Finale

CHAPTER 22

TURNING AWAY FROM THE ROAD DUST DABRIA’S tires kicked up, I jogged back inside. My mom would be home any minute now, and not only would I have some serious explaining to do about the party’s abrupt ending, but I needed to dump Baruch’s body. If he truly believed I’d rammed a poker into his wing scars, he’d resign his body to a near-comatose state for several more hours, making moving it considerably easier. Finally, a lucky break.

I found Patch in the living room, crouched over Baruch’s body. Relief surged through me at the sight of him. “Patch!” I exclaimed, running over.

“Angel.” His face was etched with worry. He rose to his feet, opening his arms as I flung myself into them. He squeezed me hard.

I nodded to alleviate any concern he might have over my well-being, and swallowed the lump in my throat. “I’m fine. I’m not hurt. I mind-tricked him into thinking there was a Nephilim raid. And I made him believe I jammed a poker into his scars for good measure.” I blew out a shaky sigh. “How did you know fallen angels crashed the party?”

“Your mom kicked me out, but I wasn’t going to leave you unprotected. I took up guard down the street. There was a lot of traffic heading toward your place, but I assumed it was for the party. When I saw people running out the front door looking like they’d seen a monster, I came as fast as I could. There was a fallen angel standing guard outside your door who thought I’d shown up to steal his spoils of war. Needless to say, I had to stab him, and a few others, in their wing scars. Hope your mom doesn’t notice I pruned a few branches off the tree outside. They made excellent stakes.” His mouth twitched mischievously.

“She’ll be home any minute.”

Patch nodded. “I’ll take care of the body. Can you get the electricity running? Fuse box is in the garage. Check to see if any of the switches are tripped. If they cut the wires to the house, we’re going to have a lot more work on our hands.”

“I’m on it.” I stopped halfway to the garage and turned back. “Dabria showed up. She offered me a flimsy story, saying you told her to get me out. Do you think she could have been helping them?”

To my astonishment, he said, “I called her. She was in the area. I went after the fallen angels and told her to get you out.”

I was speechless, both from shocked disbelief and irritation. I didn’t know if I was angrier that Dabria had been telling the truth, or that she was clearly following Patch, since “in the area” was hard to pull off when you considered my street was one mile long, ours was the only house on it, and it dead-ended into the woods. She probably had a tracking device on him. When he’d called her, she’d probably been parked a hundred feet back, clutching a pair of binoculars.

I didn’t doubt Patch was faithful to me. Likewise, I didn’t doubt Dabria hoped to change that.

Figuring now wasn’t the time to blow this into an argument, I said, “What are we going to tell my mom?”

“I’ll—I’ll take care of it.”

Patch and I turned toward the mouselike squeak coming from the doorway. Marcie stood there, wringing her hands. As if she sensed how weak this made her look, she dropped them to her sides. Flinging her hair off her shoulders, she jutted her chin and said with more self-assurance, “The party was my idea, which makes this just as much my mess as yours. I’ll tell your mom some losers showed up to crash the party and started destroying furniture. We did the only responsible thing: canceled the party.” It looked to me like Marcie was working hard to avoid gazing at Baruch’s body lying facedown on the rug. If she didn’t see it, it couldn’t be true.

“Thanks, Maruo;lyincie,” I said, and I sincerely meant it.

“Don’t sound so surprised. I’m in this too, you know. I’m not—I mean—I am non—” Deep breath. “I am one of—you.” She opened her mouth to say more, then abruptly shut it. I didn’t blame her. “Nonhuman” was a difficult word to think, let alone say aloud.

A knock at the front door caused Marcie and me to jump. We exchanged a brief look of uncertainty before Patch spoke.

“Pretend we were never here,” he said, slinging Baruch over his shoulders and hefting him toward the back door. And Angel? he added in mind-speak. Erase Marcie’s memory of seeing me here tonight. We need to keep our secret watertight.

Consider it done, I responded.

Marcie and I went to answer the door. I’d just turned the knob when Vee sashayed inside, pulling Scott with her, their fingers entwined.

“Sorry we’re late,” Vee announced. “We got a little, ahem . . .” She shared a secret, knowing look with Scott, and they both burst out laughing.

“Distracted,” Scott finished for her, grinning.

Vee fanned herself. “You can say that again.”

When Marcie and I simply stared at them in somber silence, Vee glanced around, becoming aware of the vacant and trashed house for the first time. “Hold up. Where is everyone? The party can’t be over yet.”

“We got crashed,” Marcie said.

“They were wearing Halloween masks,” I explained. “Could have been anyone.”

“They started destroying furniture.”

“We sent everyone home,” I added.

Vee examined the damage in wordless shock.

Crashed? Scott spoke to my mind, clearly not buying my acting skills and sensing there was more to the story.

Fallen angels, I answered. One in particular tried his best to make me swear fealty. It’s okay, I added quickly when I saw his face contort with anxiety. He didn’t succeed. I need you to get Vee out of here. If she hangs around, she’s only going to start asking questions I can’t answer. And I need to clean up before my mom gets home.

When are you going to tell her?

I flinched, Scott’s straightforward question catching me off guard. I can’t tell Vee. Not if I want to keep her safe. Advice I’m asking you to heed as well. She’s my best friend, Scott. Nothing can happen to her.

She deserves the truth.

She deserves a lot more, but right now, her safety matters most to me.

What do you think matters most to her? Scott said. She cares about you and trusts you. Show her the same respect.

I didn’t have time to argue. Please, Scott, I begged him.

He gave me a long, considering look. I could tell he wasn’t pleased, but I could also tell he was going to let me win this battle—for now.

“Tell you what,” he told Vee. “I’ll make it up to you. Let’s go see a movie. Your choice. Not to sway your opinion, but there’s a new superhero movie out. Crappy reviews, which is always a sign it’s going to be sweet.”

“We should stay and help Nora clean up this mess,” Vee said. “I’m going to find out who did this and teach them some manners. Maybe a dead fish will just happen to find its way inside their locker. And they’d better keep an eye on their tires, because I’ve got a knife just itching to stab rubber.”

“Take the night off,” I told Vee. “Marcie will help me clean up, won’t you, Marcie?” I slung my arm over her shoulder and said it sweetly enough, but there was a note of superciliousness underscoring my words.

Vee caught my gaze, and we shared a moment of understanding.

“Well, isn’t that big of you,” Vee told Marcie. “Dustpan is under the kitchen sink. Trash bags, too.” She gave Marcie’s shoulder a slug. “Have fun, and don’t break too many fingernails.”

After the door shut behind them, Marcie and I slumped against the wall. At the same time, we breathed a sigh of relief.

Marcie smiled first. “Jinx.”

I cleared my throat. “Thanks for your help tonight,” I said, and I honestly meant it. For once in her life, Marcie had been . . .

Helpful, I realized with a start. And I was going to repay her by erasing her memory.

She pushed up from the wall, dusting her hands. “Night’s not over yet. Dustpan is under the sink?”