hush, hush 04 - Finale

by Becca Fitzpatrick

  Patch.

  He swung off and crossed to me in three quick strides. “Are you hurt?” he asked, taking my face between his hands and looking me over for any sign of injury. A mix of relief, worry, and rage blazed in his eyes. “Where are they?” he asked, his tone as hardened as I’d ever heard it.

  “There were three of them, all Nephilim,” I said, my voice still shaky from fright and the whiplash of having my breath knocked out of me. “They left about five minutes ago. How did you find me?”

  “I activated your tracking device.”

  “You put a tracking device on me?”

  “Sewn into the pocket of your jean jacket. Cheshvan starts with Tuesday’s new moon, and you’re an unsworn Nephil. You’re also the Black Hand’s daughter. You’ve got a premium on your head, and that makes you pretty damn appealing to just about every fallen angel out there. You’re not swearing fealty, Angel, end of story. If that means I have to cut into your privacy, deal with it.”

  “Deal with it? Excuse me?” I wasn’t sure if I should hug him or shove him.

  Patch ignored my indignation. “Tell me everything you can about them. Physical descriptions, make and model of the car, anything that will help me track them down.” His eyes sizzled with vengeance. “And make them pay.”

  “Did you also bug my phone?” I wanted to know, still not over the idea that Patch had invaded my privacy without telling me.

  He didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

  “In other words, I have no secrets.”

  His expression softened and he looked as though, had the mood not been so tense, he might have considered smiling. “There are still a few things you’ve managed to keep secret from me, Angel.”

  Okay, I walked right into that.

  I said, “The ringleader hid behind sunglasses and a cowboy hat, but I’m positive I’ve never seen him before. The other two—a male and a female—wore nondescript clothing.”

  “Car?”

  “I had a bag over my head, but I’m positive it was a van. Two of them sat in the back with me, and the door sounded like it slid open sideways when they forced me out.”

  “Anything else stand out?”

  I told Patch the ringleader had threatened to uncover our secret relationship.

  Patch said, “If word of us gets out, things could get ugly fast.” His brows pulled together, and his eyes darkened with uncertainty. “Are you sure you want to continue trying to keep our relationship off the radar? I don’t want to lose you, but I’d rather do it on our terms than theirs.”

  I slipped my hand in his, noting how cold his skin felt. He’d grown still, too, as if bracing for the worst. “I’m either in this with you, or I’m out,” I told him, and I meant every word. I’d lost Patch once before, and not to be melodramatic, but death was preferable. Patch was in my life for a reason. I needed him. We were two halves of the same whole.

  Patch gathered me against him, holding me with a certain possessive ferocity. “I know you’re not going to like this, but we might want to think about staging a public fight to send a clear message that our relationship is over. If these guys are serious about digging up secrets, we can’t control what they find. This is starting to feel like a witch hunt, and we might be better off making the first move.”

  “Stage a fight?” I echoed, dread trickling through me like a winter chill.

  “We’d know the truth,” Patch murmured in my ear, running his hands briskly over my arms to warm them. “I’m not going to lose you.”

  “Who else would know the truth? Vee? My mom?”

  “The less they know, the safer they are.”

  I let go of a conflicted sigh. “Lying to Vee is getting really old. I don’t think I can do it anymore. I feel guilty every time I’m around her. I want to come clean. Especially about something as important as you and me.”

  “It’s your call,” Patch said gently. “But they won’t hurt her if they think she has nothing to tell.”

  I knew he was right. Which didn’t leave me a choice in the matter, did it? Who was I to put my best friend in harm’s way for the sake of appeasing my conscience?

  “We probably won’t be able to fool Dante—you work too closely with him,” Patch said. “And it might even work out better if he knows. He can back up your story when he talks with influential Nephilim.” Patch shrugged out of his leather jacket and slipped it over my shoulders. “Let’s get you home.”

  “Can we make a quick stop by Pete’s Locker Room first? I need to pick up my cell phone, and the untraceable one you gave me. I dropped one during the attack, and the other got left behind in my handbag. If we’re lucky, my new shoes are still on the sidewalk too.”

  Patch kissed the top of my head. “Both phones need to be put out of service. They left your possession, and if we assume the worst, your Nephilim abductors put their own tracking or listening devices on them. Best to get new phones.”

  One thing was sure. If I’d been unmotivated to train with Dante before, all that had changed. I needed to learn to fight, and fast. Between dodging Pepper Friberg and advising me on my new role as Nephilim leader, Patch had enough to worry about without needing to rush in from the sidelines every time I got in over my head. I was immensely grateful for his protection, but it was time I learned to take care of myself.

  • • •

  It was full dark by the time I got home. I walked through the door, and my mom hurried out of the kitchen, looking both worried and aggravated.

  “Nora! Where have you been? I called but kept getting your voice mail.”

  I could have slapped my forehead. Dinner. At six. I’d completely missed it.

  “I am so sorry,” I said. “I misplaced my phone in one of the stores. By the time I realized I’d lost it, it was almost dinnertime, and I had to backtrack all over town. I never found it, so now I’m not only out a phone, but I blew you off. I am so sorry. I didn’t have a way to call.” I hated that I was forced to lie to her again. I’d done it so many times it seemed like once more shouldn’t hurt, but it did. It made me feel less and less like her daughter, and more and more like Hank’s. My biological father had been an expert and unrivaled liar. And I was hardly in a position to be critical.

  “You couldn’t stop and find some way to call me?” she said, not sounding for one minute like she believed my story.

  “It won’t happen again. I promise.”

  “I don’t suppose you were with Patch?” I didn’t miss the cynical emphasis on his name. My mother regarded Patch with as much affection as the raccoons that often wreaked havoc on our property. I didn’t doubt she fantasized about standing on the porch with a rifle perched on her shoulder, watching for him to show his face.

  I inhaled, swearing this would be the last lie. If Patch and I were really going through with the staged fight, it was best to start planting seeds now. I told myself that once I took care of Mom and Vee, everything else would be downhill. “I wasn’t with Patch, Mom. We broke up.”

  She raised her eyebrows, still not looking convinced.

  “It just happened, and no, I don’t want to talk about it.” I started for the stairs.

  “Nora—”

  I turned back, and there were tears in my eyes. They were unexpected and not part of the act. I merely remembered the last time Patch and I had broken up for real, and a viselike sensation squeezed me, stealing my breath. The memory would forever haunt me. Patch had taken the best parts of me with him, leaving a lost and hollow girl behind. I didn’t want to be that girl again. Ever.

  Mom’s expression eased up. She met me on the stairs, rubbed my back soothingly, and whispered in my ear, “I love you. If you change your mind and want to talk . . .”

  I nodded, then went to my bedroom.

  There, I told myself, trying hard to sound optimistic. One down, one to go. I wasn’t exactly lying to my mom and Vee about the breakup; I was merely doing what had to be done to keep them safe. Honesty was the best policy, most of the time. But sometime
s safety trumped all, right? It seemed like a valid argument, but the thought soured in my stomach.

  There was another worrisome thought scratching at the back of my mind. How long could Patch and I live a lie . . . and not let it become the truth?

  • • •

  Five o’clock Monday morning arrived all too soon. I smacked my alarm, cutting it off mid-beep. Then I rolled over and told myself, Two more minutes. I closed my eyes, let my mind float, saw a new dream start to take shape—and the next thing I knew, I caught a handful of clothes in the face.

  “Rise and shine,” Dante said, standing over my bed in the dark.

  “What are you doing in here?” I shrieked groggily, snatching my blanket and tugging it higher.

  “Doing what any decent personal trainer would. Get your butt out of bed and get dressed. If you’re not in the driveway in three minutes, I’ll come back with a bucket of cold water.”

  “How did you get in?”

  “You left your window unlocked. Might want to break that habit. Hard to control what comes in when you give the world a free pass.”

  He strolled toward my bedroom door just as I stumbled out of bed.

  “Are you crazy? Don’t use the hall! My mom might hear you. A guy doing what appears to be the walk of shame out my bedroom door? I’ll be grounded for life!”

  He looked amused. “For the record, I wouldn’t be ashamed.”

  I stood in place a whole ten seconds after he left, wondering if I was supposed to read deeper into his words. Of course not. His line might have felt flirtatious, but it wasn’t. End of story.

  I tugged on black track pants and a stretchy microfiber shirt, and slicked my hair into a ponytail. If nothing else, I’d look good while Dante ran me into the ground.

  Exactly three minutes later, I met him in the driveway. I looked around, sensing the absence of something important. “Where’s your car?”

  Dante punched me lightly in the shoulder. “Feeling lazy? Tsk, tsk. I thought we’d warm up with a brisk ten-mile run.” He pointed toward the densely wooded area across the street. As kids Vee and I had explored the woods, and even built a fort one summer, but I’d never taken the time to wonder how far they stretched. Apparently, at least ten miles. “After you.”

  I hesitated. I didn’t feel great about running off into the wilderness with Dante. He’d been one of Hank’s top men—reason enough not to like or trust him. In hindsight, I never should have agreed to train alone with him, especially if our training arena was remote.

  “After training, we should probably review the feedback I’m getting from various Nephilim groups about morale, expectations, and you,” Dante added.

  After training. Meaning he didn’t intend to discard me at the bottom of an abandoned well in the next hour. Besides, Dante answered to me now. He’d sworn loyalty. No longer Hank’s lieutenant, he was now mine. He wouldn’t dare harm me.

  Allowing myself the luxury of one final thought of blissful sleep, I shrugged off the fantasy and darted into the tree line. The branches stretched like a canopy overhead, shutting out what little trace of light the early sky might have had to offer. Relying on my heightened Nephilim vision, I ran hard, vaulting over fallen trees, dodging low-hanging branches, and keeping my eyes sharp for sunken rocks and other camouflaged debris. The ground was treacherously uneven, and at the speed I was traveling, one missed step could be disastrous.

  “Faster!” Dante barked behind me. “Run lighter on your feet. You sound like a stampeding rhinoceros. I could find and catch you with my eyes closed!”

  I took his words to heart, lifting my feet the moment they hit ground, repeating this process with every step, concentrating on making myself as noiseless and undetectable as possible. Dante raced ahead, blowing past me with ease.

  “Catch me,” he ordered.

  Chasing after him, I marveled at the strength and agility of my new Nephilim body. I was amazed by how clunky, slow, and uncoordinated my human body had been in comparison. My athleticism wasn’t merely improved, it was superior.

  I dipped under branches, jumped over potholes, and darted around boulders as though I were on an obstacle course I’d long ago memorized. And while I felt like I was running fast enough to lift off and soar into the sky at any moment, my pace lagged behind Dante’s. He moved like an animal, gaining the momentum of a predator chasing down its next meal. Soon I’d lost track of him altogether.

  I slowed, straining my ears. Nothing. A moment later he bounded out of the darkness ahead.

  “That was pathetic,” he criticized. “Again.”

  I spent the next two hours sprinting after him and hearing that same directive repeated over and over: Again. And again. Still not right—do it again.

  I was about to call it quits—my leg muscles trembled with exhaustion and my lungs felt scraped raw—when Dante circled back. He gave me a congratulatory pat on the back. “Good work. Tomorrow we’ll move to strength training.”

  “Oh? By lifting boulders?” I managed cynically, still huffing and puffing.

  “By uprooting trees.”

  I stared at him.

  “Pushing them over,” he elaborated cheerfully. “Get a full night’s sleep—you’re going to need it.”

  “Hey!” I called after him. “Aren’t we still miles from my house?”

  “Five, actually. Consider it your cooldown jog.”

  CHAPTER

  5

  TWELVE HOURS LATER I WAS STIFF AND SORE FROM this morning’s workout, edging my way gingerly up and down the stairs, which seemed to give my muscles the most grief. But any R & R would have to wait; Vee was picking me up in ten minutes, and I still hadn’t changed out of the sweats I’d spent the day lounging in.

  Patch and I had decided to stage our fight publicly tonight, so there’d be no question about the state of our relationship: We had split ways and were staunchly on opposite sides in this brewing war. We’d also opted to make our scene at the Devil’s Handbag, knowing it was a popular Nephilim hangout. While we didn’t know the identities of the Nephilim who’d attacked me, or if they’d be there tonight, Patch and I were certain that news of our split would travel fast. Finally, the bartender scheduled to work the night shift, Patch had learned, was a quick-tempered Nephilim supremacist. Vital, Patch had assured me, to our plan.

  I shucked out of my sweats and slipped into a chunky cable-knit sweaterdress, tights, and ankle boots. I twisted my hair into a low bun, shaking a few pieces loose to frame my face. Exhaling, I stared at my reflection in the mirror and manufactured a smile. All in all, I didn’t look too bad for a girl about to engage in a devastating fight with the love of her life.

  The consequences of tonight’s fight only have to last a couple weeks, I told myself. Just until this whole Cheshvan mess blows over.

  Besides, the fight wasn’t real. Patch had promised we’d find ways to meet. In secret moments and stolen glances. We’d just have to be extra careful.

  “Nora!” my mom called up the stairs. “Vee’s here.”

  “Wish me luck,” I murmured to my reflection, then grabbed my coat and scarf and flicked off the bedroom light.

  “I want you home by nine,” my mom told me when I descended to the foyer. “No exceptions. It’s a school night.”

  I kissed her on the cheek and hustled out the door.

  Vee had the Neon’s windows rolled down, and her stereo was cranking out Rihanna. I dropped into the passenger seat and called over the music, “I’m surprised your mom let you out on a school night.”

  “She had to fly to Nebraska last night. Her uncle Marvin died, and they’re divvying up his estate. Aunt Henny is watching me.” Vee looked sideways, and her grin hinted at mischief.

  “Wasn’t your Aunt Henny in rehab a couple years ago?”

  “That would be the one. Too bad it didn’t work out for her. She’s got a gallon of apple juice in the fridge, but it’s the most fermented apple juice I’ve ever taken a swig of.”

  “And your mom de
emed her responsible enough to watch you?”

  “Guess the prospect of getting some of Uncle Marvin’s money softened her up.”

  We roared down Hawthorne, belting out the lyrics and dancing in our seats. I was antsy and nervous but thought it best to act like nothing was out of the ordinary.

  The Devil’s Handbag was only moderately busy tonight, a decent crowd, but not standing room only. Vee and I slid into a booth, unloaded our coats and handbags, and ordered Cokes from a waitress who swept past. I surreptitiously glanced around for Patch, but he hadn’t surfaced. I’d rehearsed my lines too many times to count, but my palms were still slick with sweat. I wiped them on my thighs, wishing I were a better performer. Wishing I liked drama and attention.

  “You don’t look so good,” Vee said.

  I was about to quip that I was probably carsick from her lack of finesse at driving, when Vee’s eyes swiveled past me and her expression soured. “Oh heck no. Tell me that isn’t Marcie Millar flirting with my man.”

  I craned my neck toward the stage. Scott and the other members of Serpentine were onstage warming up for the show, while Marcie propped her elbows prettily on the stage, singling out Scott for conversation.

  “Your man?” I asked Vee.

  “Soon to be. Same difference.”

  “Marcie flirts with everyone. I wouldn’t worry about it.”

  Vee did some deep breathing that actually made her nostrils flare. Marcie, as if sensing Vee’s negative vibe like voodoo, looked our way. She gave us her best beauty pageant wave.

  “Do something,” Vee told me. “Get her away from him. Now.”

  I jumped up and strolled over to Marcie. On the way over, I worked up a smile. By the time I reached her, I was pretty sure it looked almost genuine. “Hey,” I told her.

  “Oh, hey, Nora. I was just telling Scott how much I love indie music. Nobody in this town ever amounts to anything. I think it’s cool he’s trying to make it big.”

  Scott winked at me. I had to shut my eyes briefly to keep from rolling them.