I said, “You mean the arrest was never going to happen because Rixon’s in hell now.” Literally in hell, by the sound of it.
He confirmed this with a nod, but his eyes darkened a shade. I supposed Patch didn’t like to talk about hell. I doubted any fallen angel did.
“In your memory, I saw you agree to spy on fallen angels for Hank,” I said.
Patch nodded. “What they’re planning and when. I meet weekly with Hank to share information.”
“What if fallen angels find out you’re selling secrets behind their backs?”
“I’m hoping they don’t.”
I wasn’t comforted by his casual attitude. “What would they do to you?”
“I’ve been in worse situations and managed to pull through.” The edges of his mouth tilted higher. “All this time and you still don’t have any faith in me.”
“Could you be serious for two seconds?”
He leaned over and kissed my hand, and spoke to me with sincerity. “They’d cast me into hell. They’re supposed to let the archangels handle that, but it doesn’t always work that way.”
“Explain,” I said firmly.
He slouched back with a certain lazy arrogance. “Humans are forbidden from killing each other; it’s the law. But people are murdered every day. My world isn’t much different. For every law, there’s someone out there willing to break it. I won’t pretend to be innocent. Three months ago I chained Rixon in hell, even though I had no authority other than my own sense of justice.”
“You chained Rixon in hell?”
Patch eyed me with curiosity. “He had to pay. He tried to kill you.”
“Scott told me about Rixon, but he didn’t know who chained him in hell, or how it was done. I’ll let him know he has you to thank.”
“I’m not interested in the half-breed’s gratitude. But I can tell you how it’s done. When the archangels banish a fallen angel from heaven and rip out his wings, they keep one feather for themselves. The feather is meticulously filed and preserved. If the occasion arises where a fallen angel needs to be chained in hell, the arch-angels retrieve his feather and burn it. It’s a symbolic act with inescapable results. The term ‘burn in hell’ isn’t a figure of speech.”
“You had one of Rixon’s feathers?”
“Before he went behind my back, he was the closest thing I had to a brother. I knew he had a feather, and I knew where he kept it. I knew everything about him. And because of it, I didn’t give him an impersonal send-off.” Though I suspected he meant to remain impassive, Patch’s jaw contracted. “I dragged him down to hell and burned the feather in front of him.”
His recounting of the story raised every hair on my scalp. Even if Vee betrayed me so blatantly, I wasn’t sure I had it in me to make her suffer the way he had clearly made Rixon suffer. Suddenly I understood why Patch had taken the subject so personally.
Breaking away from the gruesome picture Patch had painted in my mind, I recalled the feather I’d found in the cemetery. “Are these feathers floating around everywhere? Can anyone stumble across one?”
Patch shook his head. “The archangels keep one feather on record. A few fallen angels like Rixon make it to Earth with a feather or two intact. When that happens, the fallen angel makes damn sure his feather doesn’t fall into the wrong hands.” The suggestion of a smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “And you thought we weren’t sentimental.”
“What happens to the rest of the feathers?”
“They rapidly deteriorate on the way down. Falling from heaven isn’t a smooth ride.”
“What about you? Any secret feathers locked away?”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Plotting my downfall?”
I smiled back, despite the seriousness of the subject. “A girl’s got to keep her options open.”
“Hate to disappoint, but no feathers. I came to Earth stripped naked.”
“Mm,” I said as casually as I could, but I felt my face growing warm at the picture that one little word had planted in my brain. Naked thoughts were not good thoughts to have while I was locked away in Patch’s ultrasecret, ultraswanky bedroom.
“I like you in my bed,” Patch said. “I rarely pull down the covers. I rarely sleep. I could get used to this picture.”
“Are you offering me a permanent place?”
“Already put a spare key in your pocket.”
I patted my pocket. Sure enough, something small and hard was snug inside. “How charitable of you.”
“I’m not feeling very charitable now,” he said, holding my eyes, his voice deepening with a gravelly edge. “I missed you, Angel. Not one day went by that I didn’t feel you missing from my life. You haunted me to the point that I began to believe Hank had gone back on his oath and killed you. I saw your ghost in everything. I couldn’t escape you and I didn’t want to. You tortured me, but it was better than losing you.”
“Why didn’t you tell me everything that night in the alley with Gabe? You were so angry.” I shook my head, remembering every caustic word he’d directed at me. “I thought you hated me.”
“After Hank released you, I spied on you to make sure you were okay, but I swore to end my involvement with you for your own safety. I’d made my decision and I thought I could deal with it. I tried to convince myself there was nothing left for us. But when I saw you that night in the alley, my argument fell apart. I wanted you to remember me the way I couldn’t stop thinking about you. But you couldn’t. I’d made sure of it.” His gaze dropped to his hands, clasped loosely between his knees. “I owe you an apology,” he said quietly. “Hank erased your memory to keep you from remembering what he did to you, but I agreed to it. I told him to erase it back far enough that you wouldn’t remember me, either.”
I snapped my eyes to Patch’s. “You agreed to what?”
“I wanted to give you your life back. Before fallen angels, before Nephilim, before me. I thought that was the only way you’d get through the worst of what happened. I don’t think either of us will deny that I’ve complicated your life. I’ve tried to make it better, but things haven’t always gone my way. I thought it through and came to the difficult decision the best thing for your recovery and your future was for me to walk away.”
“Patch—”
“As for Hank, I refused to watch him destroy you. I refused to watch him ruin any chance you had at happiness by making you carry around those memories. You’re right — he kidnapped you because he thought he could use you to control me. He took you away at the end of June, and didn’t bring you back until September. Every day during those months you were locked up and left by yourself. Even the most hardened soldiers can break in solitary confinement, and Hank knew that was my greatest fear. He demanded I show my willingness to spy for him, even though I’d sworn an oath. He dangled you over me every minute of those months.” Patch’s eyes glittered with a hardened edge. “He’ll pay for that, and on my terms,” he said in a low, deadly voice that sent a chill up my spine.
“That night in the shed, he had us surrounded,” he continued. “The only thing on my mind was keeping him from killing you on the spot. If I’d been alone in the shed, I would have fought. I didn’t trust you to handle a fight, and I’ve regretted it ever since. I couldn’t handle seeing you hurt, and it blinded me. I underestimated everything you’ve already been through and grown stronger because of. Hank knew that, and I played right into his hands.
“I laid a deal on the table. I told him I’d be his spy if he’d let you live. He accepted, then called in his Nephilim men to take you away. I fought as hard as I could, Angel. They were mangled by the time they managed to drag you away. I met Hank four days later and offered to let him tear out my wings if he’d release you. It was the last thing I had to bargain with, and he agreed to hand you over, but the best I could get out of him was by the end of summer. During the next three months, I searched tirelessly for you, but Hank had planned for that as well. He went to great lengths to keep your location secret. I caught and tortured several of his men, but none of them could tell me where you were. I’d be surprised if Hank told more than one or two handpicked men he assigned to make sure your basic needs were met.