I crawled backward until I came up against an iron fence. I pushed through the muddled moment and recaptured my last memory. I’d touched Patch’s scars. Wherever I was, it was somewhere inside his memory.

A voice, male and vaguely familiar, carried through the darkness, singing a low tune. Turning toward it, I saw a labyrinth of headstones stretching like dominoes into the mist. Patch was crouched on top of one. He wore only Levi’s and a navy T­shirt, even though the night wasn’t warm.

“Moonlighting with the dead?” called the familiar voice. It was rough, rich, and Irish. Rixon. He slouched against a headstone opposite Patch, watching him. He stroked his thumb across his bottom lip.

“Let me guess. You’ve got it in your mind to possess the dead? I don’t know,” he said, wagging his head. “Maggots squirming in your eyeholes … and your other orifices, might be carrying things a bit too far.”

“This is why I keep you around, Rixon. Always seeing things from the bright side.”

“Cheshvan starts tonight,” Rixon said. “What are you doing arsing around in a graveyard?”

“Thinking.”

“Thinking?”

“A process by which I use my brain to make a rational decision.” The corners of Rixon’s mouth pulled down. “I’m starting to worry about you. Come on. Time to go. Chauncey Langeais and Barnabas await.

The moon turns at midnight. I confess I’ve got my eye on a betty in town.” He gave a catlike purr. “I know you like them red, but I like ’em fair, and once I get into a body, I intend to take care of unfinished business with a blonde who was making eyes at me earlier.”

When Patch didn’t move, Rixon said, “Are you daft? We’ve got to go. Chauncey’s oath of fealty. Not ringing a bell? How about this. You’re a fallen angel. You can’t feel a thing. Until tonight, that is. The next two weeks are Chauncey’s gift to you. Given unwillingly, mind you,” he added on a conspirator’s grin.

Patch gave Rixon a sidelong glance. “What do you know about The Book of Enoch?”

“About as much as any fallen angel: slim to none.”

“I was told there’s a story in The Book of Enoch. About a fallen angel who becomes human.”

Rixon doubled over with laughter. “You lost your mind, mate?” He welded the outer edges of his palms together, making an open book with his hands. “The Book of Enoch is a bedtime story. And a good one, by the looks of it. Sent you straight to dreamland.”

“I want a human body.”

“You’d best be happy with two weeks and a Nephil’s body. Half­human is better than nothing.

Chauncey can’t undo what’s been done. He swore an oath, and he has to live up to it. Just like last year.

And the year before that—”

“Two weeks isn’t enough. I want to be human. Permanently.” Patch’s eyes cut into Rixon’s, daring him to laugh again.

Rixon raked his hands through his hair. “The Book of Enoch is a fairy tale. We’re fallen angels, not humans. We never were human, and we never will be. End of story. Now, quit arsing around and help me figure out which is the way to Portland.” He craned his neck back and observed the inky sky.

Patch swung down off the headstone. “I’m going to become human.”

“Sure, mate, sure you can.”

“The Book of Enoch says I have to kill my Nephil vassal. I have to kill Chauncey.”

“No, you don’t,” Rixon said with a note of impatience. “You’ve got to possess him. A process by which you take his body and use it as your own. Not to put a damper on things, but you can’t kill Chauncey.

Nephilim can’t die. And have you thought of this? If you could kill him, you couldn’t possess him.”

“If I kill him, I’ll become human and I won’t need to possess him.”

Rixon squeezed the inner corners of his eyes as if he knew his argument was falling on deaf ears and it was giving him a headache. “If we could kill Nephilim, we would have found a way by now. I’m sorry to tell you, lad, but if I don’t get into the arms of that blond betty soon, my brains will bake. And a few other parts of my—”

“Two choices,” said Patch.

“Eh?”

“Save a human life and become a guardian angel, or kill your Nephil vassal and become human. Take your pick.”

“Is this more Book of Enoch rubbish?”

“Dabria paid me a visit.”

Rixon’s eyes widened, and he snorted a laugh. “Your psychotic ex? What’s she doing down here? Did she fall? Lost her wings, did she?”

“She came down to tell me I can get my wings back if I save a human life.”

Rixon’s eyes got wider. “If you trust her, I say go for it. Nothing wrong with being a guardian. Spending your days keeping mortals out of danger … could be fun, depending on the mortal you’re assigned.”

“But if you had a choice?” Patch asked.

“Aye, well, my answer depends on one very important distinction. Am I roaring drunk … or have I completely lost my mind?” When Patch didn’t laugh, Rixon said soberly, “There’s no choice. And here’s why. I don’t believe in The Book of Enoch. If I were you, I’d aim for guardianship. I’m half considering the deal myself. Too bad I don’t know any humans on the brink of death.”

There was a moment’s silence, then Patch seemed to shake off his thoughts. He said, “How much money can we make before midnight?”

“Playing cards or boxing?”

“Cards.”

Rixon’s eyes sparkled. “What do we have here? A pretty boy? Come here and let me give you a proper clatter.” He hooked Patch around the neck, pinning him in the crook of his elbow, but Patch got him around the waist and dragged Rixon to the grass, where they took turns throwing clobbering punches.

“All right, all right!” Rixon bellowed, throwing his hands up in surrender. “Just ’cause I can’t feel a bloody lip doesn’t mean I want to spend the rest of the night walking around with one.” He winked.

“Won’t increase my chances with the ladies.”

“And a black eye will?”

Rixon lifted his fingers to his eyes, probing. “You didn’t!” he said, swinging a fist at Patch.

I pulled my finger away from Patch’s scars. The skin on the back of my neck prickled, and my heart pumped much too fast. Patch looked at me, a shadow of uncertainty in his eyes.

I was forced to accept that maybe now wasn’t the time to rely on the logical half of my brain. Maybe this was one of those times when I needed to step out of bounds. Stop playing by the rules. Accept the impossible.

“Then you’re definitely not human,” I said. “You really are a fallen angel. A bad guy.”

That squeezed a smile out of Patch. “You think I’m a bad guy?”

“You possess other people’s … bodies.”

He accepted the statement with a nod.

“Do you want to possess my body?”

“I want to do a lot of things to your body, but that’s not one of them.”

“What’s wrong with the body you have?”

“My body is a lot like glass. Real, but outward, reflecting the world around me. You see and hear me, and I see and hear you. When you touch me, you feel it. I don’t experience you in the same way. I can’t feel you. I experience everything through a sheet of glass, and the only way I can cut through that sheet is by possessing a human body.”

“Or part­human.”

Patch’s mouth tightened at the corners. “When you touched my scars, you saw Chauncey?” he guessed.

“I heard you talking to Rixon. He said you possess Chauncey’s body for two weeks every year during Cheshvan. He said Chauncey isn’t human either. He’s Nephilim.” The word rolled off my tongue in a whisper.

“Chauncey is a cross between a fallen angel and a human. He’s immortal like an angel but has all the mortal senses. A fallen angel who wants to feel human sensations can do it in a Nephil’s body.”

“If you can’t feel, why did you kiss me?”

Patch traced a finger along my collarbone, then headed south, stopping at my heart. I felt it pounding through my skin. “Because I feel it here, in my heart,” he said quietly. “I haven’t lost the ability to feel emotion.” He watched me closely. “Let me put it this way. Our emotional connection isn’t lacking.”

Don’t panic, I thought. But already my breathing was faster, shallower. “You mean you can feel happy or sad or—”

“Desire.” A barely­there smile.

Keep moving forward, I told myself. Don’t give your own emotions time to catch up. Deal with them later, after you have answers. “Why did you fall?”

Patch’s eyes held mine for a couple of counts. “Lust.”

I swallowed. “Money lust?”

Patch stroked his jaw. He only did that when he wanted to conceal what he was thinking, the giveaway to his thoughts being his mouth. He was fighting a smile. “And other kinds. I thought if I fell, I’d become human. The angels who’d tempted Eve had been banished to Earth, and there were rumors that they’d lost their wings and become human. When they left heaven, it wasn’t this big ceremony we were all invited to. It was private. I didn’t know their wings were ripped out, or that they were cursed to roam Earth with a hunger to possess human bodies. Back then, nobody had even heard of fallen angels. So it made sense in my mind, that if I fell, I’d lose my wings and become human. At the time, I was crazy about a human girl, and it seemed worth the risk.”

“Dabria said you can get your wings back by saving a human life. She said you’ll be a guardian angel.

You don’t want that?” I was confused why he was so set against it.

“It’s not for me. I want to be human. I want it more than I’ve ever wanted anything.”

“What about Dabria? If the two of you aren’t together anymore, why is she still here? I thought she was a regular angel. Does she want to be human too?”

Patch went deathly still, all the muscles up his arm going rigid. “Dabria’s still on Earth?”

“She got a job at school. She’s the new school psychologist, Miss Greene. I’ve met with her a couple times.” My stomach gave a hard twist. “After what I saw in your memory, I thought she took the job to be closer to you.”

“What exactly did she tell you when you met with her?”

“To stay away from you. She hinted at your dark and dangerous past.” I paused. “Something about this is off, isn’t it?” I asked, feeling an ominous prickle make its way down my spine.

“I need to take you home. Then I’m going to the high school to look through her files and see if I can find something useful. I’ll feel better when I know what she’s planning.” Patch stripped the bed bare.

“Wrap yourself in these,” he said, handing me the bundle of dry sheets.