Silence

He took my coat, storing it in the closet just off the foyer.

“Hungry?” he asked.

It was my turn to raise my eyebrows. “You bought food? For me?” He’d told me angels can’t taste and don’t require food, which made grocery shopping unnecessary.

“There’s an organic grocery store just off the highway exit. I can’t remember the last time I went shopping for food.” A smile glittered in his eyes. “I might have gone overboard.”

I walked into the kitchen, with gleaming stainless-steel appliances, black granite countertops, and walnut cabinetry. Very masculine, very sleek. I went for the fridge first. Water bottles, spinach and arugula, mushrooms, gingerroot, Gorgonzola and feta cheeses, natural peanut butter, and milk on one side. Hot dogs, cold cuts, Coke, chocolate pudding cups, and canned whipped cream on the other. I tried to picture Patch pushing a shopping cart down the aisle, tossing in food as it pleased him. It was all I could do to keep a straight face.

I grabbed a pudding cup and offered Patch one as well, but he shook his head no. He perched himself on one of the bar stools, leaning his elbow on the counter contemplatively. “Do you remember anything else from the crash before you blacked out?”

I found a spoon in the drawer and took a bite of pudding. “No.” I frowned. “This might be something, though. The car crash happened right before lunch. I originally thought I couldn’t have been unconscious for more than a few minutes, but when I woke up in the hospital, it was evening. That means my time line is missing about six hours … so how do we account for those missing six hours? Was I with Hank? Lying unconscious in the hospital?”

Something worrisome flicked across Patch’s eyes. “I know you’re not going to like this, but if we could get Dabria close to Hank, she might be able to read something off him. She can’t see inside his past, but if she still has some of her powers and can see his future, it might clue us in on what he’s been up to. Whatever his future holds, it’s dependent on his past. But getting Dabria close to him isn’t going to be easy. He’s being careful. When he goes out, he has at least two dozen of his men forming an impenetrable barrier around him. Even when he’s at your house, his men are outside, guarding the doors, pacing the fields, and patrolling the street.”

This was news to me, and only made me feel more violated.

“Speaking of Dabria, she was at the Devil’s Handbag tonight,” I said, aiming for a nonchalant air. “She was kind enough to introduce herself.”

I watched Patch closely. I wasn’t sure what I was looking for. It was one of those things where I’d know it when I saw it. To his credit, and my frustration, he showed no outward emotion or interest.

“She said there’s a reward on Hank’s head,” I continued. “Ten million dollars to the first fallen angel who successfully drags him in. She said there are people who’d rather not see Hank lead a Nephilim rebellion, and while she didn’t give me specifics, I think I can figure out the details on my own. I wouldn’t be surprised if there are a few Nephilim out there who don’t want Hank in power. Nephilim who would much rather see him locked away.” I paused for emphasis. “Nephilim who are planning a coup d’etat.”

“Ten million sounds about right.” Again, said with no hint of his real feelings.

“Are you going to sell me out, Patch?”

He said nothing for a long moment, and when he spoke, his words vibrated with quiet derision. “You realize this is what Dabria wants, don’t you? She followed you to the Devil’s Handbag tonight with one intent: to plant it in your head that I want to betray you. Did she tell you I’ve gambled away my fortune and the ten million will pose too great a temptation? No, I can tell by your face it’s not that. Maybe she told you I have women tucked away in every corner of the world, and I plan on using the money to keep them flocking to me. Jealousy would be more in her taste, which is why I’m betting if I haven’t hit the nail on the head yet, I’m getting warmer.”

I tipped my chin higher, using defiance to mask my insecurity. “She said you’ve amassed a long list of enemies and you’re planning to pay them off.”

Patch barked a laugh. “I have a long list of enemies, I won’t deny that. Could I pay them all off for ten million? Maybe, maybe not. That’s not the point. I’ve stayed one step ahead of my enemies for centuries, and I intend to keep it that way. Hank’s head on a platter means more to me than a paycheck, and when I learned you share my desire, it only strengthened my resolve to find a way to kill him, Nephilim or not.”

I wasn’t sure what to say in response. Patch was right — Hank didn’t deserve to spend the rest of his life quarantined in a remote prison. He had destroyed my life and my family, and anything less than death was too kind a punishment.

Patch raised his finger to his lips, silencing me on the spot. A moment later there was a brusque knock at the outer door.

We shared a look, and Patch spoke to my thoughts. I’m not expecting anyone. Go to the bedroom and shut the door.

With a nod, I signaled I understood. Moving silently, I crossed the studio, closing myself inside Patch’s bedroom. Through the door, I heard Patch give an abrupt laugh. His next words were laced with menace. “What are you doing?”

“Bad timing?” returned a muffled voice. Female and oddly familiar.

“Your words, not mine.”

“It’s important.”

Alarm and anger sprang to my chest as the unmistakable identity of the visitor became clear. Dabria had dropped by unannounced.

“I have something for you,” she told Patch, her voice a little too smooth, a little too suggestive.

I’ll bet you do, I thought cynically. I was tempted to stroll out and give her a warm welcome, but caught myself. Chances were, she’d be more open to talking if she didn’t know I was listening. Between my pride and potential information, the latter won out.

“We had some luck. The Black Hand contacted me earlier tonight,” Dabria continued. “He wanted a meeting, was willing to pay top dollar, and I acquiesced.”

“He wanted you to read his future,” Patch stated.

“For the second time in two days. We have a very thorough Nephil on our hands. Thorough, but not as careful as he’s been in the past. He’s making small mistakes. This time he didn’t bother dragging along his bodyguards. He said he didn’t want our conversation overheard. He told me to read his future a second time, to make sure both versions matched. I pretended not to take offense, but you know I don’t like to be second-guessed.”

“What did you tell him?”

“Normally my visions are prophetess-client privilege, but I might be willing to strike a deal,” she said, her tone hinting toward flirtatious. “What are you laying on the table?”

“Prophetess?”

“Has a certain cachet, don’t you think?”

“How much?” Patch asked.

“First one to name a price loses — you taught me that.”

I thought I heard Patch roll his eyes. “Ten thousand.”

“Fifteen.”

“Twelve. Don’t press your luck.”

“Always fun doing business with you, Jev. Just like old times. We made a great team.”

Now it was my turn to roll my eyes.

“Start talking,” Patch said.

“I foresaw Hank’s death, and I gave it to him straight. I couldn’t give him specifics, but I told him there’s going to be one less Nephil in the world very soon. I’m starting to think ‘immortal’ is a misnomer. First Chauncey, and now Hank.”

“Hank’s reaction?” was all Patch said.

“He didn’t have one. Left without a word.”

“Anything else?”

“You should know he’s in possession of an archangel’s necklace. I sensed it on him.”

I wondered if this meant Marcie had succeeded in stealing Patch’s necklace from me. I’d invited her over to help me choose the best jewelry for my gown, but oddly, she hadn’t taken me up on the offer. Of course, I wouldn’t put it past Hank to give her his house key and tell her to snoop in my bedroom while I was out.