Torment

EIGHTEEN THANKSGIVING

When Luce stepped through the front door of her parents’ house in Thunderbolt, everything was just the same: The coatrack in the foyer still looked like it was about to topple under the weight of too many jackets. The smell of dryer sheets and Pledge still made the house feel cleaner than it was. The floral couch in the living room was faded from the morning sun that fell through the blinds. A stack of tea-stained southern decorating magazines covered the coffee table, favorite pages bookmarked with grocery receipts, for the distant time when her parents’ dream came true of the mortgage’s being paid off and their finally having a little extra money for remodeling. Andrew, her mom’s hysterical toy poodle, trotted over to sniff the guests and give the back of Luce’s ankle a familiar chomp.

Luce’s dad set down her duffel in the foyer, draping an easy arm around her shoulder. Luce watched their reflection in the narrow entryway mirror: father and daughter.

His rimless glasses slipped down on his nose as he kissed the crown of her back-to-black hair. “Welcome home, Lucie,” he said. “We missed you around here.”

Luce closed her eyes. “I missed you, too.” It was the first time in weeks she hadn’t lied to her parents.

The house was warm and full of intoxicating Thanksgiving scents. She inhaled and could instantly picture every foil-wrapped dish staying hot in the oven. Deep-fried turkey with mushroom stuffing—her dad’s specialty. Apple-cranberry sauce, light-as-air yeast rolls, and enough pumpkin-pecan pies—her mom’s—to feed the whole state. She must have been cooking all week.

Luce’s mom took hold of her wrists. Her hazel eyes were a little damp around the edges. “How are you, Luce?” she asked. “Are you all right?”

It was such a relief to be home. Luce could feel her eyes grow damp too. She nodded, folding into her mom for a hug.

Her mother’s chin-length dark hair was sculpted and sprayed, like she’d just been to the beauty parlor the day before. Which, knowing her, she probably had. She looked younger and prettier than Luce remembered. Compared to the elderly parents she’d tried to visit in Mount Shasta—even compared to Vera—Luce’s mom seemed happy and alive, untainted by sorrow.

It was because she’d never had to feel what the others had felt, losing a daughter. Losing Luce. Her parents had made their whole life around her. It would destroy them if she died.

She could not die the way she had in the past. She could not wreck her parents’ life this time around, now that she knew more about her past. She would do whatever it took to keep them happy.

Her mom gathered the coats and hats of the four other teenagers who were standing in her foyer. “I hope your friends brought their appetites.”

Shelby jerked her thumb at Miles. “Be careful what you wish for.”

It was just like Luce’s parents not to mind a carful of last-minute guests at their Thanksgiving table.

When her dad’s Chrysler New Yorker had rolled through Sword & Cross’s tall wrought iron gates just before noon, Luce had been waiting for him. She hadn’t been able to sleep at all the night before. Between the strangeness of being back at Sword & Cross and her nerves about mingling such an odd Thanksgiving crew the next day—her mind would not settle down.

Luckily, the morning had passed without incident; after giving her dad the longest, tightest hug she’d ever given someone, she’d mentioned that she had a few friends without places to go for the holiday.

Five minutes later, they were all in the car.

Now they were milling around Luce’s childhood home, picking up framed pictures of her at different awkward ages, gazing out the same French windows she’d been gazing out over bowls of cereal for more than a decade. It was kind of surreal. As Arriane bounded into the kitchen to help her mom whip some cream, Miles peppered her dad with questions about the enormous piece-of-junk telescope in his office. Luce felt a swell of pride in her parents for making everyone feel welcome.

The sound of a car horn outside made her jump.

She perched on the sagging couch and lifted a slat of the window blind. Outside, a red-and-white taxi was idling in front of the house, coughing exhaust into the cold fall air. The windows were tinted, but the passenger could be only one person.

Callie.

One of Callie’s knee-high red leather boots extended from the back door, planting itself on the concrete sidewalk. A second later, Luce’s best friend’s heart-shaped face came into view. Callie’s porcelain skin was flushed, her auburn hair shorter, cut at a sleek angle close to her chin. Her pale blue eyes glittered. For some reason, she kept glancing back inside the cab.

“Whatcha looking at?” Shelby asked, pulling up another slat so she could see. Roland slid in on Luce’s other side and looked out too.

Just in time to see Daniel slide out of the taxi—

Followed by Cam, from the front seat.

Luce sucked in her breath at the sight of them.

Both guys were wearing long, dark coats, like the coats they’d worn on the shore in the scene she’d glimpsed. Their hair gleamed in the sunlight. And for a moment, just a moment, Luce remembered why she’d originally been intrigued by them both at Sword & Cross. They were beautiful. There was no getting around it. Surreally, unnaturally stunning.

But what the hell were they doing here?

“Right on time,” Roland murmured.

On her other side, Shelby asked, “Who invited them?”

“My thoughts exactly,” Luce said, but she couldn’t help swooning a little at the sight of Daniel. Even though things between them were a mess.

“Luce.” Roland was chuckling at her expression as she watched Daniel. “Don’t you think you should answer the door?”

The doorbell rang.

“Is that Callie?” Luce’s mom called from the kitchen over the whir of the stand mixer.

“Got it!” Luce shouted back, feeling a cold pain spread through her chest. Of course she wanted to see Callie. But more overwhelming than her joy at seeing her best friend, she realized, was her hunger to see Daniel. To touch him, to hold him and breathe him in. To introduce him to her parents.

They would be able to see, wouldn’t they? They’d be able to tell that Luce had found the person who had changed her life forever.

She opened the door.

“Happy Thanksgiving!” a high southern voice drawled. Luce had to blink a few times before her brain could connect with the sight before her eyes.

Gabbe, the most beautiful and the most perfectly mannered angel at Sword & Cross, was standing on Luce’s porch in a pink mohair sweater dress. Her blond hair was a gorgeous frenzy of braids, pinned up into little swirls on top of her head. Her skin had a soft, lovely shimmer—not unlike Francesca’s. She held a bouquet of white gladiolas in one hand and a frosty white plastic ice cream tub in the other.

Next to her, her bleached-blond hair grown brown at the roots, stood the demon Molly Zane. Her torn black jeans matched her frayed black sweater, like she was still following Sword & Cross’s dress code. Her facial piercings had multiplied since the last time Luce had seen her. She had a small black cast iron kettle balanced in the crook of her arm. She was glaring at Luce.

Luce could see the others walking up the long, curving walk. Daniel had Callie’s suitcase hoisted up over his shoulder, but it was Cam who was leaning in, smiling, his hand on Callie’s right forearm as he chatted with her. She didn’t seem to know whether to be slightly nervous or absolutely charmed.

“We were just in the neighborhood.” Gabbe beamed, holding out the flowers to Luce. “I made my homemade vanilla ice cream, and Molly brought an appetizer.”

“Shrimp Diablo.” Molly lifted up the lid of her kettle, and Luce breathed in a spicy garlic broth. “Family recipe.” Molly slapped the lid back down, then pushed past Luce into the foyer, stumbling over Shelby in her path.

“Excuse you,” they said gruffly at the same time, eyeing each other suspiciously.

“Oh, good.” Gabbe leaned in to give Luce a hug. “Molly’s made a friend.”

Roland took Gabbe into the kitchen, and Luce had her first clear view of Callie. When they locked eyes, they couldn’t help themselves: Both girls broke into involuntary grins and ran toward one another.

The impact of Callie’s body knocked the wind out of Luce, but it didn’t matter. Their arms were flung around each other, each girl’s face buried in the other’s hair; they were laughing the way you laugh only after too long a separation from a very good friend.

Reluctantly, Luce pulled away and turned to the two guys standing a few feet back. Cam looked as he always did: controlled and at ease, slick and handsome.

But Daniel looked uncomfortable—and he had good reason to be. They hadn’t spoken since he’d seen her kiss Miles, and now they were standing with Luce’s best friend and Daniel’s enemy-turned- … whatever Cam was to Daniel now.

But—

Daniel was in her home. Within shouting distance of her parents. Would they lose it if they knew who he really was? How did she introduce the guy who was responsible for a thousand of her deaths, whom she was magnetically drawn to almost all the time, who was impossible and elusive and secretive and sometimes even mean, whose love she didn’t understand, who was working with the devil, for crying out loud, and who—if he thought showing up here uninvited with that demon was a good idea—maybe didn’t know her very well at all.

“What are you doing here?” Her voice was bone-dry because she couldn’t talk to Daniel without talking to Cam, too, and she couldn’t talk to Cam without wanting to throw something heavy at him.

Cam spoke first. “Happy Thanksgiving to you, too. We heard your house was the place to be today.”

“We ran into your friend here at the airport,” Daniel added, using the flat tone he spoke in when he and Luce were in public. It was more formal, making her yearn to be alone with him so they could just be real. And so she could grab him by the lapels of his stupid coat and shake him until he explained everything. This had gone on long enough.

“Got to talking, shared a cab,” Cam picked up, winking at Callie.

Callie smiled at Luce. “Here I was picturing some intimate gathering at the Price household, but this is so much better. Now I can get the real scoop.”

Luce could feel her friend searching her face for clues about what the deal was with these two guys. Thanksgiving was about to get really awkward, really fast. This was not the way things were supposed to go.

“Turkey time!” her mother called from the doorway. Her smile changed into a confused grimace when she saw the crowd outside. “Luce? What’s going on?” Her old green-and-white-striped apron was tied around her waist.

“Mom,” Luce said, gesturing with her hand, “this is Callie, and Cam, and …” She wanted to reach out to put her hand on Daniel, something, anything to let her mom know that he was special, that this was the one. To let him know, too, that she still loved him, that everything between them was going to be okay. But she couldn’t. She just stood there. “ … Daniel.”

“Okay.” Her mom squinted at each of the newcomers. “Well, um, welcome. Luce, honey, can I have a word?”

Luce went to her mother at the front door, holding up a finger to let Callie know she’d be right back. She followed her mother through the foyer, through the dim hallway hung with framed pictures from Luce’s childhood, and into her parents’ cozy, lamplit bedroom. Her mom sat down on the white bedspread and crossed her arms. “Feel like telling me anything?”

“I’m so sorry, Mom,” Luce said, sinking down on the bed.

“I don’t want to shut anyone out of a Thanksgiving meal, but don’t you think we need to draw the line somewhere? Wasn’t one unexpected carful of people enough?”

“Yes, of course you’re right,” Luce said. “I didn’t invite all these people. I’m as stunned as you are that they all showed up.”

“It’s just that we have so little time with you. We love to meet your friends,” Luce’s mom said, stroking her hair. “But we cherish our time with you more.”

“I know this is such a huge imposition, but Mom”—Luce turned her cheek into her mother’s open palm—“he is special. Daniel. I didn’t know he was going to come, but now that he’s here, I need this time with him as much as I need it with you and Dad. Does that make any sense?”

“Daniel?” her mom repeated. “That beautiful blond boy? You two are—”

“We’re in love.” For some reason, Luce was trembling. Even though she had her doubts about their relationship, saying out loud, to her mother, that she loved Daniel made it seem true—made her remember that she did, despite everything, truly love him.

“I see.” When her mom nodded, her sprayed brown curls stayed in place. She smiled. “Well, we can’t very well kick out everyone else but him, can we?”

“Thank you, Mom.”

“Thank your father, too. And honey? Next time, a little more advance notice, please. If I’d known you were bringing home ‘the one,’ I would have grabbed your baby album from the attic.” She winked, planting a kiss on Luce’s cheek.

Back in the living room, Luce ran into Daniel first.

“I’m glad you got to be with your family after all,” he said.

“I hope you’re not mad at Daniel for bringing me,” Cam put in, and Luce searched for haughtiness in his voice but found none. “I’m sure you’d both rather I weren’t here, but”—he looked at Daniel—“a deal’s a deal.”

“I’m sure,” Luce said coolly.

Daniel’s face gave nothing away. Until it darkened. Miles had come in from the dining room.

“Um, hey, your dad’s about to make a toast.” Miles’s eyes were fixed on Luce in a way that made her think he was trying hard not to meet Daniel’s stare. “Your mom told me to ask where you wanted to sit.”

“Oh, wherever. Maybe next to Callie?” A mild panic struck Luce as she thought about all the other guests and the need to keep them as far away from each other as possible. And Molly away from just about everyone. “I should have done a seating chart.”

Roland and Arriane had made quick work of setting up the card table at the edge of the dining room table, so the banquet now stretched into the living room. Someone had thrown down a gold-and-white tablecloth, and her parents had even busted out their wedding china. Candles were lit and goblets of water filled. And soon Shelby and Miles were carrying in steaming bowls of green beans and mashed potatoes while Luce took her seat between Callie and Arriane.

Their intimate Thanksgiving dinner was now serving twelve: four humans, two Nephilim, six fallen angels (three each on the side of Good and Evil), and one dog dressed as a turkey, with his bowl of scraps under the table.

Miles went for the seat directly across from Luce—until Daniel flashed him a menacing look. Miles backed off, and Daniel was just about to sit down when Shelby slid right in. Smiling with a little look of victory, Miles sat on Shelby’s left, across from Callie, while Daniel, looking vaguely annoyed, sat to her right, across from Arriane.

Someone was kicking Luce under the table, trying to get her attention, but she kept her eyes on her plate.

Once everyone was seated, Luce’s father stood up at the head of the table, facing her mother at the foot. He clanked his fork against his glass of red wine. “I’ve been known to make a long-winded speech or two this time of year.” He chuckled. “But we’ve never served so many hungry-looking kids before, so I’ll just cut to the chase. I’m thankful for my sweet wife, Doreen, my best kid, Lucie, and all of you for joining us.” He fixed on Luce, drawing his cheeks in the way he did when he was especially proud. “It’s wonderful to see you prospering, growing into a beautiful young lady with so many great friends. We hope they’ll all come again. Cheers, everyone. To friends.”

Luce forced a smile, avoiding the shifty glances all her “friends” were sharing.

“Hear, hear!” Daniel broke the exquisitely awkward silence, raising his glass. “What good is life without trusty, reliable friends?”

Miles barely looked at him, plunging a serving spoon deep into the mashed potatoes. “Coming from Mr. Reliable himself.”

The Prices were too busy passing dishes at opposite ends of the table to notice the dirty look Daniel directed at Miles.

Molly was spooning the Shrimp Diablo appetizer no one had yet touched in a growing heap on Miles’s plate. “Just say uncle when you’ve had enough.”

“Whoa, Mo. Save some heat for me.” Cam reached to take the kettle of shrimp. “Say, Miles. Roland told me you showed off some mad skills fencing the other day. I bet the girls went crazy.” He leaned forward. “You were there, right, Luce?”

Miles had his fork poised in midair. His large blue eyes looked confused about Cam’s intentions, and as if he was hoping to hear Luce say that yes, the girls—herself included—had indeed gone crazy.

“Roland also said Miles lost,” Daniel said placidly, and speared a piece of stuffing.

At the other end of the table, Gabbe cut the tension with a loud and satisfied purr. “Oh my God, Mrs. Price. These Brussels sprouts are a little taste of Heaven. Aren’t they, Roland?”

“Mmm,” Roland agreed. “They really bring me back to a simpler time.”

Luce’s mother began reciting the recipe while Luce’s dad went on about local produce. Luce was trying to enjoy this rare time with her family, and Callie leaning in to whisper that everyone seemed pretty cool, especially Arriane and Miles—but there were too many other situations to monitor. Luce felt like she might have to defuse a bomb at any moment.

A few minutes later, passing the stuffing around the table a second time, Luce’s mother said, “You know, your father and I met when we were right around your age.”

Luce had heard the story thirty-five hundred times before.

“He was the quarterback at Athens High.” Her mother winked at Miles. “The athletic ones drove the girls wild in those days, too.”

“Yep, the Trojans were twelve and two my varsity year.” Luce’s dad laughed, and she waited for his token line. “I just had to show Doreen I wasn’t as much of a tough guy off the field.”

“I think it’s great what a strong marriage you two have,” Miles said, grabbing yet another of Luce’s mother’s famous yeast rolls. “Luce is lucky to have parents who are so honest and open with her and each other.”

Luce’s mom beamed.

But before she could respond, Daniel butted in. “There’s much more to love than that, Miles. Wouldn’t you say, Mr. Price, that a real relationship is more than just easy fun and games? That it takes some effort?”

“Of course, of course.” Luce’s father patted his lips with his napkin. “Why else would they call marriage a commitment? Sure, love has its ups and downs. That’s life.”

“Well said, Mr. P.,” Roland said, with a soulfulness beyond his smooth seventeen-year-old-looking face. “God knows, I’ve seen some ups and downs.”

“Oh, come on,” Callie chimed in, to Luce’s surprise. Poor Callie, taking everyone here at face value. “You guys make it sound so heavy.”

“Callie’s right,” Luce’s mom said. “You kids are young and hopeful, and you really should just be having fun.”

Fun. So that was the goal right now? Was fun even possible for Luce? She glanced at Miles. He was smiling. “I’m having fun,” he mouthed.

That made all the difference to Luce, who looked around the table again and realized that despite everything, she was having fun too. Roland was making a show of tonguing a shrimp at Molly, who laughed for possibly the first time in history. Cam tried doting on Callie, even offering to butter her roll, which she declined with raised eyebrows and a shy shake of her head. Shelby ate like she was training for a competition. And someone was still playing footsie with Luce underneath the table. She met Daniel’s violet eyes. He winked, giving her butterflies.

There was something remarkable about this gathering. It was the liveliest Thanksgiving they’d had since Luce’s grandmother died and the Prices stopped going to the Louisiana bayou for the holiday. So this was her family now: all these people, angels, demons, and whatever else they were. For better or worse, complicated, treacherous, full of ups and downs, and even at times fun. Just like her dad had said: That was life.

And for a girl who had had some experience with dying, life—period—was the thing for which Luce was suddenly overwhelmingly thankful.

“Well, I’ve had just about enough,” Shelby announced after a few more minutes. “You know. Food. Everyone else done? Let’s wrap this up.” She whistled and made a lasso gesture with her finger. “I’m eager to get back to that reform school we all go to—um—”

“I’ll help clear the table.” Gabbe jumped up and started stacking plates, dragging a reluctant Molly into the kitchen with her.

Luce’s mom was still shooting her furtive glances, trying to see the gathering through her daughter’s eyes. Which was impossible. She’d latched on to the Daniel idea pretty quickly and kept looking back and forth between the two of them. Luce wanted a chance to show her mom that what she and Daniel had was solid and wonderful and unlike anything else in the world, but there were too many other people around. Everything that should have been easy felt hard.

Then Andrew stopped chewing on the felt feathers around his neck and started yipping at the door. Luce’s dad stood up and reached for the dog’s leash. What a relief. “Somebody wants his after-dinner walk,” he announced.

Her mother stood up, too, and Luce followed her to the door and helped her into her pea coat. Luce handed her dad his scarf. “Thank you guys for being so cool tonight. We’ll do the dishes while you’re gone.”

Her mom smiled. “You make us proud, Luce. No matter what. Remember that.”

“I like that Miles,” Luce’s dad said, clipping Andrew’s leash to his collar.

“And Daniel is … just remarkable,” her mom said to her dad in a leading tone of voice.

Luce’s cheeks flushed and she glanced back at the table. She gave her parents a please-don’t-embarrass-me look. “Okay! Have a nice long walk!”

Luce held open the door and watched them walk out into the night with the eager dog practically choking on his leash. The cold air through the open door was refreshing. The house was hot, with so many people filling it up. Just before her parents disappeared down the street, Luce thought she saw a flash of something outside.

Something that looked like a wing.

“Did you see that?” she said, not sure who she was addressing.

“What?” her father called, turning back. He looked so full and happy that it almost broke Luce’s heart.

“Nothing.” Luce forced a smile as she closed the door. She could feel someone right behind her.

Daniel. The warmth that made her sway where she stood.

“What did you see?”

His voice was icy, not with anger but with fear. She looked up at him, reaching for his hands, but he had turned the other way.

“Cam,” he called. “Get your bow.”

Across the room, Cam’s head shot up. “Already?”

A whizzing sound outside the house silenced him. He moved away from the window and reached inside his blazer. Luce saw the flash of silver, and she remembered: the arrows he’d collected from the Outcast girl.

“Tell the others,” Daniel said before turning to face Luce. His lips parted and the desperate look on his face made her think that he might kiss her, but all he did was say, “Do you have a storm cellar?”

“Tell me what’s happening,” Luce said. She could hear water running in the kitchen, Arriane and Gabbe singing harmony on “Heart and Soul” with Callie while they did the dishes. She could see Molly’s and Roland’s skittish expressions as they cleared the table. And suddenly, Luce knew that this Thanksgiving dinner was all an act. A cover-up. Only, she didn’t know for what.

Miles appeared at Luce’s side. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing you need to be concerned with,” Cam said. Not rudely, just stating the facts. “Molly. Roland.”

Molly put down her stack of dishes. “What do you need us to do?”

It was Daniel who answered, speaking to Molly as if they were suddenly on the same side. “Tell the others. And find shields. They’ll be armed.”

“Who?” Luce asked. “The Outcasts?”

Daniel’s eyes landed on her and his face fell. “They shouldn’t have found us tonight. We knew there was a chance, but I really didn’t want to bring this here. I’m sorry—”

“Daniel.” Cam interrupted him. “All that matters now is fighting back.”

A heavy knocking thudded through the house. Cam and Daniel moved instinctively toward the front door, but Luce shook her head. “Back door,” she whispered. “Through the kitchen.”

They all stood for a moment and listened to the creak of the back door opening. Then came a long and piercing scream.

“Callie!” Luce took off running through the living room, shuddering to imagine what scene her best friend was facing. If Luce had known the Outcasts would show up, she would not have let Callie come. She would never have come home at all. If anything bad happened, Luce would never forgive herself.

Swinging through her parents’ kitchen door, Luce saw Callie, shielded behind Gabbe’s narrow frame. She was safe, at least for now. Luce exhaled, almost collapsing backward into the wall of muscle that Daniel, Cam, Miles, and Roland had formed behind her.

Arriane stood in the whitewashed doorway, a giant butcher block raised high in her hands. She looked ready to bash someone Luce couldn’t quite see yet.

“Good evening.” A guy’s voice, stiff with formality.

When Arriane lowered the butcher’s block, there in the doorway stood a tall, lean boy in a brown trench coat. He was very pale, with a narrow face and a strong nose. He looked familiar. Cropped bleached-blond hair. Blank white eyes.

An Outcast.

But Luce had seen him somewhere else before.

“Phil?” Shelby cried. “What the hell are you doing here? And what happened to your eyes? They’re all—”

Daniel turned on Shelby. “You know this Outcast?”

“Outcast?” Shelby’s voice quaked. “He’s not a—He’s my sorry-ass ex—He’s—”

“He’s been using you,” Roland said, as if he knew something the rest of them didn’t. “I should have known. Should have recognized him for what he was.”

“But you didn’t,” the Outcast said, his voice eerily calm. He reached inside his trench coat and, from an inner pocket, pulled out a silver bow. From his other pocket came a silver arrow, which he swiftly nocked. He pointed it at Roland, then swept across the crowd, aiming at each of them in turn. “Please forgive my barging in. I’ve come to fetch Lucinda.”

Daniel stepped toward the Outcast. “You’ll fetch no one and nothing,” he said, “except a swift death unless you leave right now.”

“Sorry, no, can’t do that,” the boy responded, his muscled arms still holding the silver arrow taut. “We’ve had time to prepare for this night of blessed restitution. We will not leave empty-handed.”

“How could you, Phil?” Shelby whimpered, turning to Luce. “I didn’t know … Honestly, Luce, I didn’t. I just thought he was a creep.”

The boy’s lips curled up in a smile. His horrible, depthless white eyes were straight out of a nightmare. “Give her to me without a fight, or none of you will be spared.”

Then Cam burst out in a long, deep belly laugh. It shook the kitchen and made the boy in the doorway twitch uncomfortably.

“You and what army?” Cam said. “You know, I think you’re the first Outcast I’ve ever met with a sense of humor.” He glanced around the cramped kitchen. “Why don’t you and I take this outside? Get it over with, shall we?”

“Gladly,” the boy replied, a flat smile on his pale lips.

Cam rolled his shoulders back as if he were working out a knot—and there, right where his shoulder blades came together, an enormous pair of golden wings split through his gray cashmere sweater. They unfurled behind him, taking up most of the kitchen. Cam’s wings were so bright they were almost blinding as they pulsed.

“Holy Hell,” Callie whispered, blinking.

“More or less,” Arriane said as Cam arched his wings backward and plowed past the Outcast boy, through the door and into the backyard. “Luce will explain, I’m sure!”

Roland’s wings unfurled with a sound like a great flock of birds taking flight. The lamplight in the kitchen highlighted their dark gold and black marbling as he squeezed out the door after Cam. Molly and Arriane were right behind him, butting into each other, Arriane pressing her glowing iridescent wings ahead of Molly’s cloudy bronze ones, sending off what looked like little electric sparks as they hustled out the door. Next was Gabbe, whose fluffy white wings spread open as gracefully as a butterfly’s, but with such speed they sent a rush of floral-scented wind through the kitchen.

Daniel took Luce’s hands in his. He closed his eyes, inhaled, and let his massive white wings unfurl. Fully extended, they would have filled the entire kitchen, but Daniel reined them in, close to his body. They shimmered and glowed and looked altogether too beautiful. Luce reached out and touched them with both hands. Warm and satin smooth on the outside, but inside, full of power. She could feel it coursing through Daniel, into her. She felt so close to him, understood him completely. As if they’d become one.

Don’t worry. Everything’s going to be fine. I’ll always take care of you.

But what he said aloud was “Stay safe. Stay here.”

“No,” she pleaded. “Daniel.”

“I’ll be right back.” Then he arched his wings backward and flew out the door.

Left alone inside, the unangelic gathered together. Miles was pressed against the back door, gaping out the window. Shelby had her head in her hands. Callie’s face looked as white as the refrigerator.

Luce slipped a hand into Callie’s. “I guess I have a few things to explain.”

“Who is that boy with the bow and arrow?” Callie whispered, flinching but still holding tight to Luce’s hand. “Who are you?”

“Me? I’m just … me.” Luce shrugged, feeling a chill spread through her. “I don’t know.”

“Luce,” Shelby said, clearly trying not to cry. “I feel like such a chump. I swear I had no idea. The stuff I told him, I was just venting. He was always asking about you, and he was a good listener, so I … I mean, I had no idea what he really was … I would never, never—”

“I believe you,” Luce said. She moved to the window, next to Miles, looking out onto the small wooden deck her dad had built a few years ago. “What do you think he wants?”

In the yard, fallen oak leaves had been raked into neat piles. The air smelled like a bonfire. Somewhere in the distance, a siren was going off. At the foot of the deck’s three steps, Daniel, Cam, Arriane, Roland, and Gabbe stood side by side, facing the fence.

No, not the fence, Luce realized. They faced a dark crowd of Outcasts, standing at attention with their silver arrows aimed at the row of angels. The Outcast boy was not alone. He’d amassed an army.

Luce had to steady herself against the counter. Aside from Cam, the angels were unarmed. And she’d already seen what those arrows could do.

“Luce, stop!” Miles called after her, but she was already rushing out the door.

Even in the darkness, Luce could see that all the Outcasts had similar expressionless good looks. There were just as many girls as boys, all of them pale and dressed in the same brown trench coats, with closely cropped bleached-blond hair for the boys and tight, almost white ponytails for the girls. The Outcasts’ wings arched out from their backs. They were in very, very bad shape—tattered and frayed and revoltingly filthy, practically caked with dirt. Nothing at all like the glorious wings of Daniel or Cam, or any of the angels and demons Luce knew. Standing in solidarity, with their strange empty eyes staring out, their heads tilted in different directions, the Outcasts made a horrible nightmare of an army. Only, Luce could not wake up.

When Daniel noticed her standing with the others on the deck, he doubled back and seized her hands. His perfect face looked wild with fear. “I told you to stay inside.”

“No,” she whispered. “I won’t stay locked up while the rest of you fight. I can’t just keep watching people around me die for no reason.”

“No reason? Let’s have this fight another time, Luce.” His eyes kept darting toward the dark line of Outcasts near the fence.

She balled up her fists at her sides. “Daniel—”

“Your life is too precious to squander in a temper tantrum. Get inside. Now.”

A loud shriek rang out in the middle of the yard. The front line of ten Outcasts raised their weapons toward the angels and loosed their arrows. Luce’s head shot up just in time to catch the sight of something—someone—catapulting off the roof.

Molly.

She flew down from it, a dark clot wielding two garden rakes, twirling them like batons in each of her hands.

The Outcasts heard but couldn’t see her coming. But Molly’s rakes twirled, tilling the arrows from the air as if they were crops in a field. She landed on her black combat boots, the dull-ended silver arrows thudding and rolling along the ground, looking about as harmless as twigs. But Luce knew better.

“There will be no mercy now!” an Outcast—Phil—bellowed from the other side of the yard.

“Get her inside, and get the starshots!” Cam shouted at Daniel, mounting the railing of the deck and pulling out his own silver bow. In quick succession, he nocked and loosed three streaks of light. The Outcasts writhed as three of their ranks vanished in puffs of dust.

With lightning speed, Arriane and Roland darted around the yard, sweeping up arrows with their wings.

A second line of Outcasts was advancing, readying a new volley of arrows. When they were on the brink of shooting, Gabbe leaped onto the railing of the deck.

“Hmmm, let’s see.” With a fierce look in her eyes, she pointed the tip of her right wing at the ground below the Outcasts.

The lawn shuddered, and then a clean seam of earth—the length of the backyard and a few feet wide—split wide open.

Taking at least twenty Outcasts deep into the black chasm.

They bellowed hollow, lonely cries on the way down. Down to God-knew-where. The Outcasts behind them skidded, halting just in front of the awful gorge Gabbe had pulled from nowhere. Their heads moved from left to right as if to help their blind eyes make sense of what just happened. A few more Outcasts teetered on the edge and tumbled in. Their wails grew fainter—until no sound could be heard. An instant later, the earth creaked like a rusty hinge and closed back up.

Gabbe drew her downy wing back to her side with the utmost elegance. She wiped her brow. “Well, that should help.”

But then another bright shower of silver splinters rained from the sky. One of them thunked into the top step of the deck at Luce’s feet. Daniel yanked the arrow out of the wooden step, wound up his arm, and flung it sharply, like a lethal dart, straight into the forehead of an advancing Outcast.

There was a flash of light, like a camera flash, and then: The white-eyed boy didn’t even have time to cry out at the impact—he just vanished into thin air.

Daniel’s eyes raced over Luce’s body, and he patted her down, as if in disbelief that she was still alive.

At her side, Callie gulped. “Did he just—Did that guy really—”

“Yes,” Luce said.

“Don’t do this, Luce,” Daniel said. “Don’t make me drag you inside. I have to fight. You have to get away from here. Now.”

Luce had seen enough to agree. She turned back toward the house, reaching for Callie—but then, through the open doorway of the kitchen, she caught a brutal glimpse of Outcasts.

Three of them. Standing inside her house. Silver bows aimed to shoot.

“No!” Daniel bellowed, rushing to shield Luce.

Shelby lurched out of the kitchen and onto the deck, slamming the door behind her.

Three distinct thumps of arrows struck the other side of the door.

“Hey, she’s exonerated!” Cam called from the lawn, nodding at Shelby briefly before bashing an arrow into an Outcast girl’s skull.

“Okay, new plan,” Daniel muttered. “Find someplace to take cover somewhere nearby. All of you.” He addressed Callie and Shelby and, for the first time all night, Miles. He grabbed Luce by the arms. “Stay away from the starshots,” he pleaded. “Promise me.” He kissed her quickly, then shooed them all against the back wall of the deck.

The glow of so many angels’ wings was brilliant enough that Luce, Callie, Shelby, and Miles had to shade their eyes. They crouched down and crawled along the deck, shadows of the railing dancing before them, while Luce directed everyone to the side yard. To shelter. There had to be some, somewhere.

More Outcasts stepped out from the shadows. They appeared in the high branches of faraway trees, came ambling out from around the raised garden beds and the termite-eaten old swing set Luce had used as a kid. Their silver bows gleamed in the moonlight.

Cam was the only one on the other side with a bow. He never paused to count how many Outcasts he was picking off. He just loosed arrow after arrow with deadly precision into their hearts. But for each one that vanished, another seemed to appear.

When he ran out of arrows, he wrenched the wooden picnic table out of its decade-old rut in the ground and held it in front of him with one arm like a shield. Volley after volley of arrows bounced off the tabletop and fell to the ground at his feet. He just stooped, plucked, and fired; stooped, plucked, and fired.

The others had to get more creative.

Roland beat his golden wings with such force that the air around him sent the arrows back in the direction they had come from, taking out the unseeing Outcasts several at a time. Molly charged the line again and again, her rakes spiraling like a samurai’s swords.

Arriane yanked Luce’s old tire swing from its tree and twirled it like a lasso, deflecting arrows into the fence, while Gabbe raced around, picking them up. She spun and slashed like a dervish, taking out any Outcast who got too close, smiling sweetly as the arrows bit their skin.

Daniel had commandeered the Prices’ rusted iron horseshoes from under the porch. He pitched them at the Outcasts, sometimes knocking three of them senseless with one horseshoe as it ricocheted off their skulls. Then he would pounce on them, slip the starshots from their bows, and drive the arrows into their hearts with his bare hands.

At the edge of the deck, Luce caught sight of her father’s storage shed and motioned for the other three to follow. They rolled over the railing to the grass below and, ducking, hurried to the shed.

They were almost at the entrance when Luce heard a quick whiz in the air. Callie cried out in pain.

“Callie!” Luce whirled around.

But her friend was still there. She was rubbing her shoulder where the arrow had grazed her, but otherwise, she was unharmed. “That totally stings!”

Luce reached out to touch her. “How did you …?”

Callie shook her head.

“Get down!” Shelby shouted.

Luce dropped to her knees, tugging the others down with her and pulling them inside the shed. Among the dirty shadows of Luce’s dad’s tools, lawn mower, and old sporting equipment, Shelby crawled over to Luce. Her eyes glistened and her lip was quivering.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” she whispered, grabbing hold of Luce’s arm. “You don’t know how sorry I am. It’s all my fault.”

“It’s not your fault,” Luce said quickly. Of course Shelby hadn’t known who Phil really was. What he really wanted from her. What this night would bring. Luce knew what it was like to carry around guilt for doing something you didn’t understand. She wouldn’t have wished it on anyone. Least of all Shelby.

“Where is he?” Shelby asked. “I could kill that sorry-ass freak.”

“No.” Luce held Shelby back. “You’re not going out there. You could get killed.”

“I don’t get it,” Callie said. “Why would anyone want to hurt you?”

That was when Miles stepped toward the entrance to the shed, into a beam of moonlight. He was carrying one of Luce’s father’s kayaks over his head.

“Nobody’s going to hurt Luce,” he said as he stepped outside with it.

Right into the battle.

“Miles!” Luce screamed. “Come back—”

She rose to her feet to take off after him—then froze, stunned by the sight of him chucking the kayak right into one of the Outcasts.

It was Phil.

His blank eyes gaped and he cried out, falling to the grass as the kayak struck him. Pinned and helpless, his dirty wings writhed on the ground.

For an instant Miles looked proud of himself—and Luce felt a little bit proud too. But then a short Outcast girl stepped forward, cocked her head like a dog listening to a silent whistle, raised her silver bow, and aimed point-blank at Miles’s chest.

“No mercy,” she said tonelessly.

Miles was defenseless against this strange girl, who looked like she had no understanding of mercy, not even for the nicest, most innocent kid in the world.

“Stop!” Luce cried out, her heart pounding in her ears as she ran out of the shed. She could sense the battle going on around her, but all she could see was that arrow, poised to enter Miles’s chest. Poised to kill yet another of her friends.

The Outcast girl’s head canted on her neck. Her vacant eyes turned on Luce, then widened slightly, like, just as Arriane had said, she really could see the burning of Luce’s soul.

“Don’t shoot him.” Luce held out her hands in surrender. “I’m the one you want.”