Patch. I’d have to face him, and I’d have to confess what I’d done. I wondered if I’d ever feel his arms around me again. How could I expect this not to change everything? I wasn’t simply Nora Grey anymore. I was a purebred Nephil. His enemy.
I stomped the brake as a pale object staggered into the road ahead. The car swerved to a stop. A pair of eyes swung my way. The girl stumbled, got up, and tottered to the far side of the road, clearly trying to run, but too traumatized to coordinate her movements. The girl’s clothes were ripped, her face frozen in terror.
“Marcie?” I asked out loud.
Automatically, I reached across the console, pushing the passenger door open. “Get in!” I commanded her.
Marcie stood there, squeezing her arms around her middle, making small whimpering sounds.
I ejected myself out of the car, ran around to her, and folded her inside the seat. She stuck her head between her knees, breathing much too fast. “I’m — going — to — vomit.”
“What are you doing here?”
She continued to gulp air.
I dropped behind the wheel and stepped on the gas, not having any desire to hang around this derelict area of town any longer. “Do you have your phone?”
She made a choked sound at the back of her throat.
“In case you missed it, we’re in a bit of a hurry,” I said more sharply than I’d intended, now that I fully realized just who I’d picked up. Hank’s daughter. My sister, if I really wanted to go there. My lying, betraying, fool of a sister. “Phone? Yes or no?”
She moved her head, but I couldn’t tell if it was a shake or a nod.
“You’re mad at me for stealing the necklace,” she said, barely coherent between hiccups. “My dad tricked me. He made me think it was a prank we’d play on you together. I left the note on your pillow that night to scare you. ‘You’re not safe.’ My dad put some kind of enchantment on me so you couldn’t see me sneak in. He also did something to the ink so it would disappear after you read the note. I thought it would be funny. I wanted to watch you unravel. I wasn’t thinking. I went along with everything my dad said. It was like he had this power over me.”
“Listen to me, Marcie,” I told her firmly. “I’m going to get us out of here. But if you have a phone, I could really use it right now.”
With trembling hands, she pried open her purse. She rummaged around, then produced her cell phone. “He tricked me,” she said, tears leaking from the edges of her eyes. “I thought he was my dad. I thought he — loved me. If it makes a difference, I didn’t give him the necklace. I was going to. I brought it to his warehouse tonight, just like he told me to. But then … but in the end … when I saw that girl in the cage …” She trailed off.
I didn’t want to feel anything resembling empathy for Marcie. I didn’t want her in the car, period. I didn’t want her to rely on me, or vice versa. I didn’t want any kind of bond between us, but somehow, all of the above managed to be true despite what I wanted.
“Please give me the phone,” I said softly.
Marcie pushed her phone into my hand. Curling her legs up to her chest, she sobbed quietly into her knees.
I dialed Patch. I had to tell him Hank didn’t have the necklace. And I had to tell him the horrible truth about what I’d done. With each ring, I felt the barrier I’d thrown up, just to get through this, break down. I pictured Patch’s face when I told him the truth, the image freezing me. My lip wobbled and my breath caught.
His voice mail kicked on and I called Vee.
“I need your help,” I told her. “I need you to watch my mom and Marcie.” I pulled the phone slightly away from my ear in response to the noise on her end. “Yes, Marcie Millar. I’ll explain everything later.”
CHAPTER 31
IT WAS CLOSE TO THREE A.M. I DROPPED OFF MARCIE and my mom, leaving them in Vee’s care without any explanation. I’d shaken my head firmly when Vee demanded answers, carefully compartmentalizing every emotion. I’d left without a word, intending to find a remote road where I could be alone, but soon it became clear that my aimless driving had a clear destination after all.
I hardly saw the road as I sped toward Delphic Amusement Park. I screeched into the parking lot, finding myself utterly and completely alone. I hadn’t dared allow myself to contemplate what I’d done, but now, surrounded by darkness and stillness, I couldn’t bear to be brave any longer. I wasn’t strong enough to hold everything back. Bending my head to the steering wheel, I sobbed.
I cried for the choice I’d had to make and for what it had cost me. Most of all, I cried because I was at a complete and utter loss as to how to tell Patch. It was news I knew I should deliver in person, but I was terrified. How, when we’d finally reconciled our relationship, could I explain that I’d turned myself into the very thing he despised above all else?
Using Marcie’s cell I dialed his number, torn between relief and dread when his voice mail picked up. Was he not answering because he didn’t know it was me calling? Could he know what I’d done? Was he avoiding me until he could come to terms with his feelings? Was he cursing me for making such a stupid, stupid decision, even though I’d had no alternative?
No, I told myself. It was none of those things. Patch didn’t avoid confrontation — that was my problem.
I exited the car and walked solemnly to the gates. I pressed my head to the bars, the cold metal stinging my skin, but the pain didn’t compare to the ache of regret and longing burning inside me. Patch! I cried out silently. What have I done?
I rattled the bars, seeing no way to get in, when a metallic groan jarred me alert. The steel in my hands bent as though made of clay. I blinked through the confusion before it struck me. I was no longer human. I was truly Nephilim, and I had the strength and power of one. A horrifying fascination tingled up my spine at the prospect of my new powers. If I’d been looking for a way to convince myself that I could undo the oath, I was rapidly approaching the point of no return.
Prying the bars wide enough apart to squeeze through, I jogged into the park, slowing when I neared the shed leading down to Patch’s studio. My fingers trembled as I turned the doorknob. With heavy feet, I crossed the shed and lowered myself through the trap-door.
Using trial and error, and relying heavily on my memory, I found the right door. I stepped inside Patch’s studio and immediately knew something was wrong. I sensed the lingering traces of a violent confrontation in the air. It wasn’t something I could explain, but the evidence was there, as palpable as if I’d read it on paper.
Following an invisible trail of energy, I moved cautiously through Patch’s studio, still unsure what to make of the strange vibrations all around. I nudged his bedroom door open with my foot, and that was when I saw the secret door.
One of the black granite walls was rolled slightly to the right, opening to a shadowy corridor beyond. Water puddled on the dirt floor. Mounted torches burned with smoky brightness.
The sound of footsteps echoed from the corridor, and my stomach tightened. The torchlight illuminated the chiseled lines of Patch’s face and the edge in his black eyes, which looked right through me, absorbed in thought. His features were so merciless, I could do nothing but stand, paralyzed. I couldn’t look at him, and I couldn’t not look. I was filled with diminishing hope and surging shame. Just as I was about to shut my eyes to tears, his gaze shifted and our eyes met. One look from him, and the weight fell away. My defenses dissolved.