Silence (24 page)

I was growing more uneasy by the minute. Just because Jev had saved my skin three times didn’t mean it was a good idea to be alone with him. I supposed I’d been lulled here by the idea of answers. Jev had promised we’d talk, and the temptation had been too appealing to resist.

At last Jev slowed, veering off the walkway and coming to a stop before a ramshackle maintenance shed. It was overshadowed by the roller coaster on one side and a giant spinning wheel on the other. The squat gray structure was the last place anyone’s eyes would travel.

“What’s in the shed?” I asked.

“Home.”

Home?
Either he had a sense of humor, or he was redefining simple living. “Glamorous.”

A shrewd smile crept to his mouth. “I sacrificed style for safety.”

I eyed the weathered paint, sloped awning, and paper-thin construction. “Safe? I could probably kick down the door.”

“Safe from the archangels.”

At the word, I felt a jab of panic. I remembered my last hallucination.
Help me find an archangel’s necklace,
Hank had said. The coincidence tingled unpleasantly under my skin.

Inserting his key, Jev opened the shed door and held it for me.

“When do I get to find out about the archangels?” I asked. I sounded glib, but nerves were making a wreck of my stomach. Just how many different angel spin-offs were there?

“All you need to know is that right now, they’re not on our side.”

I read deeper into his tone. “But they might be later?”

“I’m an optimist.”

I stepped over the threshold, thinking there had to be more to the shed than met the eye. If the walls would be spared by a gusty wind, I’d be amazed. The floorboards creaked under my weight, and I breathed in the smell of stale air. The shed was small—about fifteen by ten feet. No windows. The space fell to total darkness when Jev let the door shut behind us.

“You live here?” I asked, just to be sure.

“This is more like the antechamber.”

Before I could ask what that meant, I heard him cross the shed. There was the low whine of a door opening. When he spoke again, his voice was much lower to the ground.

“Give me your hand.”

I shuffled over, wading through blackness, until I felt him grasp my hand. It seemed he was standing below me, in a recessed area. His hands moved to my waist. He lifted me down—

Into a space beneath the shed. We stood face-to-face in the darkness. I felt him breathing, low and steady. My own breathing was less regular.
Where was he taking me?

“What is this place?” I whispered.

“There’s a labyrinth of tunnels beneath the park. Layer upon layer of mazes. Years ago, fallen angels didn’t mingle with humans. They separated themselves, living out here on the coast, going into towns and villages only during Cheshvan to possess their Nephilim vassals’ bodies. A two-week vacation, and those towns were like their resorts. They did what they wanted. Took what they wanted. Filled their pockets with their vassals’ money.

“These cliffs by the ocean were remote, but fallen angels built their cities underground as a precaution. They knew that over time things would change. And they did. Humans expanded. The boundary between human and fallen angel territory blurred. Fallen angels built Delphic on top of their city to hide it. When they opened the amusement park, they used the revenue to sustain themselves.”

His voice was so measured, so steady, I didn’t know how he felt about what he’d just told me. In return, I didn’t know what to say. It was like hearing a dark fairy tale, late at night, with heavy eyes. The whole moment felt dreamlike, fluttering in and out of focus, yet so very real.

I knew Jev was telling the truth, not because his history of fallen angels and Nephilim matched Scott’s, but because every last word rattled me, shaking loose fragments of my memory I’d thought were gone forever.

“I almost brought you here once,” Jev said. “The Nephil whose safe house you broke into tonight interfered.”

I didn’t have to be honest with Jev, but I decided to take the risk. “I know Hank Millar is the Nephil you’re talking about. He’s the reason I went to the safe house tonight. I wanted to know what he was hiding inside. Scott told me if we got enough dirt on him, we could figure out what he’s planning and devise a way to bring him down.”

Something I interpreted as pity flashed across Jev’s eyes. “Hank isn’t an ordinary Nephil, Nora.”

“I know. Scott told me he’s building an army. He wants to overthrow fallen angels so they can’t possess Nephilim bodies anymore. I know he’s powerful and connected. What I don’t understand is how you’re involved. Why were
you
at the safe house tonight?”

Jev said nothing for a moment. “Hank and I have a business arrangement. It’s not unusual for me to pay him a visit.” He was
being deliberately vague. I didn’t know whether even after my gesture of honesty he was unwilling to be open with me, or whether he was trying to protect me. He let go of a long sigh. “We need to talk.”

He took my elbow, leading me deeper into the perfect darkness beneath the shed. We moved downward, twisting through corridors and around bends. At last Jev slowed, opened a door, and picked up something from the ground.

A match hissed to life, and he held it against the wick of a candle. “Welcome to my place.”

Compared to utter darkness, the candlelight was surprisingly bright. We stood at the opening of a black granite foyer that led to a vast room beyond, also carved from black granite. Silk rugs in chromatic shades of navy, gray, and black decorated the floors. The furniture was sparse, but the pieces Jev had selected were sleek and contemporary, with clean lines and artistic appeal.

“Wow,” I said.

“I don’t bring many people down here. It’s not something I want to share with everyone. I like the privacy and seclusion.”

He definitely had both, I thought, looking around the cavelike studio. Under the candlelight, the granite walls and floors glittered as though flecked with diamonds.

As I continued my slow exploration, Jev walked the room, lighting candles.

“Kitchen to the left,” he said. “Bedroom in the back.”

I tossed a coy glance over my shoulder. “Why, Jev, are you flirting with me?”

He watched me with dark eyes.

“I’m starting to wonder if you’re trying to distract me from our previous conversation.” I trailed my finger over the only heirloom piece in the room, a full-length silver-plated mirror that looked like it belonged in a medieval French château. My mom would be truly impressed.

Jev dropped into a French Deco–inspired black leather sofa, spreading his arms along the back. “I’m not the distraction in the room.”

“Oh? And what might that be?”

I felt his eyes devour me as I moved around the room. He assessed me head to toe without blinking, and a hot ache shivered through me. A kiss would have been less intimate.

Shoving down the warmth his gaze stirred inside me, I stopped to take in a breathtaking oil panting. The colors were so vivid, the detail so violent.

“
The Fall of Phaeton
,” he informed me. “The Greek sun god Helios had a son, Phaeton, by a mortal woman. Each day Helios drove a chariot across the sky. Phaeton tricked his father into letting him drive the chariot, even though Phaeton wasn’t strong enough or skilled enough to handle the horses. As expected, the horses ran wild and fell to Earth, burning everything in their path.” He waited, drawing my eyes to him. “Surely you’re aware of the effect you have on me.”

“Now you’re teasing me.”

“I enjoy teasing you, true. But there are some things I never joke about.” All banter left him, and his eyes turned serious.

Trapped in Jev’s gaze, I accepted what had so plainly been laid out before me. He was a fallen angel. The power that vibrated off him was different from what I felt around Scott. Stronger and sharper. Even now, the air whipped with energy. Every molecule in my body was ultrasensitive to his presence, aware of his movements.

“I know you’re a fallen angel,” I said. “I know you force Nephilim to swear an oath of fealty. You possess their bodies. In this war that’s going on, you’re on the opposite side from Scott. No wonder you don’t like him.”

“You’re remembering.”

“Not nearly enough. If you’re a fallen angel, why do business with Hank, a Nephil? Aren’t you supposed to be mortal enemies?” I sounded more sharp than I intended; I wasn’t sure how to feel about the idea of Jev as a fallen angel. A bad guy. To keep this revelation from pushing me over the edge, I reminded myself I’d figured this all out before, once upon a time. If I’d handled it then, I could handle it now.

Once again, pity flashed across his expression. “About Hank.” He dragged his hands down his face.

“What about him?” I stared at him, trying to figure out what he was having such a difficult time telling me. His features carried
such deep sympathy, I automatically stiffened, bracing for the worst.

Jev stood, walked to the wall, leaned an arm against it. His sleeves were pushed to his elbows, his head bowed.

“I want to know everything,” I told him. “Starting with you. I want to remember us. How did we meet? What did we mean to each other? After that, I want you to tell me everything about Hank. Even if you’re worried I won’t like what you have to say. Help me remember. I can’t go on like this. I can’t move forward until I know what I left behind. I’m not afraid of Hank,” I added.

“I’m afraid of what he’s capable of. He doesn’t draw the line. He pushes as far as he can. Worst of all, he can’t be trusted. With anything.” He hesitated. “I’ll come clean. I’ll tell you everything, but only because Hank double-crossed me. You’re not supposed to be in this anymore. I did everything I could to leave you out of it. Hank gave me his word he’d stay away from you. Imagine my surprise, then, when you told me earlier tonight that he’s putting the moves on your mom. If he’s back in your life, it’s because he’s up to something. Which means you’re not safe, we’re back to square one, and coming clean doesn’t put you in any more danger.”

My pulse hammered through my veins, my alarm running deeper than bone. Hank. Just as I’d suspected, everything led back to him. “Help me remember, Jev.”

“Is that what you want?” He searched my face with the need to know that I was absolutely certain.

“Yes,” I said, sounding braver than I felt.

Jev lowered himself onto the edge of the sofa. He unbuttoned his shirt carefully. Even though I was taken aback, instinct told me to be patient. Bracing his elbows on his knees, Jev hung his head between his naked shoulders. Every muscle in his body was rigid. For one moment, he looked like Phaeton from his painting, each sinew etched and chiseled. I took one step closer, then two. The guttering candlelight flickered across his body.

I sucked in a breath. Two jagged stripes of torn flesh marred his otherwise flawless back. The wounds were raw and red, and wrung my stomach into a knot. I couldn’t imagine the pain he was in. I couldn’t imagine what had happened to create such brutal gouges.

“Touch them,” Jev said, looking up at me with nervousness rising to the surface of those unreadable black eyes. “Concentrate on what you want to know.”

“I—don’t understand.”

“The night I drove you away from the 7-Eleven, you ripped my shirt and touched my wing scars. You saw one of my memories.”

I blinked. That wasn’t a hallucination? Hank, Jev, the caged girl—they were from Jev’s memory?

Any doubt I’d been dragging around vanished. Wing scars. Of course. Because he was a fallen angel. And even though I didn’t know the physics behind it, when I touched his scars, I saw things no one else could possibly know. Except Jev. I finally had what I wanted, a window to the past, and fear threatened to get the better of me.

“I should warn you that if you go inside a memory that includes you, things will get complicated,” he said. “You might see a double of yourself. You and my memory of you could be there at the same time, and you’d be forced to watch the events as an invisible bystander. The other scenario is that you’ll transfer into your own version of the memory. Meaning you might experience my memory from your own point of view. You won’t see a double if that happens. You’ll be the only version of yourself in the memory. I’ve heard of both happening, but the first is more common.”

My hands trembled. “I’m scared.”

“I’ll give you five minutes. If you haven’t come back, I’ll pull your hand off my scars. That will break the connection.”

I bit my lip.
This is your chance,
I told myself.
Don’t run away, not when you’ve made it this far. The truth is scary, but knowing nothing is crippling. You of all people understand that.

“Give me a half hour,” I told Jev firmly.

Then I cleared my mind, trying to calm my racing thoughts. I didn’t have to understand everything right now. I only had to take a leap of faith. I held my hand out, part of the way. I squeezed my eyes shut, summoning courage. I was grateful when Jev’s hand closed over mine, guiding me the rest of the way.

M
Y FIRST CONSCIOUS THOUGHT WAS OF BEING
nailed down. No. Nailed
inside
. Locked in the snuggest of coffins. Tangled in a net. Defenseless and dictated by another body. A body that looked like my own—same hands, same hair, identical down to the finest detail—but one I had no control over. A strange phantom body that acted against my will, dragging me into its tide.

My second thought was
Patch
.

Patch was kissing me. Kissing me in a way that terrified me even more than the phantom body and its unbreakable hold over me. His mouth, everywhere. The rain, warm and sweet. The swell of distant thunder. And his body, taking up space, standing so very close, radiating heat.

Patch.

Astonished and shaken, I clawed at the memory. I begged to be let out.

I gasped as if coming up from a lengthy and punishing stay under water. At the same time, my eyes flew open.