Бекка Фицпатрик: Hush, Hush

CHAPTER 27

WHO WAS THAT?” PATCH ASKED. My whole body was ringing. It took me a moment to answer. “Vee broke into the high school with Elliot and Jules. They want me to meet them. I think Elliot’s going to hurt Vee if I don’t go.” I looked up at Patch. “I think he’s going to hurt her if I do.” He folded his arms, frowning. “Elliot?” “Last week at the library I found an article that said he was questioned in a murder investigation at his old school, Kinghorn Prep. He walked into the computer lab and saw me reading it. Ever since that night, I’ve gotten a bad vibe from him. A really bad vibe. I think he even broke into my bedroom to steal the article back.” “Anything else I should know?” “The girl who was murdered was Elliot’s girlfriend. She was hanged from a tree. Just now on the phone he said, ‘If you don’t come, there’s a tree in the common area with Vee’s name on it.’“ “I’ve seen Elliot. He seems cocky and a little aggressive, but he doesn’t strike me as a killer.” He dipped into my front pocket and extracted the Jeep’s keys. “I’ll drive over and check things out. I won’t be long.” “I think we should call the police.” He shook his head. “You’ll send Vee to juvie for destruction of property and B and E. One more thing. Jules. Who is this guy?” “Elliot’s friend. He was at the arcade the night we saw you.” His frown deepened. “If there was another guy, I would remember.” He opened the door and I followed him out. A janitor wearing black slacks and a work-issue maroon shirt was sweeping bits of popcorn in the lobby. He did a double take at the sight of Patch exiting the ladies’ room. I recognized him from school. Brandt Christensen. We had English together. Last semester I’d helped him write a paper. “Elliot is expecting me, not you,” I told Patch. “If I don’t show up, who knows what will happen to Vee? That’s a risk I’m not going to take.” “If I let you come, you’ll listen to my instructions and follow them carefully?” “Yes.” “If I tell you to jump?” “I’ll jump.” “If I tell you to stay in the car?” “I’ll stay in the car.” It was mostly true. Out in the parking lot of the theater, Patch aimed his key fob at the Jeep, and the headlights blinked. Suddenly he came to a halt and swore under his breath. “What’s wrong?” I said. “Tires.” I dropped my gaze and sure enough, both tires on the driver’s side were flat. “I can’t believe it!” I said. “I drove over two nails?” Patch crouched by the front tire, running his hand around the circumference. “Screwdriver. This was an intentional attack.” For a moment I thought maybe this was another mind trick. Maybe Patch had his reasons for not wanting me to go to the high school. His feelings about Vee were no secret, after all. But something was missing. I couldn’t feel Patch anywhere inside my head. If he was altering my thoughts, he’d found a new way to accomplish it, because as far as I could tell, what I was seeing was real. “Who would do that?” He rose to his full height. “The list is long.” “Are you trying to tell me you have a lot of enemies?” “I’ve upset a few people. A lot of folks place bets they can’t win. Then they blame me for walking off with their car, or more.” Patch walked one space over to a coupe, opened the driver’s side door, and took a seat behind the steering wheel. Reaching under it, his hand disappeared. “What are you doing?” I asked, standing in the open doorway. It was a waste of breath since I was well aware of what he was doing. “Looking for the spare key.” Patch’s hand reappeared, holding two blue wires. With some skill, he removed the ends of the wires and tapped them together. The engine turned over, and Patch looked out at me. “Seat belt.” “I’m not stealing a car.” He shrugged. “We need it now. They don’t.” “It’s stealing . It’s wrong.” Patch didn’t look the least bit troubled. In fact, he looked a little too relaxed in the driver’s seat. This isn’t the first time he’s done this, I thought. “First rule of auto theft,” he said on a smile. “Try not to hang around the crime scene longer than necessary.” “Hang on one minute,” I said, holding up a finger. I jogged back to the theater. On my way inside, the glass doors reflected the parking lot behind me, and I saw Patch swing out of the coupe. “Hi, Brandt,” I said to the boy still flicking popcorn into a long-handled dustpan. Brandt looked up at me, but his attention was quickly drawn over my shoulder. I heard the theater doors open and sensed Patch move behind me. His approach wasn’t all that different from a cloud eclipsing the sun, subtly darkening the landscape, hinting of a storm. “How’s it going?” Brandt said uncertainly. “I’m having car trouble,” I said, biting my lip and trying on a sympathetic face. “I know I’m putting you in an awkward position, but since I helped you with that Shakespeare paper last semester …” “You want to borrow my car.” “Actually … yes.” “It’s a piece of junk. It’s no Jeep Commander.” He looked right at Patch like he was apologizing. “Does it run?” I asked. “If by run you mean do the wheels roll, yeah, it runs. But it’s not for loan.” Patch opened his wallet and handed over what looked like three crisp hundred-dollar bills. Reining in my surprise, I decided the best thing to do was play along. “I changed my mind,” Brandt said, eyes wide, pocketing the money. He fished in his pockets and underhanded Patch a pair of keys. “What’s the make and color?” Patch asked, catching the keys. “Hard to tell. Part Volkswagen, part Chevette. It used to be blue. That was before it corroded to orange. You’ll fill the tank up before you return it?” Brandt said, sounding like he had his fingers crossed behind his back, pressing his luck. Patch peeled out another twenty. “Just in case we forget,” he said, stuffing it into the front pocket of Brandt’s uniform. Outside, I told Patch, “I could have talked him into giving me his keys. I just needed a little more time. And by the way, why do you bus tables at the Borderline if you’re loaded?” “I’m not. I won the money off a pool game a couple nights back.” He pushed Brandt’s key in the lock and opened the passenger-side door for me. “The bank is officially closed.” Patch drove across town on dark, quiet streets. It didn’t take long to arrive at the high school. He rolled Brandt’s car to a stop on the east side of the building and killed the engine. The campus was wooded, the branches twisted and bleak and holding up nothing but a damp fog. Behind them loomed Coldwater High. The original part of the building had been constructed in the late nineteenth century, and after sunset it looked very much like a cathedral. Gray and foreboding. Very dark. Very abandoned. “I just got a really bad feeling,” I said, eyeing the school’s black voids for windows. “Stay in the car and keep out of sight,” Patch told me, passing over the keys. “If anybody comes out of the building, take off.” He got out. He was wearing a fitted black crewneck tee, dark Levi’s, and boots. With his black hair and dusky skin, it was hard to distinguish him from the background. He crossed the street and, in a matter of moments, blended completely into the night.

CHAPTER 28

FIVE MINUTES CAME AND WENT. TEN MINUTES stretched to twenty. I struggled to ignore the hair-raising feeling that I was under surveillance. I peered into the shadows ringing the school. What was taking Patch so long? I shuffled through a few theories, feeling more uneasy by the moment. What if Patch couldn’t find Vee? What would happen when Patch found Elliot? I didn’t think Elliot could overpower Patch, but there was always a chance—if Elliot had the element of surprise. The phone in my pocket rang, and I jumped out of my skin. “I see you,” Elliot said when I answered. “Sitting out there in the car.” “Where are you?” “Watching you from a second-story window. We’re playing inside.” “I don’t want to play.” He ended the call. With my heart in my throat, I got out of the car. I looked up at the dark windows of the school. I didn’t think Elliot knew Patch was inside. His voice came across impatient, not angry or irritated. My only hope was that Patch had a plan and would make sure nothing happened to me or Vee. The moon was clouded over, and under a shadow of fear I walked up to the east door. I stepped into semidarkness. My eyes took several seconds to make something of the shaft of streetlight falling through the window encased in the top half of the door. The floor tiles reflected a waxy gleam. Lockers were lined up on either side of the hallway like sleeping robotic soldiers. Instead of a peaceful, quiet feeling, the halls radiated hidden menace. The outside lights illuminated the first several feet into the hallway, but after that, I could see nothing. Just inside the door was a panel of light switches, and I flipped them on. Nothing happened. Since the power was working outside, I knew the electricity inside had been shut off by hand. I wondered if this was part of Elliot’s plan. I couldn’t see him, and I couldn’t see Vee. I also couldn’t see Patch. I was going to have to feel my way through each room in the school, playing a slow game of elimination until I found him. Together we would find Vee. Using the wall as my guide, I crept forward. On any given week-day, I passed down this stretch of hall several times, but in the darkness it suddenly seemed foreign. And longer. Much longer. At the first intersection I mentally assessed my surroundings. Turning left would lead to the band and orchestra rooms and the cafeteria. Turning right would lead to administrative offices, as well as a double staircase. I continued straight, heading deeper into the school, toward the classrooms. My foot caught on something, and before I could react, I went sprawling to the floor. Hazy gray light filtered through a skylight directly overhead as the moon broke between clouds, illuminating the features of the body I’d tripped on. Jules was on his back, his expression fixed in a blank stare. His long blond hair was tangled over his face, his hands slack at his sides. I pushed back on my knees and covered my mouth, panting air. My legs trembled with adrenaline. Very slowly, I rested my palm on Jules’s chest. He wasn’t breathing. He was dead. I jumped to my feet and choked on a scream. I wanted to call out for Patch, but that would give my location away to Elliot—if he didn’t already know it. I realized with a start that he could be standing feet away, watching me as his twisted game unfolded. The overhead light faded, and I made a frantic survey of the hall. More endless hallway stretched ahead. The library was up a short flight of stairs to my left. Classrooms started on the right. On a split moment’s decision, I chose the library, groping through the blackening halls to get away from Jules’s body. My nose dripped, and I realized I was crying soundlessly. Why was Jules dead? Who killed him? If Jules was dead, was Vee also? The library doors were unlocked, and I fumbled my way inside. Past the bookshelves, at the far end of the library, were three small study rooms. They were soundproof; if Elliot wanted to isolate Vee, the rooms were an ideal place to put her. I was just about to start toward them when a masculine groan carried through the library. I came to a halt. The lights out in the hall powered to life, illuminating the darkness of the library. Elliot’s body lay a few feet away, his mouth parted, his skin ashen. His eyes rolled my way, and he reached an arm out to me. A piercing scream escaped me. Whirling around, I ran for the library doors, shoving and kicking chairs out of my way. Run! I ordered myself. Get to an exit! I staggered out the door, and that’s when the lights in the hall died, plunging everything once again to black. “Patch!” I tried to scream. But my voice caught, and I choked on his name. Jules was dead. Elliot was almost dead. Who had killed them? Who was left? I tried to make sense of what was happening, but all reason had left me. A shove to my back threw me off balance. Another shove sent me flying sideways. My head smashed against a locker, stunning me. A narrow beam of light swept across my vision, and a pair of dark eyes behind a ski mask swirled into focus. The light came from a miner’s headlamp secured over the mask. I pushed up and tried to run. One of his arms shot out, cutting off my escape. He brought up his other arm, trapping me against the locker. “Did you think I was dead?” I could hear the gloating, icy smile in his voice. “I couldn’t pass up one last chance to play with you. Humor me. Who did you think the bad guy was? Elliot? Or did it cross your mind that your best friend could do this? I’m getting warm, aren’t I? That’s the thing about fear. It brings out the worst in us.” “It’s you.” My voice rattled. Jules ripped off the headlamp and ski mask. “In the flesh.” “How did you do it?” I asked, my voice still trembling. “I saw you. You weren’t breathing. You were dead.” “You’re giving me too much credit. It was all you, Nora. If your mind wasn’t so weak, I couldn’t have done a thing. Am I making you feel bad? Is it discouraging to know that out of all the minds I’ve invaded, yours tops the list as easiest? And most fun.” I licked my lips. My mouth tasted a strange combination of dry and sticky. I could smell the fear on my breath. “Where’s Vee?” He slapped my cheek. “Don’t change the subject. You really should learn to control your fear. Fear undermines logic and opens up all sorts of opportunities for people like me.” This was a side of Jules I’d never seen. He’d always been so quiet, so sullen, radiating a complete lack of interest in everyone around him. He stayed in the background, drawing little attention, little suspicion. Very clever of him, I thought. He grabbed my arm and jerked me after him. I clawed at him and twisted away, and he drove his fist into my stomach. I stumbled backward, gasping for air that did not come. My shoulder dragged down a locker until I sat crumpled on the floor. A ribbon of air slipped down my throat, and I choked on it. Jules touched the tracks my nails had carved in his forearm. “That’s going to cost you.” “Why did you bring me here? What do you want?” I couldn’t keep the hysteria from my voice. He yanked me up by my arm and dragged me farther down the hall. Kicking a door open, he thrust me inside and I went down, my palms colliding with the hard floor. The door slammed behind me. The only light came from the headlamp, which Jules held. The air held the familiar odors of chalk dust and stale chemicals. Posters of the human body and cross-sections of human cells decorated the walls. A long black granite counter with a sink stood at the front of the room. It faced rows of matching granite lab tables. We were inside Coach McConaughy’s biology room. A flash of metal caught my eye. A scalpel lay on the floor, tucked against the wastebasket. It must have been overlooked by both Coach and the janitor. I slid it into the waistband of my jeans just as Jules hauled me to my feet. “I had to cut the electricity,” he said, setting the headlamp on the nearest table. “You can’t play hide-and-seek in the light.” Scraping two chairs across the floor, he positioned them facing each other. “Have a seat.” It didn’t sound like an invitation. My eyes darted to the panel of windows spanning the far wall. I wondered if I could crank one open and escape before Jules caught me. Amid a thousand other self-preserving thoughts, I told myself not to appear frightened. Somewhere in the back of my mind I remembered that advice from a self-defense class I’d taken with Mom after my dad died. Make eye contact … look confident … use common sense … all easier said than done. Jules pushed down on my shoulders, forcing me into a chair. The cold metal seeped through my jeans. “Give me your cell phone,” he ordered, hand held out for it. “I left it in the car.” He breathed a laugh. “Do you really want to play games with me? I’ve got your best friend locked somewhere in the building. If you play games with me, she’s going to feel left out. I’ll have to think up an extra-special game to make it up to her.” I dug out the phone and passed it over. With superhuman strength, he bent it in half. “Now it’s just the two of us.” He sank into the chair facing mine and stretched his legs out luxuriously. One arm dangled off the seat back. “Let’s talk, Nora.” I bolted from the chair. Jules hooked me around the waist before I’d made it four steps and shoved me back into the chair. “I used to own horses,” he said. “A long time ago in France, I had a stable of beautiful horses. The Spanish horses were my favorite. They were caught wild and brought directly to me. Within weeks I had them subdued. But there was always the rare horse that refused to be broken. Do you know what I did with a horse that refused to be broken?” I shuddered for an answer. “Cooperate, and you have nothing to fear,” he said. I didn’t for one moment believe him. The gleam in his eyes wasn’t sincere. “I saw Elliot in the library.” I was surprised by the waver in my voice. I didn’t like or trust Elliot, but he didn’t deserve to die slowly and in pain. “Did you hurt him?” He scooted closer, as if to share a secret. “If you’re going to commit a crime, never leave evidence. Elliot’s been an integral part of everything. He knows too much.” “Is that why I’m here? Because of the article I found about Kjirsten Halverson?” Jules smiled. “Elliot failed to mention that you know about Kjirsten.” “Did Elliot kill her … or did you?” I asked on a cold snap of inspiration. “I had to test Elliot’s loyalty. I took away what was most important. Elliot was at Kinghorn on scholarship, and nobody let him forget it. Until me. I was his benefactor. In the end, it came down to choosing me or Kjirsten. More succinctly, choosing money or love. Apparently there’s no pleasure in being a pauper among princes. I bought him off, and that’s when I knew I could rely on him when it came time to dealing with you .” “Why me?” “You haven’t figured it out yet?” The light highlighted the ruthlessness in his face and created the illusion that his eyes had turned the color of molten silver. “I’ve been toying with you. Dangling you by a string. Using you as a proxy, because the person I really want to harm can’t be harmed. Do you know who that person is?” All the knots in my body seemed to come undone. My eyes moved out of focus. Jules’s face was like an Impressionist painting—blurred around the edges, lacking detail. Blood drained from my head, and I felt myself start to slip off the chair. I’d felt this way enough times before to know I needed iron. Soon. He slapped my cheek again. “Focus. Who am I talking about?” “I don’t know.” I couldn’t push my voice above a whisper. “Do you know why he can’t be hurt? Because he doesn’t have a human body. His body lacks physical sensation. If I locked him up and tortured him, it wouldn’t do any good. He can’t feel. Not an ounce of pain. Surely you’ve got a guess by now? You’ve been spending a lot of time with this person. Why so silent, Nora? Can’t figure it out?” A trickle of sweat crept down my back. “Every year at the start of the Hebrew month of Cheshvan, he takes control of my body. Two whole weeks. That’s how long I forfeit control. No freedom, no choice. I don’t get the luxury of escaping during those two weeks, loaning my body out, then coming back when it’s all over. Then I might be able to convince myself it wasn’t really happening. No. I’m still in there, a prisoner inside my own body , living every moment of it,” he said in a grinding tone. “Do you know what that feels like? Do you? ” he shouted. I kept my mouth shut, knowing that to talk would be dangerous. Jules laughed, a rush of air through his teeth. It sounded more sinister than anything I’d ever heard. He said, “I swore an oath allowing him to take possession of my body during Cheshvan. I was sixteen years old.” He shrugged, but it was a rigid movement. “He tricked me into the oath by torturing me. After, he told me I wasn’t human. Can you believe it? Not human . He told me my mother, a human, slept with a fallen angel.” He grinned odiously, sweat sprinkling his forehead. “Did I mention I inherited a few traits from my father? Just like him, I’m a deceiver. I make you see lies. I make you hear voices.” Just like this. Can you hear me, Nora? Are you frightened yet? He tapped my forehead. “What’s going on in there, Nora? Awfully quiet.” Jules was Chauncey. He was Nephilim. I remembered my birth-mark, and what Dabria had told me. Jules and I shared the same blood. In my veins was the blood of a monster. I shut my eyes, and a tear slid out. “Remember the night we first met? I jumped in front of the car you were driving. It was dark and there was fog. You were already on edge, which made it that much easier to deceive you. I enjoyed scaring you. That first night gave me a taste for it.” “I would have noticed it was you,” I whispered. “There aren’t many people as tall as you.” “You’re not listening. I can make you see whatever I want. Do you really think I’d overlook a detail as condemning as my height? You saw what I wanted you to see. You saw a nondescript man in a black ski mask.” I sat there, feeling a tiny crack in my terror. I wasn’t crazy. Jules was behind all of it. He was the crazy one. He could create mind games because his father was a fallen angel and he’d inherited the power. “You didn’t really ransack my bedroom,” I said. “ You just made me think you did. That’s why it was still in order when the police arrived.” He applauded slowly and deliberately. “Do you want to know the best part? You could have blocked me out. I couldn’t have touched your mind without your permission. I reached in, and you never resisted. You were weak. You were easy.” It all made sense, and instead of feeling a brief moment of relief, I realized how susceptible I was. I was stripped wide open. There was nothing stopping Jules from sucking me into his mind games, unless I learned to block him out. “Imagine yourself in my place,” said Jules. “Your body violated year after year. Imagine a hatred so hard, nothing but revenge will cure it. Imagine expending large sums of energy and resources to keep a close eye on the object of your revenge, waiting patiently for the moment when fate presented you an opportunity not just to get even, but to tip the scales in your favor.” His eyes locked on mine. “You’re that opportunity. If I hurt you, I hurt Patch.” “You’re overestimating my value to Patch,” I said, cold sweat breaking out along my hairline. “I’ve been keeping a close eye on Patch for centuries. Last summer he made his first trip to your house, though you didn’t notice. He followed you shopping a few times. Every now and then, he made a special trip out of his way to find you. Then he enrolled at your school. I couldn’t help but ask myself, what was so special about you? I made an effort to find out. I’ve been watching you for a while now.” Nothing short of dread gripped me. Right then, I knew it was never my dad’s presence I’d felt, following me like a phantom guardian. It was Jules. I felt the same ice-cold, unearthly presence now, only amplified a hundred times. “I didn’t want to draw Patch’s suspicion and backed off,” he continued. “That’s when Elliot stepped forward, and it didn’t take him long to tell me what I’d already guessed. Patch is in love with you.” It all clicked into place. Jules hadn’t been sick the night he disappeared into the men’s room at Delphic. And he hadn’t been sick the night we went to the Borderline. All along it was the simple fact that he had to remain invisible to Patch. The moment Patch saw him, it would all be over. Patch would know Jules—Chauncey— was up to something. Elliot was Jules’s eyes and ears, feeding information back to him. “The plan was to kill you on the camping trip, but Elliot failed to convince you to come,” Jules said. “Earlier today, I followed you out of Blind Joe’s and shot you. Imagine my surprise when I found I’d killed a bag lady dressed in your coat. But it all worked out.” His tone relaxed. “Here we are.” I shifted in my seat, and the scalpel slid deeper into my jeans. If I wasn’t careful, it would slip out of reach. If Jules forced me to stand, it might slide all the way down my pant leg. And that would be the end of that. “Let me guess what you’re thinking,” said Jules, rising to his feet and sauntering to the front of the room. “You’re starting to wish you’d never met Patch. You wish he’d never fallen in love with you. Go on. Laugh at the position he’s put you in. Laugh at your own bad choice.” Hearing Jules talk about Patch’s love filled me with irrational hope. I fumbled the scalpel out of my jeans and jumped from my seat. “Don’t come near me! I’ll stab you. I swear I will!” Jules made a guttural sound and flung his arm across the counter at the front of the room. Glass beakers shattered against the chalkboard, papers fluttering down. He strode toward me. In a panic, I brought the scalpel up as hard as I could. It met his palm, slicing through skin. Jules hissed and drew back. Not waiting, I plunged the scalpel down into his thigh. Jules gaped at the metal protruding from his leg. He jerked it out using both hands, his face contorting in pain. He opened his hands, and the scalpel fell with a clatter. He took a faltering step toward me. I shrieked and dodged away, but my hip clipped the edge of a table; I lost my footing and tumbled down. The scalpel lay several feet away. Jules flipped me on my stomach and straddled me from behind. He pressed my face into the floor, crushing my nose and muffling my screams. “Valiant attempt,” he grunted. “But that won’t kill me. I’m Nephilim. I’m immortal.” I grabbed for the scalpel, digging my toes into the floor to stretch those last, vital inches. My fingers fumbled over it. I was so close, and then Jules was dragging me back. I brought my heel up hard between his legs; he groaned and went limp off to one side. I scrambled to my feet, but Jules rolled to the door, kneeling between me and it. His hair hung in his eyes. Beads of sweat trickled down his face. His mouth was lopsided, one half curled up in pain. Every muscle in my body was coiled, ready to spring into action. “Good luck trying to escape,” he said with a cynical smile that seemed to require a lot of effort. “You’ll see what I mean.” Then he sank to the ground.