My mom was going to kill me.
I’d sneaked behind her back and gone to Portland. And how was I supposed to explain the whole “I checked into a motel with Patch” situation? I’d be lucky if she didn’t ground me through the end of the year. No. I’d be lucky if she didn’t quit her job and apply to substitute teach until she found a full-time job locally. We’d have to sell the farmhouse, and I’d lose the only connection to my dad I had left.
Approximately fifteen minutes later I peered through the peephole. Nothing but blackness. I unbarred the door, and just as I was about to tug it open, lights flickered on behind me. I whirled around, half expecting to see Dabria. The room was still and empty, but the electricity was back.
The door opened with a loud click and I stepped into the hall. The carpet was bloodred, worn bald down the center of the hallway, and stained with unidentifiable dark marks. The walls were painted neutral, but the paint job was sloppy and chipping.
Above me, a neon green sign spelled the way to the exit. I followed the arrow down the hall and around the corner. The Jeep rolled to a stop on the other side of the back door, and I dashed out and hopped in on the passenger side.
No lights were on when Patch pulled up to the farmhouse. I experienced a guilty squeeze in my stomach and wondered if my mom was driving around, looking for me. The rain had died, and fog pressed against the siding and hung on the shrubs like Christmas tinsel. The trees dotting the driveway were permanently twisted and misshapen from constant northern winds. All houses look uninviting with the lights off after dark, but the farmhouse with its small slits for windows, bowed roof, caved-in porch, and wild brambles looked haunted.
“I’m going to walk through,” Patch said, swinging out.
“Do you think Dabria’s inside?”
He shook his head. “But it doesn’t hurt to check.”
I waited in the Jeep, and a few minutes later Patch walked out the front door. “All clear,” he told me. “I’ll drive to the high school and come back here as soon as I sweep her office. Maybe she left something useful behind.” He didn’t sound like he was counting on it.
I unbuckled my seat belt and ordered my legs to carry me quickly up the walk. As I turned the doorknob, I heard Patch back down the driveway. The porch boards creaked under my feet and I suddenly felt very alone.
Keeping the lights off, I crept through the house room by room, starting with the first floor, then working my way upstairs. Patch had already cleared the house, but I didn’t think an extra pair of eyes would hurt. After I was sure no one was hiding under the furniture, behind the shower curtains, or in the closets, I tugged on Levi’s and a black V-neck sweater. I found the emergency cell phone my mom kept in a first-aid kit under the bathroom sink and dialed her cell.
She picked up on the first ring. “Hello? Nora? Is that you? Where are you? I’ve been worried sick!”
I drew a deep breath, praying the right words would come to me and help me talk my way out of this.
“Here’s the deal—,” I began in my most sincere and apologetic voice. “Cascade Road flooded and they closed it. I had to turn back and get a room in Milliken Mills—that’s where I am now. I tried calling home, but apparently the lines are down. I tried your cell, but you didn’t pick up.”
“Wait. You’ve been in Milliken Mills this whole time?”
“Where did you think I was?”
I gave an inaudible sigh of relief and lowered myself onto the edge of the bathtub. “I didn’t know,” I said. “I couldn’t get ahold of you, either.”
“What number are you calling from?” Mom asked. “I don’t recognize this number.”
“The emergency cell.”
“Where’s your phone?”
“I lost it.”
“What! Where?”
I came to the rocky conclusion that a lie of omission was the only way to go. I didn’t want to alarm her. I also didn’t want to be grounded for an interminable length of time. “It’s more like I misplaced it. I’m sure it will pop up somewhere.” On a dead woman’s body.
“I’ll call you as soon as they open the roads,” she said.
Next I called Vee’s cell. After five rings I was sent to voice mail.
“Where are you?” I said. “Call me back at this number ASAP.” I snapped the phone shut and tucked it into my pocket, trying to convince myself Vee was fine. But I knew it was a lie. The invisible thread tying us together had been warning me for hours now that she was in danger. If anything, the feeling was heightening with each passing minute.
In the kitchen I saw my bottle of iron pills on the counter, and I immediately went for them, popping the cap and swallowing two with a glass of chocolate milk. I stood in place a moment, letting the iron work into my system, feeling my breathing deepen and slow. I was walking the milk carton back to the fridge when I saw her standing in the doorway between the kitchen and laundry room.
A cold, wet substance pooled at my feet, and I realized I’d dropped the milk. “Dabria?” I said.
She tilted her head to one side, showing mild surprise. “You know my name?” She paused. “Ah, Patch.”
I backed up to the sink, putting more distance between us. Dabria didn’t look anything like she did at school as Miss Greene. Tonight her hair was tangled, not smooth, and her lips were brighter, a certain hunger reflected there. Her eyes were sharper, a smudge of black ringing them.
“What do you want?” I asked.
She laughed, and it sounded like ice cubes tinkling in a glass. “I want Patch.”
“Patch isn’t here.”
She nodded. “I know. I waited down the street for him to leave before I came in. But that’s not what I meant when I said I want Patch.”
The blood pounding through my legs circled back to my heart with a dizzying effect. I put one hand on the counter to steady myself. “I know you were spying on me during the counseling sessions.”
“Is that all you know about me?” she asked, her eyes searching mine.
I remembered the night I was sure someone had looked in my bedroom window. “You’ve been spying on me here, too,” I said.
“This is the first time I’ve been to your house.” She dragged her finger along the edge of the kitchen island and perched herself on a stool. “Nice place.”
“Let me refresh your memory,” I said, hoping I sounded brave. “You looked in my bedroom window while I was sleeping.”
Her smile curved high. “No, but I did follow you shopping. I attacked your friend and planted little hints in her mind, making her think Patch hurt her. It wasn’t a far stretch. He’s not exactly harmless to begin with. It was in my best interest to make you as frightened of him as possible.”
“So I’d stay away from him.”
“But you didn’t. You’re still standing in our way.”
“In your way of what?”
“Come on, Nora. If you know who I am, then you know how this works. I want him to get his wings back. He doesn’t belong on Earth. He belongs with me. He made a mistake, and I’m going to correct it.” There was absolutely no compromise in her voice. She got off the stool and walked around the island toward me.
I backed along the edge of the outer counter, keeping space between us. Racking my brain, I tried to think of a way to distract her. Or escape. I’d lived in the house sixteen years. I knew the floor plan. I knew every secret crevice and the best hiding places. I commanded my brain to come up with a plan: something spur-of-the-moment and brilliant. My back met with the sideboard.
“As long as you’re around, Patch won’t return with me,” Dabria said.
“I think you’re overestimating his feelings for me.” It seemed like a good idea to downplay our relationship. Dabria’s possessiveness appeared to be the main force driving her to act.
An incredulous smile dawned on her face. “You think he has those feelings for you? All this time you thought—” She broke off, laughing. “He’s not staying because he loves you. He wants to kill yo
u.”
I shook my head. “He’s not going to kill me.”
Dabria’s smile hardened at the edges. “If that’s what you believe, you’re just another girl he’s seduced to get what he wants. He has a talent for it,” she added shrewdly. “He seduced your name right out of me, after all. One soft touch from Patch was all it took. I fell under his spell and told him death was coming for you.”
I knew what she was talking about. I’d witnessed the exact moment she was referring to inside Patch’s memory.
“And now he’s doing the same thing to you,” she said. “Betrayal hurts, doesn’t it?”
I shook my head slowly. “No—”
“He’s planning to use you as a sacrifice!” she erupted. “See that mark?” She thrust her finger at my wrist. “It means you’re a female descendant of a Nephil. And not just any Nephil, but Chauncey Langeais, Patch’s vassal.”
I glanced at my scar, and for one heart-stopping moment, I actually believed her. But I knew better than to trust her.
“There’s a sacred book, The Book of Enoch,” she said. “In it, a fallen angel kills his Nephil vassal by sacrificing one of the Nephil’s female descendants. You don’t think Patch wants to kill you? What’s the one thing he wants most? Once he sacrifices you, he’ll be human. He’ll have everything he wants. And he won’t come home with me.”
She unsheathed a large knife from the wood block on the counter. “And that’s why I have to get rid of you. It appears that one way or another, my premonitions were right. Death is coming for you.”
“Patch is coming back,” I said, my insides sickening. “Don’t you want to talk this over with him?”
“I’ll make it quick,” she continued. “I’m an angel of death. I carry souls to the afterlife. As soon as I finish, I’ll carry your soul through the veil. You have nothing to be afraid of.”
I wanted to scream out, but my voice was trapped at the back of my throat. I edged around the sideboard, putting the kitchen table between us. “If you’re an angel, where are your wings?”
“No more questions.” Her voice had grown impatient, and she began closing the distance between us in earnest.
“How long has it been since you left heaven?” I asked, stalling. “You’ve been down here for several months, right? Don’t you think the other angels have noticed you’re missing?”
“Not another step,” she snapped, raising the knife, scattering light off the blade.
“You’re going to a lot of trouble for Patch,” I said, my voice not nearly as devoid of panic as I wanted. “I’m surprised you don’t resent him for using you when it suits his purpose. I’m surprised you want him to get his wings back at all. After what he did to you, aren’t you happy he’s banished here?”
“He left me for a worthless human girl!” she spat, her eyes a fiery blue.
“He didn’t leave you. Not really. He fell—”
“He fell because he wanted to be human, like her! He had me— he had me!” She gave a scoffing laugh, but it didn’t mask the anger or sorrow. “At first I was hurt and angry, and I did everything in my power to forget about him. Then, when the archangels figured out he was seriously attempting to become human, they sent me down here to change his mind. I told myself I wasn’t going to fall for him all over again, but what good did it do?”
“Dabria . . . ,” I began softly.
“He didn’t even care that the girl was made from the dust of the earth! You—all of you—are selfish and slovenly! Your bodies are wild and undisciplined. One moment you’re at the peak of joy, the next you’re on the brink of despair. It’s deplorable! No angel will aspire to it!” She flung her arm in a wild arc across her face, wiping away tears. “Look at me! I can barely control myself! I’ve been down here too long, submerged in human filth!”
I turned and ran from the kitchen, knocking over a chair and leaving it behind me in Dabria’s path. I raced down the hall, knowing I was trapping myself. The house had two exits: the front door, which Dabria could reach before me by cutting through the living room, and the back door off the dining room, which she blocked.
I was shoved hard from behind, and I pitched forward. I skidded down the hall, coming to a stop on my stomach. I rolled over. Dabria hovered a few feet above me—in the air—her skin and hair ablaze in blinding white, the knife pointed down at me.
I didn’t think. I kicked my leg up with all my strength. I arched into the kick, bracing with my nonkicking leg, and aimed for her lower arm. The knife was knocked out of her hand. As I got my feet under me, Dabria pointed at the lamp on a small entryway table, and with a sharp fling of her finger, sent it flying at me. I rolled away, feeling shards of glass slide under me as the lamp shattered on the floor.
“Move!” Dabria commanded, and the entry bench slid to barricade the front door, blocking my exit.
Scrambling forward, I took the stairs two at a time, using the banister to propel me faster. I heard Dabria laugh behind me, and the next instant the banister broke free, crashing to the hall below. I threw my weight back to keep from falling over the unguarded edge. Catching my balance, I raced up the final stairs. At the top I flung myself into my mom’s bedroom and slammed the French doors shut.
Racing to one of the windows flanking the fireplace, I looked down two stories to the ground. There were three bushes in a rock bed directly below, all their foliage gone since autumn. I didn’t know if I’d survive a jump.
“Open!” Dabria commanded from the other side of the French doors. A crack split up the wood as the door strained against the lock. I was out of time.
I ran to the fireplace and ducked under the mantel. I had just pulled my feet up, bracing them against the inside of the flue, when the doors swung open, slamming back against the wall. I heard Dabria stride to the window.
“Nora!” she called in her delicate, chilling voice. “I know you’re close! I sense you. You can’t run and you can’t hide—I’ll burn this house down room by room if that’s what it takes to find you! And then I’ll burn my way through the fields behind. I’m not leaving you alive!”
A glow of bright gold light sizzled to life outside the fireplace, along with the roaring whoosh of fire igniting. The flames sent shadows dancing in the pit below. I heard the snap and crackle of fire eating up fuel—most likely the furniture or wood floors.
I stayed cramped in the flue. My heart throbbed, sweat leaking from my skin. I drew several breaths, exhaling slowly to manage the burn in my tightly contracted leg muscles. Patch had said he was going to the school. How long until he came back?
Not knowing if Dabria was still in the room, but fearing that if I didn’t leave now, the fire would trap me in, I lowered one leg into the pit, then the other. I came out from under the mantel. Dabria was nowhere in sight, but the flames were licking up the walls, smoke choking all air from the room.
I hurried down the hall, not daring to go downstairs, thinking Dabria would expect me to try to escape through one of the doors. In my bedroom I opened the window. The tree outside was close enough and sturdy enough to climb. Maybe I could lose Dabria in the fog behind the house. The nearest neighbors were just under a mile away, and running hard, I could be there in seven minutes. I was about to swing my leg out the window when a creak sounded down the hall.
Quietly closing myself inside the closet, I dialed 911.
“There’s someone in my house trying to kill me,” I whispered to the operator. I had just given my address when the door to my room eased open. I held perfectly still.
Through the slats in the closet door, I watched a shadowy figure enter the room. The lighting was low, my angle was off, and I couldn’t see a single distinguishing detail. The figure parted the window blinds, peering out. It fingered the socks and underwear in my open drawer. It picked up the silver comb on my bureau, studied it, then returned it. When the figure turned in the direction of the closet, I knew I was in trouble.
Sliding my hand over the floor, I felt for anything I could use
in my defense. My elbow bumped a stack of shoe boxes, toppling them. I mouthed a curse. The footsteps trod closer.
The closet doors opened, and I hurled a shoe out. I grabbed another and threw it.
Patch swore in an undertone, yanked a third shoe out of my hands, and hurled it behind him. Wrestling me out of the closet, he got me on my feet. Before I could register relief at discovering him and not Dabria in front of me, he pulled me against him and wrapped his arms around me.
“Are you okay?” he murmured in my ear.
“Dabria’s here,” I said, my eyes brimming with tears. My knees trembled, and Patch’s hold was the only thing keeping me up. “She’s burning down the house.”
Patch handed me a set of keys and curled my fingers around them. “My Jeep’s parked on the street. Get in, lock the doors, drive to Delphic, and wait for me.” He tipped my chin up to face him. He brushed a kiss across my lips and sent a flash of heat through me.
“What are you going to do?” I asked.
“Take care of Dabria.”
“How?”
He slid me a look that said, Do you really want details?
The sound of sirens wailed in the distance.
Patch looked to the window. “You called the police?”
“I thought you were Dabria.”
He was already on his way out the door. “I’ll go after Dabria. Drive the Jeep to Delphic and wait for me.”
“What about the fire?”
“The police will handle it.”
I tightened my grip on the keys. The decision-making part of my brain was split, running in opposite directions. I wanted to get out of the house and away from Dabria, and meet up with Patch later, but there was one nagging thought I couldn’t shake free. Dabria had said Patch needed to sacrifice me to become human.
She hadn’t said it lightly, or to get under my skin. Or even to harden me against him. Her words had come out cold and serious. Serious enough that she tried to kill me to stop Patch from getting to me first.
The Complete Hush, Hush Saga Page 23