swung one short leg over the boat, balancing his foot on the driver’s seat. Before he could bring his other leg over, I slammed my body against the side of the boat, rocking it forcefully away from the ramp. Pepper stood one foot in, one foot out, with the gap of air between his legs widening.
He reacted instantly. He shot into the air, hovering several feet above the boat.
Flying.
In my split-second decision to unbalance him, I’d forgotten he had wings. And not only that, but now he was clearly furious.
I dove overboard, swimming hard for the center of the river, hearing shots being fired into the water from above.
A splash sounded behind me, and I knew Pepper had dived in after me. In a matter of seconds he would catch me and fulfill that promise to put a hole in my foot—and probably a lot worse. I wasn’t as strong as an archangel, but I was Nephilim now, and I’d trained with Dante . . . twice. I decided to do something either incredibly stupid, or incredibly brave.
Planting my feet firmly on the sandy riverbed, I pushed up with all my strength, vaulting straight out of the water. To my surprise I overshot, soaring above the treetops crowding the riverbanks. I could see for miles and miles, past the factories and fields, to the highway strung out with tiny cars and tractor-trailers. Beyond that, I saw Coldwater itself, a cluster of homes, shops, and green-lawned parks.
Just as quickly, I lost velocity. My stomach flip-flopped, air skidding over my body as my direction reversed. The river rushed up at me. I had the urge to pinwheel my arms frantically, but it was as if my body wouldn’t stand for it. It refused to be anything less than graceful and efficient, tucking into { tuI kne a tight missile. My feet crashed into the boat ramp, smashing through the planks of wood, plunging me back into the water.
More bullets whizzed past my ears. I scrabbled out of the debris, lunged up the riverbank, and took off sprinting for the trees. Two mornings of running in the dark had given me some preparation, but it didn’t explain why I was suddenly running at speeds that rivaled Dante’s. The trees passed in a dizzying blur, but my feet leaped and bounded with ease, almost as if they could anticipate the necessary steps a half second before my mind.
I raced at top speed up the walkway, flung myself inside the Volkswagen, and floored it out of the parking lot. To my amazement, I wasn’t even out of breath.
Adrenaline? Maybe. But I didn’t think so.
I drove to Allen’s Drug and Pharmacy and slid the Volkswagen into a parking space nestled between two trucks that hid me from the street. Then I slouched in my seat, trying to make myself invisible. I was pretty sure I’d lost Pepper at the river, but it didn’t hurt to be cautious. I needed time to think. I couldn’t go home. I couldn’t go back to school. What I really needed was to find Patch, but I didn’t know where to start.
My cell phone rang, startling me out of my reverie.
“Yo, Grey,” Scott said. “Vee and I are on our way to Taco Hut for lunch, but the big question of the day is, where are
you
? Now that you (a) can drive, and (b) have wheels—ahem, thanks to me—you don’t have to eat in the school cafeteria. FYI.”
I ignored his jesting tone. “I need Dante’s number. Text it to me and make it fast,” I told Scott. I’d had Dante’s number stored on my old phone, but not this one.
“Uh,
please
?”
“What is this? Double-standard Tuesday?”
“What do you need his number for? I thought Dante was your boy—”
I hung up and tried to think things through. What did I know for certain? That an archangel leading a double life wanted to kidnap me and use me as incentive to get Patch to do him a favor. Or to quit blackmailing him. Or both. I also knew Patch wasn’t the blackmailer.
What information was I low on? Mostly Patch’s whereabouts. Was he safe? Would he contact me? Did he need my help?
Where are you, Patch?
I shouted into
He reacted instantly. He shot into the air, hovering several feet above the boat.
Flying.
In my split-second decision to unbalance him, I’d forgotten he had wings. And not only that, but now he was clearly furious.
I dove overboard, swimming hard for the center of the river, hearing shots being fired into the water from above.
A splash sounded behind me, and I knew Pepper had dived in after me. In a matter of seconds he would catch me and fulfill that promise to put a hole in my foot—and probably a lot worse. I wasn’t as strong as an archangel, but I was Nephilim now, and I’d trained with Dante . . . twice. I decided to do something either incredibly stupid, or incredibly brave.
Planting my feet firmly on the sandy riverbed, I pushed up with all my strength, vaulting straight out of the water. To my surprise I overshot, soaring above the treetops crowding the riverbanks. I could see for miles and miles, past the factories and fields, to the highway strung out with tiny cars and tractor-trailers. Beyond that, I saw Coldwater itself, a cluster of homes, shops, and green-lawned parks.
Just as quickly, I lost velocity. My stomach flip-flopped, air skidding over my body as my direction reversed. The river rushed up at me. I had the urge to pinwheel my arms frantically, but it was as if my body wouldn’t stand for it. It refused to be anything less than graceful and efficient, tucking into { tuI kne a tight missile. My feet crashed into the boat ramp, smashing through the planks of wood, plunging me back into the water.
More bullets whizzed past my ears. I scrabbled out of the debris, lunged up the riverbank, and took off sprinting for the trees. Two mornings of running in the dark had given me some preparation, but it didn’t explain why I was suddenly running at speeds that rivaled Dante’s. The trees passed in a dizzying blur, but my feet leaped and bounded with ease, almost as if they could anticipate the necessary steps a half second before my mind.
I raced at top speed up the walkway, flung myself inside the Volkswagen, and floored it out of the parking lot. To my amazement, I wasn’t even out of breath.
Adrenaline? Maybe. But I didn’t think so.
I drove to Allen’s Drug and Pharmacy and slid the Volkswagen into a parking space nestled between two trucks that hid me from the street. Then I slouched in my seat, trying to make myself invisible. I was pretty sure I’d lost Pepper at the river, but it didn’t hurt to be cautious. I needed time to think. I couldn’t go home. I couldn’t go back to school. What I really needed was to find Patch, but I didn’t know where to start.
My cell phone rang, startling me out of my reverie.
“Yo, Grey,” Scott said. “Vee and I are on our way to Taco Hut for lunch, but the big question of the day is, where are
you
? Now that you (a) can drive, and (b) have wheels—ahem, thanks to me—you don’t have to eat in the school cafeteria. FYI.”
I ignored his jesting tone. “I need Dante’s number. Text it to me and make it fast,” I told Scott. I’d had Dante’s number stored on my old phone, but not this one.
“Uh,
please
?”
“What is this? Double-standard Tuesday?”
“What do you need his number for? I thought Dante was your boy—”
I hung up and tried to think things through. What did I know for certain? That an archangel leading a double life wanted to kidnap me and use me as incentive to get Patch to do him a favor. Or to quit blackmailing him. Or both. I also knew Patch wasn’t the blackmailer.
What information was I low on? Mostly Patch’s whereabouts. Was he safe? Would he contact me? Did he need my help?
Where are you, Patch?
I shouted into
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