Finale

time choose a more appropriate demonstration,” I said tensely. “Patch would kill you if he found out about this.”
    His smile didn’t fade. “That’s a figure of speech that doesn’t work very well with Nephilim.”
    I wasn’t in the mood for humor. “I know what you’re doing. You’re trying to set him off. This petty feud between the two of you will blow up to a whole new level if you
mess with me. Patch is the last person you want to antagonize. He doesn’t hold grudges, because the people who cross him tend to disappear quickly. And what you just did? That was crossing
him.”
    “It was the first idea that came to mind,” he said. “It won’t happen again.” I might have felt better about his apology had he sounded remotely penitent.
    “See that it doesn’t,” I answered in a steely tone.
    Dante seemed to shrug off any ill feelings with ease. “Now it’s your turn. Get inside my head and break down my thoughts. If you can, replace them with something of your own making.
In other words, create an illusion.”
    Since getting back to work was the fastest way to end the lesson, and end my time with Dante, I shoved my personal irritation aside and concentrated on the task at hand. With my nets still
swimming through Dante’s mind, I envisioned first ensnaring his thoughts, and then pulling them apart one small thread at a time. The image in my head wasn’t all that different from
peeling apart string cheese, one thin ribbon after another.
    Work faster,
Dante ordered.
I feel you in my head, but you’re not causing any turbulence. Make waves, Nora. Rock the boat. Hit me before I even see it coming. Think of this as
an ambush. If I were a real opponent, all this would accomplish is letting me know you’re dabbling in my head. And that will put you face-to-face with one very pissed-off fallen
angel.
    I backed out of Dante’s mind, drew a deep breath, and threw my nets again—farther this time. Shutting my eyes to block out any distractions, I created a new image.
Scissors.
Giant, gleaming scissors. I snipped apart Dante’s thoughts—
    “Faster,” Dante barked. “I can feel your hesitancy. You’re so unsure of yourself, I can practically smell your self-doubt. Any fallen angel worth his weight will pounce
on that. Take control!”
    I retreated again, balling my hands into fists as I grew more frustrated. With Dante, and myself. He pushed too hard and set expectations too high. And I couldn’t banish the voices of
doubt sniggering in my head. I berated myself for being the very thing Dante believed I was. Weak.
    I’d come out this morning to keep up relations with Dante, motivated by using him to get to Blakely and his devilcraft lab, but that meant nothing to me now. I wanted to
own
this.
Fury and resentment popped behind my eyes like little red dots. My vision narrowed. I didn’t want to be inadequate anymore. I didn’t want to be smaller, slower, weaker. Fierce
determination seemed to set my blood to boil. My entire body quaked with obstinate resolve as I leveled my gaze on Dante. Everything else dropped away. There was only me, and him.
    I cast a mental net into Dante’s mind with all the fervor I had. I threw my anger at Hank, my insecurities with myself, and the awful tug-of-war sensation ripping me apart every time I
thought about choosing between Patch and the Nephilim into Dante’s mind. Instantly I envisioned a massive explosion, clouds of smoke and debris mushrooming higher, endlessly higher. I set off
another explosion, and another. I wreaked havoc on any hope he had at keeping his thoughts orderly.
    Dante rocked back on his heels, visibly shaken. “How did you do that?” he finally managed to ask. “I—couldn’t see. I’m not even sure where I was.” He
blinked several times in succession, staring at me like he wasn’t sure I was real. “It was like—hanging between two moments in time. There was nothing.
Nothing.
It was
like I didn’t exist. I’ve never had anything like that happen before.”
    “I imagined I was setting off bombs in your head,” I confessed.
    “Well, it worked.”
    “So I passed?”
    “Yeah, you could say that,” Dante told me, shaking his head in disbelief. “I’ve been doing this a long time, and I’ve never seen anything like that.”
    I wasn’t sure whether I should feel elated over finally doing something right, or guilty over having been surprisingly good at invading Dante’s mind. It wasn’t the most