“Give me a half hour,” I told Jev firmly.
Then I cleared my mind, trying to calm my racing thoughts. I didn’t have to understand everything right now. I only had to take a leap of faith. I held my hand out, part of the way. I squeezed my eyes shut, summoning courage. I was grateful when Jev’s hand closed over mine, guiding me the rest of the way.
CHAPTER 20
MY FIRST CONSCIOUS THOUGHT WAS OF BEING nailed down. No. Nailed inside. Locked in the snuggest of coffins. Tangled in a net. Defenseless and dictated by another body. A body that looked like my own — same hands, same hair, identical down to the finest detail — but one I had no control over. A strange phantom body that acted against my will, dragging me into its tide.
My second thought was Patch.
Patch was kissing me. Kissing me in a way that terrified me even more than the phantom body and its unbreakable hold over me. His mouth, everywhere. The rain, warm and sweet. The swell of distant thunder. And his body, taking up space, standing so very close, radiating heat.
Patch.
Astonished and shaken, I clawed at the memory. I begged to be let out.
I gasped as if coming up from a lengthy and punishing stay under water. At the same time, my eyes flew open.
“What is it?” Jev asked, grasping me protectively by the shoulders as I slumped against him.
We were back in his granite studio, the same candles flickering along the walls. The familiarity of it flooded me with relief. I was terrified of being trapped down there. Terrified of the sensation of being held captive in a body that I couldn’t command.
“Your memory was of me,” I choked. “But there wasn’t a double. I was trapped inside my body, but I couldn’t control it. I couldn’t move it. It was — terrifying.”
“What did you see?” he asked, his body tense enough to be made of stone. One hard push in the wrong direction, and he might well shatter.
“We were above here. In the shed. When I said your name, I didn’t say Jev. I called you Patch. And you were — kissing me.” I was too shocked to think about blushing.
Jev smoothed hair off my face, stroking my cheek. “Nothing is wrong,” he murmured. “Back then you knew me as Patch. That was the name I was going under when we met. I dropped the name when I lost you. I’ve been going by Jev ever since.”
I felt stupid for crying, but I couldn’t stop myself. Jev was Patch. My old boyfriend. It suddenly made sense. No wonder no one had recognized Jev’s name — he’d changed it after I disappeared.
“I kissed you back,” I said, still crying softly. “In the memory.”
The tightness in his face softened. “That bad?”
I wondered if I could ever tell him just what his kiss had done to me. It was so pleasurable it had single-handedly frightened me out of his memory.
To avoid having to answer him, I said, “You told me earlier that you tried to bring me here to your home once before, but Hank stopped us. I think that was the memory I saw. But I didn’t see Hank. I didn’t make it that far. I broke the connection. I couldn’t handle being inside my body but not being able to control it. I wasn’t prepared for just how real it would feel.”
“The girl in control of your body was you,” he reminded me. “You in the past. Before you lost your memory.”
I jumped up, pacing the room. “I have to go back.”
“Nora—”
“I have to face Hank. And I can’t face him here until I’ve faced him in there,” I said, thrusting my finger at Jev’s scars. And face yourself, I thought. You have to face the part of you that knows the truth.
Jev gave me a measured look. “Do you want me to pull you out?”
“No. This time I’m going all the way.”
The moment I arrived back inside Jev’s memory, I felt a switch being thrown, and the next thing I knew, I was reliving the flashback through the eyes of the girl I’d been before my memory was damaged. Her body overtook mine, and her thoughts overshadowed my own. I breathed through the panic, opening myself up to her — to me.
Outside, the rain made a metallic ping as it pattered the shed. Patch and I were both wet from it, and he sucked a drop of rainwater from my lip. I hung my fingertips on the waistband of his jeans and tugged him closer. Our mouths slipped over each other, a warm distraction from the chill in the air.
He nuzzled my neck affectionately. “I love you. I’m happier right now than I ever remember being.”
I was about to answer when a man’s voice, unaccountably familiar, carried out of the darkest part of the shed. “How very touching. Seize the angel.”
A handful of overly tall young men, undoubtedly Nephilim, rushed out of the shadows and surrounded Patch, twisting his arms behind his back.
I hardly had time to absorb what was happening when Patch’s voice broke into my thoughts as clearly as if he’d spoken in my ear. When I start fighting, run. Take the Jeep. Don’t go home. Stay in the Jeep and keep driving until I find you.
The man who lingered at the back of the shed, commanding the others, stepped forward into the eerie carnival light slicing through the shed’s many cracks. He was unnaturally young for his age, with crisp blue eyes and a ruthless curl to his mouth.
“Mr. Millar,” I whispered.
How could he possibly be here? After everything I’d gone through this night, a near-fatal attempt on my life, learning the sordid truth about my heritage, and overcoming it all to be with Patch, now this? It didn’t seem real.
“Let me introduce myself properly,” he said. “I’m the Black Hand. I knew your father Harrison well. I’m glad he’s not here now to see you debasing yourself with one of the devil’s brood.” He wagged his head at me. “You’re not the girl I thought you’d grow up to be, Nora. Fraternizing with the enemy, making a mockery of your heritage. But I can forgive that.” He paused with significance. “Tell me, Nora. Was it you who killed my dear friend and associate, Chauncey Langeais?”
My blood ran cold. I was caught between the impulse to lie and the knowledge that it wouldn’t do any good. He knew I’d killed Chauncey. The cold twist of his mouth frowned at me in judgment.
Now! Patch shouted, cutting into my thoughts. Run!
I bolted for the shed door. But I only made it a few steps before a Nephil hooked my elbow. Just as fast, he yanked my other arm behind my back. I tried to wrench free, every movement a desperate lunge for the shed door.
Hank Millar’s footfalls crossed the shed behind me. “I owe this to Chauncey.”
Any chill I’d felt from the rain had vanished; rivulets of sweat trickled beneath my shirt.
“We shared a vision. One we intended to see through to the end,” Hank continued. “Who would’ve guessed you of all people would be the one to nearly destroy it?”
A slew of spiteful responses sprang to mind, but I didn’t dare set off Hank. My only asset was time, and I needed to keep it on my side. The Nephil spun me around just as Hank retrieved a long, thin dagger from the waist of his pants.
Touch my back.
Patch’s voice cut through the panic clanging between my ears. Frantically, I looked sideways at him.
Go inside my memory. Touch the place where my wings fuse into my back. He nodded, urging me to act.
Easier said than done, I thought at him, even though I knew he couldn’t hear me. A span of five or six feet separated us, and both of us were held captive by Nephilim.