The Fallen Sequence: An Omnibus Edition

by Lauren Kate

  Helston Lucinda stood ten feet away. She was dressed in a fantastic white gown with a soft silk-crepe bodice and an exposed corset back. Her dark hair was pinned high on her head in an array of shiny, intricately placed curls. Her diamond necklace shone against her pale skin, giving her such a regal air it nearly took Luce’s breath away.

  Her past self was the most elegant creature Luce had ever seen.

  “You’re all aglow tonight, Lucinda,” a soft voice said.

  “Did Thomas call on you again?” another teased.

  And the other two girls—Luce recognized one as Margaret, the elder Constance daughter, the one who’d walked with Daniel in the garden. The other, a fresher replica of Margaret, must have been the younger sister. She looked about Lucinda’s age. She teased her like a good friend.

  And she was right, too—Lucinda was glowing. It had to be because of Daniel.

  Lucinda flopped on the ivory love seat and sighed in a way Luce would never sigh, a melodramatic sigh that begged for attention. Luce knew instantly that Bill was right: She and her past self were absolutely nothing alike.

  “Thomas?” Lucinda wrinkled her small nose. “Thomas’s father is a common logger—”

  “Not so!” the younger daughter cried. “He’s a very uncommon logger! He’s rich.”

  “Still, Amelia,” Lucinda said, spreading her skirt around her narrow ankles. “He’s practically working-class.”

  Margaret perched on the edge of the love seat. “You didn’t think so poorly of him last week when he brought you that bonnet from London.”

  “Well, things change. And I do love a sweet bonnet.” Lucinda frowned. “But bonnets aside, I shall tell my father not to permit him to call on me again.”

  As soon as she’d finished speaking, Lucinda’s frown eased into a dreamy smile and she began to hum. The other girls watched, incredulous, as she sang softly to herself, stroking the lace of her shawl and gazing out the window, only inches away from Luce’s hiding place.

  “What’s gotten into her?” Amelia whispered loudly to her sister.

  Margaret snorted. “Who is more like it.”

  Lucinda stood up and walked to the window, causing Luce to retreat behind the curtain. Luce’s skin felt flushed, and she could hear the soft hum of Lucinda Biscoe’s voice just inches away. Then footsteps as Lucinda turned away from the window and her strange song abruptly broke off.

  Luce dared another peek from behind the curtain. Lucinda had gone to the easel, where she stood, transfixed.

  “What’s this?” Lucinda held up the canvas to show her friends. Luce couldn’t see it very clearly, but it looked ordinary enough. Just some kind of flower.

  “That is Mr. Grigori’s work,” Margaret said. “His sketches showed so much promise when he first arrived, but I’m afraid something’s come over him. It’s been three whole days now of nothing but peonies.” She gave a strained shrug. “Odd. Artists are so queer.”

  “Oh, but he’s handsome, Lucinda.” Amelia took Lucinda by the hand. “We must introduce you to Mr. Grigori tonight. He’s got such lovely blond hair, and his eyes … Oh, his eyes could make you melt!”

  “If Lucinda is too good for Thomas Kennington and all of his money, I doubt very much that a simple painter will measure up.” Margaret spoke so sharply that it was clear to Luce that she must have had feelings for Daniel herself.

  “I’d like very much to meet him,” Lucinda said, drifting back into her soft hum.

  Luce held her breath. So Lucinda hadn’t even met him yet? How was that possible when she was so clearly in love?

  “Let’s go, then,” Amelia said, tugging on Lucinda’s hand. “We’re missing half the party gossiping up here.”

  Luce had to do something. But from what Bill and Roland had said, it was impossible to save her past life. Too dangerous to even try. Even if she managed it somehow, the cycle of Lucindas who lived after this one might be altered. Luce herself might be altered. Or worse.

  Eliminated.

  But maybe there was a way for Luce to at least warn Lucinda. So that she didn’t walk into this relationship already blinded by love. So that she didn’t die a pawn in an age-old punishment without even a speck of understanding. The girls were almost out the door when Luce got the courage to step from behind the curtain.

  “Lucinda!”

  Her past self whipped around; her eyes narrowed when they fell on Luce’s servant’s dress. “Have you been spying on us?”

  No spark of recognition registered in her eyes. It was odd that Roland had mistaken Luce for Lucinda in the kitchen but Lucinda herself appeared to see no resemblance between them. What did Roland see that this girl couldn’t? Luce took a deep breath and forced herself to go through with her flimsy plan. “N-not spying, no,” she stammered. “I need to speak with you.”

  Lucinda chortled and glanced at her two friends. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Aren’t you the one handing out the dance cards?” Margaret asked Luce. “Mother won’t be very happy to hear that you’re neglecting your duties. What is your name?”

  “Lucinda.” Luce drew nearer and lowered her voice. “It’s about the artist. Mr. Grigori.”

  Lucinda locked eyes with Luce, and something flickered between them. Lucinda seemed unable to pull away. “You go on without me,” she said to her friends. “I’ll be down in just a moment.”

  The two girls exchanged confused glances, but it was clear that Lucinda was the leader of the group. Her friends glided out the door without another word.

  Inside the parlor, Luce closed the door.

  “What is so important?” Lucinda asked, then gave herself away by smiling. “Did he ask about me?”

  “Don’t get involved with him,” Luce said quickly. “If you meet him tonight, you’re going to think he’s very handsome. You’re going to want to fall in love with him. Don’t.” Luce felt horrible speaking about Daniel in such harsh terms, but it was the only way to save the life of her past self.

  Lucinda Biscoe huffed and turned to leave.

  “I knew a girl from, um—Derbyshire,” Luce went on, “who told all sorts of stories of his reputation. He’s hurt a lot of other girls before. He’s—he’s destroyed them.”

  A shocked sound escaped Lucinda’s pink lips. “How dare you address a lady like this! Just who do you think you are? Whether I fancy this artist or not is no concern of yours.” She pointed a finger at Luce. “Are you in love with him yourself, you selfish little wench?”

  “No!” Luce jerked back as if she’d been slapped.

  Bill had warned her that Lucinda was very different, but this ugly side of Lucinda couldn’t be all there was to her. Otherwise, why would Daniel love her? Otherwise, how could she be a part of Luce’s soul?

  Something deeper had to connect them.

  But Lucinda was bent over the harpsichord, scrawling a note on a piece of paper. She straightened, folded it in two, and shoved it into Luce’s hands.

  “I won’t report your impudence to Mrs. Constance,” she said, eyeing Luce haughtily, “if you deliver this note to Mr. Grigori. Don’t miss your chance to save your employment.” A second later she was nothing but a white silhouette gliding down the hallway, down the stairs, back to the party.

  Luce tore open the note.

  Dear Mr. Grigori,

  Since we happened upon each other in the dressmaker’s the other day, I cannot get you out of my mind. Will you meet me in the gazebo this evening at nine o’clock? I’ll be waiting.

  Yours eternally,

  Lucinda Biscoe

  Luce ripped the letter into shreds and tossed them into the parlor fire. If she never gave Daniel the note, Lucinda would be alone in the gazebo. Luce could go out there and wait for her and try to warn her again.

  She raced into the hall and made a sharp turn toward the servants’ stairs down to the kitchen. She ran past the cooks and the pastry makers and Henrietta.

  “You got both of us in trouble, Myrtle!” the girl called out to L
uce, but Luce was already out the door.

  The evening air was cool and dry against her face as she ran. It was nearly nine o’clock, but the sun was still setting over the grove of trees on the western side of the property. She tore down the pink-hued path, past the overflowing garden and the heady, sweet scent of the roses, past the hedge maze.

  Her eyes fell on the place where she’d first tumbled out of the Announcer into this life. Her feet pounded down the path toward the empty gazebo. She had stopped just short of it when someone caught her by the arm.

  She turned around.

  And ended up nose to nose with Daniel.

  A light wind blew his blond hair across his forehead. In his formal black suit with the gold watch chain and a small white peony pinned to his lapel, Daniel was even more gorgeous than she remembered. His skin was clear and brilliant in the glow of the setting sun. His lips held the faintest smile. His eyes burned violet at the sight of her.

  A soft sigh escaped her. She ached to lean a few short inches closer to press her lips on his. To wrap her arms around him and feel the place on his broad shoulders where his wings unfurled. She wanted to forget what she had come here to do and just hold him, just let herself be held. There were no words for how much she had missed him.

  No. This visit was about Lucinda.

  Daniel, her Daniel, was far away right now. It was hard to imagine what he’d be doing or thinking right now. It was even harder to imagine their reunion at the end of all of this. But wasn’t that what her quest was about? Finding out enough about her past so she could really be with Daniel in the present?

  “You’re not supposed to be here,” she said to Helston Daniel. He couldn’t have known that Helston Lucinda wanted to meet him here. But here he was. It was as if nothing could get in the way of their meeting—they were drawn toward each other, no matter what.

  Daniel’s laugh was precisely the same laugh Luce was used to, the one she’d heard for the first time at Sword & Cross, when Daniel kissed her; the laugh she loved. But this Daniel did not really know her. He didn’t know who she was, where she was coming from, or what she was trying to do.

  “You’re not supposed to be here, either.” He smiled. “First we’re supposed to have a dance inside, and later, after we’ve gotten to know one another, I’m supposed to take you for a moonlit stroll. But the sun hasn’t even set yet. Which means there’s still a good deal of dancing to be done.” He extended his hand. “My name is Daniel Grigori.”

  He hadn’t even noticed that she was dressed in a maid’s uniform instead of a ball gown, that she didn’t act at all like a proper British girl. He’d only just laid eyes on her, but like Lucinda, Daniel was already blinded by love.

  Seeing all of this from a new angle put a strange clarity on their relationship. It was wonderful, but it was tragically shortsighted. Was it even Lucinda whom Daniel loved and vice versa, or was it just a cycle they couldn’t break free of?

  “It isn’t me,” Luce told him sadly.

  He took her hands. She melted a little.

  “Of course it’s you,” he said. “It’s always you.”

  “No,” Luce said. “It isn’t fair to her, you’re not being fair. And besides, Daniel, she’s mean.”

  “Who are you talking about?” He looked like he couldn’t decide whether to take her seriously or laugh.

  From the corner of her eye, Luce saw a figure in white walking toward them from the back of the house.

  Lucinda.

  Coming to meet Daniel. She was early. Her note said nine o’clock—at least it had said nine o’clock before Luce had tossed its fragments into the fire.

  Luce’s heart began to pound. She could not be caught here when Lucinda arrived. And yet, she couldn’t leave Daniel so soon.

  “Why do you love her?” Luce’s words came out in a rush. “What makes you fall in love with her, Daniel?”

  Daniel laid his hand on her shoulder—it felt wonderful. “Slow down,” he said. “We’ve only just met, but I can promise you there isn’t anyone I love except—”

  “You there! Servant girl!” Lucinda had spotted them, and from the tone of her voice, she wasn’t happy about it. She began to run toward the gazebo, cursing at her dress, at the muddiness of the grass, at Luce. “What have you done with my letter, girl?”

  “Th-that girl, the one coming this way,” Luce stammered, “is me, in a sense. I’m her. You love us, and I need to understand—”

  Daniel turned to watch Lucinda, the one he had loved—would love in this era. He could see her face clearly now. He could see that there were two of them.

  When he turned back to Luce, his hand on her shoulder began to tremble. “It’s you, the other one. What have you done? How did you do this?”

  “You! Girl!” Lucinda had registered Daniel’s hand on Luce’s shoulder. Her whole face puckered up. “I knew it!” she screeched, running even faster. “Get away from him, you trollop!”

  Luce could feel panic washing over her. She had no choice now but to run. But first: She touched the side of Daniel’s face. “Is it love? Or is it just the curse that brings us together?”

  “It’s love,” he gasped. “Don’t you know that?”

  She broke free of his grasp and fled, running fast and furiously across the lawn, back through the grove of silver birch trees, back to the overgrown grasses where she’d first arrived. Her feet became tangled and she tripped, landing flat on her face. Everything hurt. And she was mad. Fuming mad. At Lucinda for being so nasty. At Daniel for the way he just fell in love without thinking. At her own powerlessness to do anything that made a bit of difference. Lucinda would still die—Luce’s having been here didn’t matter at all. Beating her fists on the ground, she let out a groan of frustration.

  “There, there.” A tiny stone hand patted her back.

  Luce flicked it away. “Leave me alone, Bill.”

  “Hey, it was a valiant effort. You really got out there in the trenches this time. But”—Bill shrugged—“now it’s over.”

  Luce sat up and glared at him. His smug expression made her want to march right back there and tell Lucinda who she really was—tell her what things were like not so far down the road.

  “No.” Luce stood up. “It’s not over.”

  Bill yanked her back down. He was shockingly strong for such a little creature. “Oh, it’s over. Come on, get in the Announcer.”

  Luce turned where Bill was pointing. She hadn’t even noticed the thick black portal floating right in front of her. Its musty smell made her sick.

  “No.”

  “Yes,” Bill said.

  “You’re the one who told me to slow down in the first place.”

  “Look, let me give you the CliffsNotes: You’re a bitch in this life and Daniel doesn’t care. Shocker! He courts you for a few weeks, there’s some exchanging of flowers. A big kiss and then kaboom. Okay? Not much more to see.”

  “You don’t understand.”

  “What? I don’t understand that Victorians are as stuffy as an attic and as boring as watching wallpaper peel? Come on, if you’re going to zigzag through your past, make it count. Let’s hit some highlights.”

  Luce didn’t budge. “Is there a way to make you disappear?”

  “Do I have to stuff you in this Announcer like a cat in a suitcase? Let’s move!”

  “I need to see that he loves me, not just some idea of me because of some curse that he’s bound to. I need to feel like there’s something stronger keeping us together. Something real.”

  Bill took a seat next to Luce on the grass. Then he seemed to think better of it and actually crawled onto her lap. At first, she wanted to swat him, and the flies buzzing around his head, but when he looked up at her, his eyes appeared sincere.

  “Honey, Daniel loving the real you is the last thing you should be worried about. You’re freaking soul mates. You two coined the phrase. You don’t have to stick around here to see that. It’s in every life.”

  “What?”
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  “You want to see true love?”

  She nodded.

  “Come on.” He tugged her up. The Announcer hovered in front of them and began to morph into a new shape, until it almost resembled the flaps of a tent. Bill flew into the air, hooked his finger into an invisible latch, and tugged. The Announcer rearranged itself, lowering itself like a drawbridge until all Luce could see was a tunnel of darkness.

  Luce glanced back toward Daniel and Lucinda, but she couldn’t see them—only outlines of them, blurs of color pressing together.

  Bill made a sweeping motion with his free hand into the belly of the Announcer. “Step right in.”

  And so she did.

  EIGHT

  WATCHING FROM THE WINGS

  HELSTON, ENGLAND • JULY 26, 1854

  Daniel’s clothes were sun-bleached and his cheek was caked with sand when he woke up on the desolate coast of Cornwall. It might have been a day, a week, a month that he’d been out there wandering alone. However much time had passed, he’d spent all of it punishing himself for his mistake.

  Encountering Lucinda like that in the dressmaker’s had been so grave an error that Daniel’s soul burned every time he thought of it.

  And he couldn’t stop thinking of it.

  Her full pink lips curling around the words: I think I know you. Please. Wait.

  So lovely and so perilous.

  Oh, why couldn’t it have been something small? Some brief exchange well into their courtship? Then it might not have mattered so much. But a first sighting! Lucinda Biscoe’s first sighting had been of him, the wrong Daniel. He could have jeopardized everything. He could have distorted the future so badly that his Luce could end up dead already, altered beyond recognition—

  But no: If that were so, he wouldn’t have his Luce in his memory. Time would have revised itself and he would have no regrets at all because his Luce would be different.

  His past self must have responded to Lucinda Biscoe in a way that covered Daniel’s mistake. He couldn’t quite remember how things had begun, only how they’d ended. But no matter: He wouldn’t get anywhere near his past self to warn him, for fear of running into Lucinda again and doing yet more damage. All he could do was back away and wait it out.