Finale

beside it.

Patch’s arm immediately shot out, blocking me. “Go upstairs,” he ordered.

Without thinking, I ducked under Patch’s arm and rushed toward Blakely. “He’s hurt!”

The whites of Blakely’s eyes sizzled an ethereal blue. Blood trickled from his mouth, gurgling as he tried unsuccessfully to speak.

“Dante did this?” Patch asked him, following directly behind me.

I crouched down, checking Blakely’s vital signs. His heartbeat thrummed weakly and erratically. Tears stung my eyes. I didn’t know if I was crying for Blakely, or for what his death would mean for me, but I suspected, selfishly, it was the latter.

Blakely coughed blood, his voice threadbare. “Dante knows—fallen angels’ feathers.”

I gave Patch’s hand a numbing squeeze. How can Dante know about the feathers? Pepper wouldn’t have told him. And we’re the only other two who know.

If Dante knows about the feathers, he’ll try to intercept Pepper on his way back to Earth, Patch answered tensely. We can’t let him get the feathers.

“Lisa Martin—here—soon,” Blakely rasped, each word a struggle.

“Where is the lab?” I asked Blakely. “How can we destroy Dante’s supply of devilcraft?”

He gave his head a hard shake, as if I’d asked the wrong question. “His sword— he—doesn’t know. Lied. Kill—him too,” he choked hoarsely, more blood washing over his lips. The blood had turned from red to fiery blue.

“Okay, I understand,” I said, patting his shoulder to console him. “The sword he’s going to duel with tomorrow will kill him too, only he doesn’t know it. This is good, Blakely. Now tell me whˀow tell ere the lab is.”

“Tried—tell—you,” he croaked.

I shook Blakely’s shoulders. “You didn’t tell me. Where is the lab?” I didn’t believe destroying the lab would change the outcome of tomorrow’s duel—Dante would have plenty of devilcraft in his system when we fought, but no matter what happened to me, if Patch could destroy the lab, devilcraft would vanish once and for all. I felt personally responsible for putting the powers of hell back in, well, hell.

We have to go, Angel, Patch spoke to my thoughts. Lisa can’t see us here. It doesn’t look good.

I rattled Blakely harder. “Where is the lab?”

His balled hands relaxed. His eyes, glazed that chilling shade of blue, stared vacantly up at me.

“We can’t waste any more time here,” Patch told me. “We have to assume Dante is going after Pepper and the feathers.”

I dried my eyes with the heels of my hands. “We’re just going to leave Blakely here?”

The sound of a car pulling to a stop sounded on the street outside. “Lisa,” Patch said. He shoved the bedroom window open, hoisted me into the window well, and leaped up beside me. “Any last respects to the dead have to be said now.”

Casting a mournful look back at Blakely, I simply said, “Good luck in the next life.”

I had a feeling he’d need it.

We sped off through the woodsy back roads on Patch’s motorcycle. Cheshvan’s new moon had started nearly two weeks ago, and now it hung like a ghostly orb high overhead, a wide, watchful eye we couldn’t escape. I shivered and snuggled closer against Patch. He rocketed around the narrow bends so fast that tree branches began to blur into flashes of skeletal fingers reaching out to snare me.

Since yelling above the roar of wind was impractical, I resorted to mind-speak.

Who could have told Dante about the feathers? I asked Patch.

Pepper wouldn’t risk it.

Neither would we.

If Dante knows, we can assume the fallen angels do too. They are going to do everything they can to keep us from getting those feathers, Angel. No course of action will be ruled out.

His warning came through all too clear: We weren’t safe.

We have to warn Pepper, I said.

If we call him, and the archangels intercept it, we’ll never get the feathers.

I glanced at the time on my cell phone. Eleven. We gave him until midnight. He’s almost out of time.

If he doesn’t call soon, Angel, we’re going to have to assume the worst and come up with a new plan.

His hand dropped to my thigh, squeezing. I knew we were sharing the same thought. We’d exhausted every plan. Time was up. Either we got the feathers.

Or the Nephilim race would lose more than the war. They’d be in bondage to fallen angels for eternity.

CHAPTER 36

A MUTED JINGLE RANG FROM MY POCKET. PATCH immediately steered the motorcycle to the roadside, and I answered the call with a prayer in my heart.

“I have the f-f-feathers,” Pepper said, his voice high and quivering.

I exhaled in relief and gave Patch a high five, curling my fingers between his, locking our hands together. We had the feathers. We had the dagger. Tomorrow morning’s duel was no longer necessary—dead opponents didn’t wield swords, enchanted or otherwise.

“Good work, Pepper,” I said. “You’re almost done. We need you to hand over the feathers and dagger, and then you can put this behind you. Patch will kill Dante as soon as he gets the dagger. But you need to know Dante is after the feathers too.” There wasn’t time to break it to him gently. “He wants them as badly as we do. He’s looking for you, so don’t let your guard down. And don’t let him get the feathers, or the dagger.”

Pepper sniffled. “I’m s-s-scared. How do I know Dante won’t find me? And what if the archangels notice the feathers are missing?” His volume shot up to a screech. “What if they figure out it was me?”

“Calm down. Everything will be fine. We’re going to make the transfer at Delphic Amusement Park. We can meet you in about forty-five minutes—”

“That’s almost an hour! I can’t hold the feathers that long! I have to dump them. That was the deal. You never said anything about babysitting them. And what about me? Dante is after me. If you want me to hang on to your feathers, then I want Patch to go after Dante and make sure he’s not a threat to me!”

“I explained this,” I said impatiently. “Patch will kill Dante as soon as we have the dagger.”

“A whole lot of good that will do me if Dante finds me first! I watch Patch out there, this minute, going after Dante. In fact, I won’t give you the dagger until I have proof that Patch has Dante!”

I pulled the phone away to save my eardrums from Pepper’s hysterical shrieks. “He’s cracking,” I told Patch worriedly.

Patch took the phone from me. “Listen up, Pepper. Take the feathers and the dagger to Delphic Amusement Park. I’ll have two fallen angels meet you at the gates. They’ll make sure you get safely inside my studio. Just don’t tell them what you’re carrying.”

Pepper’s squeaked response crackled from the phone.

Patch said, “Put the feathers in my studio. Then stay put until we get there.”

A loud wail.

“You aren’t leaving the feathers unguarded,” Patch argued, each word breathed΀ with murderous intent. “You’re going to sit on my sofa and make sure they’re still there when we get there.”

More frantic squawking.

“Stop blubbering. I’ll hunt Dante down now, if that’s what you want, then come get the dagger, which you’re