Daniel's pursed lips turned into a smile and he gave the top of her head a kiss. She
stood still, wanting more, not even realizing that Daniel had stopped in front of a car.
And not just any car.
A black Alfa Romeo.
Luce's jaw dropped when Daniel unlocked the passenger door.
"Th-this ...," she stammered. "This is ... did you know this is my absolute dream
car?"
"More than that," Daniel laughed. "This used to be your car."
He laughed when she practically jumped at his words. She was still getting used
to the reincarnation part of their story. It was so unfair. A whole car she had no memory
of. Whole lives she couldn't recall. She was desperate to know about them, almost like
her former selves were siblings she'd been separated from at birth. She rested her hand on
the windshield, searching for a wisp of something, for deja vu.
Nothing.
"It was a sweet sixteen present from your folks a couple of lifetimes ago." Daniel
looked sideways, like he was trying to decide how much to say. Like he knew she was
hungry for the details but might not be able to swallow too many at once. "I just bought it
off this guy in Reno. He bought it after you, uh ... Well, after you ..."
Spontaneously combusted, Luce thought, filling in the bitter truth that Daniel
wouldn't speak. That was the one thing about her past lives: The ending rarely changed.
Except, it seemed, this time it could. This time they could hold hands, kiss, and ...
she didn't know what else they could do. But she was dying to find out. She caught
herself. They had to be careful. Seventeen years was not enough, and in this lifetime,
Luce was adamant about sticking around to see what it was like to really be with Daniel.
He cleared his throat and patted the gleaming black hood. "Still drives like a
champ. The only problem is ..." He looked at the convertible's tiny trunk, then at Luce's
duffel bag, then back at the trunk.
Yes, Luce had a terrible habit of overpacking, she'd be the first to admit. But for
once, this wasn't her fault. Arriane and Gabbe had packed her things from her dorm room
at Sword & Cross, every black and nonblack piece of clothing she'd never had a chance
to wear. She'd been too busy saying goodbye to Daniel, and to Penn, to pack. She winced,
feeling guilty for being out here in California with Daniel, so far from where she'd left
her friend buried. It didn't seem fair. Mr. Cole had kept assuring her that Miss Sophia
would be dealt with for what she'd done to Penn, but when Luce had pressed him about
what exactly that meant, he'd tugged at his mustache and clammed up.
Daniel glanced suspiciously around the parking lot. He popped the trunk, Luce's
massive duffel bag in hand. It was an impossible fit, but then a soft sucking sound came
from the back of the car and Luce's bag began to shrink. A moment later, Daniel snapped
the trunk shut.
Luce blinked. "Do that again!"
Daniel didn't laugh. He seemed nervous. He slid into the driver's seat and started
the car without a word. It was a strange, new thing for Luce: seeing his face look so
17
serene on the surface, but knowing him well enough to sense something deeper
underneath.
"What's wrong?"
"Mr. Cole told you about keeping a low profile, didn't he?"
She nodded.
Daniel backed out of the spot, then wheeled around to the parking lot's exit,
slipping a credit card into the machine on their way out. "That was stupid. I should have
thought--"
"What's the big deal?" Luce tucked her dark hair behind her ears as the car began
to pick up speed. "You think you're going to attract Cam's attention by stuffing a bag into
a trunk?"
Daniel got a faraway look in his eyes and shook his head. "Not Cam. No." A
moment later, he squeezed her knee. "Forget I said anything. I just--We both just have to
be cautious."
Luce heard him but was too overwhelmed to listen too closely. She loved
watching Daniel expertly work the gearshift as they took the ramp onto the freeway and
zipped through traffic; loved feeling the wind whipping through the car as they sped
toward the towering San Francisco skyline; loved--most of all--just being with Daniel.
In San Francisco proper, the road turned much hillier. Every time they crested one
peak and started careening down another, Luce caught a different glimpse of the city. It
looked old and new at the same time: Mirror-windowed skyscrapers backed right up
against restaurants and bars that looked a century old. Tiny cars lined the streets, parked
at gravity-defying angles. Dogs and strollers everywhere. The sparkle of blue water all
around the city's edge. And the first candy-apple-red glimpse of the Golden Gate Bridge
in the distance.