Fallen 2. Torment(12)

come in through the window in the dark without knocking over any of those plants. And

who were the Nephilim kids?

Luce had sudden vivid flashbacks to the mental jungle gym Arriane had taken her

through when they'd first met. Her Shoreline roommate's tough exterior was a lot like

Arriane's, and Luce remembered a similar how-will-I-ever-be-friends-with-you feeling

her first day at Sword & Cross.

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But though Arriane had seemed intimidating and even a little dangerous, there

had been something charmingly off-kilter about her from the start. Luce's new roommate,

on the other hand, just seemed annoying.

Shelby popped off the bed and lumbered into the bathroom to brush her teeth.

After digging through her duffel bag to find her toothbrush, Luce followed her in and

gestured sheepishly at the toothpaste.

"I forgot to pack mine."

"No doubt the dazzle of your celebrity blinded you to the small necessities of

life," Shelby replied, but she picked up the tube and extended it toward Luce.

They brushed in silence for about ten seconds until Luce couldn't take it anymore.

She spat out a mouthful of froth. "Shelby?"

With her head in the belly of the porcelain sink, Shelby spat and said, "What?"

Instead of asking any of the questions that had been running through her head a

minute before, Luce surprised herself and asked, "What was I saying in my sleep?"

This morning was the first in at least a month of vivid, complicated, Daniel-ridden

dreams on which Luce had woken up unable to remember a single thing from her sleep.

Nothing. Not one brush of an angel wing. Not one kiss of his lips.

She stared at Shelby's gruff face in the mirror. Luce needed the girl to help jog her

memory. She must have been dreaming about Daniel. If she hadn't been ... what could it

mean?

"Beats me," Shelby said finally. "You were all muffled and incoherent. Next time,

try enunciating." She left the bathroom and slipped on a pair of orange flip-flops. "It's

breakfast time. You coming or what?"

Luce scurried out of the bathroom. "What do I wear?" She was still in her

pajamas. Francesca hadn't said anything last night about a dress code. But then, she'd also

failed to mention the roommate situation.

Shelby shrugged. "What am I, the fashion police? Whatever takes the least

amount of time. I'm hungry."

Luce hustled into a pair of skinny jeans and a black wraparound sweater. She

would have liked to spend a few more minutes on her first-day-of-school look, but she

just grabbed her backpack and followed Shelby out the door.

The dormitory hallway was different in the daylight. Everywhere she looked were

bright, oversized windows with ocean views, or built-in bookshelves crammed full of

thick, colorful hardcover books. The floors, the walls, the recessed ceilings and steep,

curving staircases were all made from the same maple wood used to build the furniture

inside Luce's room. It should have given the whole place a warm log cabin feel, except

that the school's layout was as intricate and bizarre as Sword & Cross's dorm had been

boring and straightforward. Every few steps, the hallway seemed to split off into small

tributary hallways, with spiral staircases leading further into the dimly lit maze.

Two flights of stairs and what looked like one secret door later, Luce and Shelby

stepped through a set of double-paned French windows and into the daylight. The sun

was incredibly bright, but the air was cool enough that Luce was glad she'd worn a

sweater. It smelled like the ocean, but not really like home. Less briny, more chalky than

the East Coast shore.

"Breakfast is served on the terrace." Shelby gestured at a broad green expanse of

land. This lawn was bordered on three sides by thick blue hydrangea bushes, and on the

27

fourth by the steep, straight drop into the sea. It was hard for Luce to believe how very

beautiful the school's setting was. She couldn't imagine being able to stay inside long

enough to make it through a class.

As they approached the terrace, Luce saw another building, a long, rectangular

structure with wooden shingles and cheery yellow-trimmed windowpanes. A large handcarved sign hung over the entrance: "MESS HALL," it read in quotes, like it was trying

to be ironic. It was certainly the nicest mess Luce had ever seen.

The terrace was filled with whitewashed iron lawn furniture and about a hundred

of the most laid-back-looking students Luce had ever seen. Most of them had their shoes

kicked off, their feet propped up on the tables as they dined on elaborate breakfast dishes.

Eggs Benedict, fruit-topped Belgian waffles, wedges of rich-looking, flaky spinachflecked quiche. Kids were reading the paper, gabbing on cell phones, playing croquet on