The Fallen Sequence (46 page)

The guy coughed. “Got it.”

Luce grimaced. She didn’t know why she’d said that. She didn’t want to be rude, but the seat belt light went off and all she wanted to do was barrel past this guy and right off the plane. He must have had the same idea, because he edged backward in the aisle and swept his hand forward. As politely as she could, Luce pushed past and bounded toward the exit.

Only to get caught in a bottleneck of agonizing slowness on the Jetway. Silently cursing all the casual Californians shuffling in front of her, Luce stood on her toes and shifted from foot to foot. By the time she stepped into the terminal, she’d driven herself half insane with impatience.

Finally, she could move. She wove expertly through the crowd and forgot all about the guy she’d just met on the plane. She forgot to feel nervous that she’d never been to California in her life—never been further west than Branson, Missouri, that time when her parents dragged her to see Yakov Smirnoff doing standup. And for the first time in days, she even briefly forgot the horrible things she’d seen at Sword & Cross. She was headed toward the only thing in the world that had the power to make her feel better. The only thing that could make her feel that all the anguish she’d been through—all the shadows, that unreal battle in the cemetery, and worst of all, the heartbreak of Penn’s death—might be worth surviving.

There he was.

Sitting exactly as she’d imagined he would, on the last in a block of sad gray chairs, next to an automatic sliding door that kept opening and closing behind him. For a second, Luce stood still and just enjoyed the view.

Daniel was wearing flip-flops and dark jeans she’d never seen before, and a stretched-out red T-shirt that was ripped near the front pocket. He looked the same, yet somehow different. More rested than he had when they’d said goodbye the other day. And was it just that she’d missed him so much, or was his skin even more radiant than she remembered? He looked up and finally saw her. His smile practically gleamed.

She took off running toward him. Within a second, his arms were around her, her face buried in his chest, and Luce let out the longest, deepest breath. Her mouth found his and they sank into a kiss. She went slack and happy in his arms.

She hadn’t realized it until now, but a part of her had wondered whether she’d ever see him again, whether the whole thing might have been a dream. The love she felt, the love that Daniel reciprocated, all still felt so surreal.

Still caught up in his kiss, Luce lightly pinched his bicep. Not a dream. For the first time in she didn’t even know how long, she felt like she was home.

“You’re here,” he whispered into her ear.

“
You’re
here.”

“We’re both here.”

They laughed, still kissing, eating up every bit of the sweet awkwardness at seeing each other again. But when Luce was least expecting it, her laugh turned into a sniffle. She was looking for a way to say how hard the last few days had been for her—without him, without anyone, half asleep and groggily aware that everything had changed—but in Daniel’s arms now, she failed to find the words.

“I know,” he said. “Let’s get your bag and get out of here.”

Luce turned toward the baggage carousel and found her neighbor from the plane standing in front of her, the straps of her huge duffel gripped in his hands. “I saw this go by,” he said, a forced smile on his face, like he was hell-bent on proving his good intentions. “It’s yours, isn’t it?”

Before Luce had time to answer, Daniel relieved the guy of the unwieldy bag, using only one hand. “Thanks, man. I’ll take it from here,” he said, decisively enough to end the conversation.

The guy watched as Daniel slid his other hand around Luce’s waist and steered her away. This was the first time since Sword & Cross that Luce had been able to see Daniel as the world did, her first chance to wonder whether other people could tell, just by looking, that there was something extraordinary about him.

Then they were through the sliding glass doors and
she took her first real breath of the West Coast. The early-November air felt fresh and brisk and somehow healthy, not soggy and chilled like the Savannah air this afternoon when her plane had taken off. The sky was a brilliant bright blue, no clouds on the horizon. Everything looked new-minted and clean—even the parking lot held row after row of recently washed cars. A line of mountains framed it all, tawny brown with scraggly dots of green trees, one hill rolling into the next.

She was not in Georgia anymore.

“I can’t decide whether to be surprised,” Daniel teased. “I let you out from under my wing for two days and another guy swoops in.”

Luce rolled her eyes. “Come on. We barely spoke. Really, I slept the whole flight.” She nudged him. “Dreaming of you.”

Daniel’s pursed lips turned into a smile and he gave the top of her head a kiss. She stood still, wanting more, not even realizing that Daniel had stopped in front of a car. And not just any car.

A black Alfa Romeo.

Luce’s jaw dropped when Daniel unlocked the passenger door.

“Th-this …,” she stammered. “This is … did you
know
this is my absolute dream car?”

“More than that,” Daniel laughed. “This used to
be
your car.”

He laughed when she practically jumped at his
words. She was still getting used to the reincarnation part of their story. It was so unfair. A whole car she had no memory of. Whole
lives
she couldn’t recall. She was desperate to know about them, almost like her former selves were siblings she’d been separated from at birth. She rested her hand on the windshield, searching for a wisp of something, for déjà vu.

Nothing.

“It was a sweet sixteen present from your folks a couple of lifetimes ago.” Daniel looked sideways, like he was trying to decide how much to say. Like he knew she was hungry for the details but might not be able to swallow too many at once. “I just bought it off this guy in Reno. He bought it after you, uh … Well, after you …”

Spontaneously combusted
, Luce thought, filling in the bitter truth that Daniel wouldn’t speak. That was the one thing about her past lives: The ending rarely changed.

Except, it seemed, this time it could. This time they could hold hands, kiss, and … she didn’t know what else they could do. But she was dying to find out. She caught herself. They had to be careful. Seventeen years was not enough, and in this lifetime, Luce was adamant about sticking around to see what it was like to really be with Daniel.

He cleared his throat and patted the gleaming black hood. “Still drives like a champ. The only problem
is …” He looked at the convertible’s tiny trunk, then at Luce’s duffel bag, then back at the trunk.

Yes, Luce had a terrible habit of overpacking, she’d be the first to admit. But for once, this wasn’t her fault. Arriane and Gabbe had packed her things from her dorm room at Sword & Cross, every black and nonblack piece of clothing she’d never had a chance to wear. She’d been too busy saying goodbye to Daniel, and to Penn, to pack. She winced, feeling guilty for being out here in California with Daniel, so far from where she’d left her friend buried. It didn’t seem fair. Mr. Cole had kept assuring her that Miss Sophia would be dealt with for what she’d done to Penn, but when Luce had pressed him about what exactly that meant, he’d tugged at his mustache and clammed up.

Daniel glanced suspiciously around the parking lot. He popped the trunk, Luce’s massive duffel bag in hand. It was an impossible fit, but then a soft sucking sound came from the back of the car and Luce’s bag began to shrink. A moment later, Daniel snapped the trunk shut.

Luce blinked. “Do that again!”

Daniel didn’t laugh. He seemed nervous. He slid into the driver’s seat and started the car without a word. It was a strange, new thing for Luce: seeing his face look so serene on the surface, but knowing him well enough to sense something deeper underneath.

“What’s wrong?”

“Mr. Cole told you about keeping a low profile, didn’t he?”

She nodded.

Daniel backed out of the spot, then wheeled around to the parking lot’s exit, slipping a credit card into the machine on their way out. “That was stupid. I should have thought—”

“What’s the big deal?” Luce tucked her dark hair behind her ears as the car began to pick up speed. “You think you’re going to attract Cam’s attention by stuffing a bag into a trunk?”

Daniel got a faraway look in his eyes and shook his head. “Not Cam. No.” A moment later, he squeezed her knee. “Forget I said anything. I just—We
both
just have to be cautious.”

Luce heard him but was too overwhelmed to listen too closely. She loved watching Daniel expertly work the gearshift as they took the ramp onto the freeway and zipped through traffic; loved feeling the wind whipping through the car as they sped toward the towering San Francisco skyline; loved—most of all—just being with Daniel.

In San Francisco proper, the road turned much hillier. Every time they crested one peak and started careening down another, Luce caught a different glimpse of the city. It looked old and new at the same time: Mirror-windowed skyscrapers backed right up against
restaurants and bars that looked a century old. Tiny cars lined the streets, parked at gravity-defying angles. Dogs and strollers everywhere. The sparkle of blue water all around the city’s edge. And the first candy-apple-red glimpse of the Golden Gate Bridge in the distance.

Her eyes darted around to keep up with all the sights. And even though she had spent most of the past few days sleeping, she suddenly felt a wave of exhaustion.

Daniel stretched his arm around her and guided her head toward his shoulder. “Little-known fact about angels: We make excellent pillows.”

Luce laughed, lifting her head to kiss his cheek. “I couldn’t possibly sleep,” she said, nuzzling his neck.

On the Golden Gate Bridge, throngs of pedestrians, spandexed bicyclers, and joggers flanked the cars. Far below was the brilliant bay, dotted with white sailboats and the beginning notes of a violet sunset. “It’s been days since we’ve seen each other. I want to catch up,” she said. “Tell me what you’ve been doing. Tell me everything.”

For an instant, she thought she saw Daniel’s hands tighten around the steering wheel. “If your goal is
not
to go to sleep,” he said, cracking a smile, “then I really shouldn’t delve into the minutiae of the eight-hour-long Council of the Angels meeting I was stuck in all day yesterday. See, the board met to discuss an amendment to proposition 362B, which details the sanctioned format for cherubic participation in the third circuit of—”

“Okay, I get it.” She swatted him. Daniel was joking,
but it was a strange new kind of joke. He was actually being open about being an angel, which she loved—or at least she
would
love it, once she’d had a little more time to process it. Luce still felt like her heart and brain were both struggling to catch up to the changes in her life.

But they were back together for good now, so everything was infinitely easier. There was nothing to hold back from one another anymore. She pulled on his arm. “At least tell me where we’re going.”

Daniel flinched, and Luce felt a knot of cold unfold inside her chest. She moved to put her hand on his, but he pulled away to downshift.

“A school in Fort Bragg called Shoreline. Classes start tomorrow.”

“We’re enrolling at another school?” she asked. “Why?” It sounded so permanent. This was supposed to be a provisional trip. Her parents didn’t even know she’d left the state of Georgia.

“You’ll like Shoreline. It’s very progressive, and a lot better than Sword and Cross. I think you’ll be able to … develop there. And no harm will come to you. The school has a special, protective quality. A camouflage-like shield.”

“I don’t get it. Why do I need a protective shield? I thought coming out here, away from Miss Sophia, was enough.”

“It’s not just Miss Sophia,” Daniel said quietly. “There are others.”

“Who? You can protect me from Cam, or Molly, or whoever.” Luce laughed, but the cold feeling in her chest was spreading to her gut.

“It’s not Cam or Molly, either. Luce, I can’t talk about it.”

“Will we know anyone else there? Any other angels?”

“There are some angels there. No one you know, but I’m sure you’ll get along. There’s one more thing.” His voice was flat as he stared straight ahead. “I won’t be enrolling.” His eyes didn’t once veer off the road. “Just you. It’s only for a little while.”

“How little?”

“A few … weeks.”

Had Luce been the one behind the wheel, this was when she would have slammed on the brakes.

“A few
weeks?
”

“If I could be with you, I would.” Daniel’s voice was so flat, so steady, that it made Luce even more upset. “You saw what just happened with your duffel bag and the trunk. That was like my shooting up a flare into the sky to let everyone know where we are. To alert anyone who is looking for me—and by me, I mean you. I am too easy to find, too easy for others to track down. And that bit with your bag? That is nothing compared to the things I do every day that would draw the attention of …” He shook his head sharply. “I won’t put you in danger, Luce, I won’t.”

“Then
don’t.
”

Daniel’s face looked pained. “It’s complicated.”

“And let me guess: You can’t explain.”

“I wish I could.”

Luce drew her knees to her chest, leaned away from him and against the passenger-side door, feeling somehow claustrophobic under the big blue California sky.