Crescendo by Becca Fitzpatrick Page A

brewing between the two sides. If the society becomes powerful enough, fallen angels will back off … and start relying on humans as their vassals instead.”
    I bit my lip and looked up at him uneasily. Without wanting to, I remembered last night’s dream. Cheshvan. Nephilim. Fallen angels. I couldn’t escape any of it.
    “Why don’t fallen angels usually possess humans?” I asked. “Why do they choose Nephilim?”
    “Human bodies aren’t as strong or resilient as Nephilim bodies,” Patch replied. “A two-week-long possession will kill them. Tens of thousands of humans would die every Cheshvan.
    “And it’s a lot harder to possess a human,” he continued. “Fallen angels can’t force humans to swear fealty, they have to convince them to turn over their bodies. That takes time and persuasion. Human bodies also deteriorate faster. Not many fallen angels want to go to the trouble of possessing a human body if it could be dead in a week.”
    A shiver of foreboding crept through me, but I said, “That’s a sad story, but it’s hard to blame Scott or any Nephilim, for that matter. I wouldn’t want a fallen angel taking control of my body two weeks out of every year either. This doesn’t sound like a Nephilim problem. It sounds like a fallen angel problem.”
    A muscle in his jaw jumped. “The Z isn’t your kind of place. Go home.”
    “I just got here.”
    “Bo’s is mild compared to this place.”
    “Thanks for the tip, but I’m not really in the mood to hang out at home all night feeling sorry for myself.”
    Patch folded his arms and studied me. “You’re putting yourself in danger to get back at me?” he guessed. “In case you forgot, I’m not the one who called things off.”
    “Don’t flatter yourself. This isn’t about you.”
    Patch dug in his pocket for his keys. “I’m taking you home.” His tone told me I was a huge inconvenience, and that if he saw any way around it, he’d gladly opt out.
    “I don’t want a ride. I don’t need your help.”
    He laughed, but the sound lacked humor. “You’re getting in the Jeep, even if I have to drag you inside, because you’re not staying here. It’s too dangerous.”
    “You can’t order me around.”
    He merely looked at me. “And while you’re at it, you’re going to stop hanging out with Scott.”
    I felt my anger bubbling up. How dare he assume I was weak and helpless. How dare he try to control me by telling me where I could and couldn’t go, and who I could spend time with. How dare he act like I’d meant nothing to him.
    I sent him a look of cool defiance. “Don’t do me any morefavors. I never asked. And I don’t want you as my guardian angel anymore.”
    Patch stood over me, and a drop of rain slid from his hair, landing like ice on my collarbone. I felt it slide along my skin, disappearing beneath the neckline of my shirt. His eyes followed the raindrop, and I began to quiver on the inside. I wanted to tell him I was sorry for everything I’d said. I wanted to tell him I didn’t care about Marcie, or what the archangels thought. I cared about us. But the cold hard truth was, nothing I said or did could realign the stars. I
couldn’t
care about us. Not if I wanted to keep Patch close. Not if I didn’t want him banished to hell. The more we fought, the easier it was to get swallowed up in hatred and convince myself that he meant nothing to me, and that I could move on without him.
    “Take it back,” Patch said, his voice low.
    I couldn’t bring myself to look at him, and I couldn’t bring myself to take it back. I tipped my chin up and pinned my eyes on the blur of rain over his shoulder. Damn my pride, and damn his, too.
    “Take it back, Nora,” Patch repeated more firmly.
    “I can’t do the right thing with you in my life,” I said, hating myself for allowing my chin to tremble. “This will be easier on everyone if we just—I want a clean break. I’ve thought this through.” I hadn’t. I hadn’t