Luce didn't think much could alarm her at this point. A few toppled statues certainly weren't going to set her off. They picked their way through the forest, brittle fall leaves crunching beneath their feet. Luce thought about how, the night before, these trees had been consumed by the thundering locust-shadow cloud. There was no trace of them now.
Soon, Daniel gestured to a badly bent segment of the cemetery's wrought iron fence.
"We can enter there without being seen. We'll have to be quick about it."
Stepping out from the shelter of the trees, Luce slowly understood what Daniel meant about the cemetery looking different. They stood at the rim, not far from Penn's father's grave at the east corner, but it was impossible to see more than a few feet in front of them. The air above the grounds was so murky it might not even have qualified as air. It was thick and gray and gritty, and Luce had to fan her hands through it just to see in front of her face.
She rubbed her fingers together. "Is this—"
"Dust," Daniel said, taking her hand as they walked. He was able to see through it, didn't have to choke and cough it out of his lungs as Luce did. "In war, angels don't die. But their battles leave this thick carpet of dust in their wake."
"What happens to it?"
"Not much, besides the fact that it baffles mortals. It will settle eventually, and then they'll come out to study it by the carload. There's a crazy scientist in Pasadena who thinks it comes from UFOs."
Luce thought with a shudder about the unidentifiable flying black cloud of insectlike objects. That scientist might not be too far off.
"Penn's father was buried up here," she said, pointing as they neared his corner of the graveyard. As eerie as the dust was, she was relieved that the graves, statues, and trees within the cemetery all seemed to have been left standing. She got down on her knees and wiped away the pelt of dust from the grave she thought belonged to Penn's father. Her shaking fingers brushed clean the letters that nearly made her weep.
STANFORD LOCKWOOD WORLD'S BEST FATHER
The space beside Mr. Lockwood's grave was bare. Luce stood up and stamped her foot woefully on the ground, hating that her friend would join him there. Hating that she couldn't even be present to give Penn a proper memorial.
People always talked about Heaven when someone died, how they were certain the deceased were there. Luce never felt like she'd known the rules, and now felt even less qualified to speak about what might or might not be.
She turned to Daniel, tears in her eyes. His face fell at the sight of her sorrow. "I'll take care of her, Luce," he said. "I know it's not the way you wanted, but we'll do the best we can."
The tears came harder. Luce was sniffling and sobbing and wanting Penn back so badly she thought she might collapse. "I can't leave her, Daniel. How can I?"
Daniel gently wiped her tears with the back of his hand. "What happened to Penn is terrible. A huge mistake. But when you walk away today, you won't be leaving her." He laid a hand over Luce's heart. "She's with you."
"Still, I can't—"
"You can, Luce." His voice was firm. "Believe me. You have no idea how many strong and impossible things you are capable of." He looked away from her, out at the trees. "If there's any good left in this world, you'll know soon."
A single blip of a police car's siren made both of them jump. A car door slammed, and not far from where they stood, they heard the crunch of boots on gravel. "What in the hell—Ronnie, call the central office. Tell the sheriff to get down here."
"Let's go," Daniel said, reaching for her hand. She slid it into his, giving the crest of Mr. Lockwood's headstone a somber pat, then started moving with Daniel back through the graves near the eastern side of the cemetery. They reached the bent part of the ornate wrought iron fence, then quickly ducked back into the grove of oak trees.
A cold wall of air slammed into Luce as they walked. In the branches ahead of them, she saw three small but seething shadows hanging upside down like bats.
"Hurry," Daniel commanded. As they passed, the shadows reared back, hissing, somehow knowing not to mess with Luce when Daniel was at her side.
"Now where?" Luce asked at the edge of the oak grove.
"Close your eyes," he said.
She did. Daniel's arms circled her waist from behind and she felt his strong chest press into her shoulders. He was lifting her off the ground. A foot maybe, then higher, until the soft leaves of the treetops skimmed her shoulders, tickling her neck as Daniel pushed through them. Higher still, until she could feel the two of them burst free of the woods and into the bright morning sun. She was tempted to open her eyes—yet she sensed intuitively that it would be too much. She wasn't sure that she was ready. And besides, the feeling of the clear air on her face and the rushing wind in her hair was enough. More than enough. Celestial. Like the feeling she'd had when she'd been rescued from the library, like riding a wave on the ocean. She knew for certain now that Daniel had been behind that, too.