Finale

sure Vee wasn’t watching, ducked down a side hallway and out the back door. The alley was bathed in blue moonlight. A red Porsche
Panamera was parked in front of me, and Dante leaned against it, arms folded loosely over his chest.
    Dante is six feet nine with the physique of a soldier fresh out of boot camp. Case in point: He has more muscle tone in his neck than I have in my entire body. Tonight he was wearing baggy
khakis and a white linen shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest, revealing a deep V of smooth, hairless skin.
    “Nice car,” I said.
    “It gets the job done.”
    “So does my Volkswagen, and it cost considerably less.”
    “Takes more than four wheels to be a car.”
    Ugh.
    “So,” I said, tapping my foot. “What’s so urgent?”
    “You still dating that fallen angel?”
    It was only the third time in as many hours that he’d asked. Twice by text messaging, and now face-to-face. My relationship with Patch had gone through a lot of ups and downs, but the
current trend was upward. We weren’t without our issues, however. In a world where Nephilim and fallen angels would rather die than smile at each other, dating a fallen angel was a definite
no-no.
    I stood a little taller. “You know it.”
    “Being careful?”
    “Discreet is the watchword.” Patch and I didn’t need Dante to tell us it was wise not to make a lot of public appearances together. Nephilim and fallen angels never needed an
excuse to teach each other a lesson, and racial tensions between the two groups were getting hotter with each passing day. It was autumn, October to be exact, and the Jewish month of Cheshvan was
just days away.
    Every year during Cheshvan, fallen angels possess Nephilim bodies by the droves. Fallen angels have free rein to do as they please, and since it’s the only time during the year they can
actually feel physical sensation, their creativity knows no bounds. They chase after pleasure, pain, and everything in between, playing parasites to their Nephilim hosts. For Nephilim, Cheshvan is
a hellish prison.
    If Patch and I were so much as seen holding hands by the wrong individuals, we’d pay, one way or another.
    “Let’s talk about your image,” Dante said. “We need to generate some positive media around your name. Boost Nephilim confidence in you.”
    I gave a theatrical snap of my fingers. “Don’t you just hate it when your approval ratings are low?”
    Dante frowned. “This isn’t a joke, Nora. Cheshvan starts in just over seventy-two hours, and that means war. Fallen angels on one side, us on the other. Everything rides on your
shoulders—you’re the new leader of the Nephilim army. The blood oath you swore to Hank is in effect, and I don’t think I have to remind you that the consequences of breaking it
are very, very real.”
    Queasiness pinched my stomach. I hadn’t exactly applied for the job. Thanks to my deceased biological father, a truly twisted man named Hank Millar, I’d been forced to inherit the
position. With the help of an otherworldly blood transfusion, he’d coerced me into transforming myself from mere human into purebred Nephil so I could take over his army. I’d sworn an
oath to lead his army, it had gone into effect upon his death, and if I failed to do that, my mom and I would die. Terms of the oath. No pressure.
    “Despite every cautious measure I intend to implement, we can’t completely erase your past. The Nephilim are digging around. There are rumors you’re dating a fallen angel, and
that your loyalties are split.”
    “I
am
dating a fallen angel.”
    Dante rolled his eyes. “Could you say it any louder?”
    I shrugged.
If that’s what you really want.
Then I opened my mouth, but Dante was beside me in an instant, covering it with his hand. “I know it kills you, but could you
make my job easy just this once?” he murmured in my ear, glancing around at the shadows with obvious uneasiness, even though I was positive we were alone. I’d only been a purebred
Nephil for twenty-four hours, but I trusted my new, sharper sixth sense. If there were eavesdroppers lurking, I’d know.
    “Look, I know when we first met this morning I carelessly said the Nephilim would just have to deal with me dating a fallen angel,” I said when he lowered his hand, “but I
wasn’t thinking. I was angry. I’ve spent the day giving this a lot of thought. I’ve talked to Patch. We’re being careful, Dante. Really careful.”
    “Nice to know. But I