“Do I need to get him fitted for a tux?” she asked.
“Actually, the party is really casual. Jeans and a shirt are fine.” I’d let Scott break the news to her that we were no longer going together.
Her face fell slightly. “Well, there’s always homecoming. I don’t suppose you’re planning to ask him to homecoming?”
“I really haven’t thought about it yet. And anyway, Scott might not want to go with me.”
“Don’t be silly! You and Scott go way back. He’s crazy about you.”
Or crazy, period.
“I have to go, Mrs. Parnell. It was great seeing you again.”
“Drive safely!” she called, giving me a finger wave.
I met Vee outside in the parking lot. She was hunched over, fists pressed into her knees, sucking air. A splotch of sweat stained the back of her shirt.
“Nice decoy work,” I said.
She looked up, her face pink as a Christmas ham. “You ever try chasing down a car?” she gasped.
“I’ll one-up you. I gave Scott my hot dog and asked if he’d go to Summer Solstice with me.”
“What does the hot dog have to do with anything?”
“I said he’d be a wiener if he didn’t go with me.”
Vee wheezed laughter. “I’d have run harder had I known I’d get to see you call him a wiener.”
Forty-five minutes later, Vee’s dad had called AAA and had the Neon towed back onto the road and dropped me off in front of the farmhouse. I didn’t waste any time clearing off the kitchen table and shaking Scott’s shoe box out of my handbag. Multiple layers of duct tape were wrapped around the box, nearly a quarter of an inch thick. Whatever Scott was hiding, he didn’t want the rest of the world finding it.
I sawed through the tape with a steak knife. I freed the lid, set it aside, and peered into the box. A plain white tube sock lay innocently at the bottom.
I stared at the sock, feeling my heart drop with disappointment. Then I frowned. I stretched the sock open just wide enough to look inside. My knees went soft.
Inside was a ring. One of the Black Hand’s rings.
CHAPTER 19
I STARED AT THE RING BLANKLY. I COULD HARDLY CONTAIN my thoughts.
And why, if he was so ashamed of the branding on his chest, was he holding on to the ring that presumably had given it to him?
In my bedroom, I dug my cello out of the closet and stowed Scott’s ring in the zippered music pouch, right next to its twin, the ring I’d received by envelope last week. I didn’t know how to make sense of it. I’d gone to Scott’s looking for answers, and was left feeling more confused than ever. I would have dwelt on the rings longer, maybe pieced together a few theories, but I was at a complete and utter loss.
When the grandfather clock chimed midnight, I double-checked the door locks one last time and crawled into bed. I propped my pillows up, sat upright, and painted my fingernails midnight blue. After my fingernails, I moved on to my toenails. I turned on my iPod. I read several chapters in my chemistry text. I knew I couldn’t go forever without sleep, but I was determined to put it off as long as possible. I was terrified Patch would be waiting for me on the other side if I did.
I hadn’t realized I’d fallen asleep until I woke to a strange scraping sound. I lay in bed, frozen, straining to hear the sound again and place it. The drapes were drawn, the room shadowy. I slipped out of bed and dared a look through the drapes. The backyard was still. Undisturbed. Deceptively peaceful.
A low creak sounded downstairs. I grabbed my cell phone off the nightstand and opened my bedroom door just wide enough to peer out. The hall outside was clear, and I turned into it, my heart beating so hard against my ribs, I thought my chest might crack. I’d made it to the top of the stairs when the softest click alerted me that the knob on the front door was turning.
The door opened, and a figure stepped cautiously into the dark foyer. Scott was in my house, standing fifteen feet away, at the base of the stairs. I steadied my grip on the cell phone, which was slick with sweat.
“What are you doing here?” I called down to Scott.
He jerked his head up, startled. He raised his hands level with his shoulders, showing he was harmless. “We need to talk.”
“The door was locked. How did you get in?” My voice was high, shaky.
He didn’t answer, but he didn’t need to. Scott was Nephilim— freakishly strong. I was almost positive that if I’d walked down to check the deadbolt, I would have found it damaged by the sheer strength of his hands.
“Breaking and entering is illegal,” I said.
“So’s theft. You stole something that belongs to me.”
I moistened my lips. “You have one of the Black Hand’s rings.”
“It’s not mine. I—I stole it.” His slight hesitation told me he was lying. “Give me the ring back, Nora.”
“Not until you tell me everything.”
“We can do this the hard way, if you want.” He climbed the first step.
“Don’t move!” I ordered, scrambling to dial 911 on my cell. “If you come another step, I’ll call the police.”
“It will take the police twenty minutes to get out here.”
“That’s not true.” But we both knew it was.
He advanced to the second step.
“And tell them what? That you broke into my room? That you stole valuable jewelry?”
“Your mom let me inside,” I said nervously.
“She wouldn’t have, if she’d known you were going to steal from me.” He took another step, the stairs creaking under his weight.
I racked my brain for a way to divert him from climbing higher. At the same time, I wanted to goad him into telling me the truth, once and for all. “You lied to me about the Black Hand. That night in your bedroom, wow, quite an act. The tears were almost convincing.”
I could see his mind spinning, trying to figure out how much I knew. “I did lie,” he said at last. “I was trying to keep you out of the middle of things. You don’t want to get mixed up with the Black Hand.”
“Too late. He killed my dad.”
“Your dad isn’t the only one the Black Hand wants dead. He wants me dead, Nora. I need the ring.” Suddenly he was on the fifth step.
Dead? The Black Hand couldn’t kill Scott. He was immortal. Did Scott think I didn’t know? And why was he so intent on getting the ring back? I thought he despised his branding. A new piece of information rose to the surface of my mind. “The Black Hand didn’t force you to get the branding mark, did he?” I said. “You wanted it. You wanted to join the society. You wanted to swear allegiance. That’s why you kept the ring. It’s a sacred token, isn’t it? Did the Black Hand give it to you after he finished branding you?”
His hand flexed around the banister. “No. I was forced.”
“I don’t believe you.”
His eyes narrowed. “Do you think I’d let some psychopath grind a burning hot ring into my chest? If I’m so proud of the branding, why am I always covering it up?”
“Because it’s a
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