Finale

merely improved, it was
superior
.
    I dipped under branches, jumped over potholes, and darted around boulders as though I were on an obstacle course I’d long ago memorized. And while I felt like I was running fast enough to
lift off and soar into the sky at any moment, my pace lagged behind Dante’s. He moved like an animal, gaining the momentum of a predator chasing down its next meal. Soon I’d lost track
of him altogether.
    I slowed, straining my ears. Nothing. A moment later he bounded out of the darkness ahead.
    “That was pathetic,” he criticized. “Again.”
    I spent the next two hours sprinting after him and hearing that same directive repeated over and over:
Again.
And again. Still not right—do it
again
.
    I was about to call it quits—my leg muscles trembled with exhaustion and my lungs felt scraped raw—when Dante circled back. He gave me a congratulatory pat on the back. “Good
work. Tomorrow we’ll move to strength training.”
    “Oh? By lifting boulders?” I managed cynically, still huffing and puffing.
    “By uprooting trees.”
    I stared at him.
    “Pushing them over,” he elaborated cheerfully. “Get a full night’s sleep—you’re going to need it.”
    “Hey!” I called after him. “Aren’t we still miles from my house?”
    “Five, actually. Consider it your cooldown jog.”

C HAPTER

5
    T WELVE HOURS LATER I WAS STIFF AND SORE FROM this morning’s workout, edging my way gingerly up and down the
stairs, which seemed to give my muscles the most grief. But any R & R would have to wait; Vee was picking me up in ten minutes, and I still hadn’t changed out of the sweats I’d
spent the day lounging in.
    Patch and I had decided to stage our fight publicly tonight, so there’d be no question about the state of our relationship: We had split ways and were staunchly on opposite sides in this
brewing war. We’d also opted to make our scene at the Devil’s Handbag, knowing it was a popular Nephilim hangout. While we didn’t know the identities of the Nephilim who’d
attacked me, or if they’d be there tonight, Patch and I were certain that news of our split would travel fast. Finally, the bartender scheduled to work the night shift, Patch had learned, was
a quick-tempered Nephilim supremacist. Vital, Patch had assured me, to our plan.
    I shucked out of my sweats and slipped into a chunky cable-knit sweaterdress, tights, and ankle boots. I twisted my hair into a low bun, shaking a few pieces loose to frame my face. Exhaling, I
stared at my reflection in the mirror and manufactured a smile. All in all, I didn’t look too bad for a girl about to engage in a devastating fight with the love of her life.
    The consequences of tonight’s fight only have to last a couple weeks,
I told myself.
Just until this whole Cheshvan mess blows over.
    Besides, the fight wasn’t real. Patch had promised we’d find ways to meet. In secret moments and stolen glances. We’d just have to be extra careful.
    “Nora!” my mom called up the stairs. “Vee’s here.”
    “Wish me luck,” I murmured to my reflection, then grabbed my coat and scarf and flicked off the bedroom light.
    “I want you home by nine,” my mom told me when I descended to the foyer. “No exceptions. It’s a school night.”
    I kissed her on the cheek and hustled out the door.
    Vee had the Neon’s windows rolled down, and her stereo was cranking out Rihanna. I dropped into the passenger seat and called over the music, “I’m surprised your mom let you
out on a school night.”
    “She had to fly to Nebraska last night. Her uncle Marvin died, and they’re divvying up his estate. Aunt Henny is watching me.” Vee looked sideways, and her grin hinted at
mischief.
    “Wasn’t your Aunt Henny in rehab a couple years ago?”
    “That would be the one. Too bad it didn’t work out for her. She’s got a gallon of apple juice in the fridge, but it’s the most fermented apple juice I’ve ever taken
a swig of.”
    “And your mom deemed her responsible enough to watch you?”
    “Guess the prospect of getting some of Uncle Marvin’s money softened her up.”
    We roared down Hawthorne, belting out the lyrics and dancing in our seats. I was antsy and nervous but thought it best to act like nothing was out of the ordinary.
    The Devil’s Handbag was only moderately busy tonight, a decent crowd, but not standing room only. Vee and I slid into a booth, unloaded our coats and handbags, and ordered Cokes from a