Fallen 2. Torment(55)

The mother Luce had gone to see with Shelby! But younger, much younger-maybe by as many as fifty years, glasses perched at the end of her nose. She smiled, as if

pleased to find her daughter sleeping, then pulled the door shut.

A moment later, a pair of fingertips gripped the bottom of the windowpane.

Luce's eyes widened as the former Luce sat up in bed. Outside the window, the fingertips

strained; then a pair of hands became visible, then two strong arms, lit up blue in the

moonlight. Then Daniel's glowing face as he came in through the window.

Luce's heart was racing. She wanted to dive into the Announcer, as she'd wanted

to yesterday with Shelby. But then Steven clicked his fingers and the whole thing

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snapped up like a venetian blind rolling to the top of a window frame. Then it broke apart

and showered down.

The shadow lay in soft fragments on the desk. Luce reached for one, but it

disintegrated in her hands.

Steven sat down behind his desk, probing Luce with his eyes as if to see what the

glimpse had done to her. It suddenly felt very private, what she'd just witnessed in the

Announcer; she didn't know whether she wanted Steven to know how powerfully it had

rocked her. After all, he was technically on the other side. In the past few days she'd seen

more and more of the demon in him. Not just the fiery temper, welling up until he

literally steamed--but the dark-glorious golden wings, too. Steven was magnetic and

charming, just like Cam--and, she reminded herself, just like Cam, a demon.

"Why are you helping me with this?"

"Because I don't want you to get hurt," Steven barely whispered.

"Did that really happen?"

Steven looked away. "It's a representation of something. And who knows how

distorted it is. It's a shadow of a past event, not reality. There is always some truth to the

Announcer, but it's never the simple truth. That's what makes Announcers so problematic,

and so dangerous to those without proper training." He glanced at his watch. From below

them came the sound of the door opening and closing on the landing. Steven stiffened

when he heard a quick set of high heels clicking up the stairs.

Francesca.

Luce tried to read Steven's face. He handed her The Republic, which she slipped

into her backpack. Just before Francesca's beautiful face appeared in the doorway, Steven

said to Luce, "The next time you and Shelby choose not to complete one of your

assignments, I will ask you to write a five-page research paper with citations. This time, I

let you off with a warning."

"I understand." Luce caught Francesca's eye in the doorway.

She smiled at Luce--though whether it was an off-you-go dismissal smile or a

don't-think-you're-fooling-me-kid smile, it was impossible to tell. Trembling a little as

she stood and flung her bag over her shoulder, Luce made for the door, calling back to

Steven, "Thank you."

Shelby had the fire going in the hearth when Luce got back to her dorm room.

The hot pot was plugged in next to the Buddha night-light and the whole room smelled

like tomatoes.

"We were out of mac and cheese, but I made you some soup." Shelby ladled out a

piping-hot bowlful, cracked some fresh black pepper on top, and brought it over to Luce,

who'd collapsed on top of her bed. "Was it terrible?"

Luce watched the steam rise from her bowl and tried to figure out what to say.

Bizarre, yes. Confusing. A little scary. Potentially ... empowering.

But it hadn't been terrible, no.

"It was okay." Steven seemed to trust her, at least to the extent that he was going

to allow her to continue summoning the Announcers. And the other students seemed to

trust him, even admire him. No one else acted concerned about his motives or his

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allegiances. But with Luce he was so cryptic, so difficult to read.

Luce had trusted the wrong people before. A carelesspursuit at best. At worst, it's

a good way to get yourself killed. That was what Miss Sophia had said about trust the

night she'd tried to murder Luce.

It was Daniel who'd advised Luce to trust her instincts. But her own feelings

seemed the most unreliable. She wondered whether Daniel had already known about

Shoreline when he'd told her that, whether his advice was a way to prepare her for this

long separation, when she would become less and less certain about everything in her

life. Her family. Her past. Her future.

She looked up from the bowl at Shelby. "Thanks for the soup."

"Don't let Steven thwart your plans," Shelby huffed. "We should totally keep

working on the Announcers. I am just so sick of these angels and demons and their power

trips. 'Oooh, we know better than you because we're full-on angels and you're just the

bastard child of some angel who got his rocks off.' "