Finale

“I’m tired of walking. In case you didn’t notice, I’m wearing wedge boots.”
    Not my problem!
I wanted to scream. Instead I said, “Do you want to find Blakely or not?”
    She huffed, and the sound scraped my nerves. “One more walk-through, and then I’m done.”
    Good riddance!
I thought.
    On our way back to the student section, I felt an eerie tingle slink over my skin. Automatically I turned, following the sensation to its origin. A few men loitered in the darkness outside the
high fence surrounding the stadium, hanging their fingers on chain links. Men who hadn’t bought tickets but still wanted to watch the game. Men who preferred sticking to the shadows rather
than showing their faces under the stadium lights. One man in particular, lean and tall despite the way he slumped his shoulders, caught my attention. A vibe of nonhuman energy whipped off him,
sending my sixth sense into overdrive.
    I kept walking, but I said to Marcie, “Look over by the fence. Do any of the men over there look like Blakely?”
    To her credit, Marcie limited her glance to a surreptitious flick of her eyes. “I think so. In the middle. The guy who’s hunching his shoulders. That could be him.”
    It was all the confirmation I needed. Continuing to walk along the curve of the track, I pulled out my phone and placed a call.
    “We found him,” I told Patch. “He’s on the north side of the stadium, outside the fence. He’s wearing jeans and a gray Razorbill sweatshirt. There are a few other
men hanging around, but I don’t think they’re with him. I only sense one Nephil, and that’s Blakely himself.”
    “On my way,” Patch said.
    “We’ll meet you at the cabin.”
    “Drive slow. I’ve got a lot of questions for Blakely,” he said.
    I’d stopped listening. Marcie was no longer by my side.
    “Oh no,” I whispered, suddenly feeling a shade paler. “Marcie! She’s running over to Blakely! I have to go.” I charged after Marcie.
    Marcie was almost to the fence, and I heard her high-pitched voice screech, “Do you know who killed my dad? Tell me what you know!”
    A slew of curse words followed her question, and Blakely instantly turned and bolted.
    In an impressive display of pure determination, Marcie scrabbled over the fence, slipping and struggling before she swung her legs over, and took off after Blakely into the unlit breezeway
tunneling between the stadium and the high school.
    I reached the fence a moment later, shoved my shoe into a chain link and, without breaking speed, vaulted over. I barely registered the shocked expressions of the men milling about. I would have
attempted erasing their memories, but I didn’t have time. I tore after Blakely and Marcie, surveying the darkness as I sprinted ahead, glad my night vision was much sharper than it had been
when I was human.
    I sensed Blakely ahead. Marcie, too, although her power was considerably weaker. Since both her parents were purebred Nephilim, she was lucky she’d been conceived, let alone born alive.
She may have been Nephilim by definition, but I’d possessed more strength than her as a human.
    Marcie!
I hissed in mind-speak.
Get back here now!
    Suddenly Blakely went off my radar. I couldn’t detect him at all. I stopped in my tracks, mentally feeling my way through the dark breezeway, trying to pick up his trail. Had he run so far
and so fast he’d vanished off my grid completely?
Marcie!
I hissed again.
    And then I saw her. Standing at the far end of the breezeway, the moonlight illuminating her silhouette. I jogged over, trying to keep my anger under control. She’d ruined everything.
We’d lost Blakely, and worse, he now knew we were onto him. I couldn’t imagine him surfacing at another football game after tonight. He’d probably retreat into his current secret
hideout entirely. Our one chance . . . blown.
    “What was that?” I demanded, stalking up to Marcie. “You were supposed to let Patch go after Blakely. . . .” My last few words came out slow and hoarse. I swallowed. I
was looking at Marcie, but something about her was horribly, terribly wrong.
    “Patch is here?” Marcie asked, only it wasn’t her voice. It was low, masculine, and sourly amused. “I haven’t been as careful as I thought.”
    “Blakely?” I asked, my mouth running dry. “Where’s Marcie?”
    “Oh, she’s here. Right here. I’m possessing her body.”
    “How?” But I already knew. Devilcraft. It was the only explanation.