It was all the confirmation I needed. Continuing to walk along the curve of the track, I pulled out my phone and placed a call.
“We found him,” I told Patch. “He’s on the north side of the stadium, outside the fence. He’s wearing jeans and a gray Razorbill sweatshirt. There are a few other men hanging around, but I don’t think they’re with him. I only sense one Nephil, and that’s Blakely himself.”
“On my way,” Patch said.
“We’ll meet you at the cabin.”
“Drive slow. I’ve got a lot of questions for Blakely,” he said.
I’d stopped listening. Marcie was no longer by my side.
“Oh no,” I whispered, suddenly feeling a shade paler. “Marcie! She’s running over to Blakely! I have to go.” I charged after Marcie.
Marcie was almost to the fence, and I heard her high-pitched voice screech, “Do you know who killed my dad? Tell me what you know!”
A slew of curse words followed her question, and Blakely instantly turned and bolted.
In an impressive display of pure determination, Marcie scrabbled over the fence, slipping and struggling before she swung her legs over, and took off after Blakely into the unlit breezeway tunneling between the stadium and the high school.
I reached the fence a moment later, shoved my shoe into a chain link and, without breaking speed, vaulted over. I barely registered the shocked expressions of the men milling about. I would have attempted erasing their memories, but I didn’t have time. I tore after Blakely and Marcie, surveying the darkness as I sprinted ahead, glad my night vision was much sharper than it had been when I was human.
I sensed Blakely ahead. Marcie, too, although her power was considerably weaker. Since both her parents were purebred Nephilim, she was lucky she’d been conceived, let alone born alive. She may have been Nephilim by definition, but I’d possessed more strength than her as a human.
Marcie! I hissed in mind-speak. Get back here now!
Suddenly Blakely went off my radar. I couldn’t detect him at all. I stopped in my tracks, mentally feeling my way through the dark breezeway, trying to pick up his trail. Had he run so far and so fast he’d vanished off my grid completely? Marcie! I hissed again.
And then I saw her. Standing at the far end of the breezeway, the moonlight illuminating her silhouette. I jogged over, trying to keep my anger under control. She’d ruined everything. We’d lost Blakely, and worse, he now knew we were onto him. I couldn’t imagine him surfacing at another football game after tonight. He’d probably retreat into his current secret hideout entirely. Our one chance . . . blown.
“What was that?” I demanded, stalking up to Marcie. “You were supposed to let Patch go after Blakely. . . .” My last few words out slow and hoarse. I swallowed. I was looking at Marcie, but something about her was horribly, terribly wrong.
“Patch is here?” Marcie asked, only it wasn’t her voice. It was low, masculine, and sourly amused. “I haven’t been as careful as I thought.”
“Blakely?” I asked, my mouth running dry. “Where’s Marcie?”
“Oh, she’s here. Right here. I’m possessing her body.”
“How?” But I already knew. Devilcraft. It was the only explanation. That, and it was Cheshvan. The only month when possession of another body was possible.
Footsteps rang out behind us, and even in the darkness, I saw Blakely’s eyes harden. He lunged for me without warning. He moved so fast, I didn’t have time to react. He spun me against him, holding me to his chest. Patch appeared ahead, but slowed when he saw me standing backed up against Marcie.
“What’s going on, Angel?” he asked, low and uncertain.
“Don’t say a word,” Blakely hissed in my ear.
Tears glistened in my eyes. Blakely was using one arm to pin me, but the other held a blade, and I felt it bite into my skin, a few inches above my hip.
“Not a single word,” Blakely repeated, his breath ruffling my hair.
Patch came to a stop, and I could see confusion written all over his face. He knew something was wrong, but he couldn’t figure out what. He knew I was stronger than Marcie and could break free if I wanted.
“Let Nora go,” Patch told Marcie, his voice quiet, wary.
“Don’t come another step,” Blakely commanded Patch, only this time he made his voice sound like Marcie’s. High and quivering. “I have a knife, and I’ll use it if I have to.” Blakely waved the knife to make his point.
Devilcraft, Patch spoke to my mind. I feel it everywhere.
Be careful! Blakely is possessing Marcie’s body, I tried to tell him, but my thoughts were blocked. Somehow Blakely was shielding them. I felt them bounce back, as though I were yelling at a wall. He seemed to have complete and utter control over devilcraft, using it like an unstoppable and highly adaptive weapon.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Blakely hold up the knife. The blade glowed an ethereal shade of blue. Before I could blink, he plunged the knife into my side, and it was as though I’d been pushed into a raging furnace.
I collapsed, trying to howl and scream in pain, but too much in shock to manage a single sound. I writhed on the ground, wanting to pull out the knife, but every muscle in my body was in shock, paralyzed in unspeakable agony.
The next thing I knew, Patch was at my side, uttering a litany of curses, fear sharpening his voice. He tugged out the knife. Now I screamed, the sound shattering out from deep within. I heard Patch shouting directives, but the words snapped in two, insignificant next to the pain torturing every corner of my body. I was on fire, the flames licking me from the inside out. The heat was so intense, great convulsive shudders made me twitch and flail tch the paagainst my will.
Patch scooped me into his arms. I vaguely noted that he was sprinting out of the breezeway. The sound of his footsteps echoing off the walls was the last thing I heard.
Chapter 14
I WOKE WITH A START, INSTANTLY TRYING TO GET MY bearings. I was in a vaguely familiar bed, in a dark room that smelled warm and earthy. A body was stretched out beside mine, and it stirred.
“Angel?”
“I’m awake,” I said, a flood of relief welling up inside me now that I knew Patch was close. I didn’t know how long I’d been out, but I felt safe here in his home, with him watching over me. “Blakely was possessing Marcie’s body. I didn’t sense him and walked right up to him without the slightest clue it was a trap. I tried to warn you, but Blakely had me in some kind of bubble—my mind-speak kept bouncing back.”
Patch nodded, coaxing a stray curl behind my ear. “I saw him exit Marcie’s body and run. Marcie’s okay. Shaken up, but fine.”
“Why did he have to stab me?” I grimaced in pain as I lifted my sweater to see the wound. My Nephilim blood should have healed me by now, but the stab was still fresh, casting a bluish hue.
“He knew if you were hurt, I’d stay by your side instead of going after him. A move that’s going to cost him,” Patch said, his jaw rigid. “When I brought you here, your entire body was radiating blue light, head to toe. You appeared to be in a coma. I couldn’t reach you, even through mind-speak, and it terrified me.” Patch pulled me against him, curling his body protectively around mine, holding me almost too tight, and that’s when I knew just how worried he was.
“What does this mean for me?”
“I don’t know. It can’t be good that you’ve had devilcraft forced into your body twice now.”
“Dante is drinking it daily.” If he was okay, I’d be okay too. Wouldn’t I? I wanted to believe it.
Patch said nothing, but I had a good idea where his thoughts were going. Like me, he knew there had to be side effects to ingesting devilcraft.
“Where’s Marcie?” I asked.
“I altered her memory so she won’t remember seeing me tonight, then had Dabria take her home. Don’t look at me like that. I was low on options, and I had Dabria’s phone number.”
“That’s what I’m worried about!” I instantly winced when my strong reaction caused my wound to throb.
Patch bent down to kiss my forehead, rolling his eyes as he did. “Don’t make me tell you again there’s nothing between me and Dabria.”
“She’s not over you.”
“She’s pretending to feel something for me to antagonize you. Don’t make it easy for her.” “Don’t call her up for favors like she’s part of the team,” I countered. “She tried to kill me, and she’d steal you back in a heartbeat, if you’d let her. I don’t care how many times you deny it. I’ve seen the way she looks at you.”
Patch looked like he had a comeback, but he forced it down and rolled agilely out of bed. His black T-shirt was rumpled, his hair mussed, giving him the appearance of a perfect pirate. “Can I get you something to eat? Drink? I feel useless, and it’s driving me crazy.”
“You could go after Blakely, if you’re looking for something to do,” I said crisply. What would it take to get rid of Dabria, once and for all?
A smile that was equally devious and truly sinister crept over Patch’s expression. “We don’t have to find him. He’ll come to us. To get away, he had to leave his knife behind. He knows we have it, and he knows it’s evidence I can take to the archangels to prove he’s using devilcraft. He’s going to come looking for that knife. Soon.”
“Let’s turn him over to the archangels now. Let them worry about eradicating devilcraft.”
Patch breathed a laugh, but it held an edge. “I no longer trust the archangels. Pepper Friberg isn’t the only bad egg. If I turn this over to them, I have no guarantee they’ll take care of this mess. I used to think the archangels were incorruptible, but they’ve done a good job of convincing me otherwise. I’ve seen them tamper with death, look the other way on serious offenses of the law, and punish me for crimes I haven’t committed. I’ve made mistakes, and I’ve paid for those mistakes, but I suspect they won’t give up until they’ve locked me away in hell. They don’t like opposition, and that’s the first word that comes to mind when they think of me. This time I’m taking matters into my own hands. Blakely is going to come for his knife, and when he does, I’ll be ready.”
“I want to help,” I said immediately. I wanted to take down the Nephil who’d been foolish enough to stab me. Blakely was aiding the Nephilim army, but I was leading it. While I considered his actions gravely disrespectful, there were some who’d consider them treasonous. And I knew for a fact that Nephilim as a race don’t look kindly on traitors.
Patch locked eyes with me, studying me wordlessly as though judging my ability to go up against Blakely. To my deep satisfaction, he gave a nod. “All right, Angel. But first things first. The football game ended two hours ago, and your mom is going to wonder where you are. Time to get you home.”
The lights were off at the farmhouse, but I knew my mom wouldn’t fall asleep until I’d made it home. I knocked softly on her bedroom door, nudged it open, and whispered into the darkness, “I’m home.”