by Lauren Kate
They could smell it before they could see it: the telltale hickory smoke of a good-sized bonfire. Then, when they were almost at the foot of the steep stairs, they wound around a bend in the rocks and froze as the sparks from a wild orange blaze finally came into view.
There must have been a hundred people gathered on the beach.
The wind was wild, like an untamed animal, but it was no match for the rowdiness of the partygoers. At one end of the gathering, closest to where Luce stood, a crowd of hippie guys with long, thick beards and ratty woven shirts had formed a makeshift drum circle. Their steady beat provided a nearby group of kids with a constantly changing groove to dance to. At the other end of the party was the bonfire itself, and when Luce stood on her toes, she recognized a lot of Shoreline kids crowded around the fire, hoping to beat out the cold. Everyone was holding a stick in the flames, jockeying for the best spot to roast their hot dogs and marshmallows, their cast-iron kettles full of beans. It was impossible to guess how they’d all found out about it, but it was clear that everyone was having a good time.
And in the middle of it all, Roland. He’d changed out of his pressed button-down shirt and expensive leather boots and was dressed, like everyone else there, in a hooded sweatshirt and shredded jeans. He was standing on a boulder, making riotous, exaggerated gestures, telling a story Luce couldn’t quite hear. Dawn and Jasmine were among the captivated listeners; their fire-lit faces looked pretty and alive.
“This is your idea of a small party?” Miles asked.
Luce was watching Roland, wondering what story he was telling. Something about the way he was taking charge made Luce think back to Cam’s room, to the first and only real party she’d ever gone to at Sword & Cross, and it made her miss Arriane. And, of course, Penn, who’d been nervous when she first arrived at the party but ended up having a better time than anyone. And Daniel, who would barely speak to Luce back then. Things were so different now.
“Well, I don’t know about you guys,” Shelby said, kicking off her flip-flops and padding onto the sand in her socks, “but I’m going to get myself a drink, then a hot dog, then maybe a lesson from one of those drum circle guys.”
“Me too,” Miles said. “Except for the drum circle part, in case that wasn’t obvious.”
“Luce.” Roland waved from his position on the boulder. “You made it.”
Miles and Shelby were already way ahead of her, heading toward the hot dog station, so Luce trekked over a dune of cool, damp sand toward Roland and the others.
“You weren’t kidding when you said you wanted to make your presence known. This is really something, Roland.”
Roland nodded graciously. “Something, huh? Something good, or something bad?”
It seemed like a loaded question, and what Luce wanted to say was that she couldn’t tell anymore. She thought about the heated conversation she’d overheard in the teacher’s office. How sharp Francesca’s voice had sounded. The line between what was good and what was bad felt incredibly blurry. Roland and Steven were fallen angels who’d gone over. Demons, right? Did she even know what that meant? But then there was Cam, and … what did Roland mean by that question? She squinted at him. Maybe he was really only asking whether Luce was having fun?
A myriad of colorful partygoers swirled around her, but Luce could feel the endless black waves nearby. The air near the water was whipping and cold, but the bonfire was hot on her skin. So many things seemed to be at odds right now, all shoving up against her at once.
“Who are all these people, Roland?”
“Let’s see.” Roland pointed at the hippie kids in the drum circle. “Townies.” To their right, he gestured at a big group of guys trying to impress a much smaller group of girls with a few very bad thrusting dance moves. “Those guys are marines stationed in Fort Bragg. From the way they’re partying, I hope they’re on leave for the weekend.” When Jasmine and Dawn sidled up next to him, Roland put one arm around each of their shoulders. “These two, I believe you know.”
“You didn’t tell us you were such big friends with the celestial social director, Luce,” Jasmine said.
“Seriously.” Dawn leaned in to whisper loudly to Luce, “Only my diary knows how many times I’ve wished to go to a Roland Sparks party. And my diary will never tell.”
“Oh, but I might,” Roland joked.
“Is there no relish at this party?” Shelby popped up behind Luce with Miles at her side. She was holding two hot dogs in one hand and stuck out her free one to Roland. “Shelby Sterris. Who are you?”
“Shelby Sterris,” Roland repeated. “I’m Roland Sparks. You ever live in East L.A.? Have we met before?”
“No.”
“She has a photographic memory,” Miles supplied, slipping Luce a veggie hot dog, which was not her favorite, but a nice gesture nonetheless. “I’m Miles. Cool party, by the way.”
“Very cool,” Dawn agreed, swaying with Roland to the drumbeat.
“What about Steven and Francesca?” Luce had to practically shout to Shelby. “Won’t they hear us down here?” It was one thing to sneak out under the radar. It was another to plant a sonic boom directly on that radar.
Jasmine glanced back toward the campus. “They’ll hear us, sure, but our leash is pretty long at Shoreline. At least for the Nephilim kids. As long as we stay on campus, under their umbrella of surveillance, we can pretty much do as we please.”
“Does that include a limbo contest?” Roland grinned impishly, producing a long, thick branch from behind him. “Miles, you going to hold the other end for me?”
Seconds later, the branch was raised, the drumbeat changed, and it seemed like the whole party had dropped what they were doing to form one long, animated limbo line.
“Luce,” Miles called to her. “You’re not just going to stand there, are you?”
She studied the crowd, feeling stiff and rooted to her spot in the sand. But Dawn and Jasmine were making an opening for her to squeeze into line between the two of them. Already in competition mode—probably born in competition mode—Shelby was stretching out her back. Even the buttoned-up marine guys were going to play.
“Fine.” Luce laughed and got in line.
Once the game began, the line moved quickly; for three rounds, Luce shimmied easily under the branch. The fourth time, she made it under with only a little trouble, having to tilt her chin back far enough to see the stars, and got a round of cheers for doing so. Soon she was cheering on the other kids too, only a little surprised to find herself jumping up and down when Shelby made it through. There was something amazing about arching out of the limbo stance after a successful turn—the whole party seemed to feed off it. Each time, it gave Luce a surprising rush of adrenaline.
Having fun wasn’t usually such a simple thing. For so long, laughter had usually been closely followed by guilt, some nagging feeling that she wasn’t supposed to be enjoying herself for one reason or another. But somehow tonight she felt lighter. Without even realizing it, she’d been able to shrug off the darkness.
By the time Luce looped around for her fifth turn, the line was significantly shorter. Half the kids at the party had already gotten out, and everyone was crowded around either Miles or Roland, watching the last kids standing. At the back of the line, Luce was giddy and a little light-headed, so the hard grip she felt on her arm almost made her lose her balance.
She started to scream, then felt fingers clamp over her mouth.
“Shhh.”
Daniel was tugging her out of line and away from the party. His strong, warm hand sliding down her neck, his lips brushing the side of her cheek. For just a moment, the touch of his skin on hers, coupled with the bright violet glow of his eyes, and her days-old rising need to grab hold of him and never let go—it all made Luce divinely dizzy.
“What are you doing here?” she whispered. She meant to say Thank God you’re here or It’s been so hard to be apart or what she really meant, I love you. But there were also You abandoned me and
I thought it wasn’t safe and What’s this about a truce? all knocking around in her brain.
“I had to see you,” he said. As he led her behind a large volcanic rock on the beach, there was a conspiratorial smile on his face. The kind of smile that was contagious, finding its way onto Luce’s lips too. The kind of smile that acknowledged not just that they were breaking Daniel’s rule—but that they were enjoying doing it.
“When I got close enough to see this party, I noticed everyone dancing,” he said. “And I got a little jealous.”
“Jealous?” Luce asked. They were alone now. She threw her arms around his broad shoulders and looked deep into his violet eyes. “Why would you be jealous?”
“Because,” he said, rubbing his hands across her back. “Your dance card is full. For all eternity.”
Daniel held her right hand in his, wrapped her left around his shoulder, and started a slow two-step in the sand. They could still hear the music from the party, but from this side of the rock it felt like a private concert. Luce closed her eyes and melted against his chest, finding the place where her head fit into his shoulder like a puzzle piece.
“No, this isn’t quite right,” Daniel said after a moment. He pointed down at her feet. She noticed he was barefoot. “Take off your shoes,” he said, “and I’ll show you how angels dance.”
Luce slipped off her black flats and tossed them aside on the beach. The sand between her toes was soft and cool. When Daniel pulled her close, her toes overlapped with his and she almost lost her balance, but his arms held her steady. When she looked down, her feet were on top of his. And when she looked up: the sight she yearned for night and day. Daniel unfurling his silver-white wings.
They filled her plane of vision, stretching twenty feet into the sky. Broad and beautiful, glowing in the night, they must have been the most glorious wings in all of Heaven. Underneath her own feet, Luce felt Daniel’s lift just barely off the ground. His wings beat lightly, almost like a heartbeat, holding both of them inches above the beach.
“Ready?” he asked.
Ready for what, she didn’t know. It didn’t matter.
Now they were moving backward in the air, as smoothly as figure skaters moved on ice. Daniel glided out over the water, holding her in his arms. Luce gasped as the first frothy wave skimmed their toes. Daniel laughed and lifted them a little higher in the sky. He dipped her backward. He spun them both around in circles. They were dancing. On the ocean.
The moon was like a spotlight, shining down on only them. Luce was laughing from sheer joy, laughing so much that Daniel started laughing too. She’d never felt lighter.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
His answer was a kiss. He kissed her softly at first. On her forehead, then on her nose, then finally found his way to her lips.
She kissed him back deeply and hungrily and a bit desperately, throwing her whole body into it. This was how she came home to Daniel, how she touched that easy love they’d shared for so long. For a moment, the whole world went quiet; then Luce came up gasping for air. She hadn’t even noticed they were back on the beach.
His hand cupped the back of her head, the ski cap she had tugged down over her ears. The cap concealing her bleached-blond hair. He pulled it off and a blast of ocean breeze hit her head. “What did you do to your hair?”
His voice was soft, but somehow it sounded like an accusation. Maybe it was because the song had ended, and the dance and the kiss had too, and now they were just two people standing on a beach. Daniel’s wings were arched back behind his shoulders, still visible but out of reach.
“Who cares about my hair?” All she cared about was holding him. Wasn’t that all he should care about too?
Luce reached to take back the ski cap. Her bare blond head felt too exposed, like a glowing red flag warning Daniel that she might be falling apart. As soon as she started to turn away, Daniel put his arms around her.
“Hey,” he said, pulling her close again. “I’m sorry.”
She exhaled, drew into him, and let his touch wash over her. She tipped her head up to meet his eyes.
“Is it safe now?” she asked, wanting Daniel to be the one to bring up the truce. Could they finally be together? But the worn look in his eyes gave her the answer before he opened his mouth.
“I shouldn’t be here, but I worry about you.” He held her at arm’s length. “And from the looks of things, I’m right to worry.” He fingered a lock of her hair. “I don’t understand why you did this, Luce. It isn’t you.”
She pushed him away. It had always bothered her when people said that. “Well, I’m the one who dyed it, Daniel. So, technically, it is me. Maybe not the ‘me’ you want me to be—”
“That’s not fair. I don’t want you to be anyone other than who you are.”
“Which is who, Daniel? Because if you know the answer to that, feel free to clue me in.” Her voice grew louder as frustration overtook the passion slipping through her fingers. “I’m on my own here, trying to figure out why. Trying to figure out what I’m doing here with all these … when I’m not even …”
“When you’re not what?”
How had they gone so quickly from dancing on air to this?
“I don’t know. I’m just trying to take it day by day. Make friends, you know? Yesterday I joined a club, and we’re planning a yacht trip somewhere. Things like that.” What she really wanted to tell him about were the shadows. And especially what she’d done in the woods. But Daniel had narrowed his eyes like she’d already done something wrong.
“You’re not going on a yacht trip anywhere.”
“What?”
“You’ll stay right here on this campus until I say so.” He exhaled, sensing her rising anger. “I hate giving you these rules, Luce, but … I’m doing so much to keep you safe. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“Literally.” Luce gritted her teeth. “Good or bad or otherwise. Seems like when you’re not around you don’t want me doing anything at all.”
“That’s not true.” He shook a finger at her. She’d never seen him lose his temper so quickly. Then he looked up at the sky, and Luce followed his gaze. A shadow zipped over their heads—like an all-black firework leaving a deadly, smoky tail. Daniel seemed to be able to read it instantly.
“I have to go,” he said.
“How shocking.” She turned away. “Turn up out of nowhere, pick a fight, then duck out. This must be real, true love.”
He grabbed her shoulders and shook them until she met his eyes. “It is true love,” he said, with such desperation that Luce couldn’t tell whether it chipped away at or added to the pain in her heart. “You know it is.” His eyes burned violet—not with anger but with intense desire. The kind of look that made you love a person so much, you missed him even when he was standing right in front of you.
Daniel ducked his head to kiss her cheek, but she was too close to tears. Embarrassed, she turned away. She heard his sigh, and then: the beat of wings.
No.
When she whipped her head around, Daniel was soaring across the sky, halfway between the ocean and the moon. His wings were lit bright white under a moonbeam. A moment later, it was hard to tell him apart from any of the stars in the sky.
FIVE
FOURTEEN DAYS
During the night, a windless layer of fog moved in like an army, settling over the town of Fort Bragg. It didn’t lift with the sunrise, and its gloom seeped into everything and everyone. So all day Friday in school, Luce felt like she was being dragged along by a slow-moving tide. The teachers were out of focus, noncommittal, and slow with their lectures. The students sat in a heap of lethargy, struggling to stay awake though the long, damp drone of the day.
By the time classes let out, the dreariness had penetrated Luce to her very core. She didn’t know what she was doing at this school that wasn’t really hers, in this temporary life that only highlighted her lack of a real, permanent one. All she wanted to do was crawl into her bottom
bunk and sleep it all away—not just the weather or her long first week at Shoreline, but also the argument with Daniel and the jumble of questions and anxieties that had shaken loose in her mind.
Sleep the night before had been impossible. In the darkest hours of the morning she’d stumbled alone back to her dorm room. She’d tossed and turned without ever really dozing off. Daniel’s shutting her out no longer surprised her, but that didn’t mean it had gotten any easier. And that insulting, chauvinistic order he’d given her to stay on the school grounds? What was this, the nineteenth century? It crossed her mind that maybe Daniel had spoken to her like that centuries ago, but—like Jane Eyre or Elizabeth Bennet—Luce was certain no former self of hers would ever have been cool with that. And she certainly wasn’t now.
She was still angry and annoyed after class, moving through the fog toward the dorm. Her eyes were bleary and she was practically sleepwalking by the time her hand clasped her doorknob. Tumbling into the dim, empty room, she almost didn’t see the envelope someone had slipped under the door.
It was cream-colored, flimsy and square, and when she flipped it over, she saw her name typed on the front in small, blocky letters. She tore into it, wanting an apology from him. Knowing she owed him one too.
The letter inside was typewritten on cream-colored paper and folded into thirds.
Dear Luce,
There’s something I’ve been waiting too long to tell you. Meet me in town, near Noyo Point, around six o’clock tonight? The #5 bus along Hwy 1 stops a quarter of a mile south of Shoreline. Use this bus pass. I’ll be waiting by the North Cliff. Can’t wait to see you.
Love, Daniel
Shaking the envelope, Luce felt a small slip of paper inside. She pulled out a thin blue-and-white bus ticket with the number five printed on its front and a crude little map of Fort Bragg drawn on its back. That was it. There was nothing else.
Luce couldn’t figure it out. No mention of their argument on the beach. No indication that Daniel even understood how erratic it was to practically vanish into thin air one night, then expect her to travel at his whim the next.