Finale (34 page)

“Why don’t we just tell prominent Nephilim about the feathers at the meeting?” My heart surged with hope. “They won’t care about anything else when they know I have a surefire way of winning the war and restoring peace.”

“If Pepper fails, they’ll see it as your failure. Getting close won’t count. Either they’ll hail you as a savior for getting the feathers, or they’ll crucify you for flopping. Until we know for sure Pepper has succeeded, we can’t mention the feathers.”

I raked my hands through my hair. “I can’t do this.”

Patch said, “If Dante is working for fallen angels, and if he gains power, the Nephilim race will be more deeply in bondage than ever before. I worry fallen angels will use devilcraft to make Nephilim slaves long after Cheshvan ends.”

I shook my head miserably. “There’s too much at stake. What if I fail?” And undoubtedly I would.

“There’s more, Nora. Your oath to Hank.”

Dread formed like chunks of ice in the pit of my stomach. Once again, I remembered every word I’d spoken to Hank Millar the night he’d pressured me to take up the reins of his doomed uprising.
I’ll lead your army. If I break this promise, I understand my mom and I are both as good as dead.
Which didn’t leave me much of a choice, did it? If I wanted to stay on Earth with Patch, and preserve my mom’s life, I had to keep my title as leader of the Nephilim army. I couldn’t let Dante steal it from me.

“A duel is a rare show, and throw in two high-profile Nephilim, such as you and Dante, and this will be an event not to be missed,” Patch said. “I’m hoping for the best, that we’ll be able to push out the duel, and that Pepper won’t fail, but I think we should prepare for the worst. The duel might be your only way out.”

“Just how large of an audience are we talking?”

Patch’s gaze as it met mine was cool and confident. But for a moment, I saw sympathy flicker behind his eyes. “Hundreds.”

I swallowed hard. “I can’t do this.”

“I’ll train you, Angel. I’ll be by your side every step of the way. You’re far stronger than you were two weeks ago, and all that after a few hours of work with a trainer who was only doing enough to make you think he was invested. He wanted you to think he was training you, but I highly doubt he was doing much more than putting your muscles through the minimum resistance. I don’t think you realize just how powerful you are. With true training, you can beat him.” Patch clasped the back of my neck, pulling our faces together. He looked at me with such confidence and trust it nearly shattered my heart.
You can do this. It’s a task no one would envy, and I admire and I a you even more for considering it
, he spoke to my mind.

“Isn’t there some other way?” But I’d spent the past several moments frantically analyzing the circumstances from every possible angle. With Pepper’s questionable chance at success, combined with the oath I swore to Hank, and the precarious situation of the entire Nephilim race, there was no other way. I had to go through with this.

“Patch, I’m scared,” I whispered.

He pulled me into his arms. He kissed the top of my head and stroked my hair. He didn’t need to say the words for me to know he was frightened too. “I’m not letting you lose this duel, Angel. I’m not letting you face Dante without knowing I control the outcome. The duel will appear fair, but it won’t be. Dante sealed his fate the moment he turned on you. I’m not letting him off the hook.” His murmured words hardened. “He won’t come out of this alive.”

“Can you rig the duel?”

The vengeance smoldering in his gaze told me all I needed to know.

“If anyone were to find out—” I began.

Patch kissed me, hard, but with an amused glint in his eye. “If I get caught, it’ll mean the end of kissing you. Do you really think I’d risk that?” His face grew serious. “I know I can’t feel your touch, but I feel your love, Nora. Inside me. It means everything to me. I wish I could feel you the same way you feel me, but I have your love. Nothing will ever outweigh that. Some people go their entire lives never feeling the emotions you’ve given me. There is no regret in that.”

My chin quivered. “I’m scared of losing you. I’m scared of failing, and of what will happen to us. I don’t want to do this,” I protested, even though I knew there was no magic trapdoor to escape through. I couldn’t run; I couldn’t hide. The oath I’d sworn to Hank would find me, no matter how hard I tried to disappear. I
had
to stay in power. As long as the army existed, I had to see this through. I squeezed Patch’s hands. “Promise you’ll be with me the whole time. Promise you won’t make me go through this alone.”

Patch tipped my chin up. “If I could make this go away, I would. If I could stand in your place, I wouldn’t hesitate. But I’m left with one choice, and that’s to stand by your side through the end. I won’t waver, Angel, I can promise you that.” He ran his hands over my arms, unaware that his promise did more to warm me than the gesture. It nearly brought me to tears. “I’ll start leaking news that you’ve called an urgent meeting for tonight. I’ll call Scott first, and tell him to get the word out. It won’t take long for news to spread. Dante will have heard your announcement before the end of the hour.”

My stomach took a nauseating lurch. I chewed at the inside of my cheek, then forced myself to nod. I might as well accept the inevitable. The sooner I confronted what lay ahead, the sooner I could formulate a plan to conquer my fear.

“What can I do to help?” I asked.

Patch studied me, frowning slightly. He stroked his thumb over my lip, then across my cheek. “You’re ice cold, Angel.” He tilted his head toward the hallway leading lway leadeeper into the townhouse. “Let’s get you into bed. I’ll light the fireplace. What you need right now is warmth and rest. I’ll draw a hot bath, too.”

Sure enough, fierce shivers racked my body. It was as if, in an instant, all heat had been sucked from me. I supposed I was going into shock. My teeth chattered, and the tips of my fingers vibrated with a strange, involuntary tremor.

Patch scooped me up and carried me back to his bedroom. He nudged the door open with his shoulder, peeled back the duvet, and deposited me gently in his bed. “A drink?” he asked. “Herbal tea? Broth?”

Looking at his face, so earnest and anxious, guilt spiraled inside me. I knew right then that Patch would do anything for me. His promise to stay by my side was as good to him as a sworn oath. He was part of me, and I was part of him. He would do whatever—
whatever
—it took to keep me here with him.

I forced myself to open my mouth before I chickened out. “There’s something I need to tell you,” I said, my voice sounding thin and brittle. I hadn’t planned on crying, but tears welled in my eyes. I was overcome with shame.

“Angel?” Patch said, his tone questioning.

I’d taken that first step, but now I froze. A voice of justification drifted across my mind, telling me I had no right to dump this on Patch. Not in his current weakened state. If I cared about him, I’d keep my mouth shut. His recovery was more important than getting a few white lies off my chest. Already I felt those same icy hands slide up my throat.

“I— It’s nothing,” I corrected. “I just need sleep. And you need to call Scott.” I turned into the pillow so he wouldn’t see me cry. The icy hands felt all too real, ready to close on my neck if I said too much, if I told my secret.

“I need to call him, that’s true. But more than that, I need you to tell me what’s going on,” Patch said, just enough concern slipping into his tone to tell me I was past the point where I could use a simple distraction to get out of this.

The freezing hands curled around my throat. I was too scared to speak. Too scared of the hands, and how they would hurt me.

Patch clicked on a bedside lamp, pulling gently on my shoulder, trying to see my face, but I only twisted farther away. “I love you,” I choked out. Shame ballooned inside me. How could I say those words and lie to him?

“I know. Just like I know you’re holding something back. This isn’t the time for secrets. We’ve come too far to turn down that road,” Patch reminded me.

I nodded, feeling tears slide onto the pillowcase. He was right. I knew it, but it didn’t make it any easier to come clean. And I didn’t know if I could. Those wintry hands, closing off my throat, my voice . . .

Patch slipped into bed beside me, dragging me against him. I felt his breath on the back of my neck, the warmth of his skin touching mine. His knee fit perfectly in the crook of my own. He kissed my shoulder, his black hair falling over my ear.

I—lied—to—you,
I confessed to his thoughts, feeling as though I had to push the words out through a brick wall. I tensed, wa I tenseiting for the cold hands to seize me, but to my surprise, their grip seemed to weaken at my confession. Their chilly touch slipped and faltered. Buoyed by this small step forward, I pushed on.
I lied to the one person whose trust means more to me than anything. I lied to you, Patch, and I don’t know if I can forgive myself.

Rather than demand an explanation, Patch continued a trail of slow, steady kisses down my arm. It wasn’t until he’d pressed a kiss into the inside of my wrist that he spoke. “Thank you for telling me,” he said quietly.

I rolled over, blinking in astonishment. “Don’t you want to know what I lied about?”

“I want to know what I can do to make you feel better.” He rubbed my shoulders in tender circles, giving me a certain reassurance.

I wouldn’t feel better until I came clean. It wasn’t Patch’s responsibility to lighten my burden—it was mine, and I felt every last pang of guilt as though they speared me with an iron blade.

“I’ve been taking—devilcraft.” I hadn’t thought my shame could grow, but it seemed to swell inside me by three sizes. “All this time I’ve been taking it. I never drank the antidote you got from Blakely. I kept it, telling myself I’d take it later, after Cheshvan, when I didn’t need to be superhuman anymore, but it was an excuse. I never intended to take it. This whole time I’ve been relying on devilcraft. I’m terrified I’m not strong enough without it. I know I have to stop, and I know it’s wrong. But it gives me abilities I can’t get on my own. I mind-tricked you into thinking I drank the antidote, and—I’ve never been more sorry in my life!”

I dropped my eyes, unable to bear the disappointment and disgust that would surely rise in Patch’s face. It was awful enough knowing the truth, but hearing myself say it aloud cut to the core. Who was I anymore? I didn’t recognize myself, and it was the worst feeling I’d ever experienced. Somewhere along the way, I’d lost myself. And as easy as it was to blame devilcraft,
I
had made the choice to steal that first bottle from Dante.

At last Patch spoke. His voice was so steady, so full of quiet admiration, it made me wonder if he could have known my secret all along. “Did you know, the first time I saw you, I thought: I’ve never seen anything more captivating and beautiful?”

“Why are you telling me this?” I said miserably.

“I saw you, and I wanted to be close to you. I wanted you to let me in. I wanted to know you in a way no one else did. I wanted you, all of you. That wanting nearly drove me mad.” Patch paused, inhaling softly, as though breathing me in. “And now that
I have you, the only thing that terrifies me is having to go back to that place. Having to want you all over again, with no hope of my desire ever being fulfilled. You’re mine, Angel. Every last piece of you. I won’t let anything change that.”

S
URE ENOUGH, WORD OF MY REQUESTED MEETING
with Nephilim higher-ups spread. By Sunday afternoon, Nephilim channels buzzed with anticipation and speculation. I was getting all the press, and news of Dante’s announcement had fizzled. I’d stolen the show, and Dante hadn’t put up any protest. I had no doubt Patch was right—Dante was putting his plans on hold until he could see my next move.

Scott called every hour with an update, which was usually to tell me the latest theories Nephilim were churning out in regard to my first combative strike against fallen angels. Ambush, destroying lines of communication, sending in spies, and kidnapping fallen angel commanders had all made the glorified list. As Patch had predicted, the Nephilim had quickly concluded that war was the only reason I’d call a meeting. I wondered if Dante had jumped to the same conclusion. I wished I could say yes, I had him fooled, but experience told me he was cunning enough to know better—he knew I was up to something.