, too exhausted—or distracted—to leverage his superior reflexes.

Almost like normal, except I couldn't stop thinking about my suitcase, packed and waiting in my apartment for tomorrow morning.

"I'm done," Ezra decided after the twelfth game, tossing his controller onto the cushion between us. "I need to stop now before I lose my reigning champion title."

"Chicken," Aaron taunted, waving his bright-red controller. "This is the most I've won since I first introduced you to the wide world of console gaming."

"Yeah, right." He stretched his arms over his head, back arching. "I lost nonstop for the first couple of months. You refused to go easy on me, even though I'd never touched a controller before."

Never? I knew Ezra had been homeless for a couple years before meeting Aaron, but I hadn't realized his childhood before that had been devoid of luxuries like console games.

"You wouldn't've learned anything if I'd gone easy on you," Aaron declared. "Besides, I knew you'd be stomping me in no time."

A smile flickering over his lips, Ezra pushed off the sofa. He glanced at me, humor softening, sadness lurking. Silent, he disappeared into the kitchen, and the bathroom door clacked shut.

"Wanna watch a movie, Tori?" Aaron asked.

"Sure. Your pick."

He switched modes on his huge TV and began scrolling through the action flicks. Two minutes later, Ezra reemerged and headed toward the stairs.

"Night, Tori." He tossed a grin at Aaron. "Night, loser."

"Oh, ouch. Harsh, man."

They both laughed at Aaron's "I'm so wounded" act, then Ezra traipsed up the stairs. I listened for the sound of his door, but he closed it too softly for me to hear.

I glanced at the clock glowing on the PVR under the television. Barely past ten, but it'd only been three days since the Carapace of Valdurna had devoured all his magic. It'd be days more before his stamina fully recovered.

A movie began with a swell of music, but I hadn't seen which title Aaron had chosen.

"Have you talked to him yet?" he asked quietly.

"Not yet."

"We're leaving in the morning."

"I know. Are you packed?"

"Yeah. My bag is in my room." He settled deeper into his recliner. "What about Kai?"

"I called him this afternoon. He's as excited about my plan as you are. He said he'd work on Makiko to get her to loosen his leash for a few days, but he couldn't make any promises."

Aaron nodded. "You sure about this, Tori?"

"As in, am I sure this will be anything but a huge waste of time? No. But I'm damn sure we're doing it anyway."

"I just don't understand what you expect to find after eight years."

My gaze rose to the ceiling where Ezra's bedroom was. "I know what I'm looking for …and I know where to look for it."

"How?"

"Insider information." I pushed to my feet. "I'm going to see if Ezra is asleep yet. Don't wait for me."

I could feel his questioning gaze as I left the room, but I didn't look back. My mind was made up. My preparations were complete. And before we left tomorrow, I needed to hammer out the details of our plan.