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“Where?”
“A . . . friend. He might not be all that excited to see you, but I think he’ll help me.”
Jacks looked at her. “Who?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
They worked their way up the streets, taking care to stay out of the cones of streetlight. Maddy’s injuries were throbbing—her shoulder and back bruise from the almost-accident and now her neck where the Angel’s hand had tried to strangle her. She noticed Jacks had begun to step unevenly. He wasn’t hurt exactly—she didn’t even know if Angels could get hurt—but his strength had left him for the moment. They both needed somewhere dry and safe to rest.
By the time they reached the residential street, the fog had lifted. The air was clear and cold. Puddles of rainwater stood eerily still as they reflected the streetlamps overhead. They stopped in the shadow of a parked car and looked at the large, rustic home.
The house was now dark and quiet. A few red cups littered the lawn as the only evidence of the party earlier that night. To Maddy, it already seemed like a distant past. Like a memory from another life.
“Who is this person again?” Jacks said, scrutinizing the house.
“Um . . . a friend,” Maddy repeated, keeping her tone neutral.
He turned to her and searched her gaze. In the cast of the streetlight he looked like an old-time superhero. Once again she hated herself for finding him so attractive, even when he was exhausted, beat up, and on the run.
“Can we trust him?” Jacks said.
Maddy considered. “I know he would never do anything to hurt me,” she said finally. The answer didn’t quite seem to satisfy Jacks, but he nodded. They made their way around to the side of the house, slipping on the leafy hillside, until they came to a dimly lit window. Maddy peered in.
Ethan sat against the wall in the soft glow of a desk lamp. The box of photos sat next to him. He was looking at the pictures.
Maddy recognized the room, of course. It was where they had nearly kissed. She found herself thinking about how his lips had felt as they brushed against hers. Then she thought about their last conversation, when he told her how his father had died. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all, she thought, but it was too late to turn back now. She reached a hand up and tapped on the glass.
Ethan jumped, then looked over at the window.
“Ethan!” Maddy hissed in a loud whisper. “Over here.”
He stared out at the darkness for a moment, then cautiously rose and came over to the glass.
“Ethan, it’s me,” Maddy whispered.
“Maddy?” He slid the window open and looked at her with wide eyes.
“Can I—we—come in?”
“We?” He looked into the shadows behind her and saw Jacks. His expression hardened.
“Please,” Maddy said, searching his hazel eyes. “I didn’t know who else to turn to.”
Ethan hesitated as he considered. “Go around to the back,” he said. “I’ll meet you there.”
Ethan let them in through a sliding glass door at the back of the house. He was still wearing his ripped jeans and sandals from the party, but he had thrown on a white thermal under his plaid shirt and corralled his hair under a backwards baseball cap.
“Thank you,” Maddy said as she came in the door.
“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Ethan said, genuine relief in his voice. “You left the party and I hear
d those two idiots racing down the street. I should have never let you leave like that.”
“No, you shouldn’t have,” Jacks said. His eyes were flinty. Ethan flinched at the Angel’s words.
“Ethan, this is—”
“Yeah, I know,” Ethan said. He studied the Angel before him.
