Finale

I’m asking you to heed as well. She’s my
best friend, Scott. Nothing can happen to her.
    She deserves the truth.
    She deserves a lot more, but right now, her safety matters most to me.
    What do you think matters most to her?
Scott said.
She cares about you and trusts you. Show her the same respect.
    I didn’t have time to argue.
Please, Scott,
I begged him.
    He gave me a long, considering look. I could tell he wasn’t pleased, but I could also tell he was going to let me win this battle—for now.
    “Tell you what,” he told Vee. “I’ll make it up to you. Let’s go see a movie. Your choice. Not to sway your opinion, but there’s a new superhero movie out.
Crappy reviews, which is always a sign it’s going to be sweet.”
    “We should stay and help Nora clean up this mess,” Vee said. “I’m going to find out who did this and teach them some manners. Maybe a dead fish will just happen to find
its way inside their locker. And they’d better keep an eye on their tires, because I’ve got a knife just itching to stab rubber.”
    “Take the night off,” I told Vee. “Marcie will help me clean up, won’t you, Marcie?” I slung my arm over her shoulder and said it sweetly enough, but there was a
note of superciliousness underscoring my words.
    Vee caught my gaze, and we shared a moment of understanding.
    “Well, isn’t that big of you,” Vee told Marcie. “Dustpan is under the kitchen sink. Trash bags, too.” She gave Marcie’s shoulder a slug. “Have fun, and
don’t break too many fingernails.”
    After the door shut behind them, Marcie and I slumped against the wall. At the same time, we breathed a sigh of relief.
    Marcie smiled first. “Jinx.”
    I cleared my throat. “Thanks for your help tonight,” I said, and I honestly meant it. For once in her life, Marcie had been . . .
    Helpful,
I realized with a start. And I was going to repay her by erasing her memory.
    She pushed up from the wall, dusting her hands. “Night’s not over yet. Dustpan is under the sink?”

C HAPTER

23
    T HE FOLLOWING MORNING CAME EARLY. THE rap at my bedroom window acted as my alarm, and I rolled over to see Dante behind
the glass, crouched on a tree branch, beckoning me outside. I held up five fingers, signaling that I’d be out in as many minutes.
    Technically, I was grounded. But I didn’t think the excuse would hold much sway with Dante.
    Outside, the dark morning air held the crisp tang of autumn, and I rubbed my hands together briskly to warm them. A slice of the moon still hung overhead. Far away, an owl cried out with a
plaintive hoot.
    “An unmarked car with radar equipment made several passes by your house this morning,” Dante told me, blowing on his hands. “Pretty sure he was a cop. Dark hair and a few years
older than me, from what I could see. Any thoughts on that?”
    Detective Basso. What had I done to get on his radar this time?
    “No,” I said, thinking now wasn’t the time to reveal my sordid history with local law enforcement. “Probably the end of his shift, looking for busywork. He’s not
going to catch any speeders down here, that’s for sure.”
    An ironic smile twitched Dante’s lips. “Not in cars, anyway, track star. You ready for this?”
    “No. Does that count for anything?”
    He bent down and knotted a shoelace I’d apparently overlooked. “Warm-up time. You know the drill.”
    I knew the drill, all right. What Dante didn’t know was that my warm-up also consisted of fantasizing I was flinging knives, darts, and other shrapnel at his back as I sprinted across the
woodsy terrain, following him deep into our secluded training arena. Whatever it took to get in the mood, right?
    When I was thoroughly drenched in sweat, Dante walked me through a series of stretches intended to make me more limber. I’d seen Marcie doing a few of the very same stretches in her
bedroom. She wasn’t on the cheerleading squad anymore, but apparently maintaining her ability to do the splits was important to her.
    “What’s the plan for today?” I asked, sitting on the ground with my legs spread in a wide V. I bent at the waist, resting my forehead on my kneecap, feeling a pull in my
hamstring.
    “Possession.”
    “Possession?” I repeated, taken aback.
    “If fallen angels can possess us, it’s only fair that we learn to possess them. What better warfare than to be able to control your enemy’s mind and body?” Dante
continued.
    “I didn’t know possessing