The Complete Hush, Hush Saga

by Becca Fitzpatrick

  Further proof that whatever Hank was hiding had value.

  The man ground his cigarette beneath his boot, glanced at his watch, and started a bored amble toward the alley.

  “Scott!” I hissed, cupping my mouth. “We have a problem.”

  Scott was well past the second level, only a few steps away from the third-story landing. The camera was in his hand, ready to take pictures the minute he had a clear shot.

  Realizing he wasn’t going to hear me, I grabbed a piece of gravel and threw it at him. Instead of hitting him, however, the rock hit the fire escape, ringing out with a clang, clang, clang as it bounced back down.

  I covered my mouth, paralyzed by fear.

  Scott looked down and froze. I jabbed my finger urgently at the side of the building.

  Then I ran to the Dumpster, crouching behind it. Through the crack between the Dumpster and the building, I watched Hank’s guard jog into view. He must have heard the pebble I’d thrown, because his eyes immediately traveled up, trying to pinpoint the sound.

  “Hey!” he yelled at Scott, jumping onto the bottom rung of the fire escape and hauling himself up with a speed and agility that very few humans could match. He was tall, too, one of the easiest ways Scott had taught me I could spot a Nephil.

  Scott clambered up the fire escape, taking the rungs two at a time. In his hurry, the camera slipped from his hand, sailing down to the alley, where it shattered. He gave it one brief glance of disbelief before resuming his rushed ascent. At the fourth-story landing, he hauled himself up the ladder that hooked onto the rooftop and disappeared above.

  I ran down my options in a hurry. The Nephil guard was only a flight behind Scott, moments away from cornering him on the roof. Would he rough up Scott? Haul him back down for questioning? My stomach lurched. Would he call Hank here, to deal with Scott directly?

  I hustled out to the front of the building and craned my neck, trying to locate Scott. As I did, a shadow streaked overhead. Not along the edge of the rooftop, but in the air between this building and the one across the street. I blinked, clearing my vision just in time to see a second comet race across the sky, arms and legs pinwheeling athletically.

  My jaw dropped. Scott and the Nephil were jumping buildings. I didn’t know how they were doing it, and there wasn’t time to dwell on the impossibility of what I was seeing. I sprinted toward the Charger, trying to anticipate Scott’s mind. If we could both beat the Nephil to the car, we stood a chance of getting away. Pumping my arms harder, I followed the sound of their shoes ringing and scuffing far overhead.

  Halfway to the car, Scott veered suddenly to the right, and the Nephil followed. I heard the last of their impossibly fast footsteps sprint into the darkness. As they did, a metallic chime rang out on the sidewalk just ahead. I scooped up the car key. I knew what Scott was doing: diverting the Nephil long enough to give me a chance to get to the car before they did. They were faster—much faster—and without an extra few minutes, I’d never make it. Still, Scott couldn’t take the Nephil on a wild-goose chase forever. I had to hurry.

  At Front Street, I put on one final burst of speed and sprinted the last block to the Charger. I was light-headed, blackness crowding my vision. Clutching my side, I leaned against the car, catching my breath. I scanned the rooftops intently, hunting for any sign of Scott or the Nephil.

  A figure streaked off the side of the building straight ahead, legs and arms revolving through air as he dead-dropped. At the bottom of four stories, Scott hit the ground, stumbled, and rolled. The Nephil was right on his tail, but nailed the landing. He yanked Scott off the ground and delivered a fierce blow to the side of his head. Scott staggered, but remained conscious. I wasn’t sure he’d be able to manage as much with a second well-aimed punch.

  With no time to think, I threw myself into the Charger. I shoved Scott’s key into the ignition. Flipping on the headlights, I floored it straight for Scott and the Nephil. My hands gripped the steering wheel, bloodless. Please let this work.

  Both Scott and the Nephil spun to face me, their complexions washed out in the headlights. Scott shouted at me, but I couldn’t make out the words. The Nephil shouted too. At the last moment, he released Scott and dodged away from the car’s bumper. Scott wasn’t as lucky; he flew up and over the hood. I didn’t have time to wonder if he’d been injured before he hurled himself into the seat beside me.

  “Go!”

  I stomped the gas. “What was that back there?” I shrieked. “You were jumping buildings like they were hurdles!”

  “I told you I’m stronger than your average guy.”

  “Yeah, well, you didn’t mention flying! And you told me you didn’t like using those strengths!”

  “Maybe you changed my outlook.” A cocky smile. “So you were impressed?”

  “That Nephil back there nearly captured you and that’s all you care about?”

  “Thought so.” He sounded self-satisfied, clenching and unclenching his hand, where the Black Hand’s ring fit snugly around his middle finger. I didn’t think now was the time to press for an explanation. Especially given the relief I felt over his decision to start wearing it again. With it, Scott stood a chance against Hank. And I did as well, by association.

  “Thought what?” I said, frazzled.

  “You’re blushing.”

  “I’m sweating.” When I realized what he was getting at, I rushed on, “I am not impressed! What you did back there—What could have happened—” I shoved some stray hairs off my face and collected myself. “I think you’re reckless and careless, and you’ve got some nerve making this all sound like a big joke!”

  His smile turned into a full-on grin. “No further questions. I have my answer.”

  CHAPTER

  17

  SCOTT DROVE ME HOME AND WAS FAR MORE LIBERAL with the speed limit than I’d ever been. He parked a distance from the farmhouse, at my insistence. The entire ride home, I’d juggled two kinds of fear. First, that the Nephil guard had somehow followed us, despite Scott’s careful measures, and second, that my mom would beat us home. Chances were, she would have speed-dialed my cell the moment she found my bed empty, but then again, maybe her seething rage at my second count of reckless disobedience in less than a week had rendered her speechless.

  “Well, that was exciting,” I told Scott, my voice pale.

  He thumped his hand on the steering wheel. “Thirty more seconds. That’s all I needed. If I hadn’t dropped the camera, we’d have pictures of the warehouse.” He wagged his head in disbelief.

  I was about to tell him that if he had thoughts of going back, he should find another sidekick, when he said soberly, “If the guard got a good look at me, he’s going to tell Hank. Even if he didn’t see my face, he could have seen my brand. Hank will know it was me. He’ll send a team out to search the area.” His eyes flicked to mine. “I’ve heard rumors of Nephilim being locked away in reinforced prisons for life. Underground chambers in the woods, or beneath buildings. You can’t kill a Nephil, but you can torture him. I’m going to have to lie low for a while.”

  “What brand?”

  Scott stretched the collar of his shirt down, revealing a small circle of skin that had been seared with the mark of a clenched fist identical to the one on his ring. The flesh had healed, but I could only imagine how raw and painful it had once been. “The Black Hand’s mark. It’s how he forced me into his army. On the bright side, he wasn’t smart enough to embed a tracking device.”

  I wasn’t in the mood to joke, and didn’t return his half smile. “Do you think the guard saw your brand?”

  “Can’t say.”

  “Do you think he saw me?”

  Scott shook his head. “We couldn’t see anything through the headlights. I only knew it was you because I recognized the Charger.”

  This should have made me breathe easier, but I was wound so tight, a sigh of relief was out of the question.

  “Hank could drop your mom off at any minute.” Scott jerked his
thumb at the road. “I’ve got to roll. I’m going to keep my head down for a few weeks. Hopefully the guard didn’t see my mark. Hopefully he thinks I’m a common thug.”

  “Either way, he knows you’re Nephilim. Last I checked, humans don’t jump buildings. When Hank finds out, I don’t think he’s going to brush this off as a coincidence.”

  “All the more reason to back off. If I disappear off the grid, Hank might think I got scared and left town. When this blows over, I’ll find you. We’ll draft a different plan and take him down from a new angle.”

  I felt my patience shredding. “What about me? You’re the one who put this whole idea into my head. You can’t bail now. He’s dating my mom. I don’t get the luxury of lying low. If he was involved in my kidnapping, I want him to pay. If he’s planning even worse things, I want him stopped. Not in a few weeks or months but now.”

  “And who is going to get rid of him?” His voice was gentle, but there was an underlying firmness. “The police? He’s got half of them on his payroll. And the other half he could mind-trick into submission. Listen to me, Nora. Our plan is to ride this out. We have to let the dust settle and make the Black Hand think he’s in charge again. Then we’ll regroup and try a different attack when he’s least expecting it.”

  “He is in charge. It’s not a coincidence he’s suddenly dating my mom. She isn’t his top priority—building his Nephilim army is. Cheshvan starts next month, in October. So why her, why now? How does she fit into his plans? I have to figure this out before it’s too late!”

  Scott tugged on his ear irritably. “I shouldn’t have told you anything. You’re going to crumble. The Black Hand is going to call you out from a mile away. You’re going to talk. You’re going to tell him about me and the cave.”

  “Don’t worry about me,” I snapped. I pushed out of the Charger and gave him one parting shot before slamming the door. “Lie low, fine. But you’re not the one whose mom is falling more in love with that monster by the day. I’m going to out him with or without you.”

  Of course, I had no idea how. Hank had embedded himself so deeply in this town, he was at its very core. He had friends, allies, and employees. He had money, resources, and his own private army. Most worrisome of all, he had my mom clenched in his fist.

  Two days passed with little excitement. True to his word, Scott vanished. In hindsight, I regretted blowing up at him. He was doing what he had to, and I couldn’t blame him for that. I’d accused him of bailing, but that wasn’t the case at all. He knew when to push and when to pull back. He was smarter than I’d given him credit for. And patient.

  And then there was me. I didn’t like Hank Millar, trusted him even less, and the sooner I figured out his endgame, the better. Cheshvan hung like a black cloud at the back of my thoughts, a constant reminder that Hank was planning something. I didn’t have hard proof that my mom was part of that plan, but there were red flags. Given everything Hank was trying to accomplish before Cheshvan, including building and training an entire Nephilim army to win back possession of their bodies from fallen angels, why was he devoting so much time to my mom? Why did he need her trust? Why did he need her, period?

  It wasn’t until I was sitting in AP history, listening halfheartedly to my teacher describe the events leading up to the English Protestant Reformation, that a lightbulb blazed on. Hank knew Scott. Why hadn’t I thought of it before? If Hank suspected that Scott was the Nephil responsible for snooping around his building two nights ago, he knew Scott wouldn’t risk a second pass so soon after getting caught. In fact, Hank probably assumed Scott had scrambled straight into hiding, which he had. Never in a million years would Hank expect another trespasser as early as tonight.

  Never in a million years …

  Evening came and went. At ten Mom kissed me good night and retreated to her bedroom. An hour later her light clicked off. I waited an extra minute or two to be sure, then flung off my covers. Fully dressed, I grabbed a duffel packed with a flashlight, a camera, and my car keys from under my bed.

  As I pushed the Volkswagen soundlessly down Hawthorne Lane, I inwardly thanked Scott for buying me a light vehicle. I never could have done this with a truck. It wasn’t until I was a good quarter mile from the farmhouse, and far out of my mom’s hearing range, that I started the engine.

  Twenty minutes later I parked the Volkswagen a few blocks from where Scott had left the Charger two nights ago. The scenery hadn’t changed. Same boarded-up buildings. Same streetlights in disrepair. In the distance, a train blew a forlorn whistle.

  Since Hank’s building was guarded, I discarded the idea of going anywhere near it. I was going to have to find another way to look inside. An idea struck me. If there was one thing I could use to my advantage, it was the construction—the buildings were built one right next to the other. I could probably see inside Hank’s building from the one directly behind it.

  Sticking to the route Scott and I had taken, I jogged closer to Hank’s building. Crouching in the shadows, I settled in for my first stab at surveillance. I noticed that the fire escape had been promptly removed. Hank was being careful, then. There was fresh newsprint covering the third-floor windows, but whoever had started the job hadn’t made it to the fourth floor yet. Every ten minutes, like clockwork, a guard exited the building and walked the perimeter.

  Convinced I had enough information to go on, I circled the block, coming out near the building that backed to Hank’s. As soon as the guard finished his walk-around and retreated inside Hank’s building, I sprinted into the open. Only this time, instead of hiding in the alley behind Hank’s building, I hid one alley down.

  Standing on top of an overturned trash can, I tugged the fire escape down to ground level. I was afraid of heights, but I wasn’t about to let that fear get in the way of finding out what Hank was hiding. Taking some shallow breaths, I climbed to the first landing. I told myself not to look down, but the temptation was too strong. My eyes swept the alley below, seeing it through the iron latticework of the fire escape. My stomach cramped and my vision blurred.

  I climbed to the second level. Up to the third. A little nauseated, I tried the windows. The first few were locked, but finally I jimmied one loose, and it opened with a gritty whine. Camera in hand, I stuffed myself through the window.

  I’d just come to a full stand inside when I was blinded by lights. I threw my arm over my eyes. All around, I heard the sounds of stirring bodies. When I opened my eyes again, I gazed at row upon row of cots. One sleeping body in each cot. All male, all exceptionally tall.

  Nephilim.

  Before I could form a follow-up thought, an arm hooked my waist from behind.

  “Move!” a low voice ordered, hauling me back toward the window I’d come through.

  Snapping out of my daze, I felt the pair of strong arms drag me back through the window and onto the fire escape. Jev gave me a hasty look-over, his eyes brimming with aggravation. Wordlessly, he pushed me toward the rungs. As we clambered down the fire escape, shouts echoed from the front of the building. Any minute now, we were going to find ourselves trapped from above and below.

  Making an impatient sound, Jev scooped me into his arms, holding me flush against him. “Whatever you do, don’t let go.”

  I’d barely fastened my grip when we were flying. Straight down. Without bothering to use the fire escape, Jev had jumped over the railing. Air ripped past us as gravity pulled us toward the alley below. It was over before I could scream, my body jolting with the impact of landing, and just like that I was back on my own two feet.

  Jev grabbed my hand and yanked me toward the street. “I’m parked three blocks away.”

  We rounded the corner, ran a block, cut up an alley. Ahead, parked at the curb, I saw the white Tahoe. Jev key-fobbed the doors open, and we flung ourselves inside.

  Jev drove fast and hard, screeching around corners and flooring it down the straightaways, until he’d put miles between us and the Nephilim. At last he bounced the Tahoe into a little
two-pump gas station halfway between Coldwater and Portland. A closed sign hung in the window, with only a few dim lights burning inside.

  Jev cut the engine. “What were you doing back there?” His volume was low, his tone furious.

  “Climbing the fire escape, what did it look like?” I shot back. My pants were torn, my knees were scuffed, my hands were scraped, and getting angry was the only thing stopping me from bursting into tears.

  “Well, congratulations, you climbed it. And nearly got yourself killed. Don’t tell me you were there by coincidence. Nobody hangs out in that neighborhood after dark. And that was a Nephilim safe house you barged into, so again, I’m not buying that it was by accident. Who told you to go there?”

  I blinked. “A Nephilim safe house?”

  “You’re going to play dumb?” He shook his head. “Unbelievable.”

  “I thought the building was vacant. I thought the building next to it was the Nephilim warehouse.”

  “Both are owned by a Nephil—a very powerful Nephil. One is a decoy and the other sleeps about four hundred Nephilim on any given night. Guess which one you walked into?”

  A decoy. How smart of Hank. Too bad I hadn’t thought of it twenty minutes ago. He’d have the entire operation relocated by tomorrow morning, and I’d lose my only lead. At least now I knew what he was hiding. The warehouse was the sleeping quarters for at least a portion of his Nephilim army.

  “I thought I told you to stop looking for trouble. I thought I told you to try normal for a while,” Jev said.

  “Normal didn’t last very long. Right after I last saw you, I bumped into an old friend. An old Nephil friend.” I’d let the words fly out without thinking, but I didn’t see the harm in telling Jev about Scott. After all, Jev had taken my side when I’d argued with Gabe to release B.J., so he couldn’t hate Nephilim the way Gabe clearly did.