Crescendo h-2

by Becca Fitzpatrick

  “Nora!” Rixon’s rough bark carried up behind me.

  I pulled myself up, using the walls to support me, but the walls were coated in slime that oozed onto my hands. Somewhere overhead, laughter boomed, tapering off to a cackle. I shook my hands hard to slough off the slime. Then I fished my way into the sheer blackness that lay ahead. I was lost. Lost, lost, lost.

  I jogged a few steps forward, rounded a turn, and squinted at the faint glow of orange light several yards down the path. It wasn’t the clown’s head, but I was drawn to the promise of light like a moth. When I reached the lantern, the tacky Halloweenish light illuminated the words TUNNEL of doom. I was standing on a boat dock. Small plastic boats were parked nose-to-bumper, water from the canal lapping their sides.

  I heard footsteps on the path behind me. With no time to second-guess, I stepped into the boat closest to me. I’d just found my balance when the boat lurched into motion, jerking me down onto the slat of wood that served as a seat. The boats were moving in a single-file line, the tracks below clacking as they steered the boats into the tunnel ahead. A pair of saloon-style doors flung open, swallowing my boat into the tunnel.

  Feeling my way to the front of the boat, I climbed over the safety bar and onto the bow. I stayed there a moment, one hand anchoring me to the boat, while my other hand reached ahead, trying to grab the rear bar of the boat one up. I was a few inches short. I would have to jump. I scooted up the bow as far as I dared. I tucked my legs under me, then leaped, managing to skid onto the back of the next boat up.

  I allowed myself one moment of relief, then went back to work. Once again, I moved up the bow, with the intention of jumping boats all the way to the end of the ride. Rixon was bigger and faster, and he had a gun. My only hope of survival was to keep moving, to keep drawing out the time it took for him to catch me.

  I was on the next bow, preparing to jump, when a siren blasted and the sudden illumination of a red light overhead blinded me. A skeleton dropped from the ceiling of the tunnel, smacking into me. I lost my footing and felt a wash of vertigo as I skidded sideways, overboard. Frigid water rushed through my clothes, closing over my head. Instantly I put my feet down, broke the water’s surface, and waded through the chest-deep water back to the boat. Gritting my teeth against the cold, I clamped my hands around the boat’s safety bar and hauled myself back inside.

  Several loud shots ricocheted through the tunnel, one of the bullets whizzing past my ear. I dropped low in the boat, while Rixon’s laugh carried from a few boats back. “A matter of time,” he called.

  More lights were flashing overhead, and between the pulses of light, I could see Rixon making his way across the boats toward me.

  A faint roar sounded somewhere ahead. My stomach slid out from beneath me. I felt my concentration peel away from Rixon and shift to the spray of moisture in the air. My heart stopped for a half moment, then started pounding much too hard.

  Grabbing hold of the metal bar, I braced myself for the fall. The front of the boat tipped, then plunged over the waterfall. The boat splashed at the bottom, sending water spraying over the sides. The water might have felt cold, had I not already been drenched and shivering. I wiped my eyes dry, and that was when I saw a small maintenance platform carved out of the tunnel wall to my right. A door marked DANGER: HIGH VOLTAGE sat just back from the platform.

  I looked back at the waterfall. Rixon’s boat hadn’t fallen yet, and with only seconds to spare, I made a risky decision. Jumping over the side of the boat, I waded as quickly as I could to the platform, hoisted myself up, and tried the door. It opened, letting out the loud hissing and clanking of machines, hundreds of gears churning and grinding. I’d found the mechanical heart of the fun house, and the entrance to the underground tunnels.

  I closed the door most of the way behind me, leaving a thin crack to see out.

  With one eye pressed to the crack, I watched the next boat fly down the waterfall. Rixon was in the boat. He was leaning over the metal sidebar, searching the water. Had he seen me jump out? Was he looking for me? His boat continued down the track, and he eased himself overboard, landing feetfirst in the water. Using his hands to hold his wet hair out of his face, he searched the murky surface of the water. It was then that I realized his hands were empty. He wasn’t looking for me—he’d dropped the gun in the fall, and he was looking for it.

  The tunnel was dark, and I found it impossible to believe Rixon could see all the way to the bottom of the canal. Which meant he was going to have to feel his way to the gun. That would take time. Of course, I needed more than time. I needed a stroke of impossible luck. The police had to be combing the park by now, but would they think to look in the underbelly of the fun house before it was too late?

  I shut the door softly, hoping to find a lock on the inside, but there was none. Suddenly I wished I’d risked my chances making it out of the tunnel before Rixon, rather than circling back to hide. If Rixon came inside the service room, I was trapped.

  Ragged breathing came from my left, behind an electrical box.

  I swung around, eyes darting through the blackness. “Who’s there?”

  “Who do you think?”

  I blinked against the shadows. “Scott?” I took several nervous steps backward.

  “I got lost in the tunnels. I took a door, and came out in here.”

  “Are you still bleeding?”

  “Yeah. Surprisingly, I’m not completely drained yet.” His words were choppy, and I could tell it took a lot of energy for him to speak.

  “You need a doctor.”

  He gave a spent laugh. “I need the ring.”

  At this point, I didn’t know how serious Scott was about getting the ring back. He was exhausted with pain, and I was pretty sure we both knew he wasn’t going to drag me out of here to hold as a hostage. He was weakened by the shot, but he was Nephilim. He would survive this. Working together, we had a chance at getting out. But before I could convince him to help me escape Rixon, I needed him to trust me.

  I walked over to the electrical box and knelt down beside him. He had one hand pressed against his side, just below his rib cage, stopping the flow of blood. His face was the color of cornstarch, and the wasted look in his eyes proved what I already knew: He was in a lot of pain. “I don’t believe you’re going to use the ring to recruit new members,” I said quietly. “You aren’t going to force other people into the society.”

  Scott shook his head, agreeing with me. “There’s something I need to tell you. Remember when I told you I was working the night your dad was shot?”

  I vaguely remembered him telling me he’d been at work when he got the call about my dad’s murder. “Where’s this going?” I asked hesitantly.

  “I worked at a convenience store called Quickies that was only a few blocks away.” He paused, as if waiting for me to come to some grand conclusion. “I was supposed to follow your dad that night. The Black Hand told me to. He said your dad was on his way to a meeting, and I had to keep him safe.”

  “What are you saying?” I asked in a voice as dry as chalk.

  “I didn’t follow him.” Scott bowed his face into his hands. “I wanted to show the Black Hand he couldn’t order me around. I wanted to show him I wouldn’t be part of his society. So I stayed at work. I didn’t leave. I didn’t follow your dad. And he died. He died because of me.”

  I slid my back down the wall until I was seated beside him. I couldn’t speak. The right words weren’t there.

  “You hate me, don’t you?” he asked.

  “You didn’t kill my dad,” I said numbly. “It’s not your fault.”

  “I knew he was in trouble. Why else would the Black Hand want to make sure he made it to the meeting safe? I should have gone. If I’d followed the Black Hand’s orders, your dad would be alive.”

  “It’s in the past,” I whispered, trying not to let this information cause me to blame Scott. I needed his help. Together, we could get out of here. I couldn’t allow myself to hat
e him. I had to work with him. I needed to trust him, and I needed him to trust me.

  “Just because it’s in the past doesn’t mean it’s easy to forget. Less than an hour after I was supposed to follow your dad, my dad called with the news.”

  Without meaning to, I made a small whimpering noise.

  “Then the Black Hand came into the convenience store. He was wearing a mask, but I recognized his voice.” Scott shuddered. “I’ll never forget that voice. He gave me a gun and told me to make sure it never surfaced again. It was your dad’s gun. He said he wanted the police report to say your dad died an innocent and unarmed man. He didn’t want to put your family through the pain and confusion of knowing what really happened that night. He didn’t want anyone to suspect your dad was involved with criminals like himself. He wanted it to look like a random mugging.

  “I was supposed to toss the gun in the river, but I kept it. I wanted out of the society. The only way I saw that happening was if I had something I could use to blackmail the Black Hand. So I kept the gun. When my mom and I moved here, I left a message behind for the Black Hand. I told him if he came looking for me, I’d make sure the police got their hands on Harrison Grey’s gun. I’d make sure the whole world knew he had ties to the Black Hand. I swore I’d drag your dad’s name through the mud as many times as it took, if it meant I got my life back. I still have the gun.” He opened his hands, and it dropped between his knees, clattering on the cement. “I still have it.”

  A dull and furious pain ricocheted through me.

  “It was so hard to be around you,” Scott said, his voice brittle. “I wanted to make you hate me. God knows I hated myself. Every time I saw you, all I could think about was that I chickened out. I could have saved your dad’s life. I’m sorry,” he said, his voice cracking.

  “It’s okay.” I said it as much for myself as Scott. “Everything’s going to be okay.” But it felt like the worst lie yet.

  Scott picked up the gun, fingering it. Before the whole moment made sense to me, I saw him raise it to his head. “I don’t deserve to live,” he said.

  A veil of ice choked my heart. “Scott—,” I began.

  “Your family deserves this. I can’t face you anymore. I can’t face myself.” His finger slid to the trigger.

  There was no time to think. “You didn’t kill my dad,” I said. “Rixon did—Vee’s boyfriend. He’s a fallen angel. It’s real, all of it. You’re Nephilim, Scott. You can’t kill yourself. Not this way. You’re immortal. You’re never going to die. If you want to make amends for any guilt you feel over my dad’s death, help me get out of here. Rixon is on the other side of that door, and he’s going to kill me. The only way I’m going to survive is if you help me.”

  Scott stared back wordlessly. Before he could answer, the service room door scraped open. Rixon appeared in the opening. He raked his hair off his forehead and cast his eyes around the small utility room. On an impulse of self-protection, I drew closer to Scott.

  Rixon’s gaze shifted from me to Scott.

  “You’re going to have to go through me before you get to her,” Scott said, laying his left arm across me and shifting his weight to shield my body. He was breathing rapidly.

  “No problem.” Rixon raised his gun and fired several rounds into Scott. Scott slumped, his body lax against mine.

  Tears streamed down my face. “Stop,” I whispered.

  “Don’t cry, love. He’s not dead. Make no mistake—he’ll be in tremendous pain when he comes around, but that’s the price you pay for a body. Get up and come here.”

  “Screw you.” I didn’t know where my courage was coming from, but if I was going to die, it wouldn’t be without a fight. “You killed my dad. I’m not doing anything for you. If you want me, come and get me yourself.”

  Rixon brushed his thumb across his mouth. “I don’t see why you’re so worked up about it. Technically, Harrison wasn’t your dad.”

  “You killed my dad,” I repeated, meeting Rixon’s eyes, feeling anger so sharp and slicing, it seemed to eat its way out of me.

  “Harrison Grey killed himself. He should have stayed out of the picture.”

  “He was trying to save another man’s life!”

  “A man?” Rixon snorted, rolling his wet sleeves up to his elbows. “I’d hardly call Hank Millar a man. He’s Nephilim. An animal, more like it.”

  I laughed, actually laughed, but it seemed to swell like a bubble in my throat, choking me. “You know what? I almost feel sorry for you.”

  “Funny, I was just about to say the same thing to you.”

  “You’re going to kill me now, aren’t you?” I expected the realization to draw another measure of fear from deep inside me, but all my fear was spent. I felt a certain frozen calm. Time didn’t slow down, and it didn’t speed up. It looked me right in the eye, as cold and unemotional as the gun Rixon was now pointing at me.

  “No, not kill. I’m going to sacrifice you.” His mouth curled up on one side. “Makes a world of difference.”

  I tried to run, but the searing fire exploded, and my body was thrown back against the wall. The pain was everywhere, and I opened my mouth to scream, but it was too late. An invisible blanket suffocated me beneath its folds. I watched Rixon’s smiling face swim in and out of focus while I clawed uselessly at the blanket. My lungs expanded, threatening to burst, and just when I thought I couldn’t stand it any longer, my chest went soft. Over Rixon’s shoulder, I saw Patch move into the doorway.

  I tried to call out to him, but the desperate need to draw air dissolved.

  It was over.

  CHAPTER 25

  “NORA?”

  I tried to open my eyes, but while my brain relayed the message, my body wasn’t listening. A slur of voices drifted in and out. Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew the night was warm, but I felt bathed in cold sweat. And something else. Blood.

  My blood.

  “You’re okay,” Detective Basso said as I cried out, my voice sounding strangled. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. Stay with me, Nora. Everything is going to be fine.”

  I tried to nod, but still felt as if I existed somewhere outside my body.

  “Paramedics are taking you to the ER. They’ve got you on a gurney. We’re on our way out of Delphic right now.”

  A few hot tears tumbled down my cheeks, and I blinked my eyes open. “Rixon.” My tongue felt slippery, the words stumbling out. “Where’s Rixon?”

  Detective Basso’s mouth pinched at the edges. “Shh. Don’t talk. You took the bullet in the arm. Flesh wound. You got lucky. Everything’s going to be fine.”

  “Scott?” I said, just now remembering. I tried to raise myself up, but found I was strapped down. “Did you get Scott out?”

  “Scott was with you?”

  “Behind the electrical box. He’s hurt. Rixon shot him, too.”

  Detective Basso yelled at one of the uniformed officers standing off to the side of the ambulance, and he jumped to life, striding over. “Yes, sir, Detective?”

  “She says Scott Parnell was in the mechanical room.”

  The officer shook his head. “We searched the room. Nobody else was in there.”

  “Well, search it again!” Detective Basso shouted, flinging his arm at Delphic’s gates. He turned to me. “Who the hell is Rixon?”

  Rixon. If the police had found no one else in the mechanical room, it meant he’d escaped. He was out there somewhere, probably watching from a distance, waiting for his second chance at me. I grappled for Detective Basso’s hand, clutching it. “Don’t leave me alone.”

  “Nobody’s leaving you alone. What can you tell me about Rixon?”

  The gurney bounced across the parking lot, and the paramedics hoisted me into the back of the ambulance. Detective Basso pulled himself up, taking a seat beside me. I barely noticed; my attention had run off in another direction. I had to talk to Patch. I had to tell him about Rixon—

  “What does he look like?”


  The sound of Detective Basso’s voice yanked me back. “He was there. Last night. He tied Scott in the back of his truck.”

  “That guy shot you?” Detective Basso spoke into his radio. “Suspect’s name is Rixon. Tall and skinny, black hair. Hawk nose. Age twenty, give or take.”

  “How did you find me?” My memory was slowly sewing itself back together, and I remembered seeing Patch step into the doorway to the mechanical room. It was only for a split second, but he was there. I was sure of it. Where was he now? Where was Rixon?

  “Anonymous tip. The caller told me I’d find you in the service room at the bottom of the Tunnel of Doom. It seemed like a long shot, but I couldn’t ignore it. He also said he’d take care of the guy who shot you. I thought he was referring to Scott, but you tell me Rixon is responsible. Want to tell me what’s going on? Starting with the name of this guy who’s got your back, and where I can find him?”

  Hours later, Detective Basso slowed against the curb in front of the farmhouse. It was edging up toward two in the morning, and the windows reflected the starless sky. I’d been released from the ER, cleaned and bandaged. While the hospital staff had spoken with my mom over the phone, I hadn’t. I knew I was going to have to talk to her sooner or later, but the hustle and bustle of the hospital hadn’t seemed like the right place, and I’d shaken my head no at the nurse when she’d held out the phone to me.

  I’d also given my statement to the police. I was pretty sure Detective Basso thought I’d hallucinated seeing Scott in the mechanical room. I was pretty sure he thought I was withholding information on Rixon, too. He was right about the latter, but even if I told Detective Basso everything, he wasn’t going to find Rixon. Patch clearly had, however—or at least had made it known that was his plan. But I knew nothing beyond that. I’d carried my heart in my throat since leaving Delphic, wondering where Patch was, and what had happened after I blacked out.