The Complete Hush, Hush Saga

by Becca Fitzpatrick

  “It’s no problem, really. I don’t want to keep you. It’ll just take me a second.”

  As soon as she left, I closed the door. I set my cell and the Skippy’s hot dog on the desk opposite the bed, then moved to the closet.

  A pair of white high-tops stuck out from a mound of jeans and T-shirts on the floor. Only three lumberjack shirts were left on hangers. I wondered if Mrs. Parnell had bought them, because I couldn’t picture Scott in flannel.

  Under the bed I found one aluminum bat, one baseball mitt, and one potted plant. I called Vee.

  “What does marijuana look like?”

  “Five leaves,” Vee said.

  “Scott is growing marijuana in here. Under his bed.”

  “Are you surprised?”

  I wasn’t, but it did explain the Febreze. I wasn’t sure I could picture Scott smoking pot, but I wouldn’t put him past selling it. He was desperate for cash.

  “I’ll call back if I find anything else,” I said. I dropped my cell on Scott’s bed and turned a slow circle around the room. There weren’t many hiding places. The underside of the desk was clean. The heating vents were empty. Nothing was sewn into his blanket. I was about to give up when something high in the closet caught my eye. There was damage to the wall.

  I dragged the desk chair over and stepped up. A medium-size square hole had been cut out of the wall, but the plaster had been replaced to make it appear as if the hole wasn’t there. Using a wire hanger, I reached up as high as I could and knocked the square of plaster out. From what I could tell, an orange Nike shoe box was crammed into the space. I jabbed at it with the hanger, but ended up pushing it farther back.

  A soft buzzing sound broke my concentration, and I realized my cell was ringing on vibrate, the blankets on Scott’s bed muffling the sound.

  I jumped down. “Vee?” I answered.

  “Get out of there!” she hissed in a panicked undertone. “Scott called again and asked for directions to the warehouse, but I didn’t know which warehouse you told him. I sort of stalled and said I was only the girlfriend, and I didn’t know where the band held its auditions. He asked which warehouse they practiced at, and I said I didn’t know that, either. The good news is, he hung up, so I didn’t have to lie my way into a bigger hole. The bad news is, he’s on his way home. Right now.”

  “How much time do I have?”

  “Since he already flew past here at about a hundred miles per hour, I’d guess a minute. Or less.”

  “Vee!”

  “Don’t blame me—you’re the one who wasn’t answering your phone!”

  “Chase him down and stall for time. I need two more minutes.”

  “Chase him down? How? The Neon has a flat.”

  “With your own two feet!”

  “You mean exercise?”

  Cradling the phone under my chin, I found a scrap of paper in my handbag and hunted through Scott’s desk for a pen. “It’s less than a fourth of a mile. That’s one lap around the track. Go!”

  “What do I say when I catch him?”

  “This is what spies do—they improvise. You’ll think of something. I have to go.” I broke the connection.

  Where were all the pens? How could Scott have a desk with no pens, no pencils? Finally I found one in my bag and scribbled a quick note on the scrap of paper. I slid the paper under the hot dog.

  Outside, I heard the Mustang roar into the complex’s parking lot.

  I crossed to the closet and climbed up a second time. I was stretched on my tiptoes, stabbing at the box with the hanger.

  The front door slammed.

  “Scott?” I heard Mrs. Parnell say from the kitchen. “What are you doing back so soon?”

  I got the hook part of the hanger under the lip of the lid and coaxed it out of the compartment. Once I had it halfway out, gravity did the rest. The box dropped into my hands. I’d just shoved it inside my bag and one-armed the chair back to its place at the desk, when the bedroom door smacked open.

  Scott’s eyes found me in an instant. “What are you doing?” he demanded.

  “I wasn’t expecting you to come back so fast,” I stammered.

  “The audition was fake, wasn’t it?”

  “I—”

  “You wanted me out of the apartment.” He crossed to me in two steps and took my arm, giving me a rough shake. “You made a big mistake coming here.”

  Mrs. Parnell moved into the doorway. “What’s the matter, Scott? For heaven’s sake, let her go! She came by to pick up the sheet music you forgot.”

  “She’s lying. I didn’t forget any sheet music.”

  Mrs. Parnell looked at me. “Is that true?”

  “I lied,” I confessed shakily. I swallowed, trying to inject a measure of calm into my voice. “The thing is, I really wanted to ask Scott to the Summer Solstice party at Delphic, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it in person. This is really awkward.” I walked to the desk and offered him the hot dog along with the scrap of paper I’d scribbled the note on.

  “‘Don’t be a wiener,’” Scott read. “‘Go to Summer Solstice with me.’”

  “Well? What do you think?” I tried to hold a smile. “Do you want to be a wiener or not?”

  Scott looked from the note to the hot dog to me. “What?”

  “Well, isn’t that the cutest thing ever,” Mrs. Parnell chimed in. “You don’t want to be a wiener, do you, Scott?”

  “Give us a minute, Mom?”

  “Is Summer Solstice a dress-up party?” Mrs. Parnell asked. “Like a dance? I could make a reservation at Todd’s Tuxes—”

  “Mom.”

  “Oh. Right. I’ll just be in the kitchen. Nora, I’ve got to hand it to you. I had no idea you were up here planting an invite to the party. I really thought you were picking up sheet music. Very clever.” She winked, then backed out, pulling the door shut behind her.

  I was left alone with Scott, and all my relief scattered.

  “What are you really doing here?” Scott repeated, his voice significantly darker.

  “I told you—”

  “Not buying it.” His eyes flicked beyond me, surveying the room. “What did you touch?”

  “I came by to give you the hot dog, I swear. I looked in the desk for a pen to write the wiener note, but that’s it.”

  Scott strode to the desk, pulled out each drawer, and sifted through the contents. “I know you’re lying.”

  I backed toward the door. “You know what? Keep the hot dog, but forget about Summer Solstice. I was just trying to be nice. I was trying to make up for the other night, because I felt responsible for your face getting smashed. Forget I said anything.”

  He assessed me in silence. I had no idea if he’d bought my act, but I didn’t care. The only thought running through my mind was of getting out.

  “I’ve got my eye on you,” he said at last, in a tone I found to be startlingly threatening. I’d never seen Scott so icily hostile. “Think about that. Every time you think you’re alone, think again. I’m watching you. If I ever catch you in my room again, you’re dead. We all clear?”

  I swallowed. “Crystal.”

  On my way out, I passed Mrs. Parnell standing near the fireplace, drinking a glass of iced tea. She took a swig, set the glass on the mantel, and flagged me down.

  “Scott is quite the boy, isn’t he?” she said.

  “That’s one way of putting it.”

  “I bet you asked him to the party early because you knew all the other girls would race to get in line if you didn’t act fast.”

  Summer Solstice was tomorrow night, and everyone going already had dates. Unable to tell this to Mrs. Parnell, I opted for a smile. She could interpret it however she wanted.

  “Do I need to get him fitted for a tux?” she asked.

  “Actually, the party is really casual. Jeans and a shirt are fine.” I’d let Scott break the news to her that we were no longer going together.

  Her face fell slightly. “Well, there’s always homecom
ing. I don’t suppose you’re planning to ask him to homecoming?”

  “I really haven’t thought about it yet. And anyway, Scott might not want to go with me.”

  “Don’t be silly! You and Scott go way back. He’s crazy about you.”

  Or crazy, period.

  “I have to go, Mrs. Parnell. It was great seeing you again.”

  “Drive safely!” she called, giving me a finger wave.

  I met Vee outside in the parking lot. She was hunched over, fists pressed into her knees, sucking air. A splotch of sweat stained the back of her shirt.

  “Nice decoy work,” I said.

  She looked up, her face pink as a Christmas ham. “You ever try chasing down a car?” she gasped.

  “I’ll one-up you. I gave Scott my hot dog and asked if he’d go to Summer Solstice with me.”

  “What does the hot dog have to do with anything?”

  “I said he’d be a wiener if he didn’t go with me.”

  Vee wheezed laughter. “I’d have run harder had I known I’d get to see you call him a wiener.”

  Forty-five minutes later, Vee’s dad had called AAA and had the Neon towed back onto the road and dropped me off in front of the farmhouse. I didn’t waste any time clearing off the kitchen table and shaking Scott’s shoe box out of my handbag. Multiple layers of duct tape were wrapped around the box, nearly a quarter of an inch thick. Whatever Scott was hiding, he didn’t want the rest of the world finding it.

  I sawed through the tape with a steak knife. I freed the lid, set it aside, and peered into the box. A plain white tube sock lay innocently at the bottom.

  I stared at the sock, feeling my heart drop with disappointment. Then I frowned. I stretched the sock open just wide enough to look inside. My knees went soft.

  Inside was a ring. One of the Black Hand’s rings.

  CHAPTER

  19

  I STARED AT THE RING BLANKLY. I COULD HARDLY CONTAIN my thoughts. Two rings? I didn’t know what it meant. Clearly the Black Hand had more than one ring, but why did Scott have one? And why had he gone to the trouble of hiding it in a secret compartment in his wall?

  And why, if he was so ashamed of the branding on his chest, was he holding on to the ring that presumably had given it to him?

  In my bedroom, I dug my cello out of the closet and stowed Scott’s ring in the zippered music pouch, right next to its twin, the ring I’d received by envelope last week. I didn’t know how to make sense of it. I’d gone to Scott’s looking for answers, and was left feeling more confused than ever. I would have dwelt on the rings longer, maybe pieced together a few theories, but I was at a complete and utter loss.

  When the grandfather clock chimed midnight, I double-checked the door locks one last time and crawled into bed. I propped my pillows up, sat upright, and painted my fingernails midnight blue. After my fingernails, I moved on to my toenails. I turned on my iPod. I read several chapters in my chemistry text. I knew I couldn’t go forever without sleep, but I was determined to put it off as long as possible. I was terrified Patch would be waiting for me on the other side if I did.

  I hadn’t realized I’d fallen asleep until I woke to a strange scraping sound. I lay in bed, frozen, straining to hear the sound again and place it. The drapes were drawn, the room shadowy. I slipped out of bed and dared a look through the drapes. The backyard was still. Undisturbed. Deceptively peaceful.

  A low creak sounded downstairs. I grabbed my cell phone off the nightstand and opened my bedroom door just wide enough to peer out. The hall outside was clear, and I turned into it, my heart beating so hard against my ribs, I thought my chest might crack. I’d made it to the top of the stairs when the softest click alerted me that the knob on the front door was turning.

  The door opened, and a figure stepped cautiously into the dark foyer. Scott was in my house, standing fifteen feet away, at the base of the stairs. I steadied my grip on the cell phone, which was slick with sweat.

  “What are you doing here?” I called down to Scott.

  He jerked his head up, startled. He raised his hands level with his shoulders, showing he was harmless. “We need to talk.”

  “The door was locked. How did you get in?” My voice was high, shaky.

  He didn’t answer, but he didn’t need to. Scott was Nephilim—freakishly strong. I was almost positive that if I’d walked down to check the deadbolt, I would have found it damaged by the sheer strength of his hands.

  “Breaking and entering is illegal,” I said.

  “So’s theft. You stole something that belongs to me.”

  I moistened my lips. “You have one of the Black Hand’s rings.”

  “It’s not mine. I—I stole it.” His slight hesitation told me he was lying. “Give me the ring back, Nora.”

  “Not until you tell me everything.”

  “We can do this the hard way, if you want.” He climbed the first step.

  “Don’t move!” I ordered, scrambling to dial 911 on my cell. “If you come another step, I’ll call the police.”

  “It will take the police twenty minutes to get out here.”

  “That’s not true.” But we both knew it was.

  He advanced to the second step.

  “Stop,” I ordered. “I’ll place the call, I swear I will.”

  “And tell them what? That you broke into my room? That you stole valuable jewelry?”

  “Your mom let me inside,” I said nervously.

  “She wouldn’t have, if she’d known you were going to steal from me.” He took another step, the stairs creaking under his weight.

  I racked my brain for a way to divert him from climbing higher. At the same time, I wanted to goad him into telling me the truth, once and for all. “You lied to me about the Black Hand. That night in your bedroom, wow, quite an act. The tears were almost convincing.”

  I could see his mind spinning, trying to figure out how much I knew. “I did lie,” he said at last. “I was trying to keep you out of the middle of things. You don’t want to get mixed up with the Black Hand.”

  “Too late. He killed my dad.”

  “Your dad isn’t the only one the Black Hand wants dead. He wants me dead, Nora. I need the ring.” Suddenly he was on the fifth step.

  Dead? The Black Hand couldn’t kill Scott. He was immortal. Did Scott think I didn’t know? And why was he so intent on getting the ring back? I thought he despised his branding. A new piece of information rose to the surface of my mind. “The Black Hand didn’t force you to get the branding mark, did he?” I said. “You wanted it. You wanted to join the society. You wanted to swear allegiance. That’s why you kept the ring. It’s a sacred token, isn’t it? Did the Black Hand give it to you after he finished branding you?”

  His hand flexed around the banister. “No. I was forced.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Do you think I’d let some psychopath grind a burning hot ring into my chest? If I’m so proud of the branding, why am I always covering it up?”

  “Because it’s a secret society. I’m sure you thought a branding was a small price to pay for the benefits that come with being part of a powerful society.”

  “Benefits? You think the Black Hand has done a single thing for me?” His tone was cut with anger. “He’s the Grim Reaper. I can’t escape him, and trust me, I’ve tried. More times than I can count.”

  I absorbed this, catching Scott in another lie. “He came back,” I said, speaking my thoughts aloud. “After he branded you. You lied when you said you never saw him again.”

  “Of course he came back!” Scott snapped. “He’d call late at night, or sneak up on me on my way home from work, wearing a ski mask. He was always there.”

  “What did he want?”

  His eyes gauged me. “If I talk, will you give the ring back?”

  “Depends if I think you’re telling the truth.”

  Scott scrubbed his knuckles furiously over his head. “The first time I saw him was
on my fourteenth birthday. He said I wasn’t human. He said I was Nephilim, like him. He said I had to join this group he belonged to. He said all Nephilim had to band together. He said there was no other way we could free ourselves from the fallen angels.” Scott glared up the stairs at me, defiant, but his eyes held a shadow of wariness, as if he thought I might think he was crazy. “I thought he’d lost it. I thought he was hallucinating. I kept dodging him, but he kept coming back. He started threatening me. He said the fallen angels would get me once I turned sixteen. He’d follow me around, after school and work. He said he was watching my back, and I should be grateful. Then he found out about my gambling debts. He paid them off, thinking I’d see it as a favor and want to join his group. He didn’t get it—I wanted him to go away. When I told him I was going to get my dad to slap a restraining order on him, he hauled me into the warehouse, tied me down, and branded me. He said it was the only way he could keep me safe. He said that someday I’d understand and I’d thank him.” The tone of Scott’s voice told me that day was never going to come.

  “Sounds like he’s obsessed with you.”

  Scott shook his head. “He thinks I betrayed him. My mom and I moved here to get away from him. She doesn’t know about the Nephilim stuff, or the branding, she just thinks he’s a stalker. We moved, but he doesn’t want me running off, and he especially doesn’t want to risk having me open my mouth and blow the cover on his secret cult.”

  “Does he know you’re in Coldwater?”

  “I don’t know. That’s why I need the ring. When he finished branding me, he gave me the ring. He said I had to keep it and find other members to recruit. He told me not to lose it. He said something bad would happen if I did.” Scott’s voice shook slightly. “He’s crazy, Nora. He could do all kinds of things to me.”

  “You have to help me find him.”

  He advanced two more steps. “Forget it. I’m not going looking for him.” He reached his hand out. “Now give me the ring. Stop stalling. I know it’s here.”

  For no reason other than instinct, I turned and ran. I slammed the bathroom door shut behind me and punched the lock.