Finale hh-4

by Becca Fitzpatrick

  Once in position, I gazed down at the crooked rows of headstones rising out of grass so dark it appeared black. Stone angels with chipped wings seemed to float in the air just above the ground. Clouds obscured the moon, and two of the five lights in the parking lot were out. Below, the white mausoleum radiated a faint ghostly luminescence.

  Scott! I shouted in mind-speak, putting all my mental energy behind it. When only the whistle of wind sweeping over the hills answered, I assumed he was out of range. I didn’t know how far mind-speak traveled, but it seemed Scott was too far away.

  A rubble stone wall bordered the parking lot, and I crouched behind it, keeping my eyes trained on the mausoleum. A rangy black dog leaped suddenly over the wall, nearly causing me to fall back in fright. A pair of feral eyes gazed out from the ragtag animal’s narrow face. The wild dog paced beside the wall, stopped to growl territorially at me, then bounded out of sight. Thank goodness.

  My vision was better than it had been when I was human, but I was far enough away from the mausoleum that I couldn’t make out nearly as many details as I would have liked. The door appeared shut, but that made sense; Scott would have closed it behind him.

  I held my breath, waiting for Scott to emerge dragging Dabria, bound and helpless. Minutes ticked by. I shifted on my haunches, trying to get blood flow to my legs. I checked my cell phone. No missed calls. I could onl. I couly assume Patch was sticking to the plan and patrolling the cemetery’s lower gate.

  A horrible thought struck me. What if Dabria saw through Scott’s disguise? What if she suspected he’d brought backup? My stomach slid to my knees. What if she’d called Pepper with a revised meeting place after Scott and I had left the Devil’s Handbag? Either way, Pepper would have known to call me. We’d traded numbers.

  I was occupied with these troubling thoughts when the black dog returned, directing a menacing gnarl at me from the shadow of the wall. He flattened his ears against his head and arched his back threateningly.

  “Shoo!” I hissed back, gesturing with my hand.

  This time he bared pointy white teeth, pawing the dirt ferociously. I was just about to move a safe distance down the wall, when—

  A hot wire cut into my throat from behind, blocking my airway. I clawed at the wire, feeling it constrict tighter and tighter. I’d fallen back on my rear, my legs jerking. From my peripheral vision, I noted an eerie blue light emanating from the wire. It seemed to burn my skin like it had been dipped in acid. My fingers blistered with heat where they scratched at the wire, making it agonizing to grip.

  My attacker jerked back on the wire, harder. Lights exploded across my vision. An ambush.

  The black dog continued to bark and leap wildly in circles, but the image was quickly dissolving. I was losing consciousness. Summoning what little energy remained, I focused on the dog, urging it in mind-speak. Bite! Bite my attacker!

  I was too weak to attempt a mind-trick on my attacker, knowing they’d feel me groping clumsily in their mind. Though I’d never attempted to mind-trick an animal, the dog was smaller than a Nephil or a fallen angel, and if it was possible to compel them, it made sense that a slightly smaller animal would require less effort. . . .

  Attack! I thought at the dog again, feeling my mind slide down a dark, drowsy tunnel.

  To my astonishment and disbelief, the dog raced forward and sank his jaws into my attacker’s leg. I heard a sharp nip of teeth on bone, and a male’s guttural curse. The familiarity of the voice stunned me. I knew that voice. I trusted that voice.

  Propelled by betrayal and anger, I lunged into action. The dog’s bite was just enough of a distraction for my attacker to loosen his grip on the wire. I closed my hands fully around it, ignoring the fiery burn long enough to yank it from my neck and fling it aside. The snakelike wire skittered over the gravel, and I recognized it in an instant.

  Scott’s whip.

  CHAPTER 29

  BUT IT WASN’T SCOTT ATTACKING ME.

  Gagging and wheezing as I sucked air back into my lungs, I saw Dante move to attack, and immediately spun around and shoved my foot into his stomach. He flew back, tumbling to the ground, looking startled.

  His eyes instantly hardened. So did mine. I pounced on him, straddling his chest, and mercilessly slammed his head repeatedly into the ground. Not enough to knock him out; I wanted him stunned, but still able to speak. I had plenty of questions I wanted answered now.

  Bring me the whip, I ordered the dog, transmitting a picture of it to his mind so he’d understand my command.

  The dog obediently trotted over, dragging the whip between his teeth, seemingly immune to the effects of devilcraft. Was it possible this prototype couldn’t harm him? Either way, I couldn’t believe it. I could mind-speak to animals. Or at least this one.

  I rolled Dante onto his stomach and used the whip to handcuff his wrists. It burned my fingers, but I was too angry to care. He made a groan of protest.

  Standing, I kicked his ribs to get him fully awake. “The first words out of your mouth had better be an explanation,” I said.

  With one cheek pressed into the gravel, his lips curved into a bullying smile. “I didn’t know it was you,” he said innocently, mocking me.

  I crouched down, locking our gazes. “If you don’t want to talk to me, I’ll turn you over to Patch. You and I both know that road will be a lot more unpleasant.”

  “Patch.” Dante chuckled. “Call him. Go ahead. See if he answers.”

  Icy fear fluttered in my chest. “What do you mean?”

  “Unlock my hands and maybe I’ll tell you, in great detail, what I did to him.”

  I slapped him across the face so hard my own hand stung. “Where is Patch?” I asked again, trying to keep the panic out of my voice, knowing it would only amuse Dante.

  “Do you want to know what I did to Patch . . . or to Patch and Scott?”

  The ground seemed to tilt. We’d been ambushed all right. Dante had taken Patch and Scott out of the picture, and then come for me. But why?

  I put the puzzle together on my own.

  “You’re blackmailing Pepper Friberg. That’s what you’re doing here at the graveyard, isn’t it? Don’t bother answering. It’s the only explanation that makes sense.” I’d thought it was Dabria. If I hadn’t been so set on it, maybe I could have seen the bigger picture, maybe I could have been open to another possibility, maybe I could have picked up warning signs—

  Dante stretched out a long, evasive sigh. “I’ll talk after you untie my hands. Not the other way around.”

  I was so consumed by anger, I was surprised to find tears burning at the backs of my eyes. I’d trusted Dante. I’d let him train and advise me. I’d built a relationship with him. I’d come to regard him as one of my allies in the Nephilim world. Without his guidance, I wouldn’t have made it half as far.

  “Why did you do it? Why did you blackmail Pepper? Why?” I shouted when Dante merely blinked up at me in smug silence.

  I couldn’t bring myself to kick him ago kick hain. I could hardly stand, I was so overcome with hot, aching betrayal. I leaned against the stone wall, breathing deeply to keep my head on straight. My knees shook. The back of my throat felt slippery and tight.

  “Untie my hands, Nora. I wasn’t going to hurt you—not really. I needed to calm you down, that’s all. I wanted to talk to you and explain what I’m doing and why.” He spoke with calm assurance, but I wasn’t going to fall for it.

  “Are either Patch or Scott hurt?” I asked. Patch couldn’t feel physical pain, but that didn’t mean Dante wasn’t employing some new devilcraft prototype to cause him harm.

  “No. I tied them up the same way you’ve tied me. They’re about as pissed off as I’ve ever seen them, but no one is in immediate danger. The devilcraft isn’t good for them, but they can last awhile longer without negative side effects.”

  “Then I’m going to give you exactly three minutes to answer my questions before I go after them. If you haven’t answered my questions t
o my satisfaction in that time, I’m calling out the coyotes. They’ve been a nuisance around these parts, eating domestic cats and small dogs, especially with winter coming on and food scarce. But I’m sure you watch the news.”

  Dante snorted. “What are you talking about?”

  “I can mind-speak to animals, Dante. Hence the dog attacking you at exactly the moment I needed him. I’m sure the coyotes wouldn’t mind an easy snack. I can’t kill you, but that doesn’t mean I can’t make you regret crossing me. First question: Why are you blackmailing Pepper Friberg? Nephilim don’t dance with archangels.”

  Dante winced as he tried unsuccessfully to roll onto his back. “Can’t you untie the whip so we can have a civil talk?”

  “You threw civility out the window the minute you tried to strangle me.”

  “I’ll need a lot more than three minutes to tell you what’s going on,” Dante returned without sounding the least bit concerned by my threat. I decided it was time to show him just how serious I was.

  Food, I told the black dog, which had hung around to watch the proceedings with interest. With his fur lying flat, I could tell he was scrawny and half-starved, and if I’d needed more evidence of his hunger, his anxious pacing and the routine licking of his lips would have been plenty. To clarify my command, I sent to his mind a picture of Dante’s flesh, then stepped back, relinquishing my claim on Dante. The dog loped over and sank his teeth into the back of Dante’s arm.

  Dante cursed and attempted to squirm away. “I couldn’t have Pepper muddling up my plans!” he spat finally. “Call off the dog!”

  “What plans?”

  Dante writhed, hitching up his shoulder to fend off the dog. “Pepper was sent down to Earth by the archangels to run a full-fledged investigation into me and Blakely.”

  I worked this scenario out in my head, then nodded. “Because the archangels suspect that devilcraft didn’t disappear with Hank, and that you’re still using it, but they want to know for sure before they act. re they Makes sense. Keep talking.”

  “So I needed a way to distract Pepper, all right? Get your dog off me!”

  “You still haven’t told me why you’re blackmailing him.”

  Dante squirmed once again to avoid my new favorite dog’s snapping jaws. “Give me a break here.”

  “The faster you talk, the sooner I give my new best friend here something else to snack on.”

  “Fallen angels need Pepper to enchant several objects using the powers of heaven. They know about devilcraft, and they know Blakely and I control it, so they want to harness the powers of heaven—they want to make sure Nephilim don’t stand a chance at winning the war. They’re blackmailing Pepper.”

  Okay. This also seemed plausible. There was just one thing that still didn’t make sense. “How are you messed up in this?”

  “I’m working for the fallen angels,” he said so quietly I was sure I’d heard wrong.

  I leaned closer. “Care to repeat that?”

  “I’m a sellout, all right? The Nephilim aren’t going to win this war,” he added defensively. “Any way you size it up, when all is said and done, fallen angels are going to come out of this on top. And not just because they intend to harness the powers of heaven. The archangels are sympathetic to fallen angels. Old ties run deep. Not so for us. The archangels consider our race an abomination, always have. They want us gone, and if that means temporarily siding with fallen angels to accomplish it, they’ll do it. Only those of us who form an alliance with fallen angels early on have any chance at survival.”

  I stared at Dante, unable to digest his words. Dante Matterazzi, in bed with the enemy. The same Dante who’d stood by the Black Hand’s side. The same Dante who’d trained me so faithfully. I couldn’t grasp it. “What about our Nephilim army?” I said, my anger surging.

  “It’s doomed. Deep down, you know it. There isn’t a lot of time left before fallen angels make their move and we’re thrust into war. I’ve agreed to give devilcraft to them. They’ll have the powers of heaven and hell—and the backing of the archangels. The whole thing will be over in less than a day. If you help me get Pepper to enchant the objects, I’ll vouch for you. I’ll make sure some of the most influential fallen angels know you helped out and are loyal to the cause.”

  I took a step back, seeing Dante through new eyes. I didn’t even know who he was. He couldn’t have been more of a stranger to me at that moment. “I don’t— This whole revolution— All lies?” I finally managed to choke out.

  “Self-preservation,” he said. “I did it to save myself.”

  “And the rest of the Nephilim race?” I sputtered.

  His silence told me just how concerned he was about their well-being. A disinterested shrug couldn’t have been more telling. Dante was in this for himself, end of story.

  “They believe in you,” I said with a sick feeling swelling in mywelling heart. “They’re counting on you.”

  “They’re counting on you.”

  I flinched. The full impact of the responsibility weighing on my shoulders seemed to crush me at that moment. I was their leader. I was the face on this campaign. And now my most trusted adviser was defecting. If the army had been standing on weak legs before, one of those knees had just been kicked out.

  “You can’t do this to me,” I said threateningly. “I’ll expose you. I’ll tell everyone what you’re really up to. I don’t know everything about Nephilim law, but I’m pretty sure they have a system to take care of traitors, and I somehow doubt it will be very judicial!”

  “And who’s going to believe you?” said Dante simply. “If I argue that you’re the real traitor, who do you think they’ll believe?”

  He was right. Who would Nephilim believe? The young, inexperienced imposter placed in power by her dead father, or the strong, capable, and charismatic man who had both the looks and skill of a fabled Roman god?

  “I have pictures,” Dante said. “Of you with Patch. Of you with Pepper. Even some of you looking friendly with Dabria. I’ll pin this on you, Nora. You’re sympathetic to the fallen angel cause. That’s how I’ll frame it. They will destroy you.”

  “You can’t do this,” I said, rage sizzling in my chest.

  “You’re walking down a dead-end road. This is your last chance to turn around. Come with me. You’re stronger than you think you are. We’d make an unstoppable team. I could use you—”

  I gave a harsh laugh. “Oh, I’m quite finished with you using me!” I grabbed a large stone from the rubble wall, intending to smash it against Dante’s skull, knock him unconscious, and recruit Patch’s help in deciding what to do with him next, when a cruel and twisted smirk transformed Dante’s dark features, making him appear decidedly more demon than fabled Roman god.

  “What a waste of talent,” he muttered in a chastising tone. His expression was too smug, given that I held him captive, and that was when an awful suspicion began to form in my mind. The whip binding his wrists wasn’t causing his skin to blister the way it had mine. In fact, other than having his face planted in gravel, he didn’t look uncomfortable.

  The whip snapped free from Dante’s wrists, and in an instant, he sprang to his feet.

  “Did you really think I’d allow Blakely to create a weapon that could be used against me?” he jeered, his upper lip curling over his teeth. Commanding the whip, he cracked it at me. Scorching heat sliced across my body, pitching me off my feet. I landed hard, robbed of breath. Dizzy from the impact, I scuttled backward, trying to bring Dante into focus.

  “You might like to know I have every intention of taking over your position as commander of the Nephilim army,” Dante sneered. “I have the backing of the entire fallen angel race. I plan to lead the Nephilim right into the hands of fallen angels. They won’t know what I’ve done until it’s too late.”

  The only reason Dante would be telling me any of this was if he sincerely believed I had no chance at stopping him. But I wasn’t throwing in the towel now, or ever. “You swore an oath
to Hank to help me lead his army to freedom, you arrogant idiot. If you try to steal my title, we’ll both see the consequences of having broken our oaths. Death, Dante. Not exactly a minor complication,” I reminded him cynically.

  Dante chuckled with derision. “About that oath. A complete and utter lie. When I said it, I thought it might convince you to trust me. Not that I needed to make the effort. The devilcraft prototypes I gave you have been doing a fine job of compelling you to trust me.”

  There was no time for his deception to fully sink in. The whip lashed fire through my clothes a second time. Urged to action solely out of self-preservation, I scrabbled over the wall, hearing the dog bark and attack behind me, and dropped to the opposite side. The steep hill, slick with dew, sent me rolling and skidding toward the gravestones far below.

  CHAPTER 30

  AT THE BOTTOM OF THE HILL I LOOKED UP, BUT I didn’t see Dante. The black dog bounded after me, circling me with what almost appeared to be concern. I pulled myself up to sitting. Thick clouds blotted the moon, and I shivered violently as frost nipped my skin. Suddenly acutely aware of my surroundings, I jumped to my feet and ran through the maze of graves toward the mausoleum. To my surprise, the dog raced ahead, peering back every few steps as though to make sure I was still following.

  “Scott!” I called out, flinging open the mausoleum’s door as I burst inside.

  There were no windows. I couldn’t see. Impatiently, I swept my hands out, trying to feel my surroundings. I tripped on a small object and heard it roll away. Patting my hands across the cold stone floor, I grasped the flashlight Scott had taken with him and obviously dropped, and switched it on.

  There. In the corner. Scott was on his back, eyes open but dazed. I scrambled over, tugging at the blue-glowing whip scorching his wrists until it fell free. His skin blistered and oozed. He gave a pained moan.