The Fallen Sequence (115 page)

The gap-toothed man cleaned Ghanan’s blood off the ax with a scrap of animal hide. With great pomp he handed the blade to Daniel, who turned to stand face to face with Luce. Daniel looked weary, as if dragged down by the weight of the ax. His lips were pursed and white, and his violet gaze never left hers.

The crowd was silent, holding their breaths. Hot wind rustled in the trees as the ax gleamed in the sun. Luce could feel that the end was coming, but why? Why had her soul dragged her here? What insight about her past, or the curse, could she possibly gain from having her head cut off?

Then Daniel dropped the ax to the ground.

“What are you doing?” Luce asked.

Daniel didn’t answer. He rolled back his shoulders, turned his face toward the sky, and flung out his arms. Zotz stepped forward to interfere, but when he touched Daniel’s shoulder, he screamed and recoiled as if he’d been burned.

And then—

Daniel’s white wings unfurled from his shoulders. As they extended fully from his sides, huge and shockingly bright against the parched brown landscape, they sent twenty Mayans hurtling backward.

Shouts rang out around the cenote:

“What is he?”

“The boy is winged!”

“He is a god! Sent to us by Chaat!”

Luce thrashed against the ropes binding her wrists and her ankles. She needed to run to Daniel. She tried to move toward him, until—

Until she couldn’t move anymore.

Daniel’s wings were so bright they were almost unbearable.
Only, now it wasn’t just Daniel’s wings that were glowing. It was … 
all
of him. His entire body shone. As if he’d swallowed the sun.

Music filled the air. No, not music, but a single harmonious chord. Deafening and unending, glorious and frightening.

Luce had heard it before … somewhere. In the cemetery at Sword & Cross, the last night she’d been there, the night Daniel had fought Cam, and Luce hadn’t been allowed to watch. The night Miss Sophia had dragged her away and Penn had died and nothing had ever been the same. It had begun with that very same chord, and it was coming out of Daniel. He was lit up so brightly, his body actually hummed.

She swayed where she stood, unable to take her eyes away. An intense wave of heat stroked her skin.

Behind Luce, someone cried out. The cry was followed by another, and then another, and then a whole chorus of voices crying out.

Something was burning. It was acrid and choking and turned her stomach instantly. Then, in the corner of her vision, there was an explosion of flame, right where Zotz had been standing a moment before. The boom knocked her backward, and she turned away from the burning brightness of Daniel, coughing on the black ash and bitter smoke.

Hanhau was gone, the ground where she’d stood
scorched black. The gap-toothed man was hiding his face, trying hard not to look at Daniel’s radiance. But it was irresistible. Luce watched as the man peeked between his fingers and burst into a pillar of flame.

All around the cenote, the Mayans stared at Daniel. And one by one, his brilliance set them ablaze. Soon a bright ring of fire lit up the jungle, lit up everyone but Luce.

“Ix Cuat!” Daniel reached for her.

His glow made Luce scream out in pain, but even as she felt as if she were on the verge of asphyxiation, the words tumbled from her mouth. “You’re
glorious.
”

“Don’t look at me,” he pleaded. “When a mortal sees an angel’s true essence, then—you can see what happened to the others. I can’t let you leave me again so soon. Always so soon—”

“I’m still here,” Luce insisted.

“You’re still—” He was crying. “Can you see me? The true me?”

“I can see you.”

And for just a fraction of a second, she could. Her vision cleared. His glow was still radiant but not so blinding. She could see his
soul
. It was white-hot and immaculate, and it looked—there was no other way to say it—like
Daniel
. And it felt like coming home. A rush of unparalleled joy spread through Luce. Somewhere in the back of her mind, a bell of recognition chimed. She’d seen him like this before.

Hadn’t she?

As her mind strained to draw upon the past she couldn’t quite touch, the light of him began to overwhelm her.

“No!” she cried, feeling the fire sear her heart and her body shake free of something.

“Well?” Bill’s scratchy voice grated on her eardrums.

She lay against a cold stone slab. Back in one of the Announcer caves, trapped in a frigid in-between place where it was hard to hold on to anything outside. Desperately, she tried to picture what Daniel had looked like out there—the glory of his undisguised soul—but she couldn’t. It was already slipping away from her. Had it really even happened?

Luce closed her eyes, trying to remember exactly what he’d looked like. There were no words for it. It was just an incredible, joyous connection.

“I saw him.”

“Who, Daniel? Yeah, I saw him, too. He was the guy who dropped the ax when it was his turn to do the chopping. Big mistake. Huge.”

“No, I
really
saw him. As he truly is.” Her voice shook. “He was so beautiful.”

“Oh,
that.
” Bill tossed his head, annoyed.

“I
recognized
him. I think I’ve seen him before.”

“Doubt it.” Bill coughed. “That was the first and
last
time you’ll be able to see him like that. You saw him, and then you died. That’s what happens when mortal flesh looks upon an angel’s unbridled glory. Instant death. Burned away by the angel’s beauty.”

“No, it wasn’t like that.”

“You saw what happened to everyone else.
Poof
. Gone.” Bill plopped down beside her and patted her knee. “Why do you think the Mayans started doing sacrifices by fire after that? A neighboring tribe discovered the charred remains and had to explain it somehow.”

“Yes, they burst into flames right away. But I lasted longer—”

“A couple of extra seconds? When you were turned away? Congratulations.”

“You’re wrong. And I know I’ve seen that before.”

“You’ve seen his
wings
before, maybe. But Daniel shedding his human guise and showing you his true form as an angel? Kills you every time.”

“No.” Luce shook her head. “You’re saying he can never show me who he really is?”

Bill shrugged. “Not without vaporizing you and everyone around you. Why do you think Daniel’s so cautious about kissing you all the time? His glory shines pretty damn bright when you two get hot and heavy.”

Luce felt like she could barely hold herself up. “That’s why I sometimes die when we kiss?”

“How ’bout a round of applause for the girl, folks?” Bill said snarkily.

“But what about all those other times, when I die
before
we kiss, before—”

“Before you even have a chance to see how toxic your relationship might become?”

“Shut up.”

“Honestly, how many times do you have to see the same story line before you realize
nothing
is ever going to change?”

“Something
has
changed,” Luce said. “That’s why I’m on this journey, that’s why I’m still alive. If I could just see him again—all of him—I know I could handle it.”

“You don’t get it.” Bill’s voice was rising. “You’re talking about this whole thing in very mortal terms.” As he grew more agitated, spit flew from his lips. “This is the big time, and you clearly
cannot
handle it.”

“Why are you so angry all of a sudden?”

“
Because!
Because.” He paced the ledge, gnashing his teeth. “Listen to me: Daniel slipped up this once, he showed himself, but he never does that again. Never. He learned his lesson. Now you’ve learned one, too: Mortal flesh
cannot
gaze upon an angel’s true form without dying.”

Luce turned away from him, growing angrier herself. Maybe Daniel changed after this lifetime in Chichén
Itzá, maybe he’d become more cautious in the future. But what about the past?

She approached the limit of the ledge inside the Announcer, looking up into the vast, gaping blackness that tunneled above into her dark unknown.

Bill hovered over her, circling her head as if he were trying to get inside it. “I know what you’re thinking, and you’re only going to end up disappointed.” He drew close to her ear and whispered. “Or worse.”

There was nothing he could say to stop her. If there was an earlier Daniel who still dropped his guard, then Luce was going to find him.

SIXTEEN

BEST MAN

JERUSALEM, ISRAEL • 27 NISSAN 2760

(APPROXIMATELY APRIL 1, 1000 BCE)

D
aniel was not entirely himself.

He was still cloven to the body he had joined with on the dark fjords of Greenland. He tried to slow down as he left the Announcer, but his momentum was too great. Heavily off-balance, he spun out of the darkness and rolled across rocky earth until his head slammed into something hard. Then he was still.

Cleaving with his past self had been a vast mistake.

The simplest way to split apart two entwined incarnations of a soul was to kill the body. Freed from the
cage of the flesh, the soul sorted itself out. But killing himself wasn’t really an option for Daniel. Unless …

The starshot.

In Greenland, he had snatched it from where it lay nestled in the snow at the edge of the angels’ fire. Gabbe had brought it along as symbolic protection, but she would never have expected Daniel to cleave and steal it.

Had he really thought he could just drag the dull silver tip across his chest and split apart his soul, casting his past self back into time?

Stupid.

No. He was too likely to slip up, to fail, and then instead of splitting his soul, he might accidentally kill it. Soulless, Daniel’s earthly guise, this dull body, would wander the earth in perpetuity, searching for its soul but settling for the next best thing: Luce. It would haunt her until the day she died, and maybe after that.

What Daniel needed was a partner. What he needed was impossible.

He grunted and rolled over onto his back, squinting into the bright sun directly overhead.

“See?” a voice above him said. “I told you we were in the right place.”

“I don’t see why
this
”—another voice, a boy’s this time—“is proof of us doing anything right.”

“Oh, come on, Miles. Don’t let your beef with
Daniel keep us from finding Luce. He obviously knows where she is.”

The voices drew closer. Daniel opened his eyes in a squint and saw an arm slice the light of the sun, extending toward him.

“Hey there. Need a hand?”

Shelby. Luce’s Nephilim friend from Shoreline.

And Miles. The one she’d kissed.

“What are you two doing here?” Daniel sat up sharply, rejecting Shelby’s offered hand. He rubbed his forehead and glanced behind him—the thing he’d collided with was the gray trunk of an olive tree.

“What do you
think
we’re doing here? We’re looking for Luce.” Shelby gaped down at Daniel and wrinkled her nose. “What’s
wrong
with you?”

“Nothing.”
Daniel tried to stand up, but he was so dizzy he quickly lay down again. Cleaving—especially dragging his past body into another life—had made him sick. He fought his past from inside, slamming up against the edges, bruising his soul on bones and skin. He knew the Nephilim could sense that something unmentionable had happened to him. “Go home, trespassers. Whose Announcer did you use to get here? Do you know how much trouble you could get yourselves in?”

All of a sudden, something silver gleamed under his nose.

“Take us to Luce.” Miles was pointing a starshot at
Daniel’s neck. The brim of his baseball cap hid his eyes, but his mouth was screwed in a nervous grimace.

Daniel was dumbstruck. “You—you have a starshot.”

“Miles!” Shelby whispered fiercely.
“What are you doing with that thing?”

The dull tip of the arrow quaked. Miles was clearly nervous. “You left it in the yard after the Outcasts left,” he said to Daniel. “Cam grabbed one, and in the chaos, no one noticed when I picked up this one. You took off after Luce. And we took off after you.” He turned to Shelby. “I thought we might need it. Self-defense.”