Torment

"Is everything okay over here?" Steven laid his tan palm on Luce's desk and gave her a big-brown-eyed you-can-tell-me nod.

But Luce was still nervous around him after what he'd said to her and Dawn on the life raft the other day. Nervous enough that she'd even avoided bringing it up again with Dawn.

"Everything's great," Shelby responded. She took Luce by the elbow and jerked her toward the deck, where some of the other students were paired up, already conducting their mock interviews. "Luce and I were just about to talk r?sum?s."

Francesca appeared behind Steven. "Miles," she said softly, "Jasmine still needs a partner if you'd like to pull up a desk next to her."

A few desks down, Jasmine said, "Dawn and I couldn't agree on who should play indie starlet and who should play"--her voice dropped an octave--"casting director. So she abandoned me for Roland."

Miles looked disappointed. "Casting director," he mumbled. "Finally, I've found my calling." He headed o to join his partner, and Luce watched him go.

With the situation di used, Francesca steered Steven back to the front of the room. But even as he walked beside Francesca, Luce could feel him watching her.

She subtly checked her phone. Callie still hadn't texted her back. This wasn't like her, and Luce blamed herself. Maybe it would be better for both of them if Luce just kept her distance. It was only for a little while.

She followed Shelby outside to a seat on the wooden bench built into the curve of the deck. The sun was bright in the clear sky, but the only part of the deck that wasn't already packed with students was under the cool shade of a towering redwood. Luce brushed a layer of dull green needles o the bench and zipped her chunky sweater a little higher on her neck.

"You were really cool about everything last night," she said in a low voice. "I was ... freaking out."

"I know," Shelby laughed. "You were all--" She made a trembling zombie face.

"Give me a break. That was rough. My one chance to learn something about my past, and I totally choked."

"You Southerners and your guilt." Shelby gave a one-shouldered shrug. "You gotta cut yourself some slack. I'm sure there are plenty more relatives where those two old geezers came from. Maybe even some who aren't so close to death's door." Before Luce's face could collapse, Shelby added, "All I'm saying is, if you ever feel up for tracking down another family member, just say the word. You're growing on me Luce, it's kinda weird."

"Shelby," Luce whispered suddenly, through clenched teeth. "Don't move." Beyond the deck, the biggest, most ominous Announcer Luce had ever seen was rippling in the long shadow cast by an enormous redwood tree.

Slowly, following Luce's eyes, Shelby looked out at the ground. The Announcer was using the real shadow of the tree as camou age. Parts of it kept twitching.

"It looks sick, or skittish, or, I don't know ..." Shelby trailed o , curling her lip. "There's something wrong with it, right?"

Luce was looking past Shelby at the staircase winding down to the ground level of the lodge. Below them were a bunch of unpainted wooden supports that propped up the deck. If Luce could get hold of the shadow, Shelby could join her under the deck before anyone saw anything. She could help Luce glimpse its message and they could make it back upstairs in time to rejoin the class.

"You're not seriously considering what I think you're seriously considering," Shelby said. "Are you?"

"Keep watch up here for a minute," Luce said. "Be ready when I call you."

Luce descended a few steps, so that her head was just level with the deck where the rest of the students were busy carrying out their interviews. Shelby had her back to Luce. She'd give a sign if anyone noticed Luce was gone.

Luce could hear Dawn in the corner, ad-libbing with Roland: "You know, I was stunned when I was nominated for a Golden Globe. ..."

Luce looked back at the darkness stretched out along the grass. It occurred to her to wonder whether the other students had seen it. But she couldn't worry about that. She was wasting time.

The Announcer was a good ten feet away, but where she stood close to the deck, Luce was shielded from the other students' eyes. It would be too obvious if she walked right over to it. She was going to have to try to coax it o the ground and over to her without using her hands. And she had no idea how to do that.

That was when she noticed the gure leaning up against the other side of the redwood tree. Also hidden from the view of the students on the deck.

Cam was smoking a cigarette, humming to himself like he didn't have a care in the world. Except that he was covered entirely in blood and gore. His hair was matted to his forehead, his arms were scratched and bruised. His T-shirt was wet and stained with sweat, and his jeans were splattered too. He looked lthy and disgusting, as though he'd just emerged from battle. Only, there was no one else around--no bodies, no anything. Just Cam.

He winked at her.

"What are you doing here?" she whispered. "What did you do?" Her head swam from the sick reek coming o his bloodied clothes.

"Oh, just saved your life. Again. How many times does this make?" He tapped ash o his cigarette. "Today it was Miss Sophia's crew, and I can't say I didn't enjoy it. Bloody monsters. They're after you, too, you know. Word has gotten out that you're here. And that you like to wander into that dark forest unchaperoned." He pointed.

"You just killed them?" She was horri ed, glancing up at the deck to see whether Shelby, or anyone, could see them. No. "You just killed them?" She was horri ed, glancing up at the deck to see whether Shelby, or anyone, could see them. No.

"A couple of them, yes, just now, with my own two hands." Cam showed o his palms, caked with something red and slimy that Luce really did not want to see. "I agree the woods are lovely, Luce, but they're also full of things that want you dead. So do me a favor--"

"No. You don't get to ask me for favors. Everything about you disgusts me."

"Fine." He rolled his eyes. "Then do it for Grigori. Stay on campus." He icked his cigarette onto the grass, rolled back his shoulders, and unfurled his wings. "I can't always be here to watch over you. And God knows Grigori can't."

Cam's wings were tall and narrow and pulled tight behind his shoulders, sleek and gold and ecked with brindled stripes of black. She wished they repulsed her, but they didn't. Like Steven's wings, Cam's were jagged, rough--they too looked as though they'd survived a lifetime of ghts. The black stripes gave Cam's wings a dark, sensual quality. There was something magnetic about them.

But no. She loathed everything about Cam. She would forever.

Cam beat his wings once, lifting his feet o the ground. The wings' apping was tremendously loud and kicked back a swirl of wind that raised leaves from the ground.

"Thank you," Luce said, crisply, before he coasted under the deck. Then he was gone in the shadows of the woods.

Cam was protecting her now? Where was Daniel? Wasn't Shoreline supposed to be safe?

In Cam's wake, the Announcer--the reason Luce had come down here in the rst place--spiraled up from its shadow like a small black cyclone.

Closer. Then a little closer still.

Finally, the shadow wandered into the air just over her head.

"Shelby," Luce whispered loudly. "Get down here."

Shelby looked down at Luce. At the cyclone-shaped Announcer teetering over her. "What took you so long?" she asked, sprinting down the stairs just in time to watch the whole massive Announcer tumble down.

Straight into Luce's arms.

Luce screamed--but luckily, Shelby clapped a hand over her mouth.

"Thank you," Luce said, her words mu ed against Shelby's ngers.

The girls were still huddled three steps down from the deck, in plain view of anyone who might cross over to the shady side. Luce couldn't straighten her knees under the weight of the shadow. It was the heaviest one she'd ever touched, and the coldest on her skin. It wasn't black like most of the others, but a sickly greenish gray. Parts of it were still twitching, lighting up like bolts of distant lightning.

"I don't have a good feeling about this," Shelby said.

"Come on," Luce whispered. "I summoned it. Now it's your turn to do the glimpsing."

"My turn? Who said anything about me having a turn? You're the one who dragged me down here." Shelby waved her hands like the last thing on earth she wanted to do was touch the beast in Luce's arms. "I know I said I'd help you track down your relatives, but whatever kind of relative you've got in here ... I don't think either of us wants to meet."

"Shelby, please," Luce begged, groaning from the weight, the chill, and the general nastiness of the shadow. "I'm not a Nephilim. If you don't help me, I can't do this."

"What exactly are you trying to do?" A voice behind them from the top of the stairs. Steven had his hands clamped down on the banister and was glaring at the girls. He seemed larger than he did in class, towering over them, as if he had doubled in size. His deep brown eyes looked stormy, but Luce could feel the heat coming o them, and she was scared. Even the Announcer in her arms trembled and edged away.

Both girls were so startled they screamed.

Jarred by the sound, the shadow bolted from Luce's arms. It moved so fast she had no chance to stop it, and it left nothing behind but a freezing, foul-smelling wake.

In the distance, a bell rang. Luce could sense all the other kids trooping o toward the mess hall for lunch. On his way out, Miles stuck his head over the railing and peered down at Luce, but he took one look at Steven's red-hot expression, widened his eyes, and moved along.

"Luce," Steven said, more politely than she expected. "Would you mind seeing me after school?"

When he lifted his hands o the railing, the wood underneath them was scorched black.

Steven opened the door before Luce even knocked. His gray shirt was a bit wrinkled and his black knit tie was loosened at the neck. But he had regained the appearance of serenity, which Luce was beginning to realize took e ort for a demon. He wiped his glasses on a monogrammed handkerchief and stepped aside.

"Please come in."

The o ce wasn't big, just wide enough for a large black desk, just long enough for three tall black bookshelves, each one crammed with hundreds of well-worn books. But it was comfortable and even welcoming--not like what Luce had imagined a demon's o ce would be like. There was a Persian carpet in the center of the room, a wide window looking east at the redwoods. Now, at dusk, the forest had an ethereal, almost lavender hue.

Steven sat down in one of two maroon desk chairs and motioned for Luce to take the other. She surveyed the framed pieces of art, jigsawed onto every spare inch of the wall. Most of them were portraits in varying degrees of detail. Luce recognized a few sketches of Steven himself and several

attering depictions of Francesca.

Luce took a deep breath, wondering how to begin. "I'm sorry I summoned that Announcer today; I--"

"Have you told anyone about what happened with Dawn in the water?"

"No. You told me not to."

"You haven't told Shelby? Miles?"

"I haven't told anyone."