Silence (18 page)

“Nothing.” With that one word, I felt as though I were standing at the opening of a forbidding labyrinth that stretched to the horizon.

“Sucks to be you,” he said, and despite his word choice, I believed he sincerely meant he was sorry. “The Black Hand is the nickname of a powerful Nephil. He’s building an underground army, and I used to be one of his soldiers, for lack of a better word. Now I’m a deserter, and if he catches me, it won’t be pretty.”

“Back up. What
is
a Nephil?”

Scott’s mouth quirked up on one side. “Get ready to feel your mind blow, Grey. A Nephil,” he explained patiently, “is an immortal.” His smile tipped even higher at my dubious expression. “I can’t die. None of us can.”

“What’s the catch?” I asked. He couldn’t really mean immortal as in
immortal
.

He gestured to the ocean shattering itself against the rocks far below. “If I jump, I’ll live.”

Okay, so maybe he’d been stupid enough to make the jump
before. And survived. That didn’t prove anything. He wasn’t immortal. He simply believed he was because he was a typical teenage guy who’d done a few reckless things, lived to talk about them, and now he believed he was invincible.

Scott arched his eyebrows in mock offense. “You don’t believe me. Last night I spent a good two hours in the ocean, diving for fish, and I didn’t freeze to death. I can hold my breath down there for eight, nine minutes. Sometimes I pass out, but when I come around, I’ve always floated to the surface, and all my vital signs are up and working.”

I opened my mouth, but it took a minute for words to form. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“It makes sense if I’m immortal.”

Before I could stop him, Scott whipped out a Swiss Army knife and drove it into his thigh. I gave a strangled scream and leaped for him, unsure if I should pull out the knife or stabilize it. Before I’d made up my mind, he yanked it out himself. He swore in pain, his jeans seeping blood.

“Scott!” I shrieked.

“Come back tomorrow,” he said in a more subdued voice. “It will be like it never happened.”

“Oh, yeah?” I snapped, still worked up. Was he completely out of his mind? Why would he do such a stupid thing?

“It’s not the first time I’ve done it. I’ve tried to burn myself alive. My skin was torched—gone. A couple days later, I was as good as new.”

Even now I could see the blood on his jeans drying. The wound had stopped bleeding. He was … healing. In seconds rather than weeks. I didn’t want to trust my eyes, but seeing
was
believing.

All of a sudden, I remembered Gabe. More clearly than I wanted to, I summoned up a visual of a tire iron projecting from his back. Jev had sworn the injury wouldn’t kill Gabe….

Just like Scott swore his wound would heal without so much as a scratch.

“Okay, then,” I whispered, even though I was anything but okay.

“You sure you’re convinced? I could always throw myself in front of a car if you need more proof.”

“I think I believe you,” I said, failing to keep the dazed bewilderment out of my tone.

I forced myself to snap out of my stupor. For now, I was going to go with the flow as much as I could.
Focus on one thing at a time,
I told myself.
Scott is immortal. Okay. What’s next?

“Do we know who the Black Hand is?” I asked, suddenly hungry to get my hands on any information Scott might have. What else was I missing? How many more of my beliefs could he send spinning on their heads? And highest priority: Could he help mend my memory?

“Last we spoke, we both wanted to know. I spent the summer following leads, which wasn’t easy, given that I’m living on the run, clean out of cash, working solo, and the Black Hand isn’t what you’d
call careless. But I’ve narrowed it down to one man.” His eyes swept to mine. “You ready for this? The Black Hand is Hank Millar.”

“Hank is
what
?”

We were sitting on two tree stumps in a cave, about a quarter mile up the coast, tucked around a jutting cliff, and far out of view of the road. The cave was semi-dark with a low ceiling, but it offered protection from the wind and, as Scott had insisted, concealed us from any potential spies of the Black Hand. He’d refused to say another word until he was certain we were alone.

Scott struck a match on the bottom of his shoe and lit a fire in a pit of rocks. Light glinted off the jagged walls, and I got my first good look around. There was a backpack and a sleeping bag against the back wall. A cracked mirror was propped against a rock that jutted out like a shelf, along with a razor, a can of shaving cream, and a stick of deodorant. Closer to the mouth of the cave was a large toolbox. On it rested a few dishes, silverware, and a frying pan. Beside it lay a fishing pole and an animal trap. The cave both impressed and saddened me. Scott was anything but helpless, clearly able to survive on his own knowledge and fortitude. But what kind of life did he have, hiding and running from one place to the next?

“I’ve been watching Hank for months,” Scott said. “This isn’t a stab in the dark.”

“Are you sure Hank is the Black Hand? No offense, but he doesn’t
fit my picture of an underground militarist or—”
An immortal man.
The thought seemed unreal. No, absurd. “He runs the most successful car dealership in town, he’s a member of the yacht club, and he single-handedly supports the booster club. Why would he care what’s going on in the world of Nephilim? He already has everything he could possibly want.”

“Because he’s Nephilim too,” Scott explained. “And he doesn’t have everything he wants. During the Jewish month of Cheshvan, all Nephilim who’ve sworn an oath of fealty have to give up their body for two weeks. They don’t have a choice. They give it up and someone else possesses it—a fallen angel. Rixon was the fallen angel who used to possess the Black Hand, and that’s how I came to hear he’s burning in hell. The Black Hand might be free, but he hasn’t forgotten and he’s not about to forgive. That’s what the army is for. He’s going to try to overthrow the fallen angels.”

“Back up. Who are the fallen angels?” A gang? That’s what it sounded like. I was increasingly doubtful. Hank Millar was the last person in Coldwater who’d lower himself to associate with gangs. “And what do you mean ‘possesses’?”

Scott’s mouth twitched with a disparaging smile, but to his credit, he answered with patience. “Definition of a fallen angel: heaven’s rejects and a Nephil’s worst nightmare. They force us to swear fealty, and then possess our bodies during Cheshvan. They’re parasites. They can’t feel anything in their own bodies, so they invade ours. Yeah, Grey,” he said at the look of abhorrence I
was sure was frozen on my face. “I mean they literally come inside us and use our bodies like their own. A Nephil is mentally there while they do it, but doesn’t have any control.”

I tried to swallow Scott’s explanation. More than once, I imagined the theme song of
The Twilight Zone
playing in the background, but the truth of the matter was, I knew he wasn’t lying. It was all coming back. The memories were splintered and damaged, but they were there. I’d learned this all before. When or how, I didn’t know. But I knew this—all of it. I said, “The other night I saw three guys beating up a Nephil.
That’s
what they were doing? Trying to force him to give up his body for two weeks? That’s inhumane. It’s—repulsive!”

Scott had dropped his eyes, stirring the fire with a stick. My mistake hit me too late. Shame swept through me and I whispered, “Oh, Scott. I wasn’t thinking. I’m so sorry you have to go through that. I can’t imagine how hard it must be to give up your body.”

“I haven’t sworn fealty. And I’m not going to.” He tossed the stick on the fire, and gold sparks showered into the dark, smoky air of the cave. “If nothing else, that’s what the Black Hand taught me. Fallen angels can try any mind-trick on me they want. They can chop my head off, cut out my tongue, and burn me to ash. But I’ll never swear that oath. I can handle pain. But I can’t handle the consequences of that oath.”

“Mind-trick?” The skin at the back of my neck tingled, and my thoughts turned once more to Gabe.

“A perk of being a fallen angel,” he said bitterly. “You get to mess with people’s minds. Make them see things that aren’t real. Nephilim inherited the trick from fallen angels.”

It seemed I’d been right about Gabe after all. But he hadn’t used a magician’s sleight of hand to create the illusion of turning himself into a bear, as Jev had let me believe. He’d used a Nephilim weapon—mind control.

“Show me how it’s done. I want to know exactly how it works.”

“I’m out of practice,” was all he said, rocking back on his stump and lacing his hands behind his head.

“Can’t you at least try?” I said with a playful shot to his knee, hoping to lighten the mood. “Show me what we’re up against. Come on. Surprise me. Make me see something I’m not expecting. Then teach me how it’s done.”

When Scott continued to stare at the fire, the light illuminating the hard edges of his features, the smile slipped from my face. This was anything but a joke to him.

“Here’s the thing,” he said. “Those powers are addictive. When you get a taste of them, it’s hard to stop. When I ran away three months ago and realized what I was capable of, I used my powers every chance I got. If I was hungry, I’d walk into a store, throw what I wanted into a cart, and mind-trick the clerk into bagging my stuff and letting me walk out without paying. It was easy. It made me feel superior. It wasn’t until I was spying on the Black Hand one night, and saw him do the same thing, that I quit cold turkey. I’m
not going to live the rest of my life like that. I’m not going to be like him.” He pulled a ring out of his pocket, holding it up in the light. It appeared to be made of iron, and the crown of the ring was stamped with a clenched fist. For one fleeting moment, a strange blue halo of light seemed to radiate from the metal. But it immediately vanished, and I wrote it off as a trick of the light.

“All Nephilim have heightened strength, making us physically more powerful than humans, but when I wear this ring, it takes that strength to a whole different level,” Scott said solemnly. “The Black Hand gave me the ring after he tried to recruit me to his army. I don’t know what kind of curse or enchantment is on the ring, or if it’s even one of those. But there’s
something
. Anyone with one of these rings is almost physically unstoppable. Before you disappeared in June, you stole the ring from me. The pull to get it back was so intense I didn’t sleep, eat, or rest until I found it. I was like a junkie searching for the one thing that could give me my next high. I broke into your house one night after you were kidnapped. I found it in your bedroom in your violin case.”

“Cello,” came my murmured correction. Faint recollection stirred inside me, a sensation of having seen the ring before.

“I’m not the smartest guy, but I know this ring isn’t harmless. The Black Hand did something to it. He wanted a way to give every member of his army an advantage. Even when I’m not wearing the ring, and just relying on my natural strength and powers, the pull for more of both is strong. The only way to beat
it is to lay off using my powers and abilities as much as I can.”

I tried to sympathize with Scott, but I was a little disappointed. I needed to gain a better understanding of how Gabe had tricked me in case I found myself face-to-face with him again. And if Hank really was the Black Hand, the leader of an underground and nonhuman militia, I had to wonder if he was in my life for reasons darker than met the eye. After all, if he was so busy battling fallen angels, how did he have time to run his dealership, be a father, and date my mom? Maybe I was suspicious, but given everything Scott had just told me, I was pretty sure it was warranted.

I needed someone on my side who could go up against Hank, if it came to that. Right now, the only person I knew of was Scott. I wanted him to keep his integrity, but at the same time, he was the only person I knew of who stood a chance against Hank.

“Maybe you could try using the ring’s powers for good,” I suggested softly after a minute.

Scott scrubbed a hand through his hair, obviously ready to drop the subject. “Too late. I’ve made my decision. I won’t wear the ring. It connects me to
him
.”

“Don’t you ever worry that if you don’t wear the ring, it will give Hank a dangerous advantage?”

His eyes caught mine, but he avoided answering. “You hungry? I can catch us some bass. It tastes decent pan-seared over the fire.” Without waiting for my response, he grabbed the fishing
pole and descended the rocks leading down from the cave.

I followed after him, suddenly wishing I could swap my boots for tennis shoes. Scott navigated the rocks in strides and jumps, whereas I was forced to take one cautious step after another.

“Fine, I’ll put all talk of your powers on hold,” I called after him, “but I’m not finished. There are still way too many gaps. Let’s go back to the night I disappeared. Do you have any guesses as to who kidnapped me?”

Scott took a seat on a rock, threading his line with bait. By the time I caught up to him, he was almost finished.

“At first I thought it had to be Rixon,” he said. “That was before I learned he’s in hell. I wanted to come back and look for you, but it wasn’t that simple. The Black Hand has spies everywhere. And given what happened in the fun house, I figured I’d have the cops on my tail too.”

“But?”

“But I didn’t.” He looked sideways at me. “Don’t you find it a little strange? The cops had to have known I was in the fun house that night with you and Rixon. You would have told them. You probably told them I was shot, too. So why didn’t they ever come looking for me? Why’d they let me off the hook? It’s almost like—” He caught himself.

“Like what?”

“Like someone came in after and cleaned up. And I’m not talking about physical evidence. I’m talking about mind-tricks. Erasing
memories. Someone powerful enough to make the police look the other way.”

“A Nephil, you mean.”

A shrug. “It makes sense, doesn’t it? Maybe the Black Hand didn’t want the police looking for me. Maybe he wanted to find me himself and take care of me off the record. If he finds me, trust me, he’s not handing me over to the police for questioning. He’ll lock me in one of his prisons and make me regret the day I ran out on him.”