Shelby snagged SAEB's attention by turning her back on him, saying he'd better not
follow her to the party.
"Do you wish you could join them?" Francesca asked as they moved further from
the commotion of the terrace. The noise and the wind both quieted as they walked along
the gravel path back toward the dorm, passing rows of hot-pink bougainvillea. Luce
began to wonder whether Francesca was responsible for the overriding tranquility.
"No." Luce liked all of them well enough, but if she were to attach the word wish
to anything right now, it wouldn't be to go to some party on the beach. She would wish ...
well, she wasn't sure for what. For something having to do with Daniel, that much she
knew--but what? That he would tell her what was going on, perhaps. That instead of
protecting her by withholding knowledge, he would fill her in on the truth. She still loved
Daniel. Of course she did. He knew her better than anyone. Her heart raced every time
she saw him. She yearned for him. But how well, really, did she know him?
Francesca fixed her eyes on the grass lining the path to the dorm. Very subtly, her
arms extended out at either side, like a ballet dancer at the barre.
"Not lilies and not roses," she murmured under her breath as her narrow fingertips
started to tremble. "What was it, then?"
There came a soft thrashing sound, like the roots of a plant being pulled from a
garden bed, and suddenly, miraculously, a border of moonbeam-white flowers sprang up
on either side of the path. Thick and lush and a foot tall, these weren't just any flowers.
They were rare and delicate wild peonies, with buds as big as baseballs. The
flowers Daniel had brought Luce when she was in the hospital--and maybe other times
before. Edging the path at Shoreline, they shimmered in the night like stars.
"What was that for?" Luce asked.
"For you," Francesca said.
"For what?"
Francesca touched her briefly on the cheek. "Sometimes beautiful things come
into our lives out of nowhere. We can't always understand them, but we have to trust in
them. I know you want to question everything, but sometimes it pays to just have a little
faith."
She was talking about Daniel.
158
"You look at me and Steven," Francesca went on, "--and I know we can be
confusing. Do I love him? Yes. But when the final battle comes, I'll have to kill him.
That's just our reality. We both know exactly where we stand."
"But you don't trust him?"
"I trust him to be true to his nature, which is a demon's. You need to trust that
those around you will be true to their natures. Even when it may appear that they are
betraying who they are."
"What if it's not that easy?"
"You're strong, Luce, independent of anything or anyone else. The way you
responded yesterday in my office, I could see it in you. And it made me very ... glad."
Luce didn't feel strong. She felt foolish. Daniel was an angel, so his true nature
had to be good. She was supposed to blindly accept that? And what about her true nature?
Not as black-and-white. Was Luce the reason things between them were so complicated?
Long after she'd stepped into her room and closed the door behind her, she couldn't get
Francesca's words out of her head.
About an hour later, a knock on the window made Luce jump as she sat staring at
the dwindling fire in the hearth. Before she could even get up, there was a second knock
on the pane, but this time it sounded more hesitant. Luce rose from the floor and went to
the window. What was Daniel doing here again? After making such a huge deal about
how unsafe it was to see each other, why did he keep turning up?
She didn't even know what Daniel wanted from her--other than to torment her, the
way she'd seen him torment those other versions of her in the Announcers. Or, as he put
it, loved so many versions of her. Tonight all she wanted from him was to be left alone.
She flung open the wooden shutters, then pushed up the pane, knocking over yet
another one of Shelby's thousand plants. She braced her hands on the sill, then plunged
her head into the night, ready to rip into Daniel.
But it wasn't Daniel standing on the ledge in the moonlight.
It was Miles.
He'd changed out of his fancy clothes, but he'd left off the Dodgers cap. Most of
his body was in shadow, but the outline of his broad shoulders was clear against the deep
blue night. His shy smile brought an answering smile to her face. He was holding a gold
cornucopia full of orange lilies plucked from one of the Harvest Fest centerpieces.
"Miles," Luce said. The word felt funny in her mouth. It was tinged with pleasant
surprise, when a moment ago she'd been so prepared to be nasty. Her heartbeat picked up,