Finale

“I can’t believe you’re being such a hypocrite.”

“This conversation isn’t over,” I said, opening the door reluctantly.

“Not easy on the other side, is it?”

I said good night to my mom, then locked myself in my bedroom and called Patch. When Vee and I fled the Devil’s Handbag, the brown Chevy van had no longer been parked at the curb. It was my guess that Patch had left before the fallen angels’ surprise invasion, since he would have stormed inside the club if he’d believed I was in danger, but I was more curious to know if he’d picked up Cowboy Hat. For all I knew, they were having a conversation right now. I wondered if Patch was asking questions or making threats. Probably both.

Patch’s voice mail kicked on, and I hung up. Leaving a message seemed too risky. Besides, he’d see the missed call and know it was from me. I hoped he still planned on coming over tonight. I knew our messy confrontation had been staged, but I wanted the reassurance that nothing had changed. I was rattled, and needed to know we were still at the same place emotionally that we’d been before the fight.

I dialed Patch’s cell once more for good measure, then went to bed feeling restless.

Tomorrow was Tuesday. Cheshvan began with the rise of the new moon.

Based on tonight’s grisly free-for-all, I had a feeling fallen angels were counting down the hours until they could unleash their wrath in full.

I awoke to the sound of floorboards creaking. My vision adjusted to the darkness, and I found myself staring at two rather large, muscled legs clad in white tracksuit bottoms.

“Dante?” I said, flailing an arm toward the nightstand, hunting for the clock. “Uuhn. What time is it? What day is it?”

“Tuesday morning,” he said. “You know what that means.” A ball of workout clothes landed in my face. “Meet me in the driveway at your convenience.”

“Really?”

In the dark, his teeth gleamed with a smile. “Can’t believe you fell for that. Your butt better be outside in T- minus five minutes.”

Five minutes later I trudged outside, shivering against the chill of mid-October. A light wind stripped leaves off the trees and creaked their branches. I stretched my legs and jumped up and down to get the blood flowing.

“Keep up,” Dante instructed, and he took off sprinting into the woods.

I still wasn’t wild about traipsing through the woods alone with Dante, but I rationalized that if he was going to hurt me, he’d had plenty of opportunities yesterday. So I raced after him, looking for the occasional streak of white that alerted me to his presence. His eyesight must have put mine to shame, because while every now and then I tripped over logs, lost my footing in natural potholes, and smacked my head on low-hanging branches, he navigated the terrain with flawless accuracy. Each and every time I heard his taunting chuckle of amusement, I jumped back on my feet, determined to shove him off a steep slope the first chance I got. There were plenty of ravines around; I just needed to get close enough to him to do the job.

At last Dante stopped, and by the time I caught up, he was stretched out on a large boulder with his hands clasped loosely behind his neck. He’d peeled out of his tracksuit bottoms and Windbreaker, leaving him in knee- length shorts and a fitted T-shirt. Other than a slight rise and fall of his chest, I never could have guessed he’d just sprinted what must have been about ten miles gradually uphill.

I crawled onto the boulder and flopped next to him. “Water,” I said, gasping for breath.

Dante rose up on an elbow and smiled down at me. “Not happening. I’m going to wring you dry. Water makes tears, and tears are one thing I can’t stand. And once you see what I’ve got planned next, you’re going to want to cry. Lucky for me, you won’t be able to.”

He hooked me under the armpits and dragged me to standing. Dawn was just beginning to light the horizon, coloring the sky an icy pink. Standing side by side on the boulder, we could see for miles. The evergreen trees, spruces and cedars, spread like a towering carpet in every direction, rolling over hills and into the basin of a deep ravine that cut through the scenery.

“Pick one,” Dante instructed.

“Pick one what?”

“A tree. After you’ve uprooted it, you get to go home.”

I blinked at the trees, at least a hundred years old and as thick around as three telephone poles, and felt my jaw drop slightly. “Dante . . .”

“Strength Training 101.” He gave me a slap on the back by way of encouragement, then settled back into a relaxed recline on the boulder. “This is going to be better than watching the Today show.”

“I hate you.”

He laughed. “Not yet, you don’t. But an hour from now . . .”

An hour later I had deposited every ounce of energy—and maybe my soul, too—into the uprooting of one very stubborn and unaccommodating white cedar. Other than making it slant slightly, it was a perfect specimen of a thriving tree. I had tried pushing it over, digging it out, kicking it into submission, and futilely beating my fists against it. To say the tree had won was an understatement. And all the while, Dante had sat perched on his boulder, snorting, laughing, and hollering carping remarks. Glad one of us found this entertaining.

He sauntered over, a slight but very obnoxious smile tugging at his mouth. He scratched his elbow. “Well, Commander of the Great and Mighty Nephilim Army, any luck?”

Sweat ran in rivulets down my face, dripping off my nose and chin. My palms were scraped raw, my knees were scuffed, my ankle was sprained, and every muscle in my body cried out in agony. I grabbed the front of Dante’s shirt and used it to wipe my face. And then I blew my nose in it.

Dante stepped back, palms raised. “Whoa.”

I flung an arm in the direction of my chosen tree. “I can’t do it,” I admitted on a sob. “I’m not cut out for this. I’ll never be as strong as you, or any other Nephil.” I felt my lip quiver in disappointment and shame.

His expression softened. “Take a deep breath, Nora. I knew you wouldn’t be able to do it. That was the point. I wanted to give you an impossible challenge so later, when you finally can do it, you’ll look back and see how far you’ve come.”

I stared at him, feeling my temper boil.

“What?” he asked.

“What? What? Are you crazy? I have school today. I have a test to study for! And I thought I was giving it up for something worthwhile, but now I find out this was all just to make a point? Well, here’s me making a point! I’m throwing in the towel. I’m done! I didn’t ask for this. Training was your idea. You’ve called all the shots, but this time it’s my turn. I QUIT!” I knew I was dehydrated and probably not thinking rationally, but I’d had enough. Yes, I’d wanted to boost my endurance and strength and learn how to defend myself. But this was ridiculous. Uproot a tree? I’d given it my best shot, and he’d sat back and laughed, knowing full well I’d never be able to do it.

“You look really pissed off,” he said, frowning and stroking his chin in a perplexed manner.

“You think?”

“Consider it an object lesson. A benchmark of sorts.”

“Yeah? Benchmark this.” And I gave him a stiff middle finger.

“You’re blowing this out of proportion. You see that, right?”

Sure, two hours from now maybe I’d see it. After I’d showered, rehydrated, and zonked out in bed. Which, as much as I wanted it, wasn’t going to happen because I had school.

Dante said, “You’re commander of this army. You’re also a Nephil trapped in a human body. You have to train harder than the rest of us, because you’re starting with a serious disadvantage. I’m not doing you any favors by going easy.”

With sweat running into my eyes, I glared at him. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe I don’t want this job? Maybe I don’t want to be commander?”

He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. It’s done. No use fantasizing other scenarios.”

My tone turned despondent. “Why don’t you stage a coup and steal my job?” I muttered, only half joking. Far as I could tell, Dante had no reason to keep me in power and keep me alive. “You’d be a million times better at it. You actually care.”