Finale

a memory-altering enchantment so powerful that its effects lasted beyond his death. Hank and vanity went
together like matching socks. He wouldn’t have wanted anyone speaking ill of his memory. And as far as I knew, no one in Coldwater had. It was as if a numbing fog had settled over the
community, keeping human and Nephilim residents alike from asking the big question of what had happened to him. There wasn’t a single story going around town. People, when they spoke of him,
simply murmured, “What a shock. Rest his soul. Poor family, ought to ask how I can help . . .”
    Marcie continued, “But he’s not coming back. He’s dead. I don’t know how or why or who did it, but there is no way my dad would drop off the grid unless something
happened. He’s dead. I know it.”
    I tried to keep my expression sympathetic, but my palms started to sweat again. Patch was the only other person on Earth who knew I’d sent Hank to the grave. I had no intention of adding
Marcie’s name to the insider list.
    “You don’t sound too broken up about it,” I said.
    “My dad was messed up in some pretty bad stuff. He deserved what he got.”
    I could have opened up to Marcie then and there, but something didn’t feel right. Her cynical gaze never wavered from my face, and I got the feeling she suspected I knew vital information
about her father’s death, and her indifference was an act to get me to divulge.
    I wasn’t going to walk into a trap, if that’s what this was.
    “It’s not easy losing your dad, believe me,” I said. “The pain never really goes away, but it does eventually become bearable. And somehow, life moves on.”
    “I’m not looking for a sympathy card, Nora.”
    “Okay,” I said with a reluctant shrug. “If you ever need to talk, I guess you can call me.”
    “I won’t have to. I’m moving in with you,” Marcie announced. “I’ll bring my stuff over later this week. My mom is driving me crazy, and we both agree I need
somewhere else to crash for a while. Your place is as good as any. Well, I for one am so glad we had this talk. If there’s one thing my dad taught me, it’s that Nephilim stick
together.”

C HAPTER

6
    N O,” I BLURTED AUTOMATICALLY. “NO, NO, NO. YOU can’t just—move in with me.” A feeling of
pure panic escalated from my toes to the tips of my ears, blowing up faster than I could contain it. I needed an argument.
Now.
But my brain kept spitting out the same frantic and
completely unhelpful thought—
No.
    “I’ve made up my mind,” Marcie said, and disappeared inside.
    “What about me?” I called out. I kicked the door, but what I really felt like doing was kicking myself around for an hour or two. I’d done Vee a favor and look where it had
gotten me.
    I flung open the door and marched inside. I found Vee at our booth.
    “Which way did she go?” I demanded.
    “Who?”
    “Marcie!”
    “I thought she was with you.”
    I shot Vee my best bristled look. “This is all your fault! I have to find her.”
    Without further explanation, I pushed through the crowd, eyes alert and attentive for any sign of Marcie. I needed to sort this out before it got wildly out of hand.
She’s testing
you,
I told myself.
Putting feelers out. Nothing is set in stone.
Besides, my mom had final say in this. And she wouldn’t let Marcie move in with us. Marcie had her own family.
She was short one parent, sure, but I was a living testament that family was about more than numbers. Buoyed by this line of thinking, I felt my breathing start to relax.
    The lights dimmed and the lead singer for Serpentine grabbed the mic, pounding his head in a silent cadence. Taking the cue, the drummer hammered out an intro, and Scott and the other guitarist
joined in, kicking off the show with a violent and angsty number. The crowd went wild, head-banging and chanting the lyrics.
    I gave one last frustrated glance around for Marcie, then dropped it. I’d have to sort things out with her later. The start of the show was my signal to meet Patch at the bar, and just
like that, my heart was back to lurching in my chest.
    I made my way over to the bar and took the first bar stool I saw. I sat down a little too hard, losing my balance at the last second. My legs felt like they were made of rubber, and my fingers
shook. I didn’t know how I was going to get through this.
    “ID, sweetheart?” the bartender asked. An electric-like current vibrated off him, alerting me that he was