Hush, Hush

by Becca Fitzpatrick Narrated by Caitlin Greer

Overview

Nora finds forbidden love with her fallen angel, in the first in the New York Times bestselling Hush, Hush saga.

For Nora Grey, romance was not part of the plan. She's never been particularly attracted to the boys at her school, no matter how much her best friend, Vee, pushes them at her. Not until Patch came along.

With his easy smile and eyes that seem to see inside her, Nora is drawn to him against her better judgment.

But after a series of terrifying encounters, Nora's not sure who to trust. Patch seems to be everywhere she is, and to know more about her than her closest friends. She can't decide whether she should fall into his arms or run and hide. And when she tries to seek some answers, she finds herself near a truth that is way more unsettling than anything Patch makes her feel.

For Nora is right in the middle of an ancient battle between the immortal and those that have fallen - and, when it comes to choosing sides, the wrong choice will cost her life.

Editorial Reviews

To Nora Grey, Patch seems like the completely unexpected, picture-perfect guy; handsome, friendly, attentive. But perhaps he's too perfect, too attentive, trespassing over the line between would-be boyfriend and stalker. At first confused and then frightened, Nora eventually discovers that both she and her ever-watchful companion are enmeshed in a primordial battle for souls. Hush, Hush is a debut novel that has raised a feverish buzz.

Publishers Weekly

Fitzpatrick debuts with a gripping chiller where humans become pawns in the hands of fallen angels. Nora Grey is assigned a new partner in her sophomore biology class. Her instincts tell her Patch is trouble, and she doesn't like the way he is already inside her head (“Part of me wanted to run away from him screaming, Fire! A more reckless part was tempted to see how close I could get without... combusting”). Soon she is questioning her sanity—she is attacked by a masked figure that smashes her car window, but later the glass is intact. And the same figure ransacks her bedroom, but everything is in place when the police arrive. The violence and danger escalate, and Nora learns that Patch is actually a fallen angel seeking to become human. Fitzpatrick regularly tweaks the tension, resulting in a fast-paced, exhilarating read. Nora's tempestuous relationship with prototypical bad boy Patch is genuinely, even unsettlingly, seductive—fans of paranormal romance should be rapt. Ages 14–up. (Oct.)

School Library Journal

Gr 9 Up—High school sophomore Nora Grey, a dedicated student striving for a college scholarship, lives with her widowed mother in a country farmhouse outside Portland, ME. When Patch, her new biology partner, is suddenly thrust into her life, Nora is both attracted to his charm and put off by his inexplicable awareness of her thoughts. Eventually, she learns that he is a fallen angel who wants to become human. She is susceptible to his control, but other forces are at work as well, and Nora finds herself caught in the middle of dangerous situations and unexplainable events. The premise of Hush, Hush—that fallen angels exist and interact with humans on Earth—is worthy of contemplation and appealing to teens. But stories with such supernatural themes require that the details of day-to-day life be realistic and believable. Unfortunately, most readers won't be convinced that a mother whose husband has recently been murdered would leave her daughter alone overnight in their home far from the nearest neighbor or that a school counselor would be replaced by someone whose credentials were not checked. While teens may enjoy the scenes of tension and terror, most will be disappointed by characters without dimension and the illogical sequence of events.—Sue Lloyd, Franklin High School, Livonia, MI

Kirkus Reviews

When Coach changes the biology-class seating chart, e-zine reporter Nora Grey finds herself instantly attracted to yet fearful of her new dark, sexy, bad-boy partner, Patch. She also becomes acquainted with good-looking transfer student Elliot, the key suspect in a murder-ruled-suicide at his former prep school. While putting her journalist skills to the test researching the backgrounds of both mysterious guys, Nora experiences terrifying hallucinations, saves her best friend from an attack meant for her and discovers that Patch is a fallen angel who wants to become human-at any cost. In a thrilling debut with an attention-grabbing cover, this game of revenge among fallen angels with Nora caught in the middle has too many coincidences to move the plot along and an uneven, rushed ending. Twilight readers will either squeal over the forbidden romance between Nora and Patch and the steamy scenes they generate or sigh over another helpless young woman torn between sexuality and fear and threatened and manipulated by males who play with her vulnerability. (Supernatural thriller. YA)

Product Details

BN ID:	2940170739691
Publisher:	Simon & Schuster
Publication date:	10/13/2009
Edition description:	Unabridged
Sales rank:	753,988

Read an Excerpt

PROLOGUE

LOIRE VALLEY, FRANCE NOVEMBER 1565

CHAUNCEY WAS WITH A FARMER’S DAUGHTER ON the grassy banks of the Loire River when the storm rolled in, and having let his gelding wander in the meadow, was left to his own two feet to carry him back to the château. He tore a silver buckle off his shoe, placed it in the girl’s palm, and watched her scurry away, mud slinging on her skirts. Then he tugged on his boots and started for home.

Rain sheeted down on the darkening countryside surrounding the Château de Langeais. Chauncey stepped easily over the sunken graves and humus of the cemetery; even in the thickest fog he could find his way home from here and not fear getting lost. There was no fog tonight, but the darkness and onslaught of rain were deceiving enough.

There was movement along the fringe of Chauncey’s vision, and he snapped his head to the left. At first glance what appeared to be a large angel topping a nearby monument rose to full height. Neither stone nor marble, the boy had arms and legs. His torso was naked, his feet were bare, and peasant trousers hung low on his waist. He hopped down from the monument, the ends of his black hair dripping rain. It slid down his face, which was dark as a Spaniard’s.

Chauncey’s hand crept to the hilt of his sword. “Who goes there?”

The boy’s mouth hinted at a smile.

“Do not play games with the Duc de Langeais,” Chauncey warned. “I asked for your name. Give it.”

“Duc?” The boy leaned against a twisted willow tree. “Or bastard?”

Chauncey unsheathed his sword. “Take it back! My father was the Duc de Langeais. I’m the Duc de Langeais now,” he added clumsily, and cursed himself for it.

The boy gave a lazy shake of his head. “Your father wasn’t the old duc.”

Chauncey seethed at the outrageous insult. “And your father?” he demanded, extending the sword. He didn’t yet know all his vassals, but he was learning. He would brand the family name of this boy to memory. “I’ll ask once more,” he said in a low voice, wiping a hand down his face to clear away the rain. “Who are you?”

The boy walked up and pushed the blade aside. He suddenly looked older than Chauncey had presumed, maybe even a year or two older than Chauncey. “One of the Devil’s brood,” he answered.

Chauncey felt a clench of fear in his stomach. “You’re a raving lunatic,” he said through his teeth. “Get out of my way.”

The ground beneath Chauncey tilted. Bursts of gold and red popped behind his eyes. Hunched with his fingernails grinding into his thighs, he looked up at the boy, blinking and gasping, trying to make sense of what was happening. His mind reeled like it was no longer his to command.

The boy crouched to level their eyes. “Listen carefully. I need something from you. I won’t leave until I have it. Do you understand?”

Gritting his teeth, Chauncey shook his head to express his disbelief—his defiance. He tried to spit at the boy, but it trickled down his chin, his tongue refusing to obey him.

The boy clasped his hands around Chauncey’s; their heat scorched him and he cried out.

“I need your oath of fealty,” the boy said. “Bend on one knee and swear it.”

Chauncey commanded his throat to laugh harshly, but his throat constricted and he choked on the sound. His right knee buckled as if kicked from behind, though no one was there, and he stumbled forward into the mud. He bent sideways and retched.

“Swear it,” the boy repeated.

Heat flushed Chauncey’s neck; it took all his energy to curl his hands into two weak fists. He laughed at himself, but there was no humor. He had no idea how, but the boy was inflicting the nausea and weakness inside him. It would not lift until he took the oath. He would say what he had to, but he swore in his heart he would destroy the boy for this humiliation.

“Lord, I become your man,” Chauncey said venomously.

The boy raised Chauncey to his feet. “Meet me here at the start of the Hebrew month of Cheshvan. During the two weeks between new and full moons, I’ll need your service.”

“A … fortnight?” Chauncey’s whole frame trembled under the weight of his rage. “I am the Duc de Langeais!”

“You are a Nephil,” the boy said on a sliver of a smile.

Chauncey had a profane retort on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed it. His next words were spoken with icy venom. “What did you say?”

“You belong to the biblical race of Nephilim. Your real father was an angel who fell from heaven. You’re half mortal.” The boy’s dark eyes lifted, meeting Chauncey’s. “Half fallen angel.”

Chauncey’s tutor’s voice drifted up from the recesses of his mind, reading passages from the Bible, telling of a deviant race created when angels cast from heaven mated with mortal women. A fearsome and powerful race. A chill that wasn’t entirely revulsion crept through Chauncey. “Who are you?”

The boy turned, walking away, and although Chauncey wanted to go after him, he couldn’t command his legs to hold his weight. Kneeling there, blinking up through the rain, he saw two thick scars on the back of the boy’s naked torso. They narrowed to form an upside-down V.

“Are you—fallen?” he called out. “Your wings have been stripped, haven’t they?”

The boy—angel—whoever he was did not turn back. Chauncey did not need the confirmation.

“This service I’m to provide,” he shouted. “I demand to know what it is!”

The air resonated with the boy’s low laughter.

© 2009 Becca Fitzpatrick

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