Finale

alone in a supersecret, superswanky studio
beneath Delphic Amusement Park. The sound of his voice, low and sexy, can melt my heart in three seconds flat. He’s also a fallen angel, kicked out of heaven for his flexibility when it comes
to following rules. I personally believe Patch scared the pants off
normal
, and it took off running for the far side of the world.
    I might not have normalcy, but I do have stability. Namely, in the form of my best friend of twelve years, Vee Sky. Vee and I have an unshakable bond that even a laundry list of differences
can’t break. They say opposites attract, and Vee and I are proof of the validity of the statement. I am slender and tallish—by human standards—with big curly hair that tests my
patience, and I’m a type A personality. Vee is even taller, with ash-blond hair, serpent-green eyes, and more curves than a roller coaster track. Almost always, Vee’s wishes trump mine.
And unlike me, Vee lives for a good party.
    Tonight Vee’s wish to seek out a good time took us across town to a four-storey brick warehouse throbbing with club music, swimming with fake IDs, and jam-packed with bodies producing
enough sweat to take greenhouse gases to a whole new level. The layout inside was standard: a dance floor sandwiched between a stage and a bar. Rumor had it that a secret door behind the bar led to
the basement, and the basement led to a man named Storky, who operated a thriving pirated
anything
business. Community religious leaders kept threatening to board up Coldwater’s
hotbed of iniquity for disorderly teens . . . also known as the Devil’s Handbag.
    “Groove it, baby,” Vee yelled at me over the mindless
thump, thump, thump
of music, lacing her fingers through mine and swaying our hands over our heads. We were at the
center of the dance floor, being jostled and bumped on every side. “This is how Saturday night’s supposed to be. You and me gettin’ down, letting loose, working up good
ol’-fashioned girl-sweat.”
    I did my best to give an enthusiastic nod, but the guy behind me kept stepping on the heel of my ballet flat, and at five-second intervals, I had to shove my foot back into it. The girl to my
right was dancing with her elbows out, and if I wasn’t careful, I knew I’d get clipped.
    “Maybe we should get drinks,” I called to Vee. “Feels like Florida in here.”
    “That’s ’cause you and me are burning up the place. Check out the guy at the bar. He can’t take his eyes off your smokin’ moves.” She licked her finger and
pressed it to my bare shoulder, making a sizzling noise.
    I followed her gaze . . . and my heart lurched.
    Dante Matterazzi lifted his chin in acknowledgment. His next gesture was a little more subtle.
    Wouldn’t have pegged you for a dancer,
he spoke to my mind.
    Funny, I
would
have pegged you for a stalker,
I shot back.
    Dante Matterazzi and I both belonged to the Nephilim race, hence the innate ability to mind-speak, but the similarities stopped there. Dante didn’t know how to give it a rest, and I
didn’t know how much longer I could dodge him. I’d met him for the first time just this morning, when he’d come to my house to announce that fallen angels and Nephilim were on the
brink of war and I was in charge of leading the latter, but now I needed a break from war talk. It was overwhelming. Or maybe I was in denial. Either way, I wished he’d disappear.
    Left a message on your cell phone,
he said.
    Gee, I must have missed it.
More like I deleted it.
    We need to talk.
    Kind of busy.
To emphasize my point, I rolled my hips and swung my arms side to side, doing my best to imitate Vee, whose favorite television network was BET, and it showed. She had
hip-hop stamped on her soul.
    A faint smile quirked Dante’s mouth.
While you’re at it, get your friend to give you some pointers. You’re floundering. Meet me out back in two.
    I glared at him.
Busy, remember?
    This can’t wait.
With a meaningful arch of his eyebrows, he disappeared into the crowd.
    “His loss,” Vee said. “He can’t handle the heat, that’s all.”
    “About those drinks,” I said. “Can I bring you a Coke?” Vee didn’t look ready to give up dancing anytime soon, and as much as I wanted to avoid Dante, I figured it
was best to just get this over with. Suck it up and talk to him. The alternative was having him shadow me all night.
    “Coke with lime,” Vee said.
    I edged my way off the dance floor and, after making