Crescendo, Hush 2 - Webnode

going to tip off the archangels.”
We sat in silence, and I struggled to stuff my emotions deep
down. I’d tipped off the archangels, in other words. My feelings
for Patch were what exposed us. It was nothing Patch had done
or said. It was all me. According to Rixon’s explanation, Patch
had never loved me. He’d never reciprocated. I didn’t want to
accept it. I wanted Patch to have cared about me as much as I
cared about him. I didn’t want to think I’d been nothing more
than entertainment, a way to pass the time.
There was one more question I desperately wanted to ask
Rixon. If Patch and I were still on good terms, I would have
asked him, but that was a moot point now. Rixon was just as
worldly as Patch, however. He knew things other people didn’t
—particularly when it came to fallen angels and Nephilim—and
what he didn’t know, he could find out. Right now, my best hope
at finding the Black Hand was through Rixon.
I moistened my lips and decided to get the question over
with. “Have you ever heard of the Black Hand?”
Rixon flinched. He studied me in silence a moment before
his face blazed with amusement. “Is this a joke? I haven’t heard
that name in a long time. I thought Patch didn’t like to be called
it. Did he tell you about it, then?”
A slow freeze gripped my heart. I’d been on the brink of
telling Rixon about the envelope with the iron ring and note
claiming the Black Hand killed my father, but found myself
grasping for a new response. “The Black Hand is Patch’s
nickname?”
“He hasn’t gone by it in years. Not since I started calling him