the whole massive Announcer tumble down.
Straight into Luce's arms.
Luce screamed--but luckily, Shelby clapped a hand over her mouth.
"Thank you," Luce said, her words muffled against Shelby's fingers.
The girls were still huddled three steps down from the deck, in plain view of
anyone who might cross over to the shady side. Luce couldn't straighten her knees under
the weight of the shadow. It was the heaviest one she'd ever touched, and the coldest on
her skin. It wasn't black like most of the others, but a sickly greenish gray. Parts of it
were still twitching, lighting up like bolts of distant lightning.
"I don't have a good feeling about this," Shelby said.
"Come on," Luce whispered. "I summoned it. Now it's your turn to do the
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glimpsing."
"My turn? Who said anything about me having a turn? You're the one who
dragged me down here." Shelby waved her hands like the last thing on earth she wanted
to do was touch the beast in Luce's arms. "I know I said I'd help you track down your
relatives, but whatever kind of relative you've got in here ... I don't think either of us
wants to meet."
"Shelby, please," Luce begged, groaning from the weight, the chill, and the
general nastiness of the shadow. "I'm not a Nephilim. If you don't help me, I can't do
this."
"What exactly are you trying to do?" A voice behind them from the top of the
stairs. Steven had his hands clamped down on the banister and was glaring at the girls. He
seemed larger than he did in class, towering over them, as if he had doubled in size. His
deep brown eyes looked stormy, but Luce could feel the heat coming off them, and she
was scared. Even the Announcer in her arms trembled and edged away.
Both girls were so startled they screamed.
Jarred by the sound, the shadow bolted from Luce's arms. It moved so fast she had
no chance to stop it, and it left nothing behind but a freezing, foul-smelling wake.
In the distance, a bell rang. Luce could sense all the other kids trooping off toward
the mess hall for lunch. On his way out, Miles stuck his head over the railing and peered
down at Luce, but he took one look at Steven's red-hot expression, widened his eyes, and
moved along.
"Luce," Steven said, more politely than she expected. "Would you mind seeing
me after school?"
When he lifted his hands off the railing, the wood underneath them was scorched
black.
Steven opened the door before Luce even knocked. His gray shirt was a bit
wrinkled and his black knit tie was loosened at the neck. But he had regained the
appearance of serenity, which Luce was beginning to realize took effort for a demon. He
wiped his glasses on a monogrammed handkerchief and stepped aside.
"Please come in."
The office wasn't big, just wide enough for a large black desk, just long enough
for three tall black bookshelves, each one crammed with hundreds of well-worn books.
But it was comfortable and even welcoming--not like what Luce had imagined a demon's
office would be like. There was a Persian carpet in the center of the room, a wide window
looking east at the redwoods. Now, at dusk, the forest had an ethereal, almost lavender
hue.
Steven sat down in one of two maroon desk chairs and motioned for Luce to take
the other. She surveyed the framed pieces of art, jigsawed onto every spare inch of the
wall. Most of them were portraits in varying degrees of detail. Luce recognized a few
sketches of Steven himself and several flattering depictions of Francesca.
Luce took a deep breath, wondering how to begin. "I'm sorry I summoned that
Announcer today; I--"
"Have you told anyone about what happened with Dawn in the water?"
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"No. You told me not to."
"You haven't told Shelby? Miles?"
"I haven't told anyone."
He considered this for a moment. "Why did you call the Announcers the shadows
the other day when we were talking on the boat?"
"It just slipped out. When I was growing up, they always were part of the
shadows. They'd detach and come to me. So that's what I called them, before I knew what
they were." Luce shrugged. "Stupid, really."
"It's not stupid." Steven stood up and went to the farthest bookshelf. He pulled
down a thick book with a dusty red cover and brought it back to the desk. Plato: The
Republic. Steven opened it to the exact page he'd been looking for, turning the book right
side up in front of Luce.
It was an illustration of a group of men inside a cave, shackled beside one
another, facing a wall. A fire blazed behind them. They were pointing at the shadows cast
on the wall by a second group of men who walked behind them. Below the image, a
caption read: The Allegory of the Cave.