Crescendo (35 page)

I had my hand on the doorknob when a strange noise penetrated my thoughts. A clock. The soft, rhythmic tick of a clock. I frowned and turned back to the kitchen. The sound hadn’t been there when I came in—at least, I didn’t think it had. Listening intently, I followed the muffled tick across the room. I crouched down in front of the cabinet below the kitchen sink.

With growing alarm, I opened the cabinet. Through all the panic and confusion, I made sense of the contraption sitting inches from my knees. Sticks of dynamite. Duct tape. White, blue, and yellow wires.

I stumbled to my feet and ran out the front door. My feet clattered down the stairs so fast I had to hold the handrail to keep from falling. At the bottom, I shoved my way out to the street and kept running. Flipping my head back once, I saw a snap of light an instant before fire erupted from the windows of the third floor of the building. Smoke billowed up in the night. Debris of bricks and wood, glowing orange with heat, hailed down to the street.

The far-away sound of sirens ricocheted off the buildings, and I alternately speed-walked and ran to the next block, terrified of drawing attention, but too distraught not to flee the scene. When I rounded the corner, I broke into a wild sprint. I didn’t know where I was going. My pulse was all over the place, my thoughts reeling. If I’d stayed in the apartment another few minutes, I’d be dead.

A shuddering sob escaped me. My nose was running, my stomach cramping. I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand and tried to focus on the shapes jumping out of the darkness ahead: street signs, parked cars, the curb—the deceptive shimmer of lamplight on windows. In a matter of seconds, the world had turned into a confusing labyrinth; the truth there and not there, shifting out beneath my feet, vanishing when I tried to look it head-on.

Had someone tried to blow up evidence left in the apartment? Like the Black Hand’s rings? Was Patch responsible?

Ahead, a gas station came into view. I staggered around to the outside bathroom and locked myself inside. My legs were wobbly, and my fingers trembled so hard it was all I could do to coordinate turning on the faucet. I splashed frigid water on my face to startle me out of sliding into shock. Bracing my arms on the sink, I breathed in gulps and gasps.

I
HADN’T SLEPT IN OVER THIRTY-SIX HOURS, EXCEPT FOR
very briefly Thursday evening, when Patch had met me inside my dream.

Staying awake through the night hadn’t been a struggle; every time I felt my eyes dipping closed, the explosion would blaze across my mind, jolting me upright. Unable to sleep, I’d spent the night thinking about Patch.

When Rixon had told me Patch was the Black Hand, he’d planted
a seed of doubt inside me that had swollen and blossomed with the worst kind of violation of trust, but it hadn’t choked me completely. Not yet. There was still a part of me that wanted to weep and shake my head adamantly at the idea that Patch could have killed my dad. I bit my lip hard, concentrating on the pain there, rather than remembering all the times he’d stroked my mouth with his finger, or kissed the curve of my ear. I couldn’t think about those things.

I hadn’t bothered crawling out of bed at seven for summer school. I’d left a series of phone messages for Detective Basso throughout the morning, then the afternoon, and on into the evening, one call every hour, none of which he’d returned. I told myself I was calling to check on Scott, but deep down, I suspected I just wanted to know the police were close. As much as I disliked Detective Basso, I felt a tiny bit safer believing he was only a phone call away. Because a small part of me was beginning to believe maybe last night wasn’t about destroying evidence.

What if someone had tried to kill me?

In the middle of all the thinking I’d done last night, I’d shifted around the fragments of information I had, trying to make something fit. The one clear fragment I kept coming back to was the Nephilim blood society. Patch said Chauncey’s successor wanted to avenge his death. Patch swore nobody could trace Chauncey’s death back to me, but I was beginning to fear otherwise. If the successor knew about me, maybe last night had been his first stab at revenge.

It seemed unlikely that anyone had followed me to Patch’s
apartment so late last night, but if there was one thing I knew about Nephilim, it was that they were very good at doing the unlikely.

My cell rang in my pocket and I whipped it out before the first ring had time to finish.

“Hello?”

“Let’s go to Summer Solstice,” Vee said. “We’ll eat a little cotton candy, catch a few rides, maybe get hypnotized and do stuff that would make
Girls Gone Wild
look tame.”

My heart, which had been up in my throat, slid back into place. Not Detective Basso, then. “Hey.”

“What say you? You in the mood for some action? You in the mood for Delphic?”

Honestly, I wasn’t. I’d planned on redialing Detective Basso at sixty-minute intervals until he picked up one of my calls.

“Earth to babe.”

“I’m not feeling well,” I said.

“Not feeling well how? Stomachache? Headache? Cramps? Food poisoning? Delphic is the cure for just about all those things.”

“I’m going to pass, thanks anyway.”

“Is this because of Scott? Because he’s in jail. He can’t get to you. Come have fun. Rixon and I won’t kiss in front of you, if that’s what’s bothering you.”

“I’m going to put on my pj’s and watch a movie.”

“Are you saying a movie is more fun than me?”

“Tonight it is.”

“Huh. Movie this. You know I’m not going to stop harassing you until you come.”

“I know.”

“So make this easy and just say yes.”

I blew out a sigh. I could sit home all night and wait for Detective Basso to get around to answering my calls, or I could take a small break and start up again when I got back. Besides, he had my cell phone number and could reach me anywhere.

“All right,” I told Vee. “Give me ten.”

In my bedroom, I squeezed into a pair of toothpick jeans, pulled on a graphic tee and cardigan, and finished the look with suede driving mocs. I smoothed my hair into a low ponytail, offsetting it so it hung over my right shoulder. Having not slept in more than a full day, my eyes were ringed by smoky circles. I brushed on mascara, silver eye shadow, and lip gloss, hoping I looked more pulled-together than I felt. I left a rather bland note on the kitchen counter for my mom, telling her I’d gone to Summer Solstice at Delphic. She wasn’t due back until tomorrow morning, but she surprised me more often than not by coming home early. If she did make it home tonight, this was probably going to be one time when she wished she’d drawn out her trip. I’d been practicing what I was going to say to her. Whatever I did, I couldn’t break eye contact when I told her I knew about her affair with Hank. And I couldn’t let her get a word in before I told her I was moving out. As I’d practiced it, I planned to walk out at that point. I wanted to send
her the message that it was too late to talk—if she’d wanted to tell me the truth, she’d had sixteen years to do it. Now it was too late.

I locked up and jogged down the drive to meet Vee.

An hour later, Vee squeezed the Neon into a parking spot between two oversize trucks that extended into our space on both sides. We rolled down the windows and boosted ourselves out backward to keep from scratching the paint by opening the doors. We crossed the parking lot and paid our way inside the gates. The park was more crowded than usual due to Summer Solstice—the longest day of the year. Right away I recognized a few faces from school, but for the most part, I felt like I was standing in a sea of strangers. Most of the crowd was wearing jewel-toned butterfly masks that concealed half their faces. One of the vendors must have been selling them at a discount.

“Where should we start?” Vee asked. “The arcade? The fun house? The food vendors? Personally, I think we should start with the food. That way, we’ll eat less.”

“Your logic?”

“If we stop by the vendors last, we’ll have worked up our appetites. I always eat more when I’ve worked up an appetite.”

I didn’t care where we started. I was only here to distract myself for a couple of hours. I checked my cell, but there were no missed calls. How long did it take Detective Basso to return a call? Had something happened to him? I had a black cloud hanging at the back of my mind, and I didn’t like how it made me feel ill at ease.

“You look all pasty,” Vee said.

“I told you: I don’t feel great.”

“That’s because you haven’t eaten enough. Sit down. I’ll go get us some cotton candy and hot dogs. Just think about all that relish and mustard. I don’t know about you, but I can already feel my head clearing and my pulse slowing.”

“I’m not hungry, Vee.”

“Of course you’re hungry. Everybody’s hungry. That’s why they’ve got all these vendors.” Before I could stop her, she marched into the crowd.

I was pacing the walkway, waiting for Vee, when my cell phone chirped. Detective Basso’s name showed on the screen.

“Finally
,” I breathed, flipping the cell open.

“Nora, where are you?” he said the moment I picked up. He was speaking fast, and I could tell he was upset. “Scott escaped. He got away. We’ve got the whole force looking for him, but I want you to stay the hell away from him. I’m coming to pick you up until this blows over. I’m on my way to your house right now.”

My throat constricted, making it hard to force words out.
“What?
How did he get out?”

Detective Basso hesitated before answering. “He bent the bars in his cell.”

Of course he did. He was Nephilim. Two months ago I’d watched Chauncey mangle my cell phone with a mere squeeze of his hand. It didn’t seem too unrealistic to imagine Scott using his Nephilim strength to break out of jail.

“I’m not at home,” I said. “I’m at Delphic amusement park.” Without meaning to, I cast my eyes over the crowd, looking for Scott. But there was no way he could know I was here. After breaking out of jail, he’d probably gone directly to my house, expecting to find me there. I felt incredibly grateful to Vee for dragging me out tonight. Scott was probably at my house right this very minute—

The cell slipped a notch through my hand. The note. On the counter. The one I’d left for my mom, telling her I’d gone to Delphic.

“I think he knows where I am,” I told Detective Basso, feeling the first licks of panic. “How soon can you get here?”

“Delphic? Thirty minutes. Go to security. Whatever you do, keep your phone on you. If you see Scott, call me immediately.”

“They don’t have security at Delphic,” I said, my mouth gone to dust. It was widely known that the park didn’t employ security, which was one of many reasons why my mom didn’t like me coming here.

“Then get out of there,” he barked. “Drive back to Coldwater and meet me at the station. Can you do that?”

Yes. I could do that. Vee would give me a ride. I was already walking in the direction she’d departed, eyes raking the crowd for her.

Detective Basso exhaled. “You’re going to be fine. Just … hurry back here. I’ll send the rest of the force to Delphic to go after Scott. We’ll find him.” The anxiety in his voice didn’t console me.

I hung up. Scott was out. The police were on their way, and this was all going to end fine … as long as I got out now. I sketched a
quick plan. First, I had to find Vee. I also had to get out of the open. If Scott came walking down the path right this moment, he would see me.

I was jogging toward the food vendors when my ribs were elbowed from behind. Something about the force of the elbowing told me this was more than an accident. I turned, and before I’d come full circle, my brain prickled as it registered a familiar face. The first thing I noticed was the flash from the silver hoop in his ear. The second thing I noticed was how beat-up his face was. His nose was broken—crooked and bruised deep red. The bruise spread below both eyes, turning a deep violet.

The next thing I knew, Scott had me by the elbow and was steering me down the walkway.

“Get your hands off me,” I said, wrestling against him. But Scott was stronger, and his grip held.

“Sure, Nora, after you tell me where it is.”

“Where what is?” I said, my voice passive-aggressive.

He laughed humorlessly.

I kept my expression as opaque as I could, but my thoughts were racing. If I told him the ring was at my home, he’d leave the park. He’d probably drag me with him. When the police arrived, they’d find us both gone. It wasn’t like I could call Detective Basso and tell him we were headed to my place. Not with Scott standing over me. No, I had to keep him here, in the park.

“Did you give it to Vee’s boyfriend? Did you think he could protect
it from me? I know he’s not—normal.” Scott’s eyes held that same terrified uncertainty. “I know he can do things other people can’t.”

“Like you?”

Scott glared down at me. “He’s not like me. He’s not the same. That much I can tell. I’m not going to hurt you, Nora. All I need is the ring. Give it to me, and you’ll never see me again.”

He was lying. He
would
hurt me. He was desperate enough to break out of jail. Nothing was too extreme at this point—he would get the ring back, no matter the cost. Adrenaline pumped through my legs and I couldn’t think clearly. But somewhere in the back of my mind, my sense of survival told me I needed to take charge of the situation. I needed to find a way to separate myself from Scott. Blindly following my instincts, I said, “I have the ring.”

“I know you have it,” he said impatiently.
“Where?”

“It’s here. I brought it with me.”

He considered me for a moment, then yanked my handbag off my arm and ripped it open, searching it.

I shook my head. “I threw it away.”

He shoved the handbag back at me, and I caught it, clutching it against my chest. “Where?” he demanded.

“A trash can near the entrance,” I said automatically. “Inside one of the women’s restrooms.”

“Show me.”

As we made our way down the walkway, I ordered myself to stay calm long enough to figure out my next move. Could I run? No,
Scott would catch me. Could I hide out in one of the women’s restrooms? Not indefinitely, no. Scott wasn’t timid, and he wouldn’t have a problem going in after me if it meant getting what he wanted. I still had my cell phone, however. In the women’s room, I could call Detective Basso.