Hush, Hush #1 (23 page)

Together they tempted and convinced Eve to eat the forbidden fruit, opening the gates guarding Eden. As punishment for this grave sin and for deserting their duties, god stripped the angels’ wings and banished them to Earth forever.

I skimmed down a few paragraphs, my heart beating erratically.

Fallen angels are the same evil spirits (or demons) described in the Bible as taking possession of human bodies. Fallen angels roam the Earth looking for human bodies to harass and control. They tempt humans to 235

do evil by communicating thoughts and images directly to their minds. if a fallen angel succeeds in turning a human toward evil, it can enter the human’s body and influence his or her personality and actions.

However, the possession of a human body by a fallen angel can take place only during the Hebrew month of Cheshvan. Cheshvan, known as

“the bitter month,” is the only month without any Jewish holidays or fasts, making it an unholy month. Between new and full moons during Cheshvan, fallen angels invade human bodies in droves.

My stare lingered on the computer monitor a few minutes after I finished reading. I had no thoughts. None. Just a complexity of emotions tangling inside me. Cold, panicky amazement and foreboding among them.

An involuntary shudder roused me to my senses. I remembered the few times I was certain Patch had breached normal communication methods and whispered directly to my mind, just like the article claimed fallen angels could. Comparing this information with Patch’s scars, was it possible … could Patch be a fallen angel? Did he want to possess my body?

I browsed quickly through the rest of the article, slowing when I read something even more bizarre.

Fallen angels who have a sexual relationship with a human produce superhuman offspring called nephilim. The nephilim race is an evil and unnatural race and was never meant to inhabit Earth. Although many believe the great Flood at the time of noah was intended to cleanse the Earth of nephilim, we have no way of knowing if this hybrid race died out and whether or not fallen angels have continued to reproduce with humans since that time. it seems logical that they would, which means the nephilim race is likely on the Earth today.

I pushed back from the desk. I crammed everything I’d read into a 236

mental folder and filed it away. And stamped SCARY on the outside of the folder. I didn’t want to think about it right now. I’d sort through it later. Maybe.

My cell phone buzzed in my pocket and I jumped.

“Did we decide avocados are green or yellow?” Vee asked. “I’ve already filled all my green fruit slots today, but if you tell me avocados are yellow, I’m in business.”

“Do you believe in superheroes?”

“After seeing Tobey Maguire in
Spider-Man
, yes. And then there’s Christian Bale. Older, but killer hot. I’d let him rescue me from sword-wielding ninjas.”

“I’m being serious.”

“So am I.”

“When was the last time you went to church?” I asked.

I heard her pop a gum bubble. “Sunday.”

“Do you think the Bible is accurate? I mean, do you think it’s real?”

“I think Pastor Calvin is hot. In a fortysomething way. That pretty much sums up my religious conviction.”

After I hung up, I went to my room and slid under the covers. I threw on an extra blanket to ward off the sudden chill. Whether the room was cold, or the icy feeling originated inside me, I wasn’t sure. Haunting words like “fallen angel,” “human possession,” and “Nephilim” danced me off to sleep.

237

I TOSSED ALL NIGHT. THE WIND GUSTED THROUGH THE

OPEN fields rimming the farmhouse, spraying debris against the windows. I woke several times, hearing shingles being pulled from the roof and tumbling over the edge. Every small noise from the rattle of the windowpanes to my own creaking bedsprings had me jumping out of sleep.

Around six I gave up, dragged myself out of bed, and padded down the hall for a hot shower. Next I cleaned my room—my closet was looking slim, and sure enough, I filled the hamper with three loads of laundry. I was climbing the stairs with a fresh load when a knock sounded at the front door. I opened it to find Elliot standing on the doorstep.

He wore jeans, a vintage plaid shirt rolled to the elbows, sunglasses, and a Red Sox cap. On the outside, he looked all-American. But I knew better, and a jolt of nervous adrenaline confirmed it.

“Nora Grey,” Elliot said in a patronizing voice. He leaned in and grinned, and I caught the sour tang of alcohol on his breath. “You’ve been causing me a lot of trouble lately.”

“What are you doing here?”

He peered behind me into the house. “What’s it look like I’m doing? I 238

want to talk. Don’t I get to come in?”

“My mom’s asleep. I don’t want to wake her.”

“I’ve never met your mom.” Something about the way he said it made the hairs on the back of my neck stand tall.

“I’m sorry, do you need something?”

His smile was half sloppy, half sneering. “You don’t like me, do you, Nora Grey?”

By way of answer, I folded my arms across my chest.

He staggered back a step with his hand pressed to his heart. “Ouch. I’m
here
, Nora, as a last-ditch effort to convince you that I’m an average guy and you can trust me. Don’t let me down.”

“Listen, Elliot, I have a few things I need to—”

He drilled his fist into the house, smacking his knuckles against the siding hard enough to shake loose chipped paint. “I’m not finished!” he slurred in a heated voice. Suddenly he tipped his head back and laughed quietly. He bent over and placed his bleeding hand between his knees and groaned. “Ten dollars says I’m going to regret that later.”

Elliot’s presence made my skin crawl. I remembered back several days, when I actually thought he was good-looking and charming. I wondered why I’d been such an idiot.

I was contemplating closing the door and locking it, when Elliot pulled off his sunglasses, revealing bloodshot eyes. He cleared his throat, his voice coming out straightforward. “I came here because I wanted to tell you Jules is under a lot of stress at school. Exams, student government, 239

scholarship applications, yadda, yadda, yadda. He’s not acting like himself. He needs to get away from it all for a few days. The four of us

—Jules, me, you, Vee—should go camping for spring break. Leave tomorrow for Powder Horn and come back Tuesday afternoon. It’ll give Jules a chance to decompress.” Every word that came out of his mouth sounded eerily and carefully rehearsed.

“Sorry, I already have plans.”

“Let me change your mind. I’ll plan the whole trip. I’ll get the tents, the food. I’ll show you what a great guy I am. I’ll show you a good time.”

“I think you should leave.”

Elliot leaned his hand on the doorjamb, bending toward me. “Wrong answer.” For a fleeting moment, the glassy stupor in his eyes disappeared, something twisted and sinister eclipsing it. I involuntarily stepped back. I was almost positive Elliot had it in him to kill. I was almost positive Kjirsten’s death was on his hands.

“Leave, or I’m calling a cab,” I said.

Elliot flung the screen door open so hard it smacked back against the house. He grabbed the front of my bathrobe and yanked me outside.

Then he shoved me back against the siding and pinned me there with his body. “You’re coming camping whether you want to or not.”

“Get off me!” I said, twisting away from him.

“Or what? What are you going to do?” He had me by the shoulders now, and he knocked me back against the house again, rattling my teeth.

“I’ll call the police.” I had no idea how I said it so bravely. My breathing was rapid and shallow, my hands clammy.

240

“Are you going to shout for them? They can’t hear you. The only way I’m letting you go is if you swear to go camping.”

“Nora?”

Elliot and I both turned toward the front door, where my mom’s voice carried out. Elliot kept his hands on me a moment longer, then made a disgusted noise and shoved me away. Halfway down the porch steps, he looked over his shoulder. “This isn’t over.”

I hurried inside and locked the door. My eyes started to burn. I dragged my back down the length of the door and sat on the entry rug, fighting the urge to sob.

My mom appeared at the top of the stairs, cinching her robe at the waist.

“Nora? What’s wrong? Who was at the door?”

I blinked my eyes dry in a hurry. “A guy from school.” I couldn’t keep the waver out of my voice. “He—he—” I was already in enough trouble over my date with Patch. I knew my mom was planning to attend a wedding and reception tonight for the daughter of a friend from work, but if I told her Elliot had roughed me up, there was no way she’d go.

And that was the last thing I wanted, because I needed to drive to Portland and investigate Elliot. Even a sliver of incriminating evidence might be enough to put him behind bars, and until that happened, I wouldn’t feel safe. I sensed a certain violence escalating inside him, and I didn’t want to see what would happen if it blew out of control. “He wanted my
Hamlet
notes,” I said flatly. “Last week he cheated off my quiz, and apparently he’s trying to make a habit of it.”

“Oh, honey.” She came down beside me, stroking my damp hair, which had chilled since my shower. “I can understand why you’re upset. I can call his parents if you’d like.”

241

I shook my head.

“Then I’ll make breakfast,” Mom said. “Go finish dressing. I’ll have everything ready by the time you come down.”

I was standing in front of my closet when my cell phone rang.

“Did you hear? The four of us are going c-a-m-p-i-n-g for spring break!”

said Vee, sounding bizarrely cheerful.

“Vee,” I said, my voice trembling, “Elliot’s planning something.

Something scary. The only reason he wants to go camping is so he can get us alone. We’re not going.”

“What do you mean we’re not going? This is a joke, right? I mean, we finally get to do something exciting over spring break, and you’re saying
no
? You know my mom will never let me go alone. I’ll do anything.

Seriously. I’ll do your homework for a week. Come on, Nora. One little word. Say it. It starts with the letter Y… .”

The hand holding my cell quivered, and I brought up my other hand to steady it. “Elliot showed up at my house fifteen minutes ago, drunk. He

—he physically threatened me.”

She was quiet a moment. “What do you mean by ‘physically threatened’?”

“He dragged me out the front door and shoved me against the house.”

“But he was drunk, right?”

“Does it matter?” I snapped.

242

“Well, he has a lot going on. I mean, he was wrongly accused of being messed up in some girl’s suicide, and he was forced to switch schools. If he hurt you—and I’m not justifying what he did, by the way—maybe he just needs … counseling, you know?”

“
If
he hurt me?”

“He was wasted. Maybe—maybe he didn’t know what he was doing.

Tomorrow he’s going to feel horrible.”

I opened my mouth, shut it. I couldn’t believe Vee was siding with Elliot. “I have to go,” I said curtly. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Can I be completely honest, babe? I know you’re worried about this guy in the ski mask. Don’t hate me, but I think the only reason you’re trying so hard to pin it on Elliot is because you don’t want it to be Patch.

You’re rationalizing everything, and it’s freaking me out.”

I was speechless. “Rationalizing? Patch didn’t show up at my door this morning and slam me against my house.”

“You know what? I shouldn’t have brought it up. Let’s just drop it, okay?”

“Fine,” I said stiffly.

“So … what are you doing today?”

I poked my head out the door, listening for my mom. The sound of a whisk scraping the side of a bowl carried up from the kitchen. Part of me didn’t see the point in sharing anything else with Vee, but another part of me felt resentful and confrontational. She wanted to know my plans?

Fine by me. It wasn’t my problem if she didn’t like them. “I’m driving to Portland as soon as my mom leaves for a wedding at Old Orchard 243

Beach.” The wedding started at 4 p.m., and with the reception following, my mom wouldn’t get home until 9 p.m. at the earliest. Which gave me enough time to spend the evening in Portland, and beat her home.

“Actually, I was wondering if maybe I could borrow the Neon. I don’t want my mom to see the miles I put on my car.”

“Oh, boy. You’re going to spy on Elliot, aren’t you? You’re going to snoop around Kinghorn.”

“I’m going to do a little shopping and grab dinner,” I said, sliding hangers down the rack in my closet. I pulled out a long-sleeved tissue tee, jeans, and a pink-and-white-striped beanie I reserved for bad-hair days and weekends.

“And would grabbing dinner include stopping by a certain diner located a few blocks from Kinghorn Prep? A diner where Kjirsten what’s-her-name used to work?”

“That’s not a bad idea,” I said. “Maybe I will.”

“And are you going to actually eat, or just interrogate the workers?”

“I might ask a few questions. Do I get the Neon or not?”

“Of course you do,” she said. “What are best friends for? I’ll even come with you on this doomed little tromp. But first you have to promise you’ll go camping.”

“Never mind. I’ll take the bus.”

“We’ll talk about spring break later!” Vee called into the phone before I was able to disconnect.

I’d been to Portland on several occasions, but I didn’t know the city 244

well. I stepped off the bus armed with my cell, a map, and my own inner compass. The buildings were redbrick, tall and slender, blocking the setting sun, which blazed out from below a thick stretch of storm clouds, settling the streets under a canopy of shadow. The storefronts all had verandas and quaint signs extending over the doors. The streets were lit by black witch-hat lamps. After several blocks, the congested streets opened up to a wooded area, and I saw a sign for Kinghorn Prep. A cathedral, steeple, and clock tower peered above the treetops.