Finale

“Wake up, sleepyhead,” my mom called through the door. “I know it’s the weekend, but let’s not sleep the whole day away. It’s already after eleven.”

Eleven? I’d been out cold for four hours?

“I’ll be down in a second,” I responded, my whole body shaking from what had to be a side effect of the devilcraft. I’d consumed too much, too fast. It explained my body shutting down for hours, and the peculiar, jittery sensation pulsating inside me.

I couldn’t believe I’d stolen the devilcraft from Dante. Worse, I couldn’t believe I’d drunk it. I was ashamed of myself. I had to find a way to correct it, but I didn’t know where to start. How could I tell Dante? He already thought I was as feeble as a human, and if I couldn’t control my own appetites, it only proved him right.

I should have just asked him for it. But I was disconcerted to realize that I’d enjoyed stealing it. There had been a certain thrill in doing something bad and getting away with it. Just like there had been a thrill in overindulging in the devilcraft, drinking it all immediately and refusing to ration it.

How could I be having these awful thoughts? How could I have let myself act on them? This wasn’t who I was.

Swearing that this morning would be the last time I ever used devilcraft, I buried the bottle at the bottom of the wastebasket and tried to flush the incident from my head.

I assumed that by this hour I’d be eating breakfast alone, but I found Marcie at the kitchen table, crossing off a list of phone numbers. “I’ve spent all morning inviting people to the Halloween party,” she explained. “Feel free to jump in at any time.”

“I thought you were mailing invites.”

“Not enough time. The party is Thursday.”

“A school night? What’s wrong with Friday?”

“Football game.” My face must have registered confusion, because she elaborated, “All my friends will either be playing in the game or cheering. Plus, it’s an away game, so we can’t just invite them over after.”

“And Saturday?” I asked, incredulous that we were throwing a party during the week. My mom would never go for it. Then again, Marcie had a way of talking her into just about anything these days.

“Saturday was my parents’ anniversary. We are not doing it Saturday,” she said with a note of finality. She pushed the list of phone numbers toward me. “I’m doing all the work, and it’s really starting to get on my nerves.”

“I don’t want anything to do with the party,” I reminded her.

“You’re just huffy because you don’t have a date.”

She was right. I didn’t have a date. I’d talked about bringing Patch, but that would require me to forgive him for meeting Blakely last night. The memory of what had happened came rushing back. Between sleeping last night, training with Dante this morning, and falling unconscious for several hours, I’d completely forgotten to check my phone for messages.

The doorbell chimed, and Marcie jumped up. “I’ll get it.”

I wanted to yell at her, “Quit acting like you live here!” but instead, I squeezed past her and took the stairs two at a time to my room. My handbag hung over my closet door, and I dug through it until I found my cell phone.

I drew in a sharp breath. No messages. I didn’t know what it meant, and I didn’t know if I should worry. What if Blakely had ambushed Patch? Or what if his silence was merely because we’d parted on bad terms last night? When I got angry, I wanted space, and Patch knew it.

I fired him a quick text. CAN WE TALK?

Downstairs, I heard Marcie break into a flustered argument. “I said I’ll go get her. You have to wait here. Hey! You can’t just burst in without being invited!”

“Says who?” Vee shot back, and I heard her bustle up the stairs.

I met them in the hallway outside my bedroom. “What’s going on?”

“Your fat friend elbowed her way inside without being invited,” Marcie complained.

“This skinny cow is acting like she owns the place,” Vee told me. “What is she doing here?”

“I live here now,” Marcie said.

Vee barked a laugh. “Always a funny one, you are,” she said, wagging her finger at Marcie.

Marcie’s chin jutted up. “I do live here. Go ’head. Ask Nora.”

Vee looked to me, and I sighed. “It’s temporary.”

Vee rocked back on her heels as though hit by an invisible punch. “Marcie? Living here? Am I the only one who realizes all logic just got up and walked off?”

“It was my mom’s idea,” I said.

“It was my idea, and my mom’s, but Mrs. Grey agreed it was for the best,” Marcie corrected.

Before Vee could ask more questions, I snagged her elbow and dragged her inside my bedroom. Marcie inched forward, but I shut the door on her. I was trying my hardest to be civil, but letting her in on a private conversation with Vee was taking the idea of courtesy too far.

“Why is she really here?” Vee demanded, not bothering to lower her voice.

“It’s a long story. The short of it is . . . I don’t know what she’s doing here.” Evasive, yes, but honest, too. I had no clue what Marcie was doing here. My mom had been Hank’s mistress, I was their love child, and it stood to reason that Marcie would want nothing to do with us.

“Gee, everything’s clear now,” Vee said.

Time to hit her with a distraction. “Marcie is throwing a Halloween party here at the farmhouse. Dates are required, ditto on costumes. The theme is famous couples from history.”

“And?” Vee said, not warming up at all.

“Marcie’s got dibs on Scott.”

Vee narrowed her eyes. “Like heck she does.”

“Marcie already asked him, but he didn’t sound very committed,” I offered helpfully.

Vee cracked her knuckles. “Time to work some Vee magic before it’s too late.”

My cell phone chimed with a text. GOT THE ANTIDOTE. WE NEED TO MEET, Patch’s message read.

He was okay. Tension left my shoulders.

Discreetly, I slipped my phone into my pocket and told Vee, “My mom needs me to pick up the dry cleaning and return library books. But I can swing by your place later.”

“And then we can plan how I’m going to steal Scott from the ho,” Vee said.

I gave Vee a five-minute head start, then backed the Volkswagen down the driveway.

LEAVING THE FARMHOUSE NOW, I texted to Patch. WHERE ARE YOU?

HEADING TO THE TOWNHOME, he responded.

MEET YOU THERE.

I drove to Casco Bay, too busy formulating what I’d say to Patch to take in the stunning fall scenery. I was only half-aware of the deep blue water glinting under the sun, and the waves spraying and foaming as they smashed into the craggy cliffs. I parked a few blocks from Patch’s place and let myself inside. I was first to arrive, and went out on the balcony to gather my thoughts one final time.

The air was cool and sticky with salt, with just enough breeze to raise goose bumps, and I hoped it would temper my anger and the lingering sting of betrayal. I appreciated that Patch always had my safety in mind, and I was touched by his concern and didn’t want to sound ungrateful that I was lucky enough to have a boyfriend who would go to any lengths for me, but a deal was a deal. We’d agreed to work as a team, and he’d broken my trust.

I heard the garage door glide open, followed by Patch’s motorcycle pulling in. A moment later he appeared in the living room. He kept his distance, but his eyes were all over me. His hair was wind-blown, and a dark stubble dotted his jawline. He wore the same clothes I’d last seen him in, and I knew he’d been out all night.

“Busy night?” I asked.

“I had a lot on my mind.”

“How’s Blakely?” I asked with just enough indignation to let Patch know I hadn’t forgiven or forgotten.

“He swore an oath to keep our relationship quiet.” A pause. “And he gave me the antidote.”

“So your text said.”