The Fallen Sequence (75 page)

Now he held her, encasing her body in his warmth, drawing her into him and rocking her in his arms. She sobbed and hiccupped and wished for a tissue to blow her nose. She wondered how it was possible to feel so bad about so many things at once.

“Shhh,” Daniel whispered. “Shhh.”

A day ago, she’d been sick watching Daniel love her into oblivion in that Announcer. The inescapable violence sewn into their relationship had seemed insurmountable. But now, especially after talking with Arriane, Luce could feel something big coming on. Something shifting—maybe the whole world shifting—with Luce and Daniel hovering right on the edge. It was all around them, in the ether, and it affected the way she saw herself, and Daniel, too.

The helpless looks she’d seen in his eyes in those just-before-dying moments: Now they felt like—they
were—
the past. It reminded her of the way he’d looked at her after their first kiss in this life on the marshy beach near Sword & Cross. The taste of his lips on hers, the feel of his breath on her neck, his strong hands wrapped around her: It had all been so wonderful—except for the fear in his eyes.

But Daniel hadn’t looked at her like that in a while.
The way he looked at her now surrendered nothing. He looked at her as if she were going to stick around, almost as if she had to. Things were different in this life. Everyone was saying it, and Luce could feel it, too: a revelation growing ever larger inside her. She’d watched herself die, and she’d survived it. Daniel didn’t have to shoulder his punishment alone anymore. It was something they could do together.

“I want to say something,” she said into his shirt, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. “I want to talk before you say anything.”

She could feel his chin brushing the top of her head. He was nodding.

“I know you have to be careful about what you tell me. I know I’ve died before. But I’m not going anywhere this time, Daniel, I can feel it. At least, not without a fight.” She tried to smile. “I think it will help us both to stop treating me like a fragile piece of glass. So I’m asking you, as your friend, as your girlfriend, as, you know, the love of your life, to let me in a little more. Otherwise I just feel isolated and anxious and—”

He caught her chin with his finger and tilted her head up. He was eyeing her curiously. She waited for him to interrupt, but he didn’t.

“I didn’t leave Shoreline to spite you,” she continued. “I left because I didn’t understand why it mattered. And I put my friends in danger because of it.”

Daniel held her face in front of his. The violet in his
eyes practically glowed. “I have failed you too many times before,” he whispered. “And in this life maybe I’ve erred on the side of caution. I should have known you’d test whatever boundary you were given. You wouldn’t be … the girl I loved if you didn’t.” Luce waited for him to smile down at her. He didn’t. “There’s just so much at stake this time around. I’ve been so focused on—”

“The Outcasts?”

“They’re the ones who took your friend,” Daniel said. “They can barely identify right from left, let alone which side they’re working for.”

Luce thought back to the girl Cam had shot with the silver arrow, to the good-looking empty-eyed boy in the diner. “Because they’re blind.”

Daniel looked down at his hands, rubbing his fingers together. He looked as if he might be sick. “Blind but very brutal.” He reached up and traced one of her blond curls with his finger. “You were smart to dye your hair. It kept you safe when I couldn’t get there fast enough.”

“Smart?” Luce was horrified. “Dawn could have
died
because I got my hands on a cheap bottle of bleach. How is that smart? If … if I dyed my hair black tomorrow, you mean the Outcasts would suddenly be able to find me?”

Daniel shook his head roughly. “They shouldn’t have found their way onto this campus at all. They should
never have been able to get their hands on any of you. I am working night and day to keep them from you—from this whole school. Someone’s aiding them, and I don’t know who—”

“Cam.” What else would he have been doing here?

But Daniel shook his head. “Whoever it is will regret it.”

Luce crossed her arms over her chest. Her face still felt hot from crying. “I guess this means I don’t get to go home for Thanksgiving?” She closed her eyes, trying not to picture her parents’ crestfallen faces. “Don’t answer that.”

“Please.” Daniel’s voice was so earnest. “It’s only for a little while longer.”

She nodded. “The truce timeline.”

“What?” His hands gripped her shoulders tightly. “How did you—”

“I know.” Luce hoped he couldn’t feel that her body had begun to tremble. It got worse when she tried to act more assured than she felt. “And I know that at some point soon, you will tip the balance between Heaven and Hell.”

“Who told you that?” Daniel was arching his shoulders back, which she knew meant he was trying to keep his wings from unfurling.

“I figured it out. A lot goes on here when you’re not around.”

A hint of envy flashed through Daniel’s eyes. At first, it felt almost good to be able to provoke that in him, but Luce didn’t want to make him jealous. Especially with so many bigger things at hand.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “The last thing you need right now is me distracting you. What you’re doing … it sounds like a pretty big deal.”

She left it at that, hoping Daniel would feel comfortable enough to tell her more. This was the most open, honest, and mature conversation they’d had, maybe ever.

But then, too soon, the cloud she hadn’t even known she’d been dreading passed over Daniel’s face. “Put all of that out of your head. You don’t know what you think you know.”

Disappointment flooded through Luce’s body. He was still treating her like a child. One step forward, ten steps back.

She gathered her feet under her and stood up on the ledge.

“I know one thing, Daniel,” she said, staring down at him. “If it were me, there wouldn’t be a question. If it were
me
the whole universe was waiting on to tip the scales, I would just pick the side of good.”

Daniel’s violet eyes stared straight ahead, into the shadowy forest.

“You would just pick good,” he repeated. His voice
sounded both numb and desperately sad. Sadder than she’d ever heard him sound before.

Luce had to resist the urge to crouch down and apologize. Instead, she turned, leaving Daniel behind her. Wasn’t it obvious that he was supposed to pick good? Wouldn’t anyone?

FOURTEEN

FIVE DAYS

S
omeone had ratted them out.

On Sunday morning, while the rest of the campus was still eerily calm, Shelby, Miles, and Luce sat in a row on one side of Francesca’s office, waiting to be interrogated. Her office was larger than Steven’s—brighter, too, with a high, sloping ceiling and three large windows facing the forest to the north, each with thick lavender velvet curtains, parted to show a shocking blue sky. A large framed photograph of a galaxy, hanging over the
tall marble-topped desk, was the only piece of art in the room. The baroque chairs they sat on were chic but uncomfortable. Luce couldn’t stop fidgeting.

“ ‘Anonymous tip,’ my ass,” Shelby muttered, quoting the harsh email they’d each received from Francesca this morning. “This immature tattling reeks of Lilith.”

Luce didn’t think it was possible that Lilith—or any of the students, really—would have known they’d left campus. Someone else had looped their teachers in.

“What’s taking them so long?” Miles nodded toward Steven’s office on the other side of the wall, where they could hear their teachers arguing in low voices. “It’s like they’re coming up with a punishment before they’ve even heard our side of the story!” He bit his lower lip. “What
is
our side of the story, by the way?”

But Luce wasn’t listening. “I really don’t see what’s so difficult,” she said under her breath, more to herself than the others. “You just pick a side and move on.”

“Huh?” Miles and Shelby said in unison.

“Sorry,” Luce said. “It’s just … you know what Arriane was saying about tipping the scales the other night? I brought it up to Daniel, and he got all weird. Seriously, how is it not obvious that there’s a right answer here and a wrong one?”

“It’s obvious to me,” Miles said. “There’s a good choice and a bad choice.”

“How can you say that?” Shelby asked. “That kind
of thinking is exactly what got us into this mess in the first place. Blind faith! Blanket acceptance of a practically obsolete dichotomy!” Her face was turning red and her voice had gotten loud enough that Francesca and Steven could probably hear. “I am so sick of all these angels and demons taking sides—blah blah blah, they’re evil! No,
they’re
evil! On and on—like they know what’s best for everyone in the universe.”

“So you’re suggesting Daniel side with evil?” Miles scoffed. “Bring on the end of the world?”

“I don’t give a damn what Daniel does,” Shelby said. “And frankly, I find it hard to believe that it’s all up to him, anyway.”

But it had to be. Luce couldn’t think of any other explanation.

“Look, maybe the lines aren’t as clear-cut as we’re taught they are,” Shelby continued. “I mean, who says Lucifer is so bad—”

“Um, everyone?” Miles said, looking to Luce for support.

“Wrong,” Shelby barked. “A group of very persuasive angels trying to preserve the status quo. Just because they won a big battle a long time ago, they think it gives them the right.”

Luce watched Shelby’s eyebrows bunch up as she slumped against the rigid back of her chair. Her words made Luce think of something she’d heard somewhere else. …

“The victors rewrite history,” she murmured. That was what Cam had said to her that day at Noyo Point. Wasn’t that what Shelby meant? That the losers ended up with a bad rap? Their viewpoints were both similar—only, Cam, of course, was legitimately evil. Right? And Shelby was just talking.

“Exactly.” Shelby nodded at Luce. “Wait—what?”

Just then, Francesca and Steven walked through the door. Francesca lowered herself into the black swivel chair at her desk. Steven stood behind her, his hands resting lightly on the back of the chair. He looked as breezy in his jeans and crisp white shirt as Francesca looked severe in her tailored black dress with the rigid square-cut neckline.

It brought to Luce’s mind Shelby’s talk about blurred lines, and the connotations of words like
angel
and
demon
. Of course it was superficial to make judgments based solely on Steven’s and Francesca’s clothing, but then again, it wasn’t just that. In a lot of ways, it was easy to forget which one of them was which.

“Who wants to go first?” Francesca asked, resting her interlaced manicured hands on the marble desktop. “We know everything that happened, so don’t even bother contesting those details. This is your chance to tell us why.”

Luce inhaled deeply. Though she hadn’t been prepared for Francesca to turn over the floor so soon, she didn’t want Miles or Shelby trying to cover for her. “It
was my fault,” she said. “I wanted to—” She looked at Steven’s drawn expression, then down at her lap. “I saw something in the Announcers, something from my past, and I wanted to see more.”

“And so you went for a dangerous joyride—an unauthorized passage through an Announcer, imperiling two of your classmates who really should have known better—the day after another one of your classmates was kidnapped?” Francesca asked.

“That’s not fair,” Luce said. “You were the one downplaying what happened to Dawn. We thought we were just going to look into something, but—”

“But …?” Steven prodded. “But you realize now how utterly moronic that line of thinking was?”

Luce gripped her chair’s armrests, trying to fight back tears. Francesca was cross with all three of them, but it seemed that all of Steven’s fury was coming down solely on Luce. It wasn’t fair.

“Yes, okay, we snuck out of school and went to Vegas,” she said finally. “But the only reason we were in danger was because
you
kept me in the dark. You knew someone was after me and you probably even know why. I wouldn’t have left campus if you’d just told me.”

Steven stared Luce down with eyes like fire. “If you’re saying we honestly have to be
that
explicit with you, Luce, then I am disappointed.” He cupped a hand on Francesca’s shoulder. “Perhaps you were right about her, dear.”

“Wait—” Luce said.

But Francesca made a stop sign with her hand. “Need we also be explicit about the fact that the opportunity you’ve been given at Shoreline for educational and personal growth is—for you—a once-in-a-thousand-lifetimes experience?” A pink flush rose on her cheeks. “You’ve created a very awkward situation for us. The main school”—she gestured to the south portion of campus—“has its detentions and its community service programs for students who step out of line. But Steven and I don’t have a system of punishment in place. We’ve been fortunate until now to have students who did not overstep our very lenient boundaries.”

“Until now,” Steven said, looking at Luce. “But Francesca and I both agree that a swift and severe sentence must be handed down.”