grab some pancakes before class; it had been transformed into a full-fledged outdoor
banquet hall.
Shelby was still grumbling as she moved from table to table, adjusting place cards
and relighting candles. She and the rest of the Decorations Committee had done a
beautiful job: Red-and-orange silk leaves had been strewn across the long white
tablecloths, fresh-baked dinner rolls were arranged inside gold-painted cornucopias, heat
lamps took the edge off the brisk ocean breeze. Even the paint-by-number turkey
centerpieces looked stylish.
All the students, the faculty, and about fifty of the school's biggest donors had
turned out in their finest for the dinner. Dawn and her parents had driven up for the night.
Though Luce hadn't gotten a chance to talk to Dawn yet, she looked recovered, even
happy, and had waved to Luce cheerfully from her seat next to Jasmine.
Most of the twenty or so Nephilim were seated together at two adjacent circular
tables, with the exception of Roland, who was sitting in a faraway corner with a
mysterious date. Then the mysterious date stood up, lifted her broad rosebud-shaped hat,
and gave Luce a sneaky little wave.
Arriane.
Despite herself, Luce smiled--but a second later, she felt close to tears. Watching
those two snickering together reminded Luce of the sickeningly sinister scene she had
glimpsed in the Announcer the day before. Like Cam and Daniel, Arriane and Roland
were supposed to be on opposite sides, but everybody knew they were a team.
Still, that felt different somehow.
Harvest Fest was supposed to be a last pre-Thanksgiving hurrah before classes
were dismissed. Then everyone else would have another Thanksgiving, a real
Thanksgiving, with their families. For Luce, it was the only Thanksgiving she was going
to get. Mr. Cole hadn't written her back. After yesterday's grounding and then the rooftop
revelation, she was having a hard time feeling thankful for much of anything.
"You're hardly eating," Francesca said, spooning a great dollop of shiny mashed
155
potatoes onto Luce's plate. Luce was growing more attuned to the thrilling glow that fell
over everything when Francesca was talking to her. Francesca possessed an otherworldly
charisma, simply by virtue of being an angel.
She beamed at Luce like there'd been no meeting in her office yesterday, like
Luce wasn't under lock and key.
Luce had been given the seat of honor at the expansive faculty head table, next to
Francesca. All the donors came by in a stream to shake hands with the faculty. The three
other students at the head table--Lilith, Beaker Brady, and a Korean girl with a dark bob
Luce didn't know--had applied for their seats in an essay contest. All Luce had had to do
was piss off her teachers enough that they were afraid to let her out of their sight.
The meal was finally wrapping up when Steven leaned forward in his chair. Like
Francesca, he displayed none of yesterday's venom. "Make sure Luce introduces herself
to Dr. Buchanan."
Francesca popped the last bite of a buttered corn bread muffin into her mouth.
"Buchanan's one of the biggest supporters of the school," she told Luce. "You might have
heard of his Devils Abroad program?"
Luce shrugged as the waiters reappeared to clear the plates.
"His ex-wife had angel lineage, but after the divorce he shifted some of his
alliances. Still"--Francesca glanced at Steven--"a very good person to know. Oh, hello,
Ms. Fisher! How nice of you to come."
"Yes, hello." An elderly woman with an affected British accent, a bulky mink
coat, and more diamonds around her neck than Luce had ever seen before extended a
white-gloved hand to Steven, who stood up to greet her. Francesca rose too, leaning
forward to greet the woman with a kiss on either cheek. "Where's my Miles?" the woman
asked.
Luce jumped up. "Oh, you must be Miles's ... grandmother?"
"Good heavens, no." The woman recoiled. "Don't have children, never married,
boo-hoo-hoo. I am Ms. Ginger Fisher, from the NorCal branch of the family tree. Miles is
my great-nephew. And you are?"
"Lucinda Price."
"Lucinda Price, yes." Ms. Fisher looked down her nose at Luce, squinting. "Read
about you in one or another of the histories. Though I can't recall what it was exactly that
you did--"
Before Luce could respond, Steven's hands were on her shoulders. "Luce is one of
our newest students," he boomed. "You'll be happy to know that Miles has really gone
out of his way to make her feel comfortable here."
Ms. Fisher's squinty eyes were already looking past them, searching the crowded
lawn. The guests had mostly finished eating, and now Shelby was lighting the tiki torches
staked into the ground. When the torch closest to the head table grew bright, it