“Let go of me,” I snapped at the Nephil pinning my arms. “We both know I’m not going anywhere. I can’t outrun all of you.”
The Nephil glanced at Hank, who confirmed my request with a slight nod. Then he sighed, almost bored. “I’m sorry to do this, Nora. But justice must be served. Chauncey would have done the same for me.”
I rubbed the insides of my elbows, my skin burning from where the Nephil had gripped me. “Justice? What about family? I’m your daughter by blood.” And nothing more.
“You’re a blight on my heritage,” he dismissed. “A turncoat. A humiliation.”
I gave him the blackest look I had inside me, even though my stomach roiled in fear. “Are you here to avenge Chauncey, or is this an attempt to save face? Couldn’t handle your daughter dating a fallen angel and embarrassing you in front of your little Nephilim army? Am I getting warm?” So much for not setting him off.
Hank frowned slightly.
Think you could get inside my memory before he snaps your neck? Patch hissed to my mind.
I didn’t look at Patch, afraid I’d lose my resolve if I did. We both knew escaping into his memory wasn’t going to get me out of here. It would merely transport my mind into his past. And I supposed that was what Patch wanted; for me to be in some other place when Hank killed me. Patch knew this was the end, and he was saving me the pain of being conscious at my own execution. A ridiculous image of an ostrich with its head in the sand came distinctly to mind.
If I was going to die in the next few moments, it wouldn’t be before I said the words that I hoped would haunt Hank for the rest of eternity.
“I guess it’s a good thing you chose to keep Marcie as your daughter instead of me,” I said. “She’s cute, popular, dates the right boys, and is too dumb to question anything you do. But I know for a fact the dead can come back. I saw my dad earlier tonight — my real dad.”
The frown on Hank’s face deepened.
“If he can visit me, there’s nothing preventing me from visiting Marcie — or your wife. And I won’t stop there. I know you’re dating my mom on the sly again. I’ll tell her the truth about you, dead or alive. How many dates do you think you can squeeze in before I let her know you killed me?”
That was all I had time to say before Patch rammed his knee into the gut of the Nephil holding his right arm. The Nephil slumped, and Patch swung his free fist at the nose of the Nephil pinning his left arm. There was an awful crunch, and a blubbering yowl.
I ran for Patch, throwing myself against him.
“Hurry,” he said, forcing my hand up the back of his shirt.
I splayed my hand blindly on Patch’s back, hoping I’d make contact with the place where his wings fused into his skin. His wings were made of spiritual matter and I couldn’t see or feel them, but it only made sense that they’d span a good portion of his back and be hard to miss.
Someone — Hank or one of the other Nephilim — tore at my shoulders, but I only slipped a little; Patch’s arms were around me, locking me against him. With no time to spare, I plunged my hand a second time up the smooth, toned skin of Patch’s back. Where were his wings?
He kissed my forehead roughly and murmured something unintelligible. There was no time for more. A searing white light exploded at the back of my mind. The very next moment, I was suspended in a dark universe speckled with pricks of colorful light. I knew I had to move toward any of the millions of light pricks — each one a stored memory — but they seemed miles away.
I heard Hank shouting, and I knew it meant I hadn’t fully crossed over. Maybe my hand was close to the base of Patch’s wings, but not close enough. I couldn’t block out the flashing images of all the horrible, painful ways Hank could end my life, and I fought my way through the darkness, determined to see Patch in his memories one last time before it was all over.
Tears stained my vision. The end. I didn’t want this to be that moment, stealing up behind me with no warning. I had so much more I wanted to tell Patch. Did he know how much he meant to me? What we had together — it had barely started. Everything could not come crashing down now.
I summoned a picture of Patch’s face. The image I chose was of the very first time we met. His hair was long, curling over his ears, and his eyes looked like they didn’t miss a thing, perceiving the secrets and desires of my soul. I remembered the startled expression on his face when I’d stormed into Bo’s Arcade, upsetting his pool game, and demanded that he help me finish our biology assignment. I remembered his wolfish smile, daring me to play along, as he’d moved to kiss me that very first time in my kitchen….
Patch was shouting too. Not ahead of me in his memories, but far below me, in the shed. Two words rose above the others, sounding distorted in my ears, as though they had traveled a great distance.
Deal. Compromise.
I frowned, straining to hear more. What was Patch saying? I suddenly feared that whatever it was, I wouldn’t like it.
No! I shouted, needing to stop Patch. I tried to propel myself back to the shed, but I was in a vacuum, floating idly. Patch! What are you telling him?
I felt a strange tug to my body, as if I’d been latched behind my spine. The sound of shouting voices swirled shut behind me as I hurtled toward a blinding light and inside the corridors of Patch’s memory.
Again.
I arrived inside the second memory in an instant.
I stood once again in the damp chill of the shed crowded with Hank, his Nephilim men, and Jev, and I could only gather that this second memory was beginning precisely where the last one had ended. I felt that familiar switch being thrown, but this time I wasn’t locked inside a version of myself from the past. My thoughts and actions belonged to the present me. I was now a double, an invisible bystander, watching Jev’s version of this moment as he remembered it.
Jev held a sluggish version of my body. My body was limp except for my hand, which was splayed on his back. My eyes were rolled back to whites and I vaguely wondered if I would remember both memories when I pulled out entirely.
“Ah, yes. I’d heard about that trick,” Hank said. “It’s true, I gather? She’s inside your memory as we speak, and all this by simply touching your wings?”
Looking at Hank, I felt a surge of helplessness. Had I just said he was my father? I had. I felt a compulsion to beat my fists against his chest until he denied it, but the truth burned like a fever inside me. I could loathe him all I wanted, but it didn’t change the fact that his vile blood coursed through my veins. Harrison Grey might have given me all the love of a parent, but Hank Millar had given me life.
“I’ll make a deal,” Jev said roughly. “Something you want, in exchange for Nora’s life.”
Hank’s lips twitched. “What could you possibly have that I want?”
“You’re building a Nephilim army with the hope of overthrowing fallen angels as early as this Cheshvan. Don’t look surprised. I’m not the only angel who knows what you’re up to. Bands of fallen angels are forming alliances, and they’re going to make their Nephilim vassals regret thinking they could ever break free. It’s not going to be a pretty Cheshvan for any Nephil who bears the Black Hand’s mark of allegiance. And that’s only the tip of the iceberg when it comes to what they have in store. You’re never going to pull this off without a man on the inside.”
Hank gestured to dismiss his men. “Leave me alone with the angel. Take the girl outside.”
“You’re kidding if you think I’m letting her out of my sight,” Jev said.
Hank relented with an amused snort. “Very well. Keep her while you can.”