Finale

title from me. It was supposed to be mine. And now I’ve done what you
couldn’t—I freed the Nephilim. When that fire finishes, every fallen angel on Earth will be chained in hell.”
    “Dante is working for fallen angels,” I said, frustration sharpening my tone.
    “No,” Marcie said. “You are.”
    She swiped Pepper’s blade at me, and I jumped back, tripping. Smoke pressed down on me, fully obscuring my vision.
    “Does Dante know you burned the feathers?” I yelled up at Marcie, but she gave no answer. She was gone.
    Had Dante switched his strategy? After an unexpected windfall of every fallen angel feather, and therefore surefire victory for Nephilim, had he decided to side with his race after all?
    There wasn’t time to debate. I’d already wasted too much precious time. I had to help Scott find Patch’s feather. Running back to the fiery chamber, I coughed and gagged my way
into the entrance.
    “They’re all turning black from the ash,” Scott hollered at me over his shoulder. “They all look the same.” His cheeks glowed scarlet with heat. Embers whirled
around him, threatening to ignite his hair, which had turned black with soot. “We have to get out of here. If we stay longer, we’ll catch on fire.”
    I ran to him in a crouch, trying to avoid the heat, which blasted relentlessly. “First we find Patch’s feather.” I flung burning heaps of feathers behind me, shoveling deeper.
Scott was right. A greasy black soot smeared every feather. I made a high sound of despair. “If we don’t, he’ll be sent to hell!”
    I scattered handfuls of feathers, praying I would know his on sight. Praying it hadn’t already burned. I wouldn’t let my thoughts turn to the worst. Ignoring the smoke that scratched
at my eyes and lungs, I sifted the feathers with more urgency. I couldn’t lose Patch. I
wouldn’t
lose Patch. Not like this. Not on my watch.
    My eyes watered, tears brimming over. I couldn’t see clearly. The air was too hot to breathe. The skin on my face seemed to melt, and my scalp felt like it was on fire. I plunged my hands
into the hill of feathers, desperate to find a solid black feather.
    “I’m not going to let you burn,” Scott ground out above the crackling
whoosh
of flames. He rolled back on his knees, dragging me with him. I scratched ruthlessly at
his hands.
Not without Patch’s
feather.
    The fire clamored in my ears, and my concentration was wilting without enough oxygen. I wiped the back of my hand across my eyes, only to rub in more soot. I groped at the feathers, my arms
feeling as though they were attached to hundred-pound weights. My vision seesawed. But I refused to pass out until I had Patch’s feather.
    “Patch,” I murmured, just as an ember landed on my shirtsleeve, igniting the fabric. Before I could raise a hand to tamp it out, the flame shot to my elbow. Heat torched my skin, so
bright and agonizing, I screamed and pitched sideways. It was then that I saw my jeans were also ablaze.
    Scott bellowed orders behind me. Something about leaving the chamber. He wanted to close the door and trap the fire inside.
    I couldn’t let him. I had to save Patch’s feather.
    I lost my sense of direction, stumbling forward blindly. Bright, licking flames eclipsed my vision.
    Scott’s voice, so urgent, dissolved into nothing.
    Even before I opened my eyes, I knew I was in a moving car. I felt the irregular bump of tires bouncing over potholes, and an engine growled in my ears. I sat slouched against
the car door, my head propped on the window. There were two unfamiliar hands in my lap, and it startled me when they moved at my command. I turned them over slowly in the air, staring at the
strange black paper curling off them.
    Blackened flesh.
    A hand squeezed my arm in consolation.
    “It’s okay,” Scott said from the driver’s seat of his Barracuda. “It will heal.”
    I shook my head, implying he’d misunderstood. I licked my parched lips. “We have to go back. Turn the car around. We have to save Patch.”
    Scott said nothing, just cast me a sidelong look of uncertainty.
    No.
    It was a lie. A deep, unimaginable fear swallowed me up. My throat felt thick and slippery and hot. It was a lie.
    “I know you cared about him,” Scott said quietly.
    I love him! I’ll always love him! I promised him we’d be together!
I screamed inside my head, because the words were too jagged to push out. They scraped like nails in my
throat.
    I turned my attention