Torment

FOURTEEN FIVE DAYS

Someone had ratted them out.

On Sunday morning, while the rest of the campus was still eerily calm, Shelby, Miles, and Luce sat in a row on one side of Francesca’s office, waiting to be interrogated. Her office was larger than Steven’s—brighter, too, with a high, sloping ceiling and three large windows facing the forest to the north, each with thick lavender velvet curtains, parted to show a shocking blue sky. A large framed photograph of a galaxy, hanging over the tall marble-topped desk, was the only piece of art in the room. The baroque chairs they sat on were chic but uncomfortable. Luce couldn’t stop fidgeting.

“ ‘Anonymous tip,’ my ass,” Shelby muttered, quoting the harsh email they’d each received from Francesca this morning. “This immature tattling reeks of Lilith.”

Luce didn’t think it was possible that Lilith—or any of the students, really—would have known they’d left campus. Someone else had looped their teachers in.

“What’s taking them so long?” Miles nodded toward Steven’s office on the other side of the wall, where they could hear their teachers arguing in low voices. “It’s like they’re coming up with a punishment before they’ve even heard our side of the story!” He bit his lower lip. “What is our side of the story, by the way?”

But Luce wasn’t listening. “I really don’t see what’s so difficult,” she said under her breath, more to herself than the others. “You just pick a side and move on.”

“Huh?” Miles and Shelby said in unison.

“Sorry,” Luce said. “It’s just … you know what Arriane was saying about tipping the scales the other night? I brought it up to Daniel, and he got all weird. Seriously, how is it not obvious that there’s a right answer here and a wrong one?”

“It’s obvious to me,” Miles said. “There’s a good choice and a bad choice.”

“How can you say that?” Shelby asked. “That kind of thinking is exactly what got us into this mess in the first place. Blind faith! Blanket acceptance of a practically obsolete dichotomy!” Her face was turning red and her voice had gotten loud enough that Francesca and Steven could probably hear. “I am so sick of all these angels and demons taking sides—blah blah blah, they’re evil! No, they’re evil! On and on—like they know what’s best for everyone in the universe.”

“So you’re suggesting Daniel side with evil?” Miles scoffed. “Bring on the end of the world?”

“I don’t give a damn what Daniel does,” Shelby said. “And frankly, I find it hard to believe that it’s all up to him, anyway.”

But it had to be. Luce couldn’t think of any other explanation.

“Look, maybe the lines aren’t as clear-cut as we’re taught they are,” Shelby continued. “I mean, who says Lucifer is so bad—”

“Um, everyone?” Miles said, looking to Luce for support.

“Wrong,” Shelby barked. “A group of very persuasive angels trying to preserve the status quo. Just because they won a big battle a long time ago, they think it gives them the right.”

Luce watched Shelby’s eyebrows bunch up as she slumped against the rigid back of her chair. Her words made Luce think of something she’d heard somewhere else. …

“The victors rewrite history,” she murmured. That was what Cam had said to her that day at Noyo Point. Wasn’t that what Shelby meant? That the losers ended up with a bad rap? Their viewpoints were both similar—only, Cam, of course, was legitimately evil. Right? And Shelby was just talking.

“Exactly.” Shelby nodded at Luce. “Wait—what?”

Just then, Francesca and Steven walked through the door. Francesca lowered herself into the black swivel chair at her desk. Steven stood behind her, his hands resting lightly on the back of the chair. He looked as breezy in his jeans and crisp white shirt as Francesca looked severe in her tailored black dress with the rigid square-cut neckline.

It brought to Luce’s mind Shelby’s talk about blurred lines, and the connotations of words like angel and demon. Of course it was superficial to make judgments based solely on Steven’s and Francesca’s clothing, but then again, it wasn’t just that. In a lot of ways, it was easy to forget which one of them was which.

“Who wants to go first?” Francesca asked, resting her interlaced manicured hands on the marble desktop. “We know everything that happened, so don’t even bother contesting those details. This is your chance to tell us why.”

Luce inhaled deeply. Though she hadn’t been prepared for Francesca to turn over the floor so soon, she didn’t want Miles or Shelby trying to cover for her. “It was my fault,” she said. “I wanted to—” She looked at Steven’s drawn expression, then down at her lap. “I saw something in the Announcers, something from my past, and I wanted to see more.”

“And so you went for a dangerous joyride—an unauthorized passage through an Announcer, imperiling two of your classmates who really should have known better—the day after another one of your classmates was kidnapped?” Francesca asked.

“That’s not fair,” Luce said. “You were the one downplaying what happened to Dawn. We thought we were just going to look into something, but—”

“But …?” Steven prodded. “But you realize now how utterly moronic that line of thinking was?”

Luce gripped her chair’s armrests, trying to fight back tears. Francesca was cross with all three of them, but it seemed that all of Steven’s fury was coming down solely on Luce. It wasn’t fair.

“Yes, okay, we snuck out of school and went to Vegas,” she said finally. “But the only reason we were in danger was because you kept me in the dark. You knew someone was after me and you probably even know why. I wouldn’t have left campus if you’d just told me.”

Steven stared Luce down with eyes like fire. “If you’re saying we honestly have to be that explicit with you, Luce, then I am disappointed.” He cupped a hand on Francesca’s shoulder. “Perhaps you were right about her, dear.”

“Wait—” Luce said.

But Francesca made a stop sign with her hand. “Need we also be explicit about the fact that the opportunity you’ve been given at Shoreline for educational and personal growth is—for you—a once-in-a-thousand-lifetimes experience?” A pink flush rose on her cheeks. “You’ve created a very awkward situation for us. The main school”—she gestured to the south portion of campus—“has its detentions and its community service programs for students who step out of line. But Steven and I don’t have a system of punishment in place. We’ve been fortunate until now to have students who did not overstep our very lenient boundaries.”

“Until now,” Steven said, looking at Luce. “But Francesca and I both agree that a swift and severe sentence must be handed down.”

Luce leaned forward in her chair. “But Shelby and Miles didn’t—”

“Exactly.” Francesca nodded. “Which is why, when you are dismissed, Shelby and Miles will report to Mr. Kramer in the main school for community service. Shoreline’s annual Harvest Fest food drive begins tomorrow, so I’m sure you’ll have your work cut out for you.”

“What a crock of—” Shelby broke off, looking up at Francesca. “I mean, Harvest Fest sounds like my kind of fun.”

“What about Luce?” Miles asked.

Steven’s arms were crossed and his complicated hazel eyes peered down at Luce over the tortoiseshell rims of his glasses. “Effectively, Luce, you’re grounded.”

Grounded? That was it?

“Class. Meals. Dorm,” Francesca recited. “Until you hear differently from us, and unless you are under our strict supervision—these are the only places you will be permitted. And no dipping into Announcers. Understand?”

Luce nodded.

Steven added: “Do not test us again. Even our patience comes to an end.”

Class-Meals-Dorm didn’t leave Luce with a lot of options on a Sunday morning. The lodge was dark, and the mess hall didn’t open for brunch until eleven. After Miles and Shelby shuffled off reluctantly toward Mr. Kramer’s community service boot camp, Luce had no choice but to go back to her room. She closed the window shade, which Shelby always liked to leave open, then sank into her desk chair.

It could have been worse. Compared to the stories of cramped cinder-block cells for solitary confinement at Sword & Cross, it almost seemed like she was getting off easy. No one was slapping a pair of wristband tracking devices on her. In fact, Steven and Francesca had basically given her the same restrictions Daniel had. The difference was, her teachers really could watch over her night and day. Daniel, on the other hand, wasn’t supposed to be there at all.

Annoyed, she powered up her computer, half expecting her access to the Internet to be suddenly restricted. But she logged on just as usual and found three emails from her parents and one from Callie. Maybe the bright side of being grounded was that she’d be forced to finally stay in better contact with her friends and family.

To: lucindap44@gmail.com

From: thegaprices@aol.com

Sent: Friday, 11/20 at 8:22 am

Subject: Turkey-dog

Check out this picture! We dressed Andrew up as a turkey for the neighborhood autumn block party. As you can tell from the bite marks on the feathers: He loved it. What do you think? Should we make him wear it again when you come for Thanksgiving?

To: lucindap44@gmail.com

From: thegaprices@aol.com

Sent: Friday, 11/20 at 9:06 am

Subject: PS

Your dad read my email and thought it might have made you feel bad. No guilt trip intended, sweetie. If you’re allowed to come home for Thanksgiving, we’d love it. If you can’t, we’ll reschedule for another time. We love you.

To: lucindap44@gmail.com

From: thegaprices@aol.com

Sent: Saturday, 11/21 at 12:12 am

Subject: no subject

Just let us know either way? xoxo, Mom

Luce held her head in her hands. She’d been wrong. All the grounding in the world wouldn’t make it easier for her to respond to her parents. They’d dressed their poodle up as a turkey, for crying out loud! It broke her heart to think of letting them down. So she procrastinated by opening Callie’s email.

To: lucindap44@gmail.com

From: callieallieoxenfree@gmail.com

Sent: Friday, 11/20 at 4:14 pm

Subject: HERE IT IS!

I believe the flight reservation below speaks for itself. Send me your address and I’ll take a cab when I get in on Thursday morning. My first time in Georgia! With my long-lost best friend! It’s going to be soooo peachy! See you in SIX DAYS!

In less than a week, Luce’s best friend would be showing up for Thanksgiving at her parents’ house, her parents would be expecting her, and Luce would be right here, grounded in her dorm room. An enormous sadness engulfed her. She would have given anything to go to them, to spend a few days with people who loved her, who would give her a break from the exhausting, confusing couple of weeks she’d spent shackled within these wooden walls.

She opened a new email and composed a hasty message:

To: cole321@swordandcross.edu

From: lucindap44@gmail.com

Sent: Sunday, 11/22 at 9:33 am

Hi, Mr. Cole.

Don’t worry, I’m not going to beg you to let me go home for Thanksgiving. I know a hopeless waste of effort when I see one. But I don’t have the heart to tell my parents. Will you let them know? Tell them I’m sorry.

Things here are fine. Sort of. I am homesick.

Luce

A thumping knock at the door made Luce jump—and click Send on the email without proofreading it first for typos or embarrassing admissions of emotion.

“Luce!” Shelby’s voice called from the other side. “Open up! My hands are full of Harvest Fest crap. I mean, bounty.” The thuds continued on the other side of the door, louder now, with the occasional whimpering grunt thrown in.

Pulling open the door, Luce found a panting Shelby, sagging under the weight of an enormous cardboard box. She had several stretched-out plastic bags threaded through her fingers. Her knees trembled as she staggered into the room.

“Can I help with something?” Luce took the feather-light wicker cornucopia that was resting on Shelby’s head like a conical hat.

“They put me on Decorations,” Shelby grumbled, heaving the box onto the ground. “I’d give anything to be on Garbage, like Miles. Do you even know what happened the last time someone made me use a hot-glue gun?”

Luce felt responsible for both Shelby’s and Miles’s punishments. She pictured Miles combing the beach with one of those trash-poking sticks she’d seen convicts using on the side of the road in Thunderbolt. “I don’t even know what Harvest Fest is.”

“Obnoxious and pretentious, that’s what,” Shelby said, digging through the box and tossing onto the floor plastic bags of feathers, tubs of glitter, and a ream of autumn-colored construction paper. “It’s basically a big banquet where all of Shoreline’s donors come out to raise money for the school. Everyone goes home feeling all charitable because they unloaded a few old cans of green beans on a food bank in Fort Bragg. You’ll see tomorrow night.”

“I doubt it,” Luce said. “Remember, I’m grounded?”

“Don’t worry, you’ll be dragged to this. Some of the biggest donors are angel advocates, so Frankie and Steven have to put on a show. Which means the Nephilim all have to be there, smiling pretty.”

Luce frowned, glancing up at her non-Nephilim reflection in the mirror. All the more reason she should stay right here.

Shelby cursed under her breath. “I left the stupid paint-by-number turkey centerpiece in Mr. Kramer’s office,” she said, standing up and giving the box of decorations a kick. “I have to go back.”

When Shelby pushed past her toward the door, Luce lost her balance and started to tumble, tripping over the box and snagging her foot on something cold and wet on the way down.

She landed face-first on the wood floor. The only thing breaking her fall was the plastic bag of feathers, which popped, shooting colorful fluff out from under her. Luce looked back to see how much damage she had done, expecting Shelby’s eyebrows to be joined in exasperation. But Shelby was standing still with one hand pointing toward the center of the room. A smog-brown Announcer was quietly floating there.

“Isn’t that a little risky?” Shelby asked. “Summoning an Announcer an hour after getting busted for summoning an Announcer? You really don’t listen at all, do you? I kind of admire that.”

“I didn’t summon it,” Luce insisted, pulling herself up and picking the feathers out of her clothes. “I tripped and it was just there, waiting or something.” She stepped closer to examine the hazy, dun-colored sheet. It was as flat as a piece of paper and not large for an Announcer, but the way it hung in the air in front of her face, almost daring her to reject it, made Luce nervous.

It didn’t seem to need her to guide it into shape at all. It hovered, barely moving, looking like it could have floated there all day.

“Wait a minute,” Luce murmured. “This came in with the other one the other day. Don’t you remember?” This was the strange brown shadow that had flown in tandem with the darker shadow that took them to Vegas. They’d both come in through the window Friday afternoon; then this one had disappeared. Luce had forgotten about it until now.

“Well,” Shelby said, leaning against the ladder of the bunk bed. “Are you going to glimpse it or what?”

The Announcer was the color of a smoky room, noxious brown and mistlike to the touch. Luce reached for it, running her fingers along its clammy limits. She felt its cloudy breath brush back her hair. The air around this Announcer was humid, even briny. A far-away croon of seagulls echoed from within.

She shouldn’t glimpse it. Wouldn’t glimpse it.

But there was the Announcer, shifting from a smoky brown mesh into something clear and discernible, independently of Luce. There was the message cast by its shadow coming to life.

It was an aerial view of an island. At first, they were high above, so that all Luce could see was a small swell of steep black rock with a fringe of tapered pine trees ringing its base. Then, slowly, the Announcer zoomed in, like a bird swooping down to roost in the treetops, its focus a small, deserted beach.

The water was murky from the claylike silver sand. A scattering of boulders reckoned with the smooth intentions of the tide. And standing inconspicuously between two of the tallest rocks—

Daniel was staring at the sea. The tree branch in his hand was covered in blood.

Luce gasped as she leaned closer and saw what Daniel was looking at. Not the sea, but a bloody mess of a man. A dead man, lying stiff on the sand. Each time the waves reached the body, they receded stained a deep, dark red. But Luce couldn’t see the wound that had killed the man. Someone else, in a long black trench coat, was crouched over the body, tying it up with thick braided rope.

Her heart thudding, Luce looked again at Daniel. His expression was even, but his shoulders were twitching.

“Hurry up. You’re wasting time. The tide’s going out now, anyway.”

His voice was so cold, it made Luce shiver.

A second later, the scene in the Announcer disappeared. Luce held her breath until it dropped to the ground in a heap. Then, across the room, the window shade Luce had pulled down earlier rattled open. Luce and Shelby shot each other an anxious look, then watched as a gust of wind caught the Announcer and lofted it up and out the window.

Luce clutched Shelby’s wrist. “You notice everything. Who else was there with Daniel? Who was crouched over that”—she shivered again—“guy?”

“Gee, I don’t know, Luce. I was kind of distracted by the dead body. Not to mention the bloody tree your boyfriend was holding.” Shelby’s attempt to be sarcastic was diminished by how terrified she sounded. “So he killed him?” she asked Luce. “Daniel killed whoever that was?”

“I don’t know.” Luce winced. “Don’t say it like that. Maybe there’s a logical explanation—”

“What do you think he was saying at the end?” Shelby asked. “I saw his lips move but I couldn’t make it out. I hate that about Announcers.”

Hurry up. You’re wasting time. The tide’s going out now, anyway.

Shelby hadn’t heard that? How callous and unremorseful Daniel sounded?

Then Luce remembered: It wasn’t that long ago that she couldn’t hear the Announcers either. Before, their noises used to be just that—noises: rustlings and thick, wet whooshes through treetops. It was Steven who’d told her how to tune in the voices inside. In a way, Luce almost wished he hadn’t.

There had to be more to this message. “I have to glimpse it again,” Luce said, stepping toward the open window. Shelby tugged her back.

“Oh, no you don’t. That Announcer could be anywhere by now, and you’re under dorm arrest, remember?” Shelby pushed Luce down in her desk chair. “You’re going to stay right here while I go down to Kramer’s office to retrieve my turkey. We’re both going to forget this ever happened. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good. I’ll be back in five minutes, so don’t disappear on me.”

But as soon as the door closed, Luce was out the window, climbing to the flat part of the ledge where she and Daniel had sat the night before. Putting what she’d just seen out of her mind was impossible. She had to summon that shadow again. Even if it got her in more trouble. Even if she saw something she didn’t like.

The late morning had turned gusty, and Luce had to crouch down and hold on to the slanting wooden shingles to keep her balance. Her hands were cold. Her heart felt numb. She closed her eyes. Every time she tried to summon an Announcer, she remembered how little training she’d had. She’d always just been lucky—if watching your boyfriend look down at someone he’d just murdered could be considered luck.

A damp brushing crept along her arms. Was it the brown shadow, the ugly thing that showed her an even uglier thing? Her eyes shot open.

It was. Creeping up her shoulder like a snake. She yanked it off and held it in front of her, trying to spin it into a ball with her hands. The Announcer rejected her touch, floating backward, out of her reach just past the roof’s edge.

She looked down two stories to the ground below. A trail of students were leaving the dorm to head to the mess hall for brunch, a stream of color moving along a sheet of bright green grass. Luce teetered. Vertigo hit, and she felt herself falling forward.

But then the shadow rushed like a football player, knocking her back against the slope of the roof. There she stayed, stuck against the shingles, panting as the Announcer yawned open again.

The smoky veil diffused into light, and Luce was back with Daniel and his bloody branch. Back to the caw of seagulls circling overhead and the stench of rotting surf along the shore, the sight of icy waves crashing on the beach. And back to the two figures huddled on the ground. The dead one was all tied up. The living one stood to face Daniel.

Cam.

No. It had to be a mistake. They hated one another. Had just waged a huge battle against one another. She could accept that Daniel did dark things to protect her from the people who were after her. But what foul thing would ever make him seek out Cam? Work alongside Cam—who took pleasure in killing?

They were in a heated discussion of some sort, but Luce couldn’t make out the words. She couldn’t hear anything over the clock in the middle of the terrace, which had just struck eleven. She strained her ears, waiting for the gongs to cease.

“Let me take her to Shoreline,” she finally heard Daniel plead.

This must have been right before she arrived in California. But why should Daniel have to ask Cam’s permission? Unless—

“Fine,” Cam said evenly. “Take her as far as the school and then find me. Don’t screw up; I’ll be watching.”

“And then?” Daniel sounded nervous.

Cam ran his eyes over Daniel’s face. “You and I have work to do.”

“No!” Luce screamed, slashing at the shadow with her fingers in anger.

But as soon as she felt her hands break through the cold, slippery surface, she regretted it. It broke into spent fragments, settling into an ashy pile at her side. Now she couldn’t see anymore. She tried to gather the fragments up the way she’d seen Miles do, but they were quivering and unresponsive.

She grabbed a fistful of the worthless pieces, sobbing into them.

Steven had said that sometimes the Announcers distorted what was real. Like the shadows cast on the cave wall. But that there was always some truth to them too. Luce could feel the truth in the cold, soggy pieces, even as she wrung them out, trying to squeeze out all her agony.

Daniel and Cam weren’t enemies. They were partners.