Upon opening the antique mahogany armoire in Patch’s bedroom, my frantic search slowed. I stood in place, absorbing the sight. Patch’s wardrobe was impeccably organized, chinos folded on the shelves, dress shirts on wood hangers. He owned three suits, a tailored black with narrow lapels, a luxurious Newman pinstripe, and a charcoal gray with Jacquard stitching. A small bin stored silk handkerchiefs, and a drawer held multiple rows of silk ties in every color from red to purple to black.
Shoes ranged from black running sneakers to Converses to Italian loafers—even a pair of nubuck flip-flops for good measure. The woodsy scent of cedar lingered in the air. Not what I was expecting.
At all. The Patch I knew wore jeans, T-shirts, and a ratty baseball cap. I wondered if I’d ever see this side of Patch. I wondered if there even was an end to the many sides of Patch. The more I thought I knew him, the more the mystery deepened. With these doubts fresh in my mind, I asked myself once more if I thought Patch would sell me out tonight.
I didn’t want to believe it, but the truth was, I was on the fence.
In the bathroom, I threw a razor, soap, and shaving cream into a duffel. Then a hat, gloves, and mirrored Ray-Bans. In the kitchen drawers, I found several fake ID cards and a roll of cash totaling more than five hundred dollars. Patch would be less than thrilled when he discovered the money had gone to Scott, but given the circumstances, I could justify playing Robin Hood.
I didn’t have a car, but Scott’s cave couldn’t be more than two miles from Delphic Amusement Park, and I set out at a brisk jog. I kept to the shoulder of the road, pulling the hoodie I’d borrowed from Patch over my face. Cars streamed steadily out of the park as the hour edged toward midnight, and while a few people honked, I managed not to draw much attention.
As the lights leading out of the park thinned, and the road curved toward the highway, I jumped the guardrail and headed down toward the beach. Grateful I’d thought to pack a flashlight, I swept the beam over the craggy rocks and started the most difficult part of the journey.
By my estimation, twenty minutes passed. Then thirty. I had no idea where I was; the landscape of the beach had changed very little and the ocean, black and glittering, stretched on forever. I didn’t dare call out Scott’s name, out of the horrible fear that Hank’s men had somehow tracked him and were also combing the beach for him, but every once in a while I stopped to shine the flashlight slowly across the beach, intending to signal my location to Scott.
Ten minutes later a strange birdcal carried down from the rocks above. I stopped, listening. The call came again, louder. I projected the flashlight in the direction of the noise, and a moment later Scott hissed, “Put the light away!”
I clambered up the rocks, the duffel bouncing against my hip. “I’m sorry I’m late,” I told Scott. I threw the duffel at his feet, sinking onto a rock to catch my breath. “I was at Delphic when you called.
I don’t have the Volkswagen, but I did pack you clothes and a winter hat to hide your hair. There’s five hundred dollars in cash, too. It’s the best I could do.” I was sure Scott was going to question where I’d managed to find everything on such short notice, but he caught me off guard by taking me into his arms and murmuring a fierce, “Thanks, Grey,” into my ear.
“Are you going to be okay?” I whispered.
“The stuff you brought will help. Maybe I can hitch a ride out of town.”
“If I asked you to do something for me first, would you consider it?” Once I had his attention, I drew in a breath for courage. “Throw away the Black Hand’s ring. Toss it into the ocean. I’ve thought this through. The ring is pulling you back toward Hank. He put some kind of curse on it, and when you wear it, it gives him power over you.” I was now positive the ring was enchanted with devilcraft, and the longer it stayed on Scott’s finger, the harder it would be to talk him into taking it off. “It’s the only explanation. Think about it. Hank wants to find you. He wants to draw you out. And that ring is doing a stel ar job.”
I expected him to protest, but his subdued expression told me that, deep down, he’d drawn the same conclusion. He just hadn’t wanted to admit it. “And the powers?”
“They’re not worth it. You made it three months relying on your own strengths. Whatever curse Hank put on the ring, it’s not good.”
“Is it that important to you?” Scott asked quietly.
“You’re important to me.”
“If I say no?”
“I’ll do everything I can to get it off your hand. I can’t beat you in a fight, but I can’t live with myself if I don’t at least try.”
Scott snorted softly. “You’d fight me, Grey?”
“Don’t make me prove it.”
To my amazement, Scott twisted the ring loose. He held it between his fingers, gazing at it in silent consideration. “Here’s your Kodak moment,” he said, then flung the ring into the waves.
I let go of a long breath. “Thank you, Scott.”
“Any other last requests?”
“Yeah, go,” I told him, trying not to sound as upset as I felt. In an unexpected turn of events, I didn’t want him to leave. What if this was good-bye … for good? I blinked my eyes rapidly, stalling tears.
He blew on his hands to warm them. “Can you check on my mom every once in a while, make sure she’s hanging in there?”
“Of course.”
“You can’t tell her about me. The Black Hand will leave her alone as long as he thinks she has nothing to give.”
“I’ll make sure she’s safe.” I gave him a light shove. “Now get out of here before you make me cry.” Scott stood in place a moment, a strange look passing over his eyes. It was nervous, but not quite. More expectation, less anxiety. He bent down and kissed me, his mouth closing over mine gently. I was too stunned to do anything but let him finish.
“You’ve been a good friend,” he said. “Thanks for having my back.” I touched my hand to my mouth. There was so much to say, but the right words twisted out of reach. I wasn’t looking at Scott anymore, but behind him. To the line of Nephilim scrambling up the rocks, weapons drawn, eyes focused and hardened.
“Hands in the air, hands in the air!”
They shouted the command, but the words sounded convoluted in my ears, almost as if spoken in slow motion. A strange buzz filled my ears, escalating to a roar. I saw their angry lips moving, their weapons flashing in the moonlight. They swarmed in from every direction, trapping me and Scott in a small huddle.
The glimmer of hope drained from Scott’s eyes, replaced by dread.
He dropped the duffel, clasping his hands behind his head. A solid object, an elbow maybe, or a fist, came out of the night air, smashing into his skull.
When Scott collapsed, I was still grasping for words. Even a scream couldn’t cut through my horror.
In the end, the only thing between us was silence.
CHAPTER 30
I WAS CRAMMED INTO THE TRUNK OF A BLACK AUDI A6, with my hands tied and a blindfold blocking my vision. I’d screamed myself hoarse, but wherever the driver was taking me, it had to be remote. He’d never once attempted to silence me.
I didn’t know where Scott was. Hank’s Nephilim men had surrounded us at the beach, dragging us off in different directions. I pictured Scott chained and helpless in an underground prison, at the mercy of Hank’s anger …
I slammed my shoes against the trunk. I rolled side to side. I yelled and screamed—then a choke caught me mid-breath, and I dissolved into sobs.
At last the car slowed and the engine was cut. Footsteps crunched through gravel, a key scraped the inside of the lock, and the trunk popped open. Two sets of hands hauled me out, setting me roughly on solid ground. My legs had fall en asleep on the ride, and an assault of pins stabbed up through the soles of my feet.
“Where do you want this one, Blakely?” one of my captors asked. Judging by his voice, he couldn’t have been more than eighteen or nineteen. Judging by his strength, he might as well have been made of steel.
“Inside,” a man, presumably Blakely, answered.
I was propelled up a ramp and through a door. The space inside was cool and quiet. The air smelled of gasoline and turpentine. I wondered if we were at one of Hank’s warehouses.
“You’re hurting me,” I told the men on either side of me. “Obviously I’m not going anywhere. Can’t you at least untie my hands?”
Wordlessly, they hauled me up a set of stairs and though a second door. They forced me down onto a metal folding chair, securing my ankles to the chair legs.
Minutes after they left, the door opened again. I knew it was Hank before he spoke. The scent of his cologne filled me with panic and revulsion.
His nimble fingers picked at the knot of my blindfold, and it drooped to my neck. I blinked, making sense of the unlit room. Aside from a card table and a second folding chair, the room was bare.
“What do you want?” I demanded, my voice trembling slightly.
Scraping the second chair across the floor, he positioned it to face mine. “To talk.”
“Not in the mood, thanks anyway,” I said curtly.
He leaned toward me, the hard lines around his eyes deepening as he narrowed his gaze. “Do you know who I am, Nora?”
Sweat leaked from every pore. “Off the top of my head? You’re a filthy, lying, manipulative, worthless little—”
His hand lashed out before I saw it coming. He struck my cheek, hard. I recoiled, too shocked to cry.
“Do you know I’m your biological father?” he asked, his quiet tone unnerving.
“‘Father’ is such an arbitrary word. Douche bag, on the other hand …” Hank gave a subtle nod. “Then let me ask this. Is that any way to speak to your father?” Now tears welled up my eyes. “Nothing you’ve done gives you the right to call yourself my father.”
“Be that as it may, you are my blood. You bear my mark. I can’t deny it any longer, Nora, and neither can you deny your destiny.”
I hitched my shoulder, but I couldn’t lift it high enough to wipe my nose. “My destiny has nothing to do with yours. When you gave me up as a baby, you forfeited your right to have any say in my life.”
“Despite what you may think, I’ve been actively involved in every aspect of your life since the day you were born. I gave you up to protect you. Because of fall en angels, I had to sacrifice my family—” I cut him off with a scornful laugh. “Don’t start with the poor-me routine. Quit blaming your choices on fall en angels. You made the decision to give me up. Maybe you cared about me back then, but your Nephilim blood society is the only thing you care about anymore. You’re a zealot. It’s all on you.” His mouth thinned, tight as a wire. “I should kill you right now for making a fool of me, of my society, of the whole Nephilim race.”
“Then do it already,” I spat, rage overshadowing any anxiety I felt.
Reaching into his coat, he withdrew a long black feather that looked remarkably similar to the one I’d put in my dresser drawer for safekeeping. “One of my advisers found this in your bedroom. It’s a fall en angel’s feather. Imagine my surprise upon learning that my own flesh and blood is keeping company with the enemy. You had me fooled. Hang around fall en angels long enough and their proclivity for deceit rubs off, it seems. Is the fall en angel Patch?” he asked bluntly.
