Finale

treason, so he’d at least considered that I might go through with it. Which meant he was most likely busy doing one of two things.
First, devising a watertight alibi. Or second, and far more troublesome, beating me to the punch by spreading news that I was the traitor. The thought froze me in my tracks.
    “Start at the beginning,” Patch said from the sofa. His voice was low with fatigue, but his eyes burned with wrath. He stuffed a pillow under his head and directed his full attention
my way. “Tell me exactly what happened.”
    “When Dante told me he’s working for fallen angels, I threatened to out him, but he only laughed, saying no one would believe me.”
    “They won’t,” Patch agreed bluntly.
    I tipped my head against the wall, sighing in frustration. “Then he told me he plans on taking over as leader. Nephilim love him. They wish he were their leader. I can see it in their
eyes. It won’t matter how vehemently I try to warn them. They’ll welcome him as their new leader with wide-open arms. I don’t see a solution. He’s got us beat.”
    Patch didn’t answer right away. When he did, his voice was quiet. “If you publicly attack Dante, you’ll give the Nephilim an excuse to rally against you, that’s true.
Tensions are high, and they’re looking for an outlet for their uncertainty. Which is why publicly denouncing Dante is not the move we’re going to make.”
    “Then what is?” I asked, turning to look at him straight on. He clearly had something in mind, but I couldn’t guess what.
    “We’re going to let Pepper take care of Dante for us.”
    I carefully examined Patch’s logic. “And Pepper will do it because he can’t risk Dante ratting him out to the archangels? But then why hasn’t Pepper already made Dante
disappear?”
    “Pepper isn’t going to get his own hands dirty. He doesn’t want to leave a trail leading back to him for the archangels to find.” Patch’s mouth hardened with a
frown. “I’m starting to get an idea of what Pepper wanted from me.”
    “You think Pepper had hoped you’d make Dante disappear for him? Was that his so-called job offer?”
    Patch’s black eyes sliced into mine. “One way to find out.”
    “I have Pepper’s number. I’ll arrange the meeting right now,” I said with disgust. And here I’d thought Pepper couldn’t stoop any lower. Rather than man up to
his own problems, the coward had tried to dump the risk on Patch.
    “You know, Angel, he has something that could be useful to us,” Patch added thoughtfully. “Something we might convince him to steal from heaven, if we play this right.
I’ve tried to avoid war, but maybe it’s time to fight. Let’s end this. If you beat the fallen angels, your oath will be fulfilled.” His eyes locked on mine. “And
we’ll be free. Together. No more war, no more Cheshvan.”
    I started to ask what he was thinking, when the obvious answer hit me. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t thought of it before. Yes, Pepper did have access to something that would give us
bargaining power over fallen angels—and secure Nephilim faith in me. Then again, did we really want to go down that road? Was it our right to put the entire fallen angel population at grave
risk?
    “I don’t know, Patch. . . .”
    Patch stood and reached for his leather jacket. “Call Pepper. We’re meeting him now.”
    The lot behind the gas station was empty. The sky was black, and so were the store’s greasy windows. Patch parked his motorcycle, and we both swung off. A short, pudgy
form waddled out of the shadows and, after looking apprehensively around, scurried over to us.
    Pepper’s eyes danced self-righteously at the sight of Patch. “Look a little worse for wear, old friend. I think it’s fair to say life on Earth hasn’t been
kind.”
    Patch ignored the insult. “We know Dante is your blackmailer.”
    “Yes, yes, Dante. The dirty pig. Tell me something I don’t know.”
    “I want to hear about your job offer.”
    Pepper drummed his fingertips together, his shrewd eyes never leaving Patch’s. “I know you and your girlfriend here killed Hank Millar. I need someone ruthless like that.”
    “We had help. The archangels,” Patch reminded him.
    “I’m an archangel,” Pepper said peevishly. “I want Dante dead, and I’ll give you the tools to do it.”
    Patch nodded. “We’ll do it. At the right price.”
    Pepper blinked, taken aback. I didn’t think he’d expected to come to an