Finale (18 page)

I was uncomfortable with his honesty and intimacy. Especially after the kiss he’d almost mind-tricked me into. His words seemed to stray beyond professional, and that was what our relationship was. That was what I wanted it to remain.

I said, “I appreciate everything you just said, but exacting revenge isn’t going to change his mind. He hates me. Lots of Nephilim do. This might be a good opportunity to show them they just might be wrong about me. I think we should let him go and get on with training.”

Dante didn’t look swayed. If anything, his face bore disappointment and maybe even impatience. “Compassion isn’t the way to go. Not this time. That punk over there is only going to make his case stronger if you let him off easy. He’s trying to convince people you aren’t fit to lead this army, and if you go easy on him, it only proves his point. Rattle him up a bit. Make him think twice about shooting off his mouth again or touching you.”

“Let him go,” I said more firmly. I didn’t believe violence trumped violence. Not now, not ever.

Dante opened his mouth, going a little red in the face, but I cut him off. “I’m not backing down on this. He didn’t hurt me. He took me up to the cabin because he’s scared and he didn’t know what else to do. Everyone’s scared. Cheshvan is here, and our future hangs in the balance. What he did was wrong, but I can’t hold it against him for trying to do something to alleviate his fears. Put down your pitchfork and let him go. I mean it, Dante.”

Dante exhaled a long, disapproving sigh. I knew he wasn’t happy, but I also believed I was making the right decision. I didn’t want to fuel the fires of contention any more than I already had. If the Nephilim as a whole were going to get through this, we had to be unified. We had to be willing to display compassion, respect, and civility, even when we didn’t see eye to eye.

“So that’s it?” Dante asked, clearly not satisfied.

I cupped my hands over my mouth to amplify my voice. “You’re free to go,” I called to Cowboy Hat. “I apologize for any inconvenience.”

Cowboy Hat stared at us, his mouth parted in disbelief, but not wanting to press his luck, he scrabbled out of the woods as if being pursued by bears.

“So,” I said to Dante. “What cruel machinations do you have planned for me today? Sprint a marathon? Move mountains? Part the seas?”

An hour later my arm and leg muscles quivered from exhaustion. Dante had pushed me through grueling intervals of calisthenics: push-ups, pull-ups, sit-ups, and flutter kicks. We were on our way out of the woods, when I brought my arm up suddenly, catching Dante across the chest. I held a finger to my lips, gesturing for him not to make a sound.

In the distance, I could just make out the soft crunch of footsteps.

Dante must have heard it too.
Deer?
he asked me.

I squinted into the darkness. The woods were still unlit, and the densely packed trees only added to my decreased visibility.

No. The rhythm’s not right.

Dante tapped my shoulder and pointed toward the sky. At first I didn’t understand. Then his meaning became clear. He wanted us to climb the trees, giving us an eagle-eye view of trouble, if that was indeed what was headed our way.

Despite my exhaustion, I scaled a white cedar noiselessly with a few expert leaps and quick foot placement. Dante perched in a neighboring tree.

We didn’t wait long. Moments after climbing to safety, six fallen angels crept stealthily into the clearing below. Three males and three females. Their bare torsos were marked with strange hieroglyphics that bore a distant resemblance to the paint splatter on Patch’s wrist, and their faces were painted a deep bloodred. The effect was chilling, and I couldn’t help but think of Pawnee warriors.

I fastened my gaze on one in particular. A lanky boy with black-ringed eyes. His familiar face froze my blood. I remembered his savage march through the Devil’s Handbag, and the way his hand had flashed out. I remembered his victim. I remembered how she’d looked just like me.

A vicious snarl hardened his expression, and he stalked through the trees with purpose. His chest bore a recent wound, small and circular, as if a knife had been used to crudely cut out a piece of flesh. Something cold and unforgiving gleamed in his eyes, and I shuddered.

Dante and I stayed in the trees until the party moved on. When we were back on solid ground, I said, “How did they find us?”

His eyes turned on mine, hooded and cold. “They made a big mistake coming after you like this.”

“Do you think they’ve been spying on us?”

“I think someone tipped them off.”

“The lanky one. I’ve seen him before, at the Devil’s Handbag. He attacked a Nephilim girl who looked a lot like me. Do you know him?”

“No.” But it seemed to me he paused a half moment before answering.

Five hours later I was showered and dressed, I’d eaten a healthy breakfast of Egg Beaters with mushrooms and spinach, and as a bonus, I’d finished all my homework. Not bad, considering it wasn’t even noon.

Down the hall, Marcie’s bedroom door opened and she emerged. Her hair stuck up all over the place, and there were dark circles under her eyes. I could almost smell her morning breath from here.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hey.”

“My mom wants us to rake leaves in the yard, so you might want to hold off showering until after we finish.”

Marcie’s eyebrows pulled together. “Come again?”

“Saturday chores,” I explained. I understood that this was probably a new term for Marcie. And I thoroughly enjoyed being the one to teach it to her.

“I don’t do chores.”

“You do when you live here.”

“All right,” Marcie said reluctantly. “Let me get breakfast and make a fewandu li calls.”

On a normal day I didn’t think Marcie would be so agreeable, but I was beginning to think her willingness could be an apology for her big screwup last night. Hey, I’d take it any way I could get it.

While Marcie poured cereal for breakfast, I went to the garage to find rakes. I was halfway done raking the front yard when a car rumbled up the street. Scott parked his Barracuda in the driveway and swung out. His T-shirt hugged every bulge of muscle, and for Vee’s sake, I wished I had a camera.

“What’s up, Grey?” he said. He pulled leather work gloves out of his back pocket and tugged them on. “I’m here to help. Put me to work. I’m your slave for the day. Never mind your boy Dante should be here, not me.” He kept teasing me about Dante, but I couldn’t tell if he believed in the relationship. I always detected a slight note of mockery. Of course, I detected that same mockery underscoring one out of every ten words he spoke.

I leaned on my rake. “I don’t understand. How did you know I was raking the yard?”

“Your new best friend told me.”

I didn’t have a new best friend, but I had a perennial archenemy. I narrowed my eyes. “Marcie recruited you?” I guessed.

“Said she needed help with chores. She has allergies and can’t work outdoors.”

“Total lie!” And I’d been naive enough to think she was actually going to help.

Scott grabbed the extra rake I’d propped against the front porch and came over to help. “Let’s make a really big pile and toss you in.”

“That defeats the point.”

Scott grinned and nudged my shoulder. “But it would be fun.”

Marcie opened the front door and came out on the porch. She perched herself on the steps, crossing her legs and leaning forward on them. “Hi, Scott.”

“Yo.”

“Thanks for coming to my rescue. You’re my knight in shining armor.”

“Oh, gag,” I said, rolling my eyes melodramatically.

“Anytime,” Scott told her. “I can’t pass up an excuse to torment Grey.” He came up behind me and stuffed a fistful of leaves down my shirt.

“Hey!” I shrieked. I picked up my own handful of leaves and flung them in his face
.

A
FTER SCOTT AND I HAD SCOOPED ALL THE
leaves into orange garbage sacks decorated to look like pumpkins, and placed them decoratively around the yard, he came inside for a glass of milk and my mom’s deliciously gooey mint-chocolate-chip cookies. I thought Marcie might have retreated to her room, but instead she was waiting for us in the kitchen.

“I think we should throw a Halloween party here,” she announced.

I snorted and set down my milk glass. “No offense, but we’re not big into parties in this family.”

Mom’s whole face lit up. “I think it’s a wonderful idea, Marcie. We haven’t hosted a party here since Harrison passed. I could swing by the party store later today and see what they have for decorations.”

I looked to Scott for help, but he merely shrugged. “Could be cool.”

“You have a milk mustache,” I told him tartly in return.

He wiped it on the back of his hand . . . then wiped it on my arm.

“Eeew!” I shrieked, giving him a shove to the shoulder.

“I think we should have a theme. Like famous couples throughout history, and tell everyone to come in pairs,” Marcie said.

“Hasn’t that been done before,” I said, “like a million times?”

“The theme should be favorite character from the
Halloween
movies,” Scott said with a sadistic grin.

“Whoa. Back up. Everyone just . . . chill,” I said, holding my hands out in a
Stop
motion. “Mom, you realize we’d have to clean the whole house, right?”

Mom gave an insulted laugh. “The house isn’t that dirty, Nora.”

“Is it BYOB, or are we providing?” Scott asked.

“
No beer
,” my mom and I chimed in unison.

“Well, I like the famous couples idea,” said Marcie, clearly having made up her mind. “Scott, we should go together.”

Scott didn’t miss a beat. “Could I be Michael Myers and you be one of the babysitters I mutilate?”

“No,” Marcie said. “We’re going as Tristan and Isolde.”

I stuck my tongue out. “Way to be original.”

Scott kicked my leg playfully. “Well, hello there, Little Miss Cheerful.”

I think it’s pretty frivolous to be planning a Halloween party when we’re right in the middle of Cheshvan,
I said critically to his thoughts.
Fallen angels might be holding their breath, p> coplanbut not for long. We both know war is brewing, and everyone is expecting me to do something about it. So forgive me if I seem a little cranky!

Fair enough,
Scott returned.
But maybe the party will help take your mind off things.

Are you seriously considering going with Marcie?

A smile surfaced on his lips.
You think I should go with you instead?

I think you should go with Vee.

Before I could gauge Scott’s reaction, Marcie said, “Let’s go to the party store together, Mrs. Grey. And we can stop by the stationery store afterward so I can look for invitations. I want something spooky and festive, but cutesy, too.” She bobbed her shoulders and gave a squeal. “This is going to be so much fun!”

“Who are you going to ask to the party, Nora?” my mom asked.

I pursed my lips, unable to come up with the right answer. Scott was taken, Dante wouldn’t do—it would help fuel our relationship rumor, but I wasn’t in the mood—and my mom detested Patch. Worse, I was supposed to hate his guts. We were immortal enemies as far as the outside world was concerned.

I didn’t want to be included in this party. I had bigger problems. I had a vengeful archangel after me; I was the leader of an army, but lacked direction—despite my pact with the archangels, I was starting to feel like war might not only be inevitable, it just might be the
right
move; my best friend was keeping secrets, and speculating about their nature was keeping me up at night; and now this. A Halloween party. In my own home. Where I’d be expected to play hostess.

Marcie smirked. “Anthony Amowitz has a crush on you.”

“Ooh, tell me more about Anthony,” Mom prodded.

Marcie loved a good story, and she launched right into this one. “He was in our PE class last year. Every time we played softball, he played catcher and would gawk at Nora’s legs the whole time she was at bat. He couldn’t catch a single pitch, he was so distracted.”

“Nora does have lovely legs,” Mom teased me.