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.
184
"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.
185
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!"