Finale (Hush, Hush #4)

Finale (Hush, Hush #4) Page 31

“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 fallen angels was even an option.”

“It is now—now that we have devilcraft. We were never strong enough before. I’ve been training a few select Nephilim, including myself, in secret on the process of possession for months now. Mastering this skill is going to be the turning point of the war, Nora. If we can do it successfully, we stand a chance.”

“You’ve been training? How?” Possession was possible only during Cheshvan. How could he have been practicing the technique for months?

“We’ve been training on fallen angels.” A wicked smile sparkled in his eyes. “I told you: We’re stronger than we’ve ever been. One fallen angel wandering around alone can’t hold his own against a group of us. We’ve been picking them up off the streets at night and taking them to the training facility Hank organized.”

“Hank was involved in this?” It seemed his skeletons would never stop spilling from the closet.

“We pick the loners, the introverts, the ones we don’t think will be missed. We feed them a special devilcraft prototype that makes possession possible for short periods of time, even when it’s not Cheshvan. And then we practice on them.”

“Where are they now?”

“Detained at the training facility. We keep a metal rod enchanted with devilcraft stabbed in their wing scars when we’re not practicing on them. It keeps them completely immobilized. Like lab rats at our disposal.”

I was ceomaen we&rsqrtain Patch knew nothing of this. He would have mentioned something if he had. “How many fallen angels do you have detained? And where is the training facility?”

“I can’t tell you the location. When we set up the facility, Hank, Blakely, and I decided it would be safer to keep it top secret. With Hank gone, Blakely and I are the only Nephilim who know where it is. It’s better that way. If you relax the rules, you get turncoats. People who’ll do anything for a profit, even betray their own race. It’s Nephilim nature, just like it’s human nature. We’re eliminating the temptation.”

“Are you going to take me to the training center to practice?” I was sure there would be protocol in that, too. I’d either be blindfolded, or have my memory of the route erased. But maybe I could find a way around it. Maybe Patch and I could retrace our way to the training center together—

“Don’t need to. I brought one of the lab rats with me.”

My eyes darted to the trees. “Where?”

“Don’t worry—the combination of devilcraft and a rod through her wing scars is keeping her cooperative.” Dante disappeared behind a boulder, but returned dragging a female fallen angel who didn’t look more than thirteen in human years. Her legs, two toothpicks sprouting out from white gym shorts, couldn’t have been much thicker than my arms.

Dante threw her down, her limp body settling on the dirt like a sack of trash. I turned away from the rod protruding from her wing scars. I knew she couldn’t feel a thing, but the image made the hairs on the back of my neck tingle just the same.

I had to remind myself that she was the enemy. I had a personal stake in the war now: I refused to swear fealty to any fallen angel. They were all dangerous. Every last one of them had to be stopped.

“Once I pull the rod out, you’ll only have a couple seconds before she’ll start fighting. This particular devilcraft has a short half-life and won’t linger in her body. In other words, don’t let your guard down.”

“Will she know I’m possessing her?”

“Oh, she’ll know. She’s been through this drill hundreds of times. I want you to possess her and command her actions for a few minutes to get used to the feeling of manipulating her body. Warn me when you’re ready to exit her body. I’ll have the rod ready.”

“How do I get inside her body?” I asked, goose bumps crawling up my arms. I was cold, but not only from the chill in the air. I didn’t want to possess the fallen angel, but at the same time, I needed to give Patch as much information as possible about how the process worked. We couldn’t solve a problem we didn’t understand.

“She’ll be weak from the devilcraft, which will help. And we’ve entered Cheshvan, which means the conduits of possession are wide open. All you have to do is mind-trick her. Take control of her thoughts. Make her think she wants you to possess her. Once she lets her guard down, everything becomes a piece of cake. You’ll gravitate toward her naturally. You’ll get sucked into her body so fast you’ll hardly notice the transition. Next thing you know, you’ll be in control.”

“She’s so young.”

“Don’t let that fool you. She’s as cunning and dangerous as the rest of them. Here—I brought you a special dose of devilcraft that will make your first go at it easier.”

I didn’t reach for the vial right away. My fingers tingled with desire, but I kept them at my sides. I’d taken so much devilcraft already. I’d promised myself I’d stop, and that I’d come clean with Patch. So far, I’d done neither.

I glanced at the vial of gleaming blue liquid, and a fierce hunger seemed to gnaw through my stomach. I didn’t want the devilcraft, and at the same time, I desperately needed it. My head spun, growing dizzy without it. Taking a little more couldn’t be that harmful. Before I could stop myself, I reached out and accepted the vial. Already my mouth salivated. “Should I drink the whole thing?”

“Yes.”

I tossed the vial back, the devilcraft burning like poison down my throat. I coughed and sputtered, wishing Blakely could devise a way to make it taste better. It would be equally helpful if he could minimize the negative side effects. Immediately after drinking this dose, a headache spiked into my skull. Experience told me it would only worsen as the day wore on.

“Ready?” Dante asked.

I wasn’t quick to give my nod of affirmation. To say I had little desire to possess the girl was an understatement. I’d been possessed once before—by Patch, in a desperate move to save me from being slain by Chauncey Langeais, a long-lost relative who had no familial affection for me. While I was glad Patch had tried to protect me, the violation I’d felt while being possessed wasn’t something I wanted to experience again. Or put someone else through.

My eyes swept over the girl. She’d suffered through this hundreds of times before. And here I was, about to make her do it all over again.

“Ready,” I said heavily at last.

Dante plucked the rod from the girl’s wing scars, careful to keep his hands off the blue-glowing lower half. “Any second now,” he murmured in warning. “Get ready. Her thoughts will give off magnetic impulses; as soon as you feel mental activity, get inside her head. Don’t waste any time convincing her she wants you to possess her.”

Silence hung in the woods, thick and tense. I took a step closer to the girl, straining to pick up any mental feedback. Dante’s knees were bent, as if he expected to have to jump to action at any moment. A crow’s sharp caw carried across the dark expanse above. A faint bleep of energy landed on my radar, and that was all the warning I got before the girl launched herself at me, teeth bared and fingernails scratching like a wild animal.

We smacked back against the dirt together. My reflexes were sharper, and I rolled on top of her. I lunged for her wrists, hoping to pin them above her head, but she bucked me off in a single spurt of athleticism. I skidded over the dirt, hearing her land agilely a few feet away. I looked up just in time to see her spring into the air, soaring toward me.

Tucking into a ball, I rolled out of her range.

“Now!” Dante boomed. From the corner of my eye, I saw him hol I ked up juding the rod up, readying himself to attack the girl if I failed.

I shut my eyes, homing in on her thoughts. I could feel them zooming this way and that, like frantic insects. I dove into her head, shredding everything I came across. I tangled her thoughts into one giant mass and whispered a hypnotic, Let me in, let me in now.

Much faster than I expected, the girl’s defenses sagged. Just as Dante had predicted, I felt myself gliding toward her, like my soul was being reeled in by a powerful force field. She offered no resistance. The sensation had a dreamlike quality; woozy and slippery, and blurred at the edges. There was no defining moment when I felt the change; I merely blinked and found myself viewing the world from a different angle.

I was inside her, body, mind, and soul, possessing her.

“Nora?” Dante asked, squinting at me skeptically.

“I’m in.” My voice startled me; I’d commanded the response, but it had come out in her voice. Higher and sweeter than I would have expected from a fallen angel. Then again, she was so young. . . .

“Do you feel any resistance? Any backlash from her at all?” Dante asked.

This time I shook my head no. I wasn’t ready to hear myself speak in her voice again. As much as Dante wanted me to practice commanding her body, I wanted out.

I hastily completed a short list of drills, commanding the fallen angel’s body to run a short distance, hurdle a fallen tree branch with ease, and untie and retie her shoelaces. Dante was right; I had full control. And I knew, somewhere deep inside, that I was dragging her against her will through the motions. I could have commanded her to stab her own wing scars, and she would have had no choice but to comply.

I’m done, I spoke to Dante’s mind. I’m coming out.

“A little longer,” he argued. “You need more practice. I want this to feel like second nature. Run through the drills again.”