Fallen (38 page)

“Not so long that I’ve forgotten that you’re worth everything. Every sacrifice. Every pain.” Daniel closed his eyes for a moment. Then he looked over at Penn and Miss Sophia.

Penn was seated with her back against a mossy black tombstone. Her knees were curled up to her chin and she was chewing avidly on her fingernails. Miss Sophia had her hands on her hips. She looked like she had something to say.

Daniel stepped back, and Luce felt a rush of cool air waft between them. “I’m still afraid that any minute you could—”

“Daniel—” Miss Sophia called reprovingly.

He waved her off. “Our being together, it’s not as simple as you’re going to want it to be.”

“Of course not,” Luce said. “I mean, you’re an angel, but now that I know it—”

“Lucinda Price.” This time it was Luce who was the object of Miss Sophia’s anger. “What he has to tell you,
you do not want to know,” she warned. “And Daniel, you have no right. It will kill her—”

Luce shook her head, confused by Miss Sophia’s request. “I think I could survive a little truth.”

“It is not a
little
truth,” Miss Sophia said, stepping forward to position herself between them. “And you will not survive it. As you have not survived it in the thousands of years since the Fall.”

“Daniel, what is she talking about?” Luce reached around Miss Sophia for his wrist, but the librarian fended her off. “I can handle it,” Luce said, feeling a dry pit of nerves in her stomach. “I don’t want any more secrets. I love him.”

It was the first time she had ever said the words aloud to anyone. Her only regret was that she’d directed the most important three words she knew at Miss Sophia instead of at Daniel. She turned to him. His eyes were shining. “I do,” she said. “I love you.”

Clap
.

Clap. Clap
.

Clap. Clap. Clap. Clap
.

Slow, loud applause sounded from behind them in the trees. Daniel broke away and turned toward the woods, his posture stiffening, as Luce felt the old fear flood in, felt herself rooted by terror about what he was seeing in the shadows, frightened of what he saw before she did.

“Oh, bravo. Bravo! Really, I am touched to my very
soul—and not much touches me there these days, sad to say.”

Cam stepped into the clearing. His eyes were rimmed with a thick, shimmering gold shadow, and it shone on his face in the moonlight, making him look like a wildcat.

“That is
so
incredibly sweet,” he said. “And he just loves you, too—don’t you, lover boy? Don’t you, Daniel?”

“Cam,” Daniel warned. “Do not do this.”

“Do what?” Cam asked, raising his left arm in the air. He snapped his fingers once and a small flame, the size of a lit match, ignited in the air over his hand. “You mean that?”

The echo of his finger snap seemed to linger, to reflect off the tombs in the cemetery, to grow louder and multiply as it bounced back and forth. At first Luce thought the sound was more applause, as if a demonic auditorium full of darkness were clapping derisively at Luce and Daniel’s love, the way Cam had done. But then she remembered the thundering wingbeats she’d heard earlier. She held her breath as the sound took the form of those thousand bits of flitting darkness. The swarm of locust-shaped shadows that had vanished into the forest reared up overhead once again.

Their drumming was so loud, Luce had to cover her ears. On the ground, Penn was crouched with her head between her knees. But Daniel and Miss Sophia stoically
watched the sky as the cacophony grew and changed. It began to sound more like very loud sprinklers going off … or like the hiss of a thousand snakes.

“Or this?” Cam asked, shrugging as the hideous, formless darkness settled around him.

The insects each began to grow and unfold, becoming larger than any insect could ever be, dripping like glue and growing into black segmented bodies. Then, as if they were learning how to use their shadow limbs as they formed, they slowly hoisted themselves onto their numerous legs and came forward, like mantises grown to human height.

Cam welcomed them as they swarmed around him. Soon they had formed a massive army of embodied night behind Cam.

“I’m sorry,” he said, smacking his forehead with his palm. “Did you tell me
not
to do that?”

“Daniel,” Luce whispered. “What’s happening?”

“Why did you call an end to the truce?” he called to Cam.

“Oh. Well. You know what they say about desperate times.” Cam sneered. “And watching you plaster her body with those perfectly angelic kisses of yours … it made me feel
so
desperate.”

“Shut up, Cam!” Luce shouted, hating that she’d ever let him touch her.

“In good time.” Cam’s eyes rolled over to her.
“Oh yes, we’re going to brawl, baby. Over you. Again.” He stroked his chin and narrowed his green eyes. “Bigger this time, I think. A few more casualties. Deal with it.”

Daniel gathered Luce in his arms. “Tell me why, Cam. You owe me that much.”

“You
know
why,” Cam boomed, pointing at Luce.
“She’s
still here. Won’t be for long, though.”

He put his hands on his hips, and a series of dense black shadows, now shaped like endless fat serpents, slithered up along his body, encircling his arms like bracelets. He petted the largest one’s head dotingly.

“And this time, when your love blows into that tragic little puff of ash, it’s going to be
for good
. See, everything’s different this time.” Cam beamed, and Luce thought she felt Daniel quake for just a second.

“Oh, except one thing is the same—and I do have a soft spot for your predictability, Grigori.” Cam took a step forward. His shadow-legions inched up accordingly, making Luce and Daniel, and Penn and Miss Sophia, inch back. “You’re afraid,” he said, pointing dramatically at Daniel. “And I’m not.”

“That’s because you have nothing to lose,” Daniel spat. “I would never trade places with you.”

“Hmmm,” Cam said, tapping his chin. “We’ll see about that.” He looked around, grinning. “Must I spell it out for you? Yes. I hear you may have something
bigger
to lose this time. Something that’s going to make annihilating her so much more enjoyable.”

“What are you talking about?” Daniel asked.

To Luce’s left, Miss Sophia opened her mouth and let out a howling string of feral noises. She waved her hands wildly over her head in a jerking dancelike motion, her eyes almost transparent, as if she were in some sort of trance. Her lips twitched, and Luce realized with a shock that she was speaking in tongues.

Daniel took Miss Sophia’s arm and shook her. “No, you are absolutely right: It doesn’t make sense,” he whispered, and Luce realized he could understand Miss Sophia’s strange language.

“You know what she’s saying?” Luce asked.

“Allow us to translate,” a familiar voice shouted from the roof of the mausoleum. Arriane. Next to her was Gabbe. Both seemed to be lit from behind and were enshrouded in a strange silver glow. They hopped down from the crypt, landing next to Luce without a sound.

“Cam’s right, Daniel,” Gabbe said quickly. “Something’s different this time … something about Luce. The cycle could be broken—and not the way we want it to. I mean … it could end.”

“Someone tell me what you’re talking about,” Luce said, butting in. “What’s different? Broken how? What’s at stake with this whole battle, anyway?”

Daniel, Arriane, and Gabbe all stared at her for a moment as if trying to place her, as if they knew her from
somewhere but she’d changed so completely in an instant that they no longer recognized her face.

Finally Arriane spoke up. “At stake?” She rubbed at the scar on her neck. “If they win—it’s Hell on earth. The end of the world as anyone knows it.”

The black shapes screeched around Cam, wrestling with and chewing on each other, in some sort of sick, devilish warm-up.

“And if we win?” Luce struggled to get out the words.

Gabbe swallowed, then said gravely, “We don’t know yet.”

Suddenly Daniel stumbled back, away from Luce, and pointed at her. “Sh-she hasn’t been …,” he stammered, covering his mouth. “The kiss,” he said finally, stepping forward to grip Luce’s arm. “The book. That’s why you can—”

“Get to part B, Daniel,” Arriane prompted. “Think fast. Patience is a virtue, and you know how Cam feels about those.”

Daniel squeezed Luce’s hand. “You have to go. You have to get out of here.”

“What? Why?”

She looked at Arriane and Gabbe for help, then shrank away from them as a host of silver twinkles began to flow over the roof of the mausoleum. Like an endless stream of fireflies released from an enormous mason jar. They rained down on Arriane and Gabbe, making their eyes shine. It reminded Luce of fireworks—and of one Fourth
of July, when the light had been just right and she’d looked into her mother’s irises and seen the fireworks’ reflection, a booming silvery flash of light, as if her mother’s eyes were a mirror.

Only, these twinkles didn’t peter into smoke like fireworks. When they hit the cemetery grass, they bloomed into graceful, shimmery iridescent beings. They weren’t exactly human shapes, but they were vaguely recognizable. Gorgeous, glowing rays of light. Creatures so ravishing that Luce knew instantly they were an army of angelic power, equal in size and number to the great black force behind Cam. This was what true beauty and goodness looked like—a spectral, luminescent gathering of beings so pure it hurt to look directly at them, like the most glorious eclipse, or maybe Heaven itself. She should have felt comforted, standing on the side that
had
to prevail in this fight. But she was starting to feel sick.

Daniel pressed the back of his hand to her cheek. “She’s feverish.”

Gabbe patted Luce on the arm and beamed. “It’s okay, sugar,” she said, guiding Daniel’s hand away. Her drawl was somehow reassuring. “We’ll take it from here. But you have to go.” She glanced over her shoulder at the horde of blackness behind Cam. “Now.”

Daniel pulled Luce to him for one last embrace.

“I’ll take her,” Miss Sophia called loudly. The book was still tucked under her arm. “I know a safe place.”

“Go,” Daniel said. “I’ll find you as soon as I can. Just promise me you’ll run from here, and that you won’t look back.”

Luce had so many questions. “I don’t want to leave you.”

Arriane stepped between them and gave Luce a final, rough shove toward the gates. “Sorry, Luce,” she said. “Time to leave this fight to us. We’re kind of professionals.”

Luce felt Penn’s hand slide into hers, and soon they were running. Pounding up toward the gates of the cemetery as quickly as she’d bounded down on her way to find Daniel. Back up the slippery mulch slide. Back through the jagged live oak branches and the ramshackle stacks of broken headstones. They hurdled the stones and jogged up the slope, making for the distant ironwork arch of the gates. Hot wind blew her hair, and the swampy air still lay thick in her lungs. She couldn’t find the moon to guide them, and the light in the cemetery’s center was gone now. She didn’t understand what was happening. At all. And she didn’t like it at all that everyone else did.

A bolt of blackness struck the ground in front of her, cracking the earth and opening up a jagged gorge. Luce and Penn skidded to a halt just in time. The gash was as wide as Luce was tall, as deep as … well, she couldn’t see down to the dark bottom. The edges of it sizzled and foamed.

Penn gasped. “Luce. I’m scared.”

“Follow me, girls,” Miss Sophia called.

She led them to the right, winding among the dark graves while blast after blast rang out behind them. “Just the sounds of battle,” she huffed, like some sort of strange tour guide. “That will go on for some while, I fear.”

Luce winced at every crash, but she kept pushing forward until her calves were burning, until behind her, Penn let out a wail. Luce turned and saw her friend stumble, her eyes rolling back in her head.

“Penn!” Luce screamed, reaching out to catch her just before she fell. Tenderly, Luce lowered her to the ground and rolled her over. She almost wished she hadn’t. Penn’s shoulder had been sliced through by something black and jagged. It had bit into her skin, leaving a charred line of flesh that smelled like burning meat.

“Is it bad?” Penn whispered hoarsely. She blinked rapidly, clearly frustrated at being unable to lift her head up to see for herself.

“No,” Luce lied, shaking her head. “Just a cut.” She gulped, trying to swallow the nausea rising in her as she tugged Penn’s frayed black sleeve together. “Am I hurting you?”

“I don’t know,” Penn wheezed. “I can’t feel anything.”

“Girls, what
is
the holdup?” Miss Sophia had doubled back.

Luce looked up at Miss Sophia, willing her not to say how bad Penn’s injury looked.

She didn’t. She gave Luce a swift nod, then stretched her arms beneath Penn and lifted her up like a parent carrying a child to bed. “I’ve got you,” she said. “It won’t be long now.”

“Hey.” Luce followed Miss Sophia, who carried Penn’s weight like she was a bag of feathers. “How did you—”

“No questions, not until we’re far away from all of this,” Miss Sophia said.

Far away
. Luce wanted nothing less than to be far away from Daniel. And then, after they’d crossed the threshold of the cemetery and were standing on the flat ground of the school commons, she couldn’t help herself. She looked back. And instantly understood why Daniel had told her not to.

A twisting silver-gold pillar of fire burst forth from the dark center of the cemetery. It was as wide as the cemetery itself, a braid of light rising hundreds of feet up into the air and boiling away the clouds. The black shadows picked at the light, occasionally tearing tendrils free and carrying them off, shrieking, into the night. As the coiling strands shifted, now more silver, now more gold, a single chord of sound began to fill the air, full and unending, loud as a mighty waterfall. Low notes thundered in the night. High notes chimed to fill the space around
them. It was the grandest, most perfectly balanced celestial harmony ever heard on earth. It was beautiful, and horrifying, and everything stank of sulfur.