The Fallen Sequence (78 page)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What was that for?” Luce asked.

“For you,” Francesca said.

“For what?”

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

She was talking about Daniel.

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

“But you don’t trust him?”

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

“What if it’s not that easy?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was Miles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It truly was breathtaking.

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

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

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

Luce involuntarily groaned.

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

“No, that wasn’t why I groaned.”

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

“Um.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But nothing happened.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

SIXTEEN