The Complete Hush, Hush Saga

by Becca Fitzpatrick

  Patch’s eyebrows drew together. “What are you proposing, Angel?”

  “I’m meeting Pepper. And I’m taking Scott with me. Don’t even think about arguing with me,” I said warningly before he could veto the idea. “You’ve taken Dabria as backup on more occasions than I want to think about. You swore to me it was a tactical move and nothing more. Well, now it’s my turn. I’m taking Scott, and that’s final. As far as I know, Pepper isn’t holding any one-way tickets to hell with Scott’s name on them.”

  Patch’s mouth thinned and his eyes darkened; I could practically feel his objection radiating off him. Patch held no warmth for Scott, but he knew he couldn’t play that card; it would make him a hypocrite.

  “You’re going to need an airtight plan,” he said at last. “I’m not letting you out of my sight if there’s any chance things could go south.”

  There was always a chance things could go south. If I’d learned anything during my time with Patch, it was that. Patch knew this too, and I wondered if it was part of his plan to keep me from going. I suddenly felt like Cinderella, prevented from going to the ball on a small technicality.

  “Scott is stronger than you give him credit for,” I argued. “He’s not going to let anything happen to me. I’ll make sure he understands he can’t tell a soul that you and I are still very much together.”

  Patch’s black eyes simmered. “And I’ll make sure he understands that if a single hair on your head is lost, he’ll deal with me. If he’s got any sense, that’s a threat he’ll take to heart.”

  I smiled tensely. “Then it’s settled. All we need now is a plan.”

  • • •

  The following night was Saturday. After telling my mom that I was staying at Vee’s all weekend and we’d head to school together on Monday, Scott and I made a trip to the Devil’s Handbag. We weren’t interested in the music or drinks, rather in the basement level. I’d heard rumors about the basement, a burgeoning gambling haven, but had never actually stepped foot inside. Word had it Pepper couldn’t say the same. Patch had supplied us with a list of Pepper’s favorite haunts, and I hoped Scott and I would get lucky on our first try.

  Trying to look both sophisticated and guileless, I followed Scott over to the bar. He was chewing gum, looking as relaxed and confident as ever. I, on the other hand, was sweating so bad I felt like I needed another shower.

  I’d flat-ironed my hair for a sleek and mature look. Throw on some liquid eyeliner, lipstick, four-inch heels, and a high-end handbag on loan from Marcie, and I’d magically aged five years. Given Scott’s fully developed and intimidating build, I didn’t think he had to worry about getting carded. He wore tiny silver hoops in his ears, and while his brown hair was closely cropped, he still managed to look both tough and handsome. Scott and I were just friends, but I could easily appreciate what Vee saw in him. I linked my arm through his, a show of being his girlfriend, as he signaled the bartender over to talk.

  “We’re looking for Storky,” Scott told the bartender, leaning close to keep his voice low.

  The bartender, who I’d never seen before, eyed us shrewdly. I met his gaze, trying to keep my eyes impassive . Don’t look nervous, I told myself. And whatever you do, don’t look like you’ve got something to hide.

  “Who’s looking?” he asked gruffly at last.

  “We heard there’s a high-stakes game tonight,” Scott said, flashing a stack of hundreds lined up neatly inside his wallet.

  The bartender hiked his shoulders and went back to wiping the bar. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Scott laid one of the bills on the bar, covering it with his hand. He slid it toward the bartender. “That’s too bad. You sure we can’t convince you to rethink?”

  The bartender eyed the hundred-dollar bill. “Have I seen you around?”

  “I play bass for Serpentine. I’ve also played poker from Portland to Concord to Boston, and everywhere in between.”

  A nod of recognition. “That’s it. I used to work nights at the Z Pool Hall in Springvale.”

  “Fond memories of the place,” Scott said without missing a beat. “Won a lot of cash. Lost even more.” He grinned as though sharing a private joke with the bartender.

  Sliding his hand flush with Scott’s, and looking around to be sure he wasn’t under surveillance, the bartender pocketed the bill. “Got to frisk you first,” he told us. “No weapons allowed downstairs.”

  “No problem,” Scott answered easily.

  I started to sweat even more. Patch had warned us they’d be on the lookout for guns, knives, and any other sharp object that could be used as a weapon. So we’d gotten creative. The belt holding up Scott’s jeans, and hidden beneath his shirt, was in fact a whip enchanted with devilcraft. Scott had sworn up and down he wasn’t ingesting devilcraft, and had never heard of the super-drink, but I figured we might as well make use of the enchanted whip he’d lifted from Dante’s car on a whim. The whip glowed the telltale shade of iridescent blue, but as long as the bartender didn’t raise Scott’s shirt, we’d be safe.

  At the bartender’s invitation, Scott and I walked around the bar, stepped behind a privacy screen, and lifted our arms. I went first, enduring a brief, cursory pat-down. The bartender moved to Scott, brushing down his inseams and patting under his arms and across his back. It was dim behind the bar, and even though Scott had worn a thick cotton shirt, I thought I saw the whip glow faintly through it. The bartender seemed to see it too. His eyebrows pulled together, and he reached for Scott’s shirt.

  I dropped my handbag at his feet. Several hundred-dollar bills spilled out. Just like that, the bartender’s attention was drawn to the money. “Oops,” I said, feigning a flirty smile as I swept the bills back inside. “This cash is burning a hole. Ready to play, hot stuff?”

  Hot stuff? Scott echoed to my thoughts. Nice. He grinned and leaned down to kiss me, hard, on the mouth. I was so surprised by this, I froze at his touch.

  Relax, he spoke to my mind. We’re almost in.

  I gave a nearly imperceptible nod. “You’re going to win big tonight, babe, I can feel it,” I crooned.

  The bartender unlocked a big steel door, and grasping Scott’s hand, I followed him down a dark, uninviting staircase that smelled of mildew and standing water. At the bottom, we followed a hallway around several bends, until we came out in an open space sparsely decorated with poker tables. A single Mason-jar-turned-pendant hung above each table, shedding minimal light. No music, no drinks, no warm, friendly welcome.

  One table was in use—four players—and I instantly spotted Pepper. He had his back to us, and he didn’t turn at our approach. Not unusual. None of the other players glanced at us either. They were all tuned intently to the cards in their hands. Poker chips stood in neat towers at the center of the table. I had no idea how much money was involved, but I was betting those who lost would feel it, and deeply.

  “We’re looking for Pepper Friberg,” Scott announced. He kept his tone light, but the way his muscles bulged when he crossed his arms sent a different message.

  “Sorry, sweetheart, my dance card’s full for the night,” Pepper shot back cynically, brooding over the hand he’d been dealt. I studied him closely, thinking he was much too involved in the game for this to be a cover. In fact, he was so sucked in, he’d apparently completely missed that I stood beside Scott.

  Scott snagged a chair from a nearby table and made room for it right next to Pepper. “I’ve got two left feet anyway. You’d be better off dancing with . . . Nora Grey.”

  Now Pepper reacted. He set his cards facedown, turning that round, full body of his to see me for himself.

  “Hello, Pepper. It’s been a while,” I said. “The last time we met up, you tried to kidnap me, isn’t that right?”

  “Kidnapping is a federal offense for us Earth dwellers,” Scott chimed in. “Something tells me it’s frowned on in heaven, too.”

  “Keep your voice down,” Pepper growled, nervously eyeing the ot
her players.

  I swept my eyebrows up, speaking directly to Pepper’s thoughts. You haven’t told your human friends what you really are? Although I don’t suppose they’d be too happy to learn that your poker skills have a lot more to do with mind-compulsion than luck or skill.

  “Let’s take this outside,” Pepper told me, folding from the game.

  “Up you go,” Scott said, hoisting him up by the elbow.

  In the alley behind the Devil’s Handbag, I spoke first. “We’re going to make this simple for you, Pepper. As fun as it’s been having you use me to get to Patch, I’m ready to move on. The way I figure it, that’s only going to happen if I find out who’s really blackmailing you,” I said, testing him. I wanted to tell him my theory: that he was playing errand boy for a secret group of archangels and needed a half-decent excuse to send Patch to hell. But in the name of playing it safe, I decided to hold off and see how this shook out.

  Pepper squinted at me, his features as disgruntled as they were skeptical. “What’s this about?”

  “Which is where we come in,” Scott chimed in. “We’re motivated to find your blackmailer.”

  Pepper narrowed his eyes further at Scott. “Who are you?”

  “Think of me as the ticking bomb under your seat. If you don’t make a decision to agree to Nora’s terms, I’ll make it for you.” Scott started rolling up his sleeves.

  “Are you threatening me?” Pepper asked incredulously.

  “Here are my terms,” I said. “We’ll find your blackmailer, and we’ll deliver them to you. What we want in return is simple. Swear an oath to leave Patch alone.” I slapped a pointy toothpick into Pepper’s fleshy palm. Since the bartender had frisked me, it was the best I could do. “A little blood and a few earnest words should do the trick.” If I got him to swear an oath, he’d have to slink back to the archangels with his tail between his legs and confess failure. If he refused, it only gave more validity to my theory.

  “Archangels don’t swear blood vows,” Pepper sneered.

  Getting warmer, I thought.

  “Do they shove fallen angels they’ve got a beef with into hell?” Scott asked.

  Pepper looked at us as if we were insane. “What are you raving on about?”

  “How does it feel to be the archangels’ peon?” I asked.

  “What’d they offer you in return?” Scott demanded.

  “The archangels aren’t down here,” I said. “You’re on your own. Do you really want to go up against Patch alone?” C’mon, Pepper, I thought. Tell me what I want to hear. That this contrived story of blackmail is an excuse to fulfill your assignment from a rogue group of archangels to get rid of Patch.

  Pepper’s expression of disbelief deepened, and I pounced on his silence. “You’re going to swear that oath right now, Pepper.”

  Scott and I closed in on him.

  “No oath!” Pepper squeaked. “But I’ll leave Patch alone—I promise!”

  “If only I could trust you to keep your word,” I returned. “Trouble is, I don’t think you’re a very honest guy. In fact, I think this whole blackmailing business is a ruse.”

  Pepper’s eyes widened with understanding. He sputtered in disbelief, his face turning a throttled pink. “Let me see if I’ve got this. You think I’m after Patch for blackmailing me?” he screeched at last.

  “Yeah,” Scott supplied. “Yeah, we do.”

  “That’s why he’s refused to meet me? Because he thinks I want to chain him in hell? I wasn’t threatening him!” Pepper squealed, his round face growing more flushed by the moment. “I wanted to offer him a job! I’ve been trying to get that across all along!”

  Scott and I spoke at the same time. “A job?” We shared a hasty, skeptical glance.

  “You were telling the truth?” I asked Pepper. “You really have a job for Patch—and that’s all?”

  “Yes, yes, a job,” Pepper snarled. “What did you think? Crikey, what a mess. Nothing has gone as it should.”

  “What’s the job?” I quizzed him.

  “Like I’d tell you! If you’d helped me reach Patch in time, I wouldn’t be in a hot mess. This whole thing is your fault. My job offer is for Patch, and Patch alone!”

  “Let me get this straight,” I said. “You don’t think Patch is blackmailing you?”

  “Why would I think that when I already know who’s blackmailing me?” he fired back, exasperated.

  “You know who the blackmailer is?” Scott repeated.

  Pepper shot me a look of disgust. “Get this Nephil out of my face. Do I know who’s blackmailing me?” he snorted impatiently. “Yes! I’m supposed to meet them tonight. And you’ll never guess who it is.”

  “Who?” I asked.

  “Ha! It would be lovely if I could tell you, wouldn’t it? Trouble is, my blackmailer made me swear an oath not to reveal their identity. Don’t bother probing. My lips are sealed, literally. They said they’d call with the location of the meeting twenty minutes before I have to be there. If I don’t cover up this mess soon, the archangels are going to sniff me out,” he added, wringing his hands. I noted that his demeanor quickly switched to fearful at the mention of other archangels.

  I tried to remain unfazed. This wasn’t the move I’d expected him to make. I wondered if this was a tactic to throw us off his trail—or walk us into a trap. But the sweat beading his brow and the desperate look in his eyes seemed genuine. He wanted this over as badly as we did.

  “My blackmailer wants me to enchant objects using the powers of heaven that all archangels possess.” Pepper dabbed his pink forehead with a handkerchief. “That’s why they’re blackmailing me.”

  “What objects?” I asked.

  Pepper shook his head. “They’re going to bring them to the meeting. They said if I enchant them to their specifications, they’ll leave me alone. They don’t get it. Even if I enchant the objects, the powers of heaven can only be used for good. Whatever evil ideas they’re entertaining, they won’t work.”

  “Just the same, you’re actually considering doing it?” I asked reprovingly.

  “I need them off my back! The archangels can’t know what I’ve been doing. I’ll be banished. They’ll rip out my wings and it’ll all be over. I’ll be stuck down here forever.”

  “We need a plan,” Scott said. “Twenty minutes between the call and the meeting doesn’t give us a lot of wiggle room.”

  “When your blackmailer calls, agree to the meeting,” I instructed Pepper. “If they tell you to come alone, say you will. Sound as compliant and cooperative as you possibly can without going over the top.”

  “And then what?” Pepper asked, flapping his shoulders as if to air out his armpits. I tried not to stare. Never could I have guessed that the first archangel I’d meet would be such a sniveling, cowardly rat. So much for the archangels of my dreams—powerful, inescapable, all-knowing, and perhaps most important, exemplary.

  I fixed my eyes on Pepper’s. “And then Scott and I will go in your place, take the blackmailer down, and deliver them to you.”

  CHAPTER

  27

  WHAT! YOU CAN’T DO THAT!” PEPPER SPAT the words vehemently. “They won’t be happy, and they’ll refuse to work with me. Worse, they might go straight to the archangels!”

  “Your blackmailer doesn’t work with you anymore. From now on, he or she deals directly with us,” I said. “Scott and I are going to retrieve the objects they want enchanted, and we might need your cooperation in evaluating them. If you can tell us what you think they might have intended to use them for, the information could be valuable.”

  “How do I even know if I can trust you?” Pepper said in high-pitched protest.

  “There’s always a blood oath. . . .” I let the idea dangle. “I’ll swear my intentions, and you’ll swear to stay away from Patch. Unless, of course, you’re still too good for an oath.”

  “This is awful,” Pepper said, tugging at his collar like it was pinching him. “What a tangle.”

&n
bsp; “Scott and I will have a team in place. Nothing will go wrong,” I reassured Pepper, then added a quick private instruction to Scott using mind-speak: Keep him calm while I call Patch, will you?

  I walked to the end of the alley before placing the call. Dried leaves rustled past my feet, and I snuggled deeper into my coat for warmth. Of all the nights to be out, I’d chosen the coldest one yet. Frost bit into my skin and made my nose run. “It’s me. We’ve got Pepper.”

  I heard Patch sigh in relief.

  “I don’t think the double life is an act,” I went on. “He’s got a genuine gambling problem. Nor do I think he’s on a mission from the archangels to chain you in hell. He might have been down here on assignment originally, but he’s given it up in favor of indulging in a human lifestyle. Now for the big news. He knows you aren’t blackmailing him—all this time he’s been trying to pencil you in for a job.”

  “What job?”

  “He didn’t say. I think he’s dropped it. He’s got bigger problems to fret over. He’s scheduled to meet with the real blackmailer tonight.” I didn’t say the rest, but that didn’t keep me from thinking it. I felt so confident Dabria was behind this, I would have bet my life on it. “We don’t know the time or the meeting place yet. When the blackmailer calls Pepper, we’re going to have a twenty-minute window. We’ll need to move fast.”

  “Do you think it’s a trap?”

  “I think Pepper is a coward, and he’s glad we’re going in and he doesn’t have to.”

  “I’m ready,” Patch said grimly. “As soon as I know where we’re heading, I’ll meet you there. Do one last thing for me, Angel.”

  “Name it.”

  “I want to find you safe and sound when this is over.”

  • • •

  The call came ten minutes before midnight. Pepper couldn’t have given better answers if he’d rehearsed them. “Yes, I’ll come alone.” “Yes, I’ll enchant the objects.” “Yes, I can be at the cemetery in twenty minutes.”