Becca Fitzpatrick: Crescendo

As the hot water drummed down on me, scenes from earlier tonight replayed in bursts across my mind. I pretended the water could wash away all of it, carrying everything I’d been through down the drain. It was over. All of it. But there was one thing I couldn’t wash away. The Black Hand.

If Patch wasn’t the Black Hand, who was? And how did Rixon, a fallen angel, know so much about him?

Twenty minutes later, I toweled off and checked the home phone for messages. One call from Enzo’s, seeing if I could take a shift tonight. An irate call from Vee demanding to know where I was. The police had kicked her out of the parking lot and closed down the amusement park—but not before telling her they could personally assure her that I was safe, and would she please drive home and stay there? She ended the call by shouting, “If I missed out on some really big action, I’m going to be royally pissed off!”

The third message was from an unknown caller, but I recognized Scott’s voice the minute he started talking. “If you tell the police about this message, I’ll be long gone before they track me down. Just wanted to say sorry one more time.” He paused, and I heard a smile inch into his voice. “Since I know you’re worried sick about me, I thought I’d let you know I’m healing, and I’ll be good as new in no time. Thanks for the tip regarding my, uh, health .”

A tiny smile broke inside me, and the weight of the unknown lifted. Scott was okay after all.

“It was nice knowing you, Nora Grey. Who knows. Maybe this isn’t the last you’ll hear of me. Maybe we’ll cross paths in the future.” Another pause. “One more thing. I sold the Mustang. Too conspicuous. Don’t get too excited, but I bought you a little something with the extra cash. I heard you’ve had your eye on a Volkswagen. The owner is dropping it by tomorrow. I paid for a full tank of gas, so make sure she delivers.”

The message ended, but I was still staring at the phone. The Volkswagen? For me ? I was dazed with delight and baffled surprise. A car. Scott had bought me a car. In an attempt to return the favor, I deleted the message, erasing all evidence he’d ever called. If the police found Scott, it wouldn’t be because of me. Somehow, I didn’t think they’d find him anyway.

Phone in hand, I called my mom. I wasn’t going to put this off any longer. I’d come too close to death tonight. I was amending my life, cleaning out and starting fresh, and I was doing it now. The only thing left standing in my way was this call.

“Nora?” she answered in a panicked voice. “I got the detective’s message. I’m on my way home right now. Are you all right? Tell me you’re all right!”

I drew a shaky breath. “I am now.”

“Oh, baby, I love you so much. You know that, right?” she sobbed.

“I know the truth.”

A pause.

“I know the truth about what really happened sixteen years ago,” I said more clearly.

“What are you talking about? I’m almost home. I haven’t been able to stop shaking since I hung up with the detective. I’m a wreck, an absolute wreck. Do they have any idea who this guy—this Rixon—is? What he wanted with you? I don’t understand how you got dragged into this.”

“Why couldn’t you have just told me?” I whispered, tears brimming my eyes.

“Baby?”

“ Nora .” I’m not a little girl anymore . “All those years you lied to me. All those times I went off on Marcie. All those times we laughed at the Millars for being stupid and rich and tactless—” My voice caught.

I’d been brimming with anger earlier, but I didn’t know how to feel now. Upset? Weary? Lost and all in a jumble? My parents had started out doing Hank Millar a favor, but obviously grew to love each other … and me. We’d made things work. We’d been happy. My dad was gone now, but he still thought about me. He still cared about me. He would want me to keep what was left of our family together instead of running away from my mom.

It’s what I wanted too.

I sucked in some air. “When you get home, we need to talk. About Hank Millar.”

I microwaved a mug of hot chocolate and carried it to my bedroom. My first reaction was to feel fear over being all alone in the farmhouse, knowing Rixon could be running free. My second reaction was a quiet calm. I couldn’t say why, but somehow, I knew I was safe. I tried to remember what had happened in the mechanical room moments before I fell unconscious. Patch had walked into the room….

And then I drew a blank. Which was frustrating, because I sensed more to the memory. It danced just out of reach, but I knew it was important.

After a while, I gave up trying to recapture the memory, and my thoughts took a sharp, alarming turn. My biological father was alive. Hank Millar had given me life, then given me up to protect me. Right now, I had no desire to contact him. It was too painful to even think about approaching him. It would be admitting he was my father, and I didn’t want that. It was hard enough keeping my real dad’s face in my memory; I didn’t want to replace that picture or fade it any faster than it already would. No, I’d leave Hank Millar right where he was—at a distance. I wondered if someday I’d change my mind, and the possibility terrified me. Not only the fact that I had a whole other life hidden away, but the fact that once I uncovered it, the life I currently had would be altered forever.

I didn’t have any desire to dwell on Hank further, but there was one thing still not adding up. Hank hid me away as a baby to protect me from Rixon because I was a girl. But what about Marcie? My—sister. She had as much of his blood as I did. Then why didn’t he hide her? I tried reasoning it out in my head, but I didn’t have an answer.

I’d just curled under the blankets when there was a knock at the door. I set the mug of hot chocolate on the nightstand. There weren’t too many people who would be stopping by this late at night. I padded downstairs and peered into the peephole. But I didn’t need the peephole to confirm who stood on the other side of the door. I knew it was Patch from the way my heart couldn’t carry a steady rhythm.

I opened the door. “You told Detective Basso where to find me. You stopped Rixon from shooting me.”

Patch’s dark eyes assessed me. For half a moment, I saw a string of emotions play out inside them. Exhaustion, worry, relief. He smelled of rust, stale cotton candy, and dank water, and I knew he’d been close by when Detective Basso found me in the heart of the fun house. He’d been right there the whole time, making sure I was safe.

He wrapped his arms around me and held me tight, clutching me against him. “I thought I got there too late. I thought you were dead.”

I curled my hands into the front of his shirt and bent my head against his chest. I didn’t care that I was crying. I was safe, and Patch was here. Nothing else mattered.

“How did you find me?” I asked.

“I’d thought for a while it was Rixon,” he said quietly. “But I had to make sure.”

I looked up. “You knew Rixon wanted to kill me?”

“I kept picking up clues, but I didn’t want to believe them. Rixon and I were friends—” Patch’s voice cracked. “I didn’t want to believe he’d cross me. When I was your guardian angel, I sensed someone was out to kill you. I didn’t know who, because they were being careful. They weren’t actively meditating on killing you, so I wasn’t getting much of a picture. I knew a human wouldn’t cover their thoughts that carefully. They wouldn’t know their thoughts were transmitting all kinds of information to angels. Every now and then I’d get a flash of insight. Little things that made me look at Rixon, even though I didn’t want to. I set him up with Vee so I could keep a closer watch on him. Also because I didn’t want to give him any reason to think I was onto him. I knew the only reason he’d kill you was for a human body, so I started digging into Barnabas’s past. That’s when I figured out the truth. Rixon was two steps ahead of me, but he must have found out after I tracked you down and enrolled in school last year. He wanted to sacrifice you as much as I did. He did everything he could to convince me to give up on the Book of Enoch so I wouldn’t kill you and he could.”