I hung up and turned toward Patch, who’d been leaning against the wall and watching me carefully throughout the conversation.
“Meeting is tonight,” I told him. “At the old Millar residence.” I couldn’t bring myself to finish the thought bearing down on my mind. A private home? Screenings? Guards? How on earth would Patch ever get in? To my great discouragement, it looked like I was going in without him tonight.
“That works,” Patch said calmly. “I’ll be there.”
I admired his cool confidence, but I didn’t see how he could possibly sneak in unnoticed. “The house will be highly guarded. The minute you set foot on the block, they’ll know. Maybe if they’d selected a museum or the courthouse, but not this. The Millar house is big, but not that big. They’ll have every square inch covered.”
“Which is exactly what I planned for. I’ve already worked out the details. Scott is going to let me in.”
“It won’t work. They’ll be expecting fallen angel spies, and even if Scott does unlock a window for you, they will have thought of it. Not only will they capture you, but they’ll know Scott’s a traitor—”
“I’m going to possess Scott’s body.”
I flinched. Slowly, his solution came together in my mind. Of course. It was Cheshvan. Patch would have no problem taking control of Scott’s body. And from an outsider’s perspective, there would be no way to tell the difference between the two. Patch would be welcomed into the meeting without a batted eye. It was the perfect disguise. Only one tiny little problem. “Scott will never agree to it.”
“He already has.”
I stared back in disbelief. “He has?”
“He’s doing this for you.”
My throat suddenly closed up. There was nothing in the world Scott fought harder for than to keep fallen angels from possessing him. I realized at that moment just how much my friendship must mean to him. For him to do this— The one thing he abhorred— There were no words. Just a deep, aching gratitude for Scott, and the determination not to fail him.
“Tonight, I need you to be careful,” I said.
“I’ll be careful. And I won’t overstay my welcome. The minute you’re out of the meeting safely, and I’ve stayed long enough to learn all I can, Scott will have his body back. I’ll make sure nothing happens to him.”
I squeezed Patch into a fierce hug. “Thank you,” I whispered.
Later that night, an hour before ten, I departed Patch’s home. I left alone, driving a rental car at the request of my Nephilim hmy Nephiosts. They’d dotted every i and crossed every t and weren’t taking any chances of having me followed by nosy Nephilim, or worse, any fallen angel who might have caught wind of tonight’s top secret meeting.
The streets were dark and slick under a film of fog. My headlights swept across the black ribbon of pavement that rolled over hills and around curves. I had the heater cranked, but it never quite cast out the chill dancing in my bones. I didn’t know what to expect tonight, and that made it difficult to plan. I’d have to play things by ear, my least favorite way to go. I wanted to walk into the Millar house with something to hold on to besides my own instincts, but that’s all I had. Finally I pulled up in front of Marcie’s old house.
I sat in the car a moment, gazing at the white columns and black shutters. The lawn was lost under withered leaves. Brown twigs, the remnants of hydrangeas, jutted from twin terra-cotta pots flanking the porch. Newspapers in various states of decay littered the walkway. The house had been vacated after Hank’s death and didn’t look as inviting or elegant as I remembered. Marcie’s mom had moved into a condo on the river, and Marcie, well, Marcie had taken the phrase mi casa es su casa to heart.
Faint lights glowed behind draped windows, and while they didn’t reveal silhouettes, I knew several of the Nephilim world’s most influential and powerful leaders sat just behind the front door, waiting to form judgments on the news I was about to deliver. I also knew Patch would be there, making sure no danger befell me.
Clinging to that thought, I drew a jagged breath and marched to the front door.
I knocked.
The front door opened, and I was ushered inside by a tall woman whose eyes lingered on me just long enough to confirm my identity. Her hair had been combed back in a tight braid, and there was nothing either remarkable or memorable about her face.
She murmured a polite but reserved, “Hello,” and then, with a stiff sweep of her hand, directed me deeper into the house.
The tap of my shoes echoed down the dimly lit hallway. I passed portraits of the Millar family, smiling behind dusty glass. A vase of dead lilies sat on the entryway table. The whole house smelled bottled up. I followed the trail of lights toward the dining room.
As soon as I stepped through the French doors, the hushed conversation died. There were six men and five women seated on each side of a long, polished mahogany table. A few more Nephilim stood around the table, looking both fidgety and apprehensive. I almost did a double take when I saw Marcie’s mom. I knew Susanna Millar was Nephilim, but it had always felt like an intangible thought drifting at the back of my mind. Seeing her here tonight, convening a secret meeting of immortals, made her suddenly feel . . . threatening. Marcie wasn’t with her. Maybe Marcie hadn’t wanted to come, but a more plausible explanation was that she hadn’t been invited. Susanna seemed like the kind of mother who bent over backward to keep her daughter’s life clear of even the tiniest complication.
I found Scott’s face in the crowd. Knowing Patch was possessing him, the clanging in my stomach took a momentary reprieve. He caught my eye and inclined his head, a secret nod of encouragement. A deep feeling of assurance and security flooded me. I wasn’t in this alone. Patch had my back. I should have known he’d find a way tofind a w be here, no matter the risk.
And then there was Dante. He sat at the head of the table, wearing a black cashmere turtleneck and a ponderous frown. His fingers were steepled over his mouth, and when his eyes locked with mine, his lips twitched with a sneer. His eyebrows lifted in discreet but unmistakable challenge. I looked away.
I turned my attention to the elderly woman in a purple cocktail dress and diamonds seated at the opposite end of the long table. Lisa Martin. Second to Hank, she was the most influential and respected Nephil I’d met. I didn’t like or trust her. Feelings I was going to have to suppress for the next several minutes, if I wanted to get through this.
“We’re so glad you instigated this meeting, Nora.” Her warm, regal, and accepting voice slipped like honey into my ears. My racing heart slowed. If I could get her on my side, I was halfway there.
“Thank you,” I managed at last.
She gestured at the empty seat beside her, beckoning me to sit.
I walked over to the chair, but I didn’t sit. I was afraid I’d lose my nerve if I did. Leaning my hands on the table for support, I bypassed pleasantries and launched into the true meaning of my visit.
“I’m aware that not everyone in this room thinks I’m the best person to lead my father’s army,” I stated bluntly. The word “father” tasted like bile in my mouth, but I remembered Patch’s admonition to attach myself to Hank any way I could tonight. Nephilim worshipped him, and if I could use his endorsement, even a backdoor endorsement, I should.
I made eye contact with everyone seated at the table, and a few standing behind it. I had to show them I had fortitude and courage, and most of all, that I was displeased with their lack of support. “I know some of you have already come up with a list of men and women better suited for the task.” I paused again, turning the full weight of my gaze on Dante. He held my stare, but I saw hatred sizzle behind his brown eyes. “And I know Dante Matterazzi is at the top of that list.”
A murmur circled the room. But no one disputed my claim.
“I didn’t call you here tonight to discuss my first offensive strike in the war against fallen angels. I called you here because without a strong leader and your approval of that individual, there won’
t be a war. Fallen angels will tear us apart. We need unity and solidarity,” I urged them with conviction. “I believe I am the best leader, and my father thought likewise. Clearly, I haven’t convinced you. Which is why, tonight, I am challenging Dante Matterazzi to a duel. The winner leads this army once and for all.”
Dante shot to his feet. “But we’re dating!” His expression painted a perfect portrait of shock mingled with wounded pride. “How can you suggest dueling me?” he said, his voice sagging with humiliation.
I hadn’t expected him to plead our utterly fake relationship, built on the weak foundation of my spoken agreement and never carried out—a relationship I had forgotten immediately, and that now soured in my bones, but it didn’t startle me into silence. I said coolly, “I’m willing to take down anyone—that’s what leading the Nephilim means to me. I hereby officially challenge you to a duel, Dante.”
Not a single Nephil spoke. Surprise registered in their expressions, quickly followed by satisfaction. A duel. Winner take all. Patch had been right—Nephilim were still fully entrenched in an archaic world, ruled by Darwinian principles. They were pleased by this turn of events, and it was crystal clear from the adoring eyes they cast in Dante’s direction that not one Nephil in the room doubted who the winner would be.
Dante tried to keep his face impassive, but I saw him smile softly at my folly and his own good fortune. He thought I’d blundered, all right. But his eyes immediately narrowed with wariness. Apparently he wasn’t going to lunge for the bait headlong.
“I can’t do that,” he announced. “It would be treason.” His eyes swept the room, as if to gauge whether his gallant words had won him any further approval. “I’ve given my allegiance to Nora, and I couldn’t think of doing any act that would contradict it.”
“As your commander, I’m ordering you to duel,” I retorted crisply. I was still leader of this army, damn it, and I wasn’t going to let him undermine me with smooth words and flattery. “If you truly are the best leader, I’ll step aside. I want what is best for my people.” I had rehearsed the words a hundred times, and while I was giving a well-practiced speech, I meant every word. I thought of Scott, of Marcie, of thousands of Nephilim I’d never met, but still cared about because I knew they were good men and women who didn’t deserve to be enslaved by fallen angels every year. They deserved a fair fight. And I was going to do my best to give them one.
I’d been wrong before—shamefully wrong. I’d avoided fighting for the Nephilim out of fear of the archangels. Even more reprehensible, I’d used war as an excuse to get more devilcraft. All this time I’d been more concerned with myself than the people I’d been charged with leading. That ended now. Hank had trusted me with this role, but I wasn’t doing it for him. I was doing it because it was the moral thing to do.
“I think Nora has made a strong point,” spoke Lisa Martin. “There is nothing more uninspiring than leadership propagating itself. Perhaps the Black Hand was right about her.” A shrug. “Perhaps he made a mistake. We will take the matter into our own hands and settle it once and for all. Then we can go to war against our enemies, unified behind a strong leader.”
I gave her a nod of appreciation. If I had her on my side, the others would step into line.
“I agree,” a Nephil across the room spoke up.
“As do I.”
More ratifying buzzed through the dining room.
“All in favor, make it known,” said Lisa.
One by one, hands shot up. Patch locked eyes with me, then raised his arm. I knew it killed him to do it, but we were out of alternatives. If Dante swept me out of power, I would die. My only chance was to fight, and try my hardest to win.
“We have a majority,” Lisa said. “The duel will take place at sunrise tomorrow, Monday. I will send word of the location, once it has been determined.”
“Two days,” Patch immediately interjected, speakincted, spg in Scott’s voice. “Nora has never shot a pistol before. She’ll need time to train.”
I also needed to give Pepper time to return from heaven with his enchanted dagger, hopefully making the duel a moot point.
Lisa shook her head. “Too long. Fallen angels could come against us any day now. We have no idea why they’ve waited, but our luck might not hold.”
“And I never said anything about pistols,” Dante spoke up, eyeing Patch and me shrewdly as though trying to guess what we were up to. He watched my face for any hint of emotion. “I’d prefer sabers.”
“It is Dante’s call,” Lisa stated. “The duel was not his idea. He reserves the right to choose the weapon. You’ve settled on sabers, then?”
“More ladylike,” Dante explained, squeezing every last ounce of approval from his Nephilim peers.
I stiffened, resisting the urge to send Patch a plea for help.
“Nora has never touched a sword in her life,” Patch argued, again speaking through Scott’s voice. “It won’t be a fair fight if she can’t train. Give her until Tuesday morning.”
No one was quick to support Patch’s request. The disinterest in the room was so thick, I could have reached out and punched it. My training was the least of their concerns. In fact, the sooner Dante was in power, their impassive attitude said, the better.
“Are you taking it upon yourself to train her, Scott?” Lisa asked Patch.
“Unlike some of you, I haven’t forgotten she’s still our leader,” Patch answered with a cold edge.
Lisa tilted her head as though to say, Very well. “Then it’s decided. Two mornings from now. Until then, I wish you both the best.”
I didn’t hang around. With the duel rolling forward, and my part in this dangerous plan upheld, I let myself out. I knew Patch would have to stay a little longer, to gauge the room’s reaction and possibly overhear vital information, but I found myself wishing he’d hurry.
This wasn’t a night I wanted to be alone.
CHAPTER 33
KNOWING PATCH WOULD BE OCCUPIED UNTIL THE last of the Nephilim left the Millars’ old house, I drove to Vee’s. I was wearing my jean jacket with the tracking device and knew Patch would be able to find me if he needed to. In the meantime, there was something I needed to get off my chest.
I couldn’t do this on my own anymore. I’d tried to keep Vee safe, but I needed my best friend.
I had to tell her everything.
Figuring the front door wasn’t the best way to reach Vee at this time of night, I picked my way carefully through her yard, hopped the chain-link fence, and tapped on her bedroom window.
A moment later the curtains were flung aside and her face appeared behind the glass. Even though the hour was creeping up on midnight, she hadn’t changed into pjs. She raised the window a few inches. “Boy, you picked a bad time to show up. I thought you were Scott. He’s on his way over any minute now.”
When I spoke, my voice sounded hoarse and shaky. “We need to talk.”
Vee didn’t miss a beat. “I’ll call Scott and cancel.” She slid the window all the way open to invite me in. “Tell me what’s on your mind, babe.”
To her credit, Vee didn’t scream, sob hysterically, or flee from the room the moment I finished telling her the fantastical secrets I’d kept to myself the past six months. She’d flinched once when I’d explained that Nephilim were the progeny of humans and fallen angels, but other than that, her expression had remained free of horror and disbelief. She listened attentively as I described two warring races of immortals, Hank Millar’s role in everything, and how he’d dumped his baggage in my lap. She even managed to smile slightly as I lifted the cloak on Patch and Scott’s true identities.
When I finished, she merely cocked her head, scrutinizing me. After a moment, she said, “Well, that explains a lot.”
It was my turn to blink. “Seriously? That’s all you have to say? You aren’t, I don’t know . . . stunned? Confused? Bewildered? Hysterical?”
Vee tapped her chin contemplatively. “I knew Patch was way too hard-core to be hum
an.”
I was starting to wonder if she’d even heard me say that I wasn’t human. “What about me? You’re completely cool with the idea that not only am I Nephilim, but I’m supposed to be leading all the other Nephilim out there”—I thrust my finger at the window—“into war against fallen angels? Fallen angels, Vee. Like in the Bible. Heaven’s banished evildoers.”
“Actually, I think it’s pretty incredible.”
I scratched my eyebrow. “I can’t believe you’re being so calm about this. I expected some kind of reaction. I expected an outburst. Based on past experience, I anticipated flailing arms and a healthy dose of swearing, at the very least. I might as well be divulging this to a brick wall.”
“Babe, you’re making me sound like a diva.”
That brought a quirk to my lips. “You said it, not me.”
“I just think it’s really weird that you said the easiest way to spot Nephilim is by their height, and you, my friend, aren’t extraordinarily tall,” said Vee. “Now take me, for instance. I’m tall.”
“I’m average height because Hank—”
“Got it. You already explained that part about swearing an oath to become Nephilim while you were human, hence the average physique, but it still kind of sucks, right? I mean, what if the Changeover Vow had made you tall? What if it had made you as tall as me?”
I didn’t know where Vee was going with this, b with thut I felt like she was missing the point. This wasn’t about how tall I was. This was about opening her mind to an immortal world that wasn’t supposed to exist—and I’d just burst the secure little bubble she’d been living in.
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