Hush, hush pdf download

Get download pdf books After signing up, you get unlimited access to a comprehensive collection of books, magazines and comic books. New Download ebook and other categories of e-books, magazines and comic books including everyday! She's never been particularly attracted to the boys at her school, no matter how hard her best friend, Vee, pushes them at her. Not until Patch comes along.

With his easy smile and eyes that seem to see inside her, Patch draws Nora to him against her better judgment. What if he really did know about me and Patch? I was a brand-new Nephil, no match for him if it came to a physical confrontation. Whoever this man was, cherubic features aside, he meant business. I live with my mom in a quintessential Maine farmhouse, complete with white paint, blue shutters, and a shroud of ever-present fog.

This time of year, the trees blazed fiery shades of red and gold, and the air held the crisp smells of pine sap, burning wood, and damp leaves. I jogged up the porch steps, where five portly pumpkins watched me like sentinels, and let myself in. I dropped my keys on the sideboard and went back to find her. She dog-eared her page, rose from the sofa, and squeezed me in a hug. What man? The man who had a bone to pick with Patch. I fabricated a smile. Keeps trying to get me to commit to senior pictures with his studio.

Would it be completely disgusting if I skipped washing my face tonight? Staying awake an extra two minutes at this point is pushing it. My eyes were halfway shut when I remembered the window. On a groan, I staggered over and unlatched the lock. Patch could get inside, but I wished him luck trying to keep me awake long enough to elicit a response. I pulled my blankets up to my chin, felt the soft, blissful tug of a dream beckoning me closer, let it drag me under— And then the mattress sank with the weight of another body.

My bed, on the other hand. His dark eyes watched mine, and he smelled clean and sexy. Most of all, he felt warm pressed up against me. Despite my best intentions, the close proximity was making it increasingly difficult to concentrate on sleep. No pain, but no pleasure either. I had to be content knowing that when I kissed him, he felt it on an emotional level only.

He kissed me lightly on the mouth. Something about Dante. Whatever it was, it seemed unimportant. Talking in general seemed unimportant. I snuggled in closer, and Patch stroked his hand down my bare arm, making a warm tingly sensation shoot all the way to my toes. Patch had also met Dante for the first time this morning, and for most of the tense meeting, I feared one would drag the other into a fistfight.

Got to keep the Nephilim thinking their leader is invested. Nothing says solidarity like hooking up with one of your own, you know? It makes for good press. They might even call us Norante. Or Danta. Do you like the sound of that? Hank got Nephilim everywhere all worked up over this one moment. In the meantime, while tempers are running hot and the hopes and dreams of Nephilim are hanging on the false belief that I can free them from fallen angels, we have to keep them happy.

I stared at the ceiling. More times today than I wanted to sanely contemplate. One forever night ago, the archangels had made me the deal of a lifetime. So I shot him. Hank was dead, and the archangels were expecting me to stop the Nephilim from going to war.

This was where things got tricky. How to fulfill my promise to the archangels and my oath to Hank? I saw only one option. To peace. As I was learning all too well. Right now, I was more concerned with keeping the archangels happy than the Nephilim. Take you, for instance. Oh, it had been vague all right. And to the point. Not a word more.

He wants to chain me in hell and dust his hands of me. I agreed to keep his secret, and in return he agreed to help me get my hands on a copy of the Book of Enoch. I might have to go under. Keep my head down. Patch hooked a finger in my neckline and pulled me into a kiss. Archangel with a Dirty Secret, had sat outside my house all night, playing spy. I thought back to a year ago, to the fall of my sophomore year.

Never could I have imagined what lay in store. Patch meant more to me than I could put into words. Whenever doubt and regret crept into my conscience, all I had to do was think of Patch. At noon, Vee called. And hold on. Since when do you like running?

I want Scott to look at me the way Patch looks at you. Starting today, I love exercise. And what about me? Your hair does scary stuff when it gets damp. Right on time, Vee picked me up. She steered her purple Neon across town, in the opposite direction from school, humming to herself. Hills are good for the glutes. Scott lives on Deacon Road. Why not think of it as motivation?

Eye on the prize. And it would be rude not to stop and give him a couple minutes of our time. This is a pickup. Scott lived with his mom, Lynn Parnell, in an apartment complex that came into view around the next bend. Over the summer, Scott had moved out and gone into hiding. After I killed Hank, Scott had been free to move home. A cement fence caged the property, and while I was certain privacy had been the intent, it gave the place the feel of a compound. Back when I thought he was an up-to-no-good jerk.

Boy, had things changed. Vee parked near the tennis courts. The nets were long gone, and someone had decorated the turf with graffiti. We got out and stretched for a couple of minutes. Maybe we should do laps around the complex. That way I can keep my eye on my baby. It also gives Scott more opportunities to see us. She also had on full makeup, diamond studs in her ears, and a ruby cocktail ring, and she smelled like Pure Poison by Dior.

Just your average day out running. We picked up our feet and started a slow jog along the dirt trail circling the complex. The sun was out, and after three laps, I stripped off my sweatshirt, tying it around my waist. Vee beelined to a weathered park bench and plunked down, sucking air. I surveyed the trail. He might be oversleeping and need a friendly wake-up call. Unless you have a forty-foot ladder stashed in the trunk of the Neon, window peeping is probably out.

Like knocking on his door. It pulled under the carport, and Scott swung out. Like most Nephilim men, Scott has the body of someone seemingly well acquainted with a weight room.

Today he was wearing mesh basketball shorts and a T-shirt with the sleeves ripped off. Vee fanned herself. Do the math. Two of them, and two of us. She was too aggravatingly good at it. Sure enough, Scott and Dante leaned back against the Barracuda, shaking their heads and grinning at us. Hang it all. And on that note, I took off running in the opposite direction.

I heard Scott on the trail behind me. A minute later, he snagged the strap of my tank top, tugging on it playfully. And why does Vee smell like a perfume factory? I spread my hands. Plus, it spoke volumes about just how into this conversation I was.

By way of answer, Dante picked up his pace, jogging beside me. But not as strong as a female Nephil. Your frame is too slender. And your muscle tone is pathetic. Why do I need to fight? Patch and I had decided unequivocally that enraged Nephilim made a better enemy than the all-powerful archangels. It was evident that Dante wanted to go into battle, but we disagreed.

And as leader of the Nephilim army, the decision was ultimately mine. He stopped, catching me by the wrist so he could look straight at me. Not in your current state. Jumping into my own grave. And dragging my mom in behind me.

But what about the archangels? Are you my pseudo boyfriend or my personal trainer? The first was from Marcie Millar, my sometimes arch-nemesis and, as fate would have it, my half sister by blood, but not by love. Marcie had figured out the truth first, and flung it in my face. Unknown number. The voice mail consisted of controlled breathing, low and masculine, but no actual words. Maybe Dante, maybe Patch. Maybe Pepper Friberg. My personal number was listed, and with a little investigative spirit, Pepper could have tracked it down.

Not the most reassuring of thoughts. I hauled out my piggy bank from under my bed, removed the rubber cheat plug, and shook out seventy-five dollars.

I was smaller than every other Nephil I knew. Unlike them, I had been born into a human body—average weight, average muscle tone, average in every single aspect—and it had taken a blood transfusion and the swearing of a Changeover Vow to turn me into a Nephil.

I was one of them in theory, but not in practice. And I had to do whatever it took to stay in power. At top speed, I suspected that Nephilim in their prime could run upward of fifty miles per hour.

If Dante and I were seen using that speed on the high school track, it would draw a lot of unwanted attention. But in the predawn hours of Monday morning most humans were fast asleep, giving Dante and me the perfect opportunity to have a worry-free workout. I tucked the money in my pocket and headed downstairs. I tried on a few pairs of cross-trainers, settling on a pair from the clearance rack. I paid for the shoes and checked the time on my cell. Not even four yet. As a precaution, Patch and I had agreed to keep calls in public to a minimum, but a hasty look both ways down the sidewalk outside confirmed I was alone.

I dug the untraceable phone Patch had given me out of my handbag and dialed his number. I could be there in fifteen minutes. A cloth bag dropped over my head, and I was wrestled into a bear hug from behind. In my surprise, I dropped the cell phone. I heard a large vehicle rumble down the street, then come to a screeching halt beside me.

A door opened, and I was thrust inside. The air inside the van held the tang of sweat masked by lemon air freshener. The heat was cranked up to high, blasting through vents at the front, making me sweat. Maybe that was the intent. What do you want? No answer came, but I heard the steady breathing of two nearby individuals.

Those two, plus the driver, meant three of them. Against one of me. My arms had been twisted behind my back, pinned together by what felt like a tow chain. My ankles were secured by a similar heavy-duty chain. I was stretched out on my stomach, the bag still over my head, my nose pushed into the roomy floor of the van. I tried to rock onto my side but felt as though my shoulder joint would tear from its socket.

I screamed out in frustration and received a swift kick in the thigh. We drove for a long time. Forty-five minutes, maybe.

My mind jumped in too many directions to keep track accurately. Could I escape? Outrun them? Outwit them? And then there was Patch. At first the van stopped repeatedly for stoplights, but eventually the road cleared. The van climbed higher, weaving back and forth on switchbacks, which made me believe we were moving into the remote, hilly areas far outside of town.

Each inhalation came shallow, panic clamping my chest. The tires popped over gravel, steadily rolling uphill, until at last the engine died. My captors unchained my feet, dragged me outside and through a door, and yanked the bag off my head. I was right; there were three of them. Two males, one female. No lights, but that may have well been because the power had been shut off. Furniture was sparse, and covered in white sheets.

Whoever the cabin belonged to had closed up for winter. My heightened sixth sense identified all three as Nephilim. But what they wanted from me. He seemed to be the spokesman for the other two, who hung back, limiting their communication with me to glares of disgust.

Once Cheshvan started in less than two days, he and his friends would be possessed by fallen angels. Hank Millar had had the easy part: filling their heads with notions of rebellion and freedom. And now I was left to work the actual miracle. I know where my loyalties lie. When I look at you, I see human. I see a weak, sniveling, entitled little girl.

I respected the Black Hand as a leader because he earned that respect. He had a vision. He took action. He named you his successor, but that means nothing to me. You want my respect? Make me give it to you.

So I could be like Hank? Hank was a cheat and a liar. He sailed backward into the wall and crumpled on the floor. The other two rushed forward, but my anger had started a fire inside me. A foreign and violent power swelled in me, and I strained against the chains, hearing the metal creak a Kmetnger s the links snapped apart.

I pummeled the nearest Nephil in the ribs and gave the female a roundhouse kick. My foot collided with her thigh, and I was amazed by the solid mass of muscle I found there. Never before in my life had I encountered a woman of such strength and durability. A moment too late, I realized I should have followed through, mercilessly attacking while they were down. Cowboy Hat charged at me, thrusting me backward into the post. The impact knocked all air from my lungs and I doubled over, trying but failing to draw oxygen.

This was your warning. I gulped air, taking a few minutes to recover, then staggered to the door. They were already gone. I braced myself for the return of Cowboy Hat and friends, but it was a Harley Sportster motorcycle that tore into view, carrying a single rider. He swung off and crossed to me in three quick strides. A mix of relief, worry, and rage blazed in his eyes. How did you find me? If that means I have to cut into your privacy, deal with it.

Excuse me? Patch ignored my indignation. Physical descriptions, make and model of the car, anything that will help me track them down. The other two—a male and a female—wore nondescript clothing. Two of them sat in the back with me, and the door sounded like it slid open sideways when they forced me out. Patch was in my life for a reason.

I needed him. We were two halves of the same whole. Patch gathered me against him, holding me with a certain possessive ferocity. This is starting to feel like a witch hunt, and we might be better off making the first move.

My mom? I want to come clean. Especially about something as important as you and me. He can back up your story when he talks with influential Nephilim. I need to pick up my cell phone, and the untraceable one you gave me. I dropped one during the attack, and the other got left behind in my handbag.

They left your possession, and if we assume the worst, your Nephilim abductors put their own tracking or listening devices on them. Best to get new phones. I needed to learn to fight, and fast. Between dodging Pepper Friberg and advising me on my new role as Nephilim leader, Patch had enough to worry about without needing to rush in from the sidelines every time I got in over my head. I was immensely grateful for his protection, but it was time I learned to take care of myself. It was full dark by the time I got home.

I walked through the door, and my mom hurried out of the kitchen, looking both worried and aggravated. Where have you been? I called but kept getting your voice mail. At six.

I am so sorry. My biological father had been an expert and unrivaled liar. And I was hardly in a position to be critical. I promise. My mother regarded Patch with as much affection as the raccoons that often wreaked havoc on our property. I inhaled, swearing this would be the last lie. If Patch and I were really going through with the staged fight, it was best to start planting seeds now. I told myself that once I took care of Mom and Vee, everything else would be downhill. We broke up. They were unexpected and not part of the act.

I merely remembered the last time Patch and I had broken up for real, and a viselike sensation squeezed me, stealing my breath. The memory would forever haunt me. Patch had taken the best parts of me with him, leaving a lost and hollow girl behind. If you change your mind and want to talk. There, I told myself, trying hard to sound optimistic. One down, one to go. Honesty was the best policy, most of the time.

But sometimes safety trumped all, right? It seemed like a valid argument, but the thought soured in my stomach. There was another worrisome thought scratching at the back of my mind. How long could Patch and I live a lie. I smacked my alarm, cutting it off mid-beep. Then I rolled over and told myself, Two more minutes. I closed my eyes, let my mind float, saw a new dream start to take shape—and the next thing I knew, I caught a handful of clothes in the face.

Get your butt out of bed and get dressed. Might want to break that habit. Hard to control what comes in when you give the world a free pass. My mom might hear you. A guy doing what appears to be the walk of shame out my bedroom door?

Of course not. End of story. I tugged on black leggings and a stretchy microfiber shirt, and slicked my hair into a ponytail. Exactly three minutes later, I met him in the driveway. I looked around, sensing the absence of something important. Tsk, tsk. Apparently, at least ten miles. In hindsight, I never should have agreed to train alone with him, especially if our training arena was remote.

After training. Besides, Dante answered to me now. Allowing myself the luxury of one final thought of blissful sleep, I shrugged off the fantasy and darted into the tree line. The branches stretched like a canopy overhead, shutting out what little trace of light the early sky might have had to offer. Relying on my heightened Nephilim vision, I ran hard, vaulting over fallen trees, dodging low-hanging branches, and keeping my eyes sharp for sunken rocks and other camouflaged debris.

The ground was treacherously uneven, and at the speed I was traveling, one missed step could be disastrous. You sound like a stampeding rhinoceros. I could find and catch you with my eyes closed! Dante raced ahead, blowing past me with ease. Chasing after him, I marveled at the strength and agility of my new Nephilim body.

I was amazed by how clunky, slow, and uncoordinated my human body had been in comparison. He moved like an animal, gaining the momentum of a predator chasing down its next meal. I slowed, straining my ears. A moment later he bounded out of the darkness ahead. And again. Still not right—do it again. I was about to call it quits—my leg muscles trembled with exhaustion and my lungs felt scraped raw—when Dante circled back.

He gave me a congratulatory pat on the back. By lifting boulders? Consider it your cooldown jog. Finally, the bartender scheduled to work the night shift, Patch had learned, was a quick-tempered Nephilim supremacist.

Vital, Patch had assured me, to our plan. I shucked out of my sweats and slipped into a chunky cable-knit sweaterdress, tights, and ankle boots. I twisted my hair into a low bun, shaking a few pieces loose to frame my face. Exhaling, I stared at my reflection in the mirror and manufactured a smile. Just until this whole Cheshvan mess blows over. In secret moments and stolen glances. Aunt Henny is watching me.

I was antsy and nervous but thought it best to act like nothing was out of the ordinary. Vee and I slid into a booth, unloaded our coats and handbags, and ordered Cokes from a waitress who swept past. I wiped them on my thighs, wishing I were a better performer. Wishing I liked drama and attention. Scott and the other members of Serpentine were onstage warming up for the show, while Marcie propped her elbows prettily on the stage, singling out Scott for conversation. Same difference.

She gave us her best beauty pageant wave. On the way over, I worked up a smile. I was just telling Scott how much I love indie music. Nobody in this town ever amounts to anything.

I had to shut my eyes briefly to keep from rolling them. And why was I the one over here playing referee? Tired and crampy. Is this some kind of weird Nephilim menstruation thing? Because I thought I already went through that. Oh boy. Just what I needed. I will bury you alive. And second, who would believe me? Think about it. Big-time denial issues going on there. Hank and vanity went together like matching socks.

And as far as I knew, no one in Coldwater had. It was as if a numbing fog had settled over the commun [er nyone spity, keeping human and Nephilim residents alike from asking the big question of what had happened to him. She hopes that her matchmaker will choose her a good partner. Author Eishes Chayil's complete list of books and series in order, with the latest releases, covers, descriptions and availability.

Hush Download File. Size: Share No such file No such user exist File not found. Com, All Rights Reserved. Inside the closed community of Borough Park, where most Chassidim live, the rules of life are very clear, determined by Hush. Buy the eBook. List Price. Read online books written by Eishes Chayil in our e-reader absolutely for free.

Author Eishes Chayil.