“A word?”
Daniel nodded for Luce to go on alone, so she did, wondering what Dee didn’t want to say in front of her.
She slipped the lantern’s handle over her forearm, its light swinging as she walked toward the mouth of the cave.
She eased open the stiff lid of the chest and reached inside. A long brown robe was the only thing in it. She picked it up. It was made of heavy wool, thick as a peacoat and musty, like tobacco. When Luce held it up against her body, it looked about three feet too long.
Now she was even more curious about why Dee had sent her away. She set the lantern on the ground and clumsily pulled the robe over her head.
“Need some help?”
Cam had entered the cave as quietly as a cloud.
Standing behind her, he gathered a fold of the cloak’s material and cinched it under the garment’s woven belt.
He knotted it in place so that the hem ended at Luce’s ankles perfectly, as if the cloak had been made for her.
She turned around to face him. Lantern light flickered on his face. He stood very still, in the way that only Cam could.
Luce slid her thumb along the belt he’d knotted.
“Thanks,” she said, moving back toward the entrance of the cave.
“Luce, wait—”
She stopped. Cam looked down at the toe of his boot, kicking the edge of the chest. Luce stared at it, too. She was wondering how she hadn’t heard him come into the cave, how they’d ended up alone.
“You still don’t believe I’m on your side.”
“It doesn’t matter now, Cam.” Her throat felt impossibly tight.
“Listen.” Cam took a step toward her so that there were only inches between them. She thought he was going to grab her, but he didn’t. He didn’t even try to touch her; he just stayed very still and close. “Things used to be different. Look at me.” She did, nervously. “I may wear Lucifer’s gold on my wings now, but it wasn’t always like that. You knew me before I went that way, Lucinda, and you and I were friends.”
“Well, like you said, things change.”
Cam let out a frustrated groan. “It is impossible to apologize to a girl with such a conveniently selective memory. Allow me to venture a guess: As you awaken to your true self, you’re unpacking all sorts of sumptuous memories in which you and Daniel fell in love, and Daniel said this beautiful phrase, and Daniel turned and brooded toward silken silhouettes caressing the tender tips of stars on the horizon—”
“Why shouldn’t I? We belong to each other. Daniel is my everything. And you’re—”
“What does he say about me?” Cam’s eyes narrowed.
Luce cracked her knuckles and thought about the way, early on at Sword & Cross, Daniel’s hand had swept over hers to stop the mindless habit. His touch had been familiar from the beginning.
“He says he trusts you.”
A pause followed that Luce refused to fill. She wanted to leave. What if Daniel looked over and saw her in this dim cave with Cam? They were arguing, but Daniel wouldn’t be able to tell that from a distance. What did they look like, she and Cam? When she looked up, his eyes were clear, green, and profoundly sad.
“Do you trust me?” he asked.
“Why does this matter right now—”
His eyes shot open, wild and excited. “Everything matters right now. This is the showtime for which all other shows have been a warm-up. And in order for you to do what you need to do, you can’t see me as the enemy. You have no idea what you’ve gotten into.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Luce.” It was Dee’s voice. She and Daniel were standing at the mouth of the cave. Dee was the only one smiling. “We’re ready for you!”
“Me?”
“You.”
Luce was suddenly frightened. “What do I have to do?”
“Why don’t you come and see?”
Dee’s hand was extended but Luce found it difficult to move. She glanced at Cam but he was looking at Daniel. Daniel was still looking at her, his eyes burning the hungry way they did when he was about to sweep her into his arms and kiss her deeply. But he didn’t move and that turned the ten feet of space between them into two thousand miles.
“Have I done something wrong?” she asked.
“You’re about to do something wonderful,” Dee said, still holding out her hand. “Let us not waste time we do not have.”
Luce took her hand and it felt so cold that it scared her. She studied Dee, who looked paler, more fragile, older than she had at the library in Vienna. But somehow, underneath her withered skin and prominent bones, something still shone bright and effervescent from within her.
“Do I look all right, dear? You’re staring.”
“Of course,” Luce said. “It’s just—”
“My soul? It’s glowing, isn’t it?”
Luce nodded.
“Good.”
Cam and Daniel did not speak as they brushed past each other: Cam striding into the suddenly windy wilderness outside, Daniel circling behind Luce to carry the lantern.
“Dee?” Luce turned to the woman, whose freezing hand she was trying to warm with her own. “I don’t want to go out there. I’m afraid and I don’t know why.”
“That is as it should be. But this cup cannot pass you.”
“Can someone please tell me what is going on?”
“Yes,” Dee said, giving Luce’s hand a firm but supportive forward tug. “Just as soon as we’re outside.” As they rounded the arrowhead-shaped boulder that partly shielded the entrance to the small cave, the cold wind bore into them unforgivingly. Luce staggered back, shielding her face from the sudden spray of sand with her free hand. Dee and Daniel made her press on past the head of the trail they’d climbed the night before, where they were most exposed to the wind.
Luce found that the peaks around the rest of the mesa formed barriers to the swirling, gritty gusts, allowing her to hear and see again. Though she could hear the daily dust storm howl beyond the plateau, everything within its curved rock walls seemed suddenly too quiet and too clear.
Two lanterns glowed on the marble Slab—one before the Qayom Malak, one behind the Silver Pennon. Both lights attracted swirls of gnats that bounced off the small glass panes, strangely calming Luce. At least she was still in a world where light attracted bugs. She was still in a world she knew.
The lantern illuminated the two golden angels bowing toward each other in prayer. Its light touched the edges of the heavy cracked glass halo, which Dee had returned to its rightful place, cradled by the angels’ wings.
On the cliffs towering over the plateau, four Outcasts perched on ledges, each pale warrior watching a different cardinal direction. The Outcasts’ wings, tucked to their sides, were barely visible, but the edges of Daniel’s lantern light revealed the starshots in each of their silver bows, as if they expected the Scale’s arrival at any moment.
The four fallen angels Luce knew best occupied the stone seats around the ceremonially placed relics. Arriane and Annabelle sat on one side, backs straight, their wings concealed. On the other side sat Cam and Roland—with one empty seat between them.
Was it for Luce or Daniel?
“Good, everyone’s here except the moon.” Dee looked up at the eastern sky. “Five more minutes. Daniel, will you take a seat?”
Daniel handed Dee the lantern and walked across the marble slab. He stood before the Qayom Malak. Luce wanted to go to him, but before she could even lean in his direction, Dee’s grip tightened around her hand.
“Stay with me, honey.”
Daniel sat down between Roland and Cam and turned his expressionless gaze to Luce.
“Allow me to explain.” Dee’s calm, clear voice echoed off the red-rock walls, and all the angels straightened in attention. “As I told you earlier, we require the moon to make an appearance, and now, in a moment, she will visit us above this peak. She will grin down through the lens of the Halo. We are fortunate the sky is clear tonight, with nothing to obscure the shadows of her lovely craters as they join with the cracks in the Halo’s glass.
“Together, these elements will project the outlines of continents and lines of countries, which, in concert with the carvings on the Slab, will comprise the Map of the Simulacra Terra Prima. Right here.” She pointed to an empty space on the marble step, where she’d lain the night before, measuring the distance between the Qayom Malak and the Silver Pennon. “You will see a representation of the way the world was when you angels fell to Earth. Yes”—she inhaled—“just another moment.
There.”
The crown of the moon rose above the rocky crag that jutted out behind the Qayom Malak. And even though the moon was pale white and waning, at the moment, it shone as brilliantly as dawn. The angels, the Outcasts, Luce, and Dee stood quietly for several minutes, watching the moon climb, watching it cast a little light and then a little more through the translucent surface of the halo. The marble slab beyond it was blank, then clouded; then, all at once, the projection was clear and focused and real. It projected lines, intersections—continents—borders, lands, and seas.
It looked half complete. Some lines trailed off into nothing; some boundaries never closed. But it was clearly a map of the Earth, Luce thought, as it would have looked when Daniel fell for her. It stirred something in the deepest recesses of her memory. It looked familiar.
“Do you see the yellow stone at the center there?” Dee asked.
Luce squinted to see a tile of the same slightly darker yellow stone as the one where the goblet had been placed.
“That is us, right here in the middle of everything.”
“Like an arrow saying, ‘You Are Here,’” Luce said.
“That’s right, dear.” Dee turned to Luce. “And now, my Lucinda, have you figured out your role in this ceremony yet?”
Luce squirmed. What did they want from her? This was their story, not hers. After all this commotion, she was just another girl, swept up in the promise of love.
Daniel had found her on Earth after his fall from grace; someone should ask him what was going on. “I’m sorry.
I don’t know.”
“I’ll give you a hint,” Dee said. “Do you see the spot where angels fell marked on this map?” Luce sighed, eager to get to the point. “No.”
“It was ordained many millennia ago that this location on this map could only be revealed in blood. The blood that courses through our veins knows far more than we do. Look closely. See the grooves along the marble? They are the lines to close the boundaries of the angelico-prelapsarian Earth. They shall become clear once the blood is shed and poured. The blood will pool in one vitally important place. The knowledge, my dear, is in the blood.”
“The site of the Fall,” one of the angels said reverently, Arriane or Annabelle; Luce couldn’t tell.
“Somewhat like a treasure map in an adventure story, the impact point—that’s the site of the Fall—will be marked with a five-pointed star of blood. Now . . .” Dee was talking but Luce could no longer hear what she was saying. So this was what it was going to take to stop Lucifer. This was what Cam meant she had to do.