Finale

CHAPTER 28

SCOTT DROVE HIS BARRACUDA ACROSS TOWN, AND I rode shotgun. He had the stereo turned low, playing Radiohead. His hard, set features flashed in and out of sight as we passed under cones of streetlight. He drove with both hands on the steering wheel, at ten and two precisely.

“Nervous?” I asked.

“Don’t insult me, Grey.” He smiled, but it wasn’t relaxed.

“So. What’s up with you and Vee?” I asked, trying to keep our minds off what lay ahead. No need to overthink things, or start imagining worst-case scenarios. It was Patch, Scott, and me against Dabria. The take-down wouldn’t last more than a couple of seconds.

“Don’t get all girlie on me.”

“It’s a valid question.”

Scott bumped the stereo up a few notches. “I don’t kiss and tell.”

“So you have kissed!” I waggled my eyebrows. “Anything else I should know?”

He almost smiled. “Absolutely not.” The cemetery came into view around the next bend, and he tipped his head toward it. “Where do you want me to park?”

“Here. We’ll walk the rest of the way.”

Scott nodded. “Lots of trees. Easy to hide. You’ll be in the upper parking lot?”

“Bird’s-eye view. Patch will be stationed by the south gate. We won’t let you out of our sight.”

“You won’t.”

I didn’t comment on the ongoing rivalry between Patch and Scott. Patch might hold Scott in the same regard as a snake underfoot, but if he said he’d be there, he would.

We swung out of the Barracuda. Scott tugged his hoodie down to hide his face, and slumped his shoulders. “How do I look?”

“Like Pepper’s long-lost twin. Remember, the minute the blackmailer enters the mausoleum, handcuff them with the whip. I’ll be waiting for your call.”

Scott gave me a fist bump—good luck, I supposed—then took off at a steady jog toward the cemetery gates. I watched him swing over them with ease and disappear into the darkness.

I called Patch. After several rings, it went to voice mail. Impatiently I told the recording, “Scott’s gone in. I’m heading to my post. Call me the minute you get this. I need to know you’re in position.”

I hung up, shivering against the gusts of icy wind. It rattled branches that autumn had stripped bare with a hollow, clanging sound. I stuffed my hands under my arms to warm them. Something didn’t feel right. It wasn’t like Patch to ignore a call, especially one from me, during an urgent situation. I wanted to discuss this inopportune turn of events with Scott, but he was already out of sight. If I chased him now, I’d risk blowing the operation. Instead I hiked uphill toward the parking lot that sat on a ridge overlooking the cemetery.

Once in position, I gazed down at the crooked rows of headstones rising out of grass so dark it appeared black. Stone angels with chipped wings seemed to float in the air just above the ground. Clouds obscured the moon, and two of the five lights in the parking lot were out. Below, the white mausoleum radiated a faint ghostly luminescence.

Scott! I shouted in mind-speak, putting all my mental energy behind it. When only the whistle of wind sweeping over the hills answered, I assumed he was out of range. I didn’t know how far mind-speak traveled, but it seemed Scott was too far away.

A rubble stone wall bordered the parking lot, and I crouched behind it, keeping my eyes trained on the mausoleum. A rangy black dog leaped suddenly over the wall, nearly causing me to fall back in fright. A pair of feral eyes gazed out from the ragtag animal’s narrow face. The wild dog paced beside the wall, stopped to growl territorially at me, then bounded out of sight. Thank goodness.

My vision was better than it had been when I was human, but I was far enough away from the mausoleum that I couldn’t make out nearly as many details as I would have liked. The door appeared shut, but that made sense; Scott would have closed it behind him.

I held my breath, waiting for Scott to emerge dragging Dabria, bound and helpless. Minutes ticked by. I shifted on my haunches, trying to get blood flow to my legs. I checked my cell phone. No missed calls. I could onl. I couly assume Patch was sticking to the plan and patrolling the cemetery’s lower gate.

A horrible thought struck me. What if Dabria saw through Scott’s disguise? What if she suspected he’d brought backup? My stomach slid to my knees. What if she’d called Pepper with a revised meeting place after Scott and I had left the Devil’s Handbag? Either way, Pepper would have known to call me. We’d traded numbers.

I was occupied with these troubling thoughts when the black dog returned, directing a menacing gnarl at me from the shadow of the wall. He flattened his ears against his head and arched his back threateningly.

“Shoo!” I hissed back, gesturing with my hand.

This time he bared pointy white teeth, pawing the dirt ferociously. I was just about to move a safe distance down the wall, when—

A hot wire cut into my throat from behind, blocking my airway. I clawed at the wire, feeling it constrict tighter and tighter. I’d fallen back on my rear, my legs jerking. From my peripheral vision, I noted an eerie blue light emanating from the wire. It seemed to burn my skin like it had been dipped in acid. My fingers blistered with heat where they scratched at the wire, making it agonizing to grip.

My attacker jerked back on the wire, harder. Lights exploded across my vision. An ambush.

The black dog continued to bark and leap wildly in circles, but the image was quickly dissolving. I was losing consciousness. Summoning what little energy remained, I focused on the dog, urging it in mind-speak. Bite! Bite my attacker!

I was too weak to attempt a mind-trick on my attacker, knowing they’d feel me groping clumsily in their mind. Though I’d never attempted to mind-trick an animal, the dog was smaller than a Nephil or a fallen angel, and if it was possible to compel them, it made sense that a slightly smaller animal would require less effort. . . .

Attack! I thought at the dog again, feeling my mind slide down a dark, drowsy tunnel.

To my astonishment and disbelief, the dog raced forward and sank his jaws into my attacker’s leg. I heard a sharp nip of teeth on bone, and a male’s guttural curse. The familiarity of the voice stunned me. I knew that voice. I trusted that voice.

Propelled by betrayal and anger, I lunged into action. The dog’s bite was just enough of a distraction for my attacker to loosen his grip on the wire. I closed my hands fully around it, ignoring the fiery burn long enough to yank it from my neck and fling it aside. The snakelike wire skittered over the gravel, and I recognized it in an instant.

Scott’s whip.