Finale

were going. Like me, he knew there had to be side effects to ingesting devilcraft.
    “Where’s Marcie?” I asked.
    “I altered her memory so she won’t remember seeing me tonight, then had Dabria take her home. Don’t look at me like that. I was low on options, and I had Dabria’s phone
number.”
    “That’s what I’m worried about!” I instantly winced when my strong reaction caused my wound to throb.
    Patch bent down to kiss my forehead, rolling his eyes as he did. “Don’t make me tell you again there’s nothing between me and Dabria.”
    “She’s not over you.”
    “She’s pretending to feel something for me to antagonize
you
. Don’t make it easy for her.”
    “Don’t call her up for favors like she’s part of the team,” I countered. “She tried to kill me, and she’d steal you back in a heartbeat, if you’d let
her. I don’t care how many times you deny it. I’ve seen the way she looks at you.”
    Patch looked like he had a comeback, but he forced it down and rolled agilely out of bed. His black T-shirt was rumpled, his hair mussed, giving him the appearance of a perfect pirate.
“Can I get you something to eat? Drink? I feel useless, and it’s driving me crazy.”
    “You could go after Blakely, if you’re looking for something to do,” I said crisply. What would it take to get rid of Dabria, once and for all?
    A smile that was equally devious and truly sinister crept over Patch’s expression. “We don’t have to find him. He’ll come to us. To get away, he had to leave his knife
behind. He knows we have it, and he knows it’s evidence I can take to the archangels to prove he’s using devilcraft. He’s going to come looking for that knife. Soon.”
    “Let’s turn him over to the archangels now. Let them worry about eradicating devilcraft.”
    Patch breathed a laugh, but it held an edge. “I no longer trust the archangels. Pepper Friberg isn’t the only bad egg. If I turn this over to them, I have no guarantee they’ll
take care of this mess. I used to think the archangels were incorruptible, but they’ve done a good job of convincing me otherwise. I’ve seen them tamper with death, look the other way
on serious offenses of the law, and punish me for crimes I haven’t committed. I’ve made mistakes, and I’ve paid for those mistakes, but I suspect they won’t give up until
they’ve locked me away in hell. They don’t like opposition, and that’s the first word that comes to mind when they think of me. This time I’m taking matters into my own
hands. Blakely is going to come for his knife, and when he does, I’ll be ready.”
    “I want to help,” I said immediately. I wanted to take down the Nephil who’d been foolish enough to stab me. Blakely was aiding the Nephilim army, but
I
was leading
it. While I considered his actions gravely disrespectful, there were some who’d consider them treasonous. And I knew for a fact that Nephilim as a race don’t look kindly on
traitors.
    Patch locked eyes with me, studying me wordlessly as though judging my ability to go up against Blakely. To my deep satisfaction, he gave a nod. “All right, Angel. But first things first.
The football game ended two hours ago, and your mom is going to wonder where you are. Time to get you home.”
    The lights were off at the farmhouse, but I knew my mom wouldn’t fall asleep until I’d made it home. I knocked softly on her bedroom door, nudged it open, and
whispered into the darkness, “I’m home.”
    “Did you have a good time?” she asked, yawning.
    “The team played really well,” I said evasively.
    “Marcie came home a few hours ago. She didn’t say much, just went straight to her room and shut the door. She seemed . . . quiet. Upset, maybe.” There was a hint of inquiry in
her tone.
    “Probably PMS.” Probably she was doing everything in her power not to launch into a full-fledged panic attack. I’d been possessed before, and words couldn’t describe how
violating it felt. But I wasn’t feeling especially sympathetic. If Marcie had done what I’d asked, none of this would have happened.
    In my bedroom, I shucked out of my clothes and examined my stab wound once more. The electric blue tint was fading. Slowly, but fading nonetheless. It had to be a good sign.
    I’d just crawled into bed when there was a tap at the door. Marcie opened it and stood in the entrance. “I’m freaking out,” she said, and she genuinely looked like she
meant it.
    I