Steven are big on teaching us about the present and the future, but not really the past.
Something to do with empowering us."
"What do you mean?"
"Ask me anything about the great battle that's coming, and the role a strapping
young Nephilim like myself might play in it. But the early stuff you were talking about?
None of the lessons here ever really go into that. Speaking of which"--Miles pointed at
the terrace, which was emptying out--"we should go. You want to do this again
sometime?"
"Definitely." And Luce meant it; she liked Miles. He was much easier to talk to
than anyone else she'd met so far. He was friendly and had the kind of sense of humor
that put Luce instantly at ease. But she was distracted by something he'd said. The battle
that was coming. Daniel and Cam's battle. Or a battle with Miss Sophia's group of
Elders? If even the Nephilim were preparing for it, where did that leave Luce?
Steven and Francesca had a way of dressing in complementary colors that made
them look better outfitted for a photo shoot than a lecture. On Luce's second day at
Shoreline, Francesca was wearing three-inch golden gladiator heels and a mod pumpkincolored A-line dress. It had a loose bow around her neck and matched, almost exactly, the
orange tie that Steven wore with his ivory oxford shirt and navy blazer.
They were stunning to look at, and Luce was drawn to them, but not exactly in the
couples-crush way Dawn had predicted the day before. Watching her teachers from her
desk between Miles and Jasmine, Luce felt drawn to Francesca and Steven for reasons
closer to her heart: They reminded her of her relationship with Daniel.
Though she'd never seen them actually touch, when they stood close together-which was almost always--the magnetism between them practically warped the walls. Of
course that had something to do with their powers as fallen angels, but it must also have
had to do with the unique way they connected. Luce couldn't help resenting them. They
were constant reminders of what she couldn't have right now.
Most of the students had taken their seats. Dawn and Jasmine were going on to
Luce about joining the steering committee so she could help them plan all these amazing
social events. Luce had never been a big extracurricular girl. But these girls had been so
nice to her, and Jasmine's face looked so bright when she talked about a yacht trip they
were planning later that week that Luce decided to give the committee a chance. She was
adding her name to the roster when Steven stepped forward, tossed his blazer on the table
behind him, and wordlessly spread his arms out at his sides.
As if summoned, a shard of deep black shadow seemed to part from the shadows
of one of the redwoods right outside the window. It peeled itself off the grass, then took
substance and whipped into the room through the open window. It was quick, and where
40
it went the day blackened and the room fell into darkness.
Luce gasped out of habit, but she wasn't the only one. In fact, most of the students
inched back nervously in their desks as Steven begin to twirl the shadow. He just reached
his hands in and began wrenching faster and faster, seeming to wrestle with something.
Soon the shadow was spinning around in front of him so quickly it went blurry, like the
spokes of a turning wheel. A thick gust of mildewy wind was emitted from its core,
blowing Luce's hair back from her face.
Steven manipulated the shadow, arms straining, from a messy, amorphous shape
into a tight, black sphere, no bigger than a grapefruit.
"Class," he said, coolly bouncing the levitating ball of blackness a few inches
above his fingers, "meet the subject of today's lesson."
Francesca stepped forward and transferred the shadow to her hands. In her heels,
she was nearly as tall as Steven. And, Luce imagined, she was just as skilled at dealing
with the shadows.
"You've all seen the Announcers at some point," she said, walking slowly along
the half-moon of student desks so they could each get a better look. "And some of you,"
she said, eyeing Luce, "even have some experience working with them. But do you really
know what they are? Do you know what they can do?"
Gossips, Luce thought, remembering what Daniel had told her the night of the
battle. She was still too new to Shoreline to feel comfortable calling out the answer, but
none of the other students seemed to know. Slowly she raised her hand.
Francesca cocked her head. "Luce."
"They carry messages," she said, growing surer as she spoke, thinking back to
Daniel's assurance. "But they're harmless."
"Messengers, yes. But harmless?" Francesca glanced at Steven. Her tone betrayed
nothing about whether Luce was right or wrong, which made Luce feel embarrassed.