by Lauren Kate
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 c
amera 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.