It sizzled and hissed as it slid into the soda. Phil grimaced as the bottle smoked and steamed in his hands. A sickly sweet scent wafted from it and Luce’s eyes widened as the fizzy brown liquid, your basic diet soda, began to swirl and change to a bright iridescent silver color.
Phil withdrew the starshot from the bottle. He dragged the starshot carefully across his lips, as if to clean it, then tucked it back inside his coat. His lips glowed silver for an instant, until he licked them clean.
He nodded at one of the other Outcasts, a girl whose slick blond ponytail reached halfway down her back. Automatically, she reached behind Daedalus’s head to lift it a few inches off the rock. Carefully, using one hand to part the boy’s bleeding lips, Phil poured the silver liquid down his throat.
His face contorted as he sputtered and coughed, but then everything about Daedalus smoothed out. He began to drink, then to gulp the liquid down, slurping when he reached the bottom of the bottle.
“What is that?” Luce asked.
“There is a chemical compound in the drink,” Daniel explained, “a dull poison mortals call aspartame and believe that their scientists invented. But it is an old, Heavenly substance—a venom, which, when mixed with an antidote contained in the alloys of the starshot, reacts to produce a healing potion for angels. For light ailments such as these.”
“He will need to rest now,” the blond girl said. “But he will wake refreshed.”
“You will forgive us if we have to leave,” Daniel said, rising to his feet. His white wings dragged along the rocky surface until he straightened his shoulders and held them aloft. He reached for Luce’s hand.
“Go to your friends,” Phil said. “Vincent, Olianna, Sanders, and Emmet will accompany you. I will join you with the others when Daedalus is back on his wings.” The four Outcasts stepped forward, bowing their heads before Luce and Daniel as if awaiting a command.
“We will fly the eastern route,” Daniel instructed.
“North over the Black Sea, then west when we pass Mol-dova. The wind stream is calmer there.”
“What about Gabbe and Molly and Cam?” Luce asked.
Daniel looked at Phil, who looked up from the sleeping Outcast boy. “One of us will stand watch here. If your friends arrive, the Outcasts will send word.”
“You have the pennon?” Daniel asked.
Phil pivoted to show the abundant white feather tucked into the buttonhole of his lapel. It glowed and pulsed in the wind, its radiance sharply contrasting the Outcast’s deathly pale skin.“I hope you have cause to use it.” Daniel’s words frightened Luce, because they meant he thought the angels in Avalon were in as much danger as the ones in Vienna.
“They need us, Daniel,” she said. “Let’s go.” Daniel gave her a warm, grateful look. Then, without hesitation, he swept her up into his arms. With the halo tucked under their interlaced fingers, Daniel bent his knees and sprang into the sky.
SIX
FOUND WANTING
It was drizzling in Vienna.
Curtains of mist cloaked the city, making it possible for Daniel and the Outcasts to alight unseen on the eaves of a vast building before night had completely fallen.
Luce saw the splendid copper dome first, glowing sea green against the fog. Daniel set her down before it on a slanted section of the copper roof, puddled with rain-water, enclosed by a short marble balustrade.
“Where are we?” she asked, eyeing the dome adorned with gold brocaded tassels, its oval windows etched with floral designs too high for mortal eyes to see, unless they were in the arms of an angel.
“Hofburg Palace.” Daniel stepped over a stone rain gutter and stood at the edge of the roof. His wings brushed the white marble railing, making it look drab.
“Home of Viennese emperors, then kings, now presi-dents.”
“Is this where Arriane and the others are?”
“I doubt it,” Daniel said. “But it’s a pleasant place to get our bearings before we look for them.” A mazelike network of annexes extended beyond the dome to form the rest of the palace. Some of them squared off around shady courtyards ten stories below; others stretched long and formidably straight, farther than the fog would allow Luce’s eyes to see. Different portions of the copper roofs shone different shades of green—this one acid, that one almost teal—as if sections of the building had been added over a long period of time, as if they’d rusted during different eras’ rain.
The Outcasts spread out around the dome, leaning up against the squat chimneys darkened with soot that punctuated the palace roof, standing before the flagpole that rose from the center bearing the red-and-white-banded Austrian flag. Luce stood at Daniel’s side, finding herself between him and a marble statue. It depicted a warrior wearing a knight’s helmet and gripping a tall golden spear. They followed the statue’s gaze out at the city. Everything smelled like wood smoke and rain.
Beneath the mist and fog, Vienna glittered with the twinkle of a million Christmas lights. It teemed with strange cars and fast-walking pedestrians as accustomed to city life as Luce was not. Mountains stood in the distance and the Danube slung its strong arm around the outskirts of the town. Gazing down with Daniel, Luce felt as if she’d been here before. She couldn’t be sure when, but the ever-more-frequent sensation of déjà vu swelled inside her.
She focused on the faint bustle coming from a tented row of Christmas stalls in the circle below the palace, the way the candles flickered in their red and green globed glass lanterns, the way the children chased one another, pulling wooden dogs on wheels. Then it happened: She remembered with a wave of satisfaction that Daniel had once bought her crimson velvet hair ribbons right down there. The memory was simple, joyful, and hers.
Lucifer couldn’t have it. He could not take it—or any other memory—away. Not from Luce, not from the brilliant, surprising, imperfect world sprawling out below her.