Fallen 2. Torment(41)

"Steven also thinks he doesn't need to call a plumber when the toilet overflows."

Francesca smiled warmly, but there was an undercurrent in her voice that made Luce feel

embarrassed, like she'd spoken too boldly. "You want to bear witness to more gruesome

scenes like the one we examined in class the other day?"

"No, that's not what I meant--"

"There's a reason why certain things are best left in the hands of experts."

Francesca looked at Steven. "I'm afraid that, like a broken toilet, the Announcers as a

window on the past are just one of those things."

"Of course we understand why you in particular might be interested in them,"

Steven said, drawing Luce's full attention.

So Steven got it. Her past lives.

"But you must understand," Francesca added, "that glimpsing shadows is highly

risky without the proper training. If you are interested, there are universities, rigorous

academic programs, even, that I would be happy to talk to you about down the road. But

for now, Luce, you must forgive our mistake for showing it prematurely to a high school

class, and then you must leave it at that."

Luce felt strange and exposed. Both of them were watching her.

Leaning over the railing a little, she could see some of her friends on the ship's

main deck below. Miles had a pair of binoculars pressed to his eyes and was trying to

point something out to Shelby, who ignored him behind her giant Ray-Bans. At the stern,

Dawn and Jasmine were seated on a ledge with Amy Branshaw. They were bent over a

manila folder, making hurried notes.

"I should go help out with the welcome address," Luce said, backing away from

Francesca and Steven. She could feel their eyes on her all the way down the winding

staircase. Luce reached the main deck, ducked under a row of furled sails, and squeezed

past a group of non-Nephilim students standing in a bored circle around Mr. Kramer, the

beanpole-thin biology teacher, who was lecturing on something like the fragile ecosystem

right below their feet.

"There you are!" Jasmine pulled Luce into their powwow. "A plan is finally

taking shape."

"Cool. How can I help?"

"At twelve o'clock, we're going to ring that bell." Dawn pointed at a huge brass

bell hung from a white beam by a pulley near the ship's bow. "Then I'm going to

welcome everyone, Amy's going to speak about how this trip came to be, and Jas is going

to talk about this semester's upcoming social events. All we need is someone to say

something environmentally friendly." All three girls looked at Luce.

"Is this a hybrid yacht or something?" Luce asked.

Amy shrugged and shook her head.

Dawn's face lit up with an idea. "You could say something about how being out

here is making us all greener because he who lives closer to nature acts closer to nature?"

71

"Are you any good at writing poems?" Jasmine asked. "You could try to make it,

you know, fun?"

Guilty of totally bailing on any real responsibilities, Luce felt the need to be

amenable. "Environmental poetry," she said, thinking the only thing she was worse at

than poetry and marine biology was public speaking. "Sure. I can do that."

"Okay, phew!" Dawn wiped her forehead. "Then here's my vision." She hopped

up on the ledge where she'd been sitting and started making a list of things on her fingers.

Luce knew she should be paying attention to Dawn's requests ("Wouldn't it be

l'awesome if we lined up shortest to tallest?"), especially since, in a very short time, she

was slated to say something intelligent--and rhyming--about the environment in front of a

hundred of her classmates. But her mind was still clouded by that bizarre conversation

with Francesca and Steven.

Leave the Announcers to the experts. If Steven was right, and there really was an

Announcer out there for every moment in history--well, that was like telling her to leave

the entire past to the experts. Luce wasn't trying to claim expertise on Sodom and

Gomorrah; it was just her own past--hers and Daniel's--she was interested in. And if

anyone was going to be an expert on that, Luce figured it should be her.

But Steven had said it himself: There were a trillion shadows out there. It would

be close to impossible to even locate the ones that had anything to do with her and

Daniel, let alone know what to do with them if she ever found the right ones.

She glanced up at the second-story deck. She could see only the tops of

Francesca's and Steven's heads. If Luce let her imagination run freely, she could make up

a sharp conversation between them. About Luce. And about the Announcers. Probably

agreeing not to bring them up with her ever again.