Torment

FIFTEEN FOUR DAYS

“More Tofurky?” Connor Madson—a towheaded kid from Luce’s biology class and one of Shoreline’s student waiters—stood over her with a silver platter at the Harvest Fest on Monday night.

“No, thanks.” Luce pointed down at the thick stack of lukewarm fake meat slices still on her plate.

“Maybe later.” Connor and the rest of the scholarship wait staff at Shoreline were suited up for the Harvest Fest in tuxedos and ridiculous pilgrim hats. They glided past each other on the terrace, which was nearly unrecognizable as the swanky-casual place to grab some pancakes before class; it had been transformed into a full-fledged outdoor banquet hall.

Shelby was still grumbling as she moved from table to table, adjusting place cards and relighting candles. She and the rest of the Decorations Committee had done a beautiful job: Red-and-orange silk leaves had been strewn across the long white tablecloths, fresh-baked dinner rolls were arranged inside gold-painted cornucopias, heat lamps took the edge off the brisk ocean breeze. Even the paint-by-number turkey centerpieces looked stylish.

All the students, the faculty, and about fifty of the school’s biggest donors had turned out in their finest for the dinner. Dawn and her parents had driven up for the night. Though Luce hadn’t gotten a chance to talk to Dawn yet, she looked recovered, even happy, and had waved to Luce cheerfully from her seat next to Jasmine.

Most of the twenty or so Nephilim were seated together at two adjacent circular tables, with the exception of Roland, who was sitting in a faraway corner with a mysterious date. Then the mysterious date stood up, lifted her broad rosebud-shaped hat, and gave Luce a sneaky little wave.

Arriane.

Despite herself, Luce smiled—but a second later, she felt close to tears. Watching those two snickering together reminded Luce of the sickeningly sinister scene she had glimpsed in the Announcer the day before. Like Cam and Daniel, Arriane and Roland were supposed to be on opposite sides, but everybody knew they were a team.

Still, that felt different somehow.

Harvest Fest was supposed to be a last pre-Thanksgiving hurrah before classes were dismissed. Then everyone else would have another Thanksgiving, a real Thanksgiving, with their families. For Luce, it was the only Thanksgiving she was going to get. Mr. Cole hadn’t written her back. After yesterday’s grounding and then the rooftop revelation, she was having a hard time feeling thankful for much of anything.

“You’re hardly eating,” Francesca said, spooning a great dollop of shiny mashed potatoes onto Luce’s plate. Luce was growing more attuned to the thrilling glow that fell over everything when Francesca was talking to her. Francesca possessed an otherworldly charisma, simply by virtue of being an angel.

She beamed at Luce like there’d been no meeting in her office yesterday, like Luce wasn’t under lock and key.

Luce had been given the seat of honor at the expansive faculty head table, next to Francesca. All the donors came by in a stream to shake hands with the faculty. The three other students at the head table—Lilith, Beaker Brady, and a Korean girl with a dark bob Luce didn’t know—had applied for their seats in an essay contest. All Luce had had to do was piss off her teachers enough that they were afraid to let her out of their sight.

The meal was finally wrapping up when Steven leaned forward in his chair. Like Francesca, he displayed none of yesterday’s venom. “Make sure Luce introduces herself to Dr. Buchanan.”

Francesca popped the last bite of a buttered corn bread muffin into her mouth. “Buchanan’s one of the biggest supporters of the school,” she told Luce. “You might have heard of his Devils Abroad program?”

Luce shrugged as the waiters reappeared to clear the plates.

“His ex-wife had angel lineage, but after the divorce he shifted some of his alliances. Still”—Francesca glanced at Steven—“a very good person to know. Oh, hello, Ms. Fisher! How nice of you to come.”

“Yes, hello.” An elderly woman with an affected British accent, a bulky mink coat, and more diamonds around her neck than Luce had ever seen before extended a white-gloved hand to Steven, who stood up to greet her. Francesca rose too, leaning forward to greet the woman with a kiss on either cheek. “Where’s my Miles?” the woman asked.

Luce jumped up. “Oh, you must be Miles’s … grandmother?”

“Good heavens, no.” The woman recoiled. “Don’t have children, never married, boo-hoo-hoo. I am Ms. Ginger Fisher, from the NorCal branch of the family tree. Miles is my great-nephew. And you are?”

“Lucinda Price.”

“Lucinda Price, yes.” Ms. Fisher looked down her nose at Luce, squinting. “Read about you in one or another of the histories. Though I can’t recall what it was exactly that you did—”

Before Luce could respond, Steven’s hands were on her shoulders. “Luce is one of our newest students,” he boomed. “You’ll be happy to know that Miles has really gone out of his way to make her feel comfortable here.”

Ms. Fisher’s squinty eyes were already looking past them, searching the crowded lawn. The guests had mostly finished eating, and now Shelby was lighting the tiki torches staked into the ground. When the torch closest to the head table grew bright, it illuminated Miles, leaning over the next table to clear away some plates.

“Is that my grand-nephew—waiting tables?” Ms. Fisher pressed a gloved hand to her forehead.

“Actually,” Shelby said, butting into the conversation, the torch lighter in one hand, “he’s the trash—”

“Shelby.” Francesca cut her off. “I think that tiki torch near the Nephilim tables has just burned out. Could you fix it? Now?”

“You know what?” Luce said to Ms. Fisher. “I’ll go get Miles and bring him over. You must be eager to catch up.”

Miles had traded in the Dodgers cap and sweatshirt for a pair of brown tweed slacks and a bright orange button-down shirt. Kind of a bold choice, but it looked good.

“Hey!” He waved her over with the hand that wasn’t balancing a stack of dirty plates. Miles didn’t seem to mind busing tables. He was grinning, in his element, chatting with everyone at the banquet as he cleared their plates.

When Luce approached, he put the plates down and gave her a big hug, squeezing her closer at the end.

“Are you okay?” he asked, tilting his head to one side so that his brown hair flopped over his eyes. He didn’t seem used to the way his hair moved without his cap on, and he flicked it quickly back. “You don’t look so good. I mean—you look great, that’s not what I meant. At all. I really like that dress. And your hair looks pretty. But you also look kind of”—he frowned—“down.”

“That’s disturbing.” Luce kicked the grass with the toe of her black high heel. “Because this is the best I’ve felt all night.”

“Really?” Miles’s face lit up just long enough for him to take it as a compliment. Then it fell. “I know it must suck being grounded. If you ask me, Frankie and Steven are blowing this way out of proportion. Keeping you under their thumbs all night—”

“I know.”

“Don’t look now, I’m sure they’re watching us. Oh, great.” He groaned. “Is that my aunt Ginger?”

“I just had the pleasure.” Luce laughed. “She wants to see you.”

“I’m sure she does. Please don’t think all my relatives are like her. When you meet the rest of the clan at Thanksgiving—”

Thanksgiving with Miles. Luce had completely forgotten about that.

“Oh.” Miles was watching her face. “You don’t think Frankie and Steven are going to make you stay here on Thanksgiving?”

Luce shrugged. “I figured that was what ‘until further notice’ meant.”

“So that’s what’s making you sad.” He put a hand on Luce’s bare shoulder. She’d been regretting the sleeveless dress until now, until his fingers lay across her skin. It was nothing like Daniel’s touch—which was electrifying and magical every time—but it was comforting nonetheless.

Miles stepped closer, lowering his face to hers. “What is it?”

She looked up into his dark blue eyes. His hand was still on her shoulder. She felt her lips parting with the truth, or what she knew of the truth, ready to pour out from inside her.

That Daniel wasn’t who she’d thought he was. Which maybe meant she wasn’t who she’d thought she was. That everything she’d felt about Daniel at Sword & Cross was still there—it made her dizzy to think about it—but now everything was also so different. And that everyone kept saying that this lifetime was different, that it was time to break the cycle—but no one could tell her what that meant. That maybe it didn’t end with Luce and Daniel together. That maybe she was supposed to shake herself free and do something on her own.

“It’s hard to put it all into words,” she said finally.

“I know,” Miles said. “I have a hard time with that myself. Actually, there’s something I’ve sort of been wanting to tell you—”

“Luce.” Francesca was suddenly standing there, practically wedging herself between them. “It’s time to go. I’ll be escorting you back to your room now.”

So much for doing something on her own.

“And Miles, your aunt Ginger and Steven would like to see you.”

Miles tossed Luce one last sympathetic smile before trudging across the terrace toward his aunt.

The tables were clearing out, but Luce could see Arriane and Roland cracking up near the bar. A cluster of Nephilim girls crowded around Dawn. Shelby was standing beside a tall boy with bleached-blond hair and pale, almost white skin.

SAEB. It had to be. He was leaning into Shelby, clearly still interested, but she was clearly still pissed off. So pissed off, she didn’t even notice Luce and Francesca walking nearby—but her ex-boyfriend did. His gaze hung on Luce. The pale not-quite-blue of his eyes was eerie.

Then someone shouted that the after-party was moving down to the beach, and Shelby snagged SAEB’s attention by turning her back on him, saying he’d better not follow her to the party.

“Do you wish you could join them?” Francesca asked as they moved further from the commotion of the terrace. The noise and the wind both quieted as they walked along the gravel path back toward the dorm, passing rows of hot-pink bougainvillea. Luce began to wonder whether Francesca was responsible for the overriding tranquility.

“No.” Luce liked all of them well enough, but if she were to attach the word wish to anything right now, it wouldn’t be to go to some party on the beach. She would wish … well, she wasn’t sure for what. For something having to do with Daniel, that much she knew—but what? That he would tell her what was going on, perhaps. That instead of protecting her by withholding knowledge, he would fill her in on the truth. She still loved Daniel. Of course she did. He knew her better than anyone. Her heart raced every time she saw him. She yearned for him. But how well, really, did she know him?

Francesca fixed her eyes on the grass lining the path to the dorm. Very subtly, her arms extended out at either side, like a ballet dancer at the barre.

“Not lilies and not roses,” she murmured under her breath as her narrow fingertips started to tremble. “What was it, then?”

There came a soft thrashing sound, like the roots of a plant being pulled from a garden bed, and suddenly, miraculously, a border of moonbeam-white flowers sprang up on either side of the path. Thick and lush and a foot tall, these weren’t just any flowers.

They were rare and delicate wild peonies, with buds as big as baseballs. The flowers Daniel had brought Luce when she was in the hospital—and maybe other times before. Edging the path at Shoreline, they shimmered in the night like stars.

“What was that for?” Luce asked.

“For you,” Francesca said.

“For what?”

Francesca touched her briefly on the cheek. “Sometimes beautiful things come into our lives out of nowhere. We can’t always understand them, but we have to trust in them. I know you want to question everything, but sometimes it pays to just have a little faith.”

She was talking about Daniel.

“You look at me and Steven,” Francesca went on, “—and I know we can be confusing. Do I love him? Yes. But when the final battle comes, I’ll have to kill him. That’s just our reality. We both know exactly where we stand.”

“But you don’t trust him?”

“I trust him to be true to his nature, which is a demon’s. You need to trust that those around you will be true to their natures. Even when it may appear that they are betraying who they are.”

“What if it’s not that easy?”

“You’re strong, Luce, independent of anything or anyone else. The way you responded yesterday in my office, I could see it in you. And it made me very … glad.”

Luce didn’t feel strong. She felt foolish. Daniel was an angel, so his true nature had to be good. She was supposed to blindly accept that? And what about her true nature? Not as black-and-white. Was Luce the reason things between them were so complicated? Long after she’d stepped into her room and closed the door behind her, she couldn’t get Francesca’s words out of her head.

About an hour later, a knock on the window made Luce jump as she sat staring at the dwindling fire in the hearth. Before she could even get up, there was a second knock on the pane, but this time it sounded more hesitant. Luce rose from the floor and went to the window. What was Daniel doing here again? After making such a huge deal about how unsafe it was to see each other, why did he keep turning up?

She didn’t even know what Daniel wanted from her—other than to torment her, the way she’d seen him torment those other versions of her in the Announcers. Or, as he put it, loved so many versions of her. Tonight all she wanted from him was to be left alone.

She flung open the wooden shutters, then pushed up the pane, knocking over yet another one of Shelby’s thousand plants. She braced her hands on the sill, then plunged her head into the night, ready to rip into Daniel.

But it wasn’t Daniel standing on the ledge in the moonlight.

It was Miles.

He’d changed out of his fancy clothes, but he’d left off the Dodgers cap. Most of his body was in shadow, but the outline of his broad shoulders was clear against the deep blue night. His shy smile brought an answering smile to her face. He was holding a gold cornucopia full of orange lilies plucked from one of the Harvest Fest centerpieces.

“Miles,” Luce said. The word felt funny in her mouth. It was tinged with pleasant surprise, when a moment ago she’d been so prepared to be nasty. Her heartbeat picked up, and she couldn’t stop grinning.

“How crazy is it that I can walk from the ledge outside my window to yours?”

Luce shook her head, stunned too. She’d never even been to Miles’s room on the boys’ side of the dorm. She didn’t even know where it was.

“See?” His smile broadened. “If you hadn’t been grounded, we never would have known. It’s really pretty out here, Luce; you should come out. You’re not scared of heights or anything?”

Luce wanted to go out on the ledge with Miles. She just didn’t want to be reminded of the times she’d been out there with Daniel. The two of them were so different. Miles—dependable, sweet, concerned. Daniel—the love of her life. If only it were that simple. It seemed unfair, and impossible, to compare them.

“How come you’re not at the beach with everyone?” she asked.

“Not everyone’s down at the beach.” Miles smiled. “You’re here.” He waved the cornucopia of flowers in the air. “I brought these for you from the dinner. Shelby’s got all those plants on her side of the room. I thought you could put these on your desk.”

Miles shoved the wicker horn through the window at her. It was brimming with the glossy orange flowers. Their black stamens shivered in the wind. They weren’t perfect, a few were even wilting, but they were so much lovelier than the larger-than-life peonies Francesca had made bloom. Sometimes beautiful things come into our lives out of nowhere.

This was maybe the nicest thing anyone had done for her at Shoreline—up there with the time Miles had broken into Steven’s office to steal the book so he could help Luce learn how to step through a shadow. Or the time Miles had invited her to have breakfast, the very first day he met her. Or how quick Miles had been to include her in his Thanksgiving plans. Or the utter absence of resentment on Miles’s face when he’d been assigned garbage duty after she’d gotten him in trouble for sneaking out. Or the way Miles …

She could go on, she realized, all night. She carried the flowers across the room and set them on her desk.

When she came back, Miles was holding out a hand for her to step through the window. She could make up an excuse, something lame about not breaking Francesca’s rules. Or she could just take his hand, warm and strong and safe, and let herself glide through. She could forget Daniel for just a moment.

Outside, the sky was an explosion of stars. They glittered in the black night like Ms. Fisher’s diamonds—but clearer, brighter, even more beautiful. From here, the redwood canopy east of the school looked dense and dark and foreboding; to the west were the ceaselessly churning water and the distant glow of the bonfire blazing down on the blustery beach. Luce had noticed these things before from the ledge. Ocean. Forest. Sky. But all the other times she’d been out here, Daniel had consumed her focus. Almost blinded her, to the point where she’d never really taken in the scene.

It truly was breathtaking.

“You’re probably wondering why I came over,” Miles said, which made Luce realize they’d both been silent for a while. “I started to tell you this earlier, but—I didn’t—I’m not sure—”

“I’m glad you came by. It was getting a little boring in there, staring at the fire.” She gave him half a smile.

Miles stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Look, I know you and Daniel—”

Luce involuntarily groaned.

“You’re right, I shouldn’t even bring this up—”

“No, that wasn’t why I groaned.”

“It’s just … You know I like you, right?”

“Um.”

Of course Miles liked her. They were friends. Good friends.

Luce chewed her lip. Now she was playing dumb with herself, which was never a good sign. The truth: Miles liked her. And she liked him, too. Look at the guy. With his ocean-blue eyes and the little chuckle he gave every time he broke into a smile. Plus, he was hands down the nicest person she had ever met.

But there was Daniel, and before him there’d been Daniel too, and Daniel again and again and—it was endlessly complicated.

“I’m botching this.” Miles winced. “When all I really wanted to do was say goodnight.”

She looked up at him and found that he was looking down at her. His hands came out of his pockets, found her hands, and clasped them in the space between their chests. He leaned down slowly, deliberately, giving Luce another chance to feel the spectacular night all around them.

She knew that Miles was going to kiss her. She knew she shouldn’t let him. Because of Daniel, of course—but also because of what had happened when she’d kissed Trevor. Her first kiss. The only kiss she’d ever had with anyone besides Daniel. Could being tied to Daniel be the reason Trevor died? What if the second she kissed Miles, he … she couldn’t even bear to think about it.

“Miles.” She pressed him back. “You shouldn’t do this. Kissing me is”—she swallowed—“dangerous.”

He chuckled. Of course he would, because he didn’t know anything about Trevor. “I think I’ll take my chances.”

She tried to pull back, but Miles had a way of making her feel good about almost everything. Even this. When his mouth came down on hers, she held her breath, waiting for the worst.

But nothing happened.

Miles lips were feather-soft, kissing her gently enough that he still felt like her good friend—but with just enough passion to prove there was more where this one came from. If she wanted it.

But even if there were no flames, no scorched skin, no death or destruction—and why weren’t there?—the kiss was still supposed to feel wrong. For so long, all her lips had wanted were Daniel’s lips, all the time. She used to dream about his kiss, his smile, his gorgeous violet eyes, his body holding hers. There was never supposed to be anyone else.

What if she’d been wrong about Daniel? What if she could be happier—or happy, period—with another guy?

Miles pulled away, looking happy and sad at the same time. “So, goodnight.” He turned away, almost like he was going to bolt back toward his room. But then he turned back. And took her hand. “If you ever feel like things aren’t working out, you know, with …” He looked up at the sky. “I’m here. Just wanted you to know.”

Luce nodded, already battling a rolling wave of confusion. Miles squeezed her hand, then took off in the other direction, bounding over the sloping shingled roof, back toward his side of the dorm.

Alone, she traced her lips where Miles’s had just been. The next time she saw Daniel, would he be able to tell? Her head hurt from all the ups and downs of the day, and she wanted to crawl into bed. As she slipped back through the window into her room, she turned one last time to take in the view, to remember how everything had looked on the night when so many things had changed.

But instead of the stars and trees and crashing waves, Luce’s eyes fixed on something else behind one of the roof’s many chimneys. Something white and billowing. An iridescent pair of wings.

Daniel. Crouched, only half hidden from view, just feet away from where she and Miles had kissed. His back was to her. His head was hanging.

“Daniel,” she called out, feeling her voice catch on his name.

When he turned to face her, the drawn look on his face was one of absolute agony. As if Luce had just ripped his heart out. He bent his knees, unfurled his wings, and took off into the night.

A moment later, he looked like just another star in the sparkling black sky.