Finale

MEETING with Nephilim higher-ups spread. By Sunday afternoon, Nephilim channels buzzed
with anticipation and speculation. I was getting all the press, and news of Dante’s announcement had fizzled. I’d stolen the show, and Dante hadn’t put up any protest. I had no
doubt Patch was right—Dante was putting his plans on hold until he could see my next move.
    Scott called every hour with an update, which was usually to tell me the latest theories Nephilim were churning out in regard to my first combative strike against fallen angels. Ambush,
destroying lines of communication, sending in spies, and kidnapping fallen angel commanders had all made the glorified list. As Patch had predicted, the Nephilim had quickly concluded that war was
the only reason I’d call a meeting. I wondered if Dante had jumped to the same conclusion. I wished I could say yes, I had him fooled, but experience told me he was cunning enough to know
better—he knew I was up to something.
    “Big news,” Scott said excitedly over the phone. “The bigwigs—high-powered Nephilim—have accepted your request for a meeting. They’ve determined the location,
and it’s not Delphic. Also, they are keeping things cozy. As might be expected, it’s an invitation-only party. Twenty Nephilim at most. No leaks, lots of guards. Every Nephil invited
will be screened before entering. Good news is, I’m on the guest list. Took some schmoozing, but I’ll be there with you.”
    “Just tell me the location already,” I said, trying not to sound nauseated.
    “They want to meet at Hank Millar’s old house.”
    My spine tingled. I would never be able to erase those arctic-blue eyes his name summoned to mind.
    I pushed his ghost aside and focused. A classy Georgian colonial in a respected human neighborhood? It didn’t seem shady enough for a covert Nephilim meeting. “Why there?”
    “The higher-ups thought it showed a nod of respect to the Black Hand. Good call, I say. He started this whole mess,” Scott added snidely.
    “Keep talking like that, and they’re going to boot you off the guest list.”
    “The meeting has been scheduled for ten tonight. Keep your cell phone close, in case I learn anything else. Don’t forget to act surprised when they call with the details. Can’t
have them thinking they’ve got a spy problem already. One more thing. I’m sorry about Dante. I feel responsible. I introduced you. If I could, I’d dismember him. And then tie a
brick to each of his limbs, take them to sea, and throw them overboard. Chin up. I’ve got your back.”
    I hung up and turned toward Patch, who’d been leaning against the wall and watching me carefully throughout the conversation.
    “Meeting is tonight,” I told him. “At the old Millar residence.” I couldn’t bring myself to finish the thought bearing down on my mind. A private home? Screenings?
Guards? How on earth would Patch ever get in? To my great discouragement, it looked like I was going in without him tonight.
    “That works,” Patch said calmly. “I’ll be there.”
    I admired his cool confidence, but I didn’t see how he could possibly sneak in unnoticed. “The house will be highly guarded. The minute you set foot on the block, they’ll know.
Maybe if they’d selected a museum or the courthouse, but not this. The Millar house is big, but not that big. They’ll have every square inch covered.”
    “Which is exactly what I planned for. I’ve already worked out the details. Scott is going to let me in.”
    “It won’t work. They’ll be expecting fallen angel spies, and even if Scott does unlock a window for you, they will have thought of it. Not only will they capture you, but
they’ll know Scott’s a traitor—”
    “I’m going to possess Scott’s body.”
    I flinched. Slowly, his solution came together in my mind. Of course. It was Cheshvan. Patch would have no problem taking control of Scott’s body. And from an outsider’s perspective,
there would be no way to tell the difference between the two. Patch would be welcomed into the meeting without a batted eye. It was the perfect disguise. Only one tiny little problem. “Scott
will never agree to it.”
    “He already has.”
    I stared back in disbelief. “He has?”
    “He’s doing this for you.”
    My throat suddenly closed up. There was nothing in the world Scott fought harder for than to keep fallen angels from possessing him. I realized at that moment just how much my friendship