Passion (39 page)

Tiny white waves crashing against a darkened shore.

Daniel laughed and drew her close again. He couldn’t seem to stop smiling. His body felt so good against hers and his skin looked so spectacular under the light of the stars. The more they kissed, the more certain Luce was she’d never get enough. There was lit le di erence—

and yet al the di erence in the world—between the Daniels she’d met when she visited her other lifetimes and the Daniel pressing his lips to hers now. Final y, Luce could return his kiss without doubting herself, or their love. She felt unbounded happiness. And to think, she had almost given this up.

Reality began to set in. She had failed in her quest to break her and Daniel’s curse. She had been tricked, deceived … by Satan.

Though she hated to stop kissing, Luce held Daniel’s warm face in her hands. She gazed into his violet eyes, trying to draw strength.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “For running of like I did.”

“Don’t be,” he said, slowly and with absolute sincerity. “You had to go. It was preordained; it had to happen.” He smiled again. “We did what we needed to do, Lucinda.”

A jet of warmth shot through her, making her dizzy. “I was starting to think I’d never see you again.”

“How many times have I told you that I wil always nd you?” Then Daniel turned her around so that her back was pressed against his chest. He kissed the nape of her neck and looped his arms around her torso—their flying position—and they were of .

Flying with Daniel was something Luce would never tire of. His white wings extended into the air, beating against the midnight sky as they moved with an unbelievable grace. Moisture from the clouds dot ed her forehead and her nose while Daniel’s strong arms stayed wrapped around her, making her feel safer and more secure than she’d felt in a long time.

“Look,” Daniel said, extending his neck slightly. “The moon.”

The orb seemed close enough and large enough for Luce to touch.

They whipped through the air, barely making any noise at al . Luce took a deep breath and widened her eyes in surprise. She knew this air! It was the particular briny ocean breeze of coastal Georgia. She was … home. Tears stung her eyes as she thought about her mother and father and her dog, Andrew. How long had she been gone from them? What would it be like when she came back?

“Are we going to my house?” she asked.

“Sleep rst,” Daniel said. “You’ve only been gone a few hours as far as your parents are concerned. It’s nearly midnight there. We’l swing by first thing in the morning, once you’re rested.”

Daniel was right: She should rest now and see them in the morning. But if he wasn’t taking her to her house, where were they going?

They neared the tree line. The narrow tops of the pines wobbled in the wind, and the empty sandy shores sparkled as they ew over. They were drawing near a smal island not far of the coast. Tybee. She’d been there a dozen times as a kid—

And once, more recently … a smal log cabin with a gabled roof and smoke coming out of its chimney. The red door with the pane of salt-stained glass. The window looking into the smal loft. It looked familiar, but Luce was so tired and had been so many places recently that it wasn’t until her feet touched down on the soft, silty ground that she recognized the cabin she’d stayed at right after she’d left Sword & Cross.

After Daniel had rst told her of their past lives together, after the ugly bat le in the cemetery, after Miss Sophia had morphed into something evil and Penn had been kil ed and al the angels had told Luce that her life was suddenly in danger, she had slept here, alone, for three delirious days.

“We can rest here,” Daniel said. “It’s a safe haven for the fal en. We have a few dozen of these places scat ered around the world.” She should have been thril ed by the prospect of a ful night’s rest—with Daniel at her side!—but something was nagging at her.

“I need to tel you something.” She faced him on the path. An owl hooted from the pine tree and the water lapped along the shore, but otherwise the dark island was quiet.

“I know.”

“You know?”

“I saw.” Daniel’s eyes went stormy gray. “He tricked you, didn’t he?”

“Yes!” Luce cried, burning with the shame of it.

“How long was he with you?” Daniel fidgeted, almost as if he were trying to suppress jealousy.

“A long time.” Luce winced. “But it gets worse—he’s planning something terrible.”

“He is always planning something terrible,” Daniel mut ered.

“No, this was big.” She stepped into Daniel’s arms and pressed her hands to his chest. “He told me—he said he wanted to wipe the slate clean.”

Daniel’s grip tightened around her waist. “He said what?”

“I didn’t understand everything. He said he was going back to the Fal to open up an Announcer and take al the angels with him from that

“I didn’t understand everything. He said he was going back to the Fal to open up an Announcer and take al the angels with him from that moment straight into the present. He said he was going to—”

“Wipe clean the time between. Wipe clean our existence,” Daniel said hoarsely.

“Yes.”

“No.” He grabbed her hand and pul ed her toward the cabin. “They could be spying on us. Sophia. The Outcasts. Anyone. Come inside where it’s safe. You must tel me everything he said, Luce, everything.”

Daniel practical y ripped open the red wooden door of the cabin, bolting it behind them. An instant later, before they could do anything else, a pair of arms engulfed both Luce and Daniel in a giant hug.

“You’re safe.” The voice broke with relief.

Cam. Luce turned her head to see the demon dressed al in black, like the “uniform” they’d worn at Sword & Cross. His massive golden wings were pul ed back behind his shoulders. They sent sparkles of light re ecting o the wal s. His skin was pale and he looked gaunt; his eyes stood out like emeralds.

“We’re back,” Daniel said warily, clapping Cam on the shoulder. “I’m not sure I would say safe.” Cam’s gaze swept careful y over Luce. Why was he here? Why did Daniel seem happy to see him?

Daniel led Luce to the worn wicker rocking chair near the crackling hearth and gestured for her to sit. She col apsed into the chair, and he sat on the arm, resting his hand on her back.

The cabin was as she remembered it: warm and dry and smel ing like cinnamon. The narrow canvas cot in the corner where she had slept was neatly made. There was the narrow wooden ladder leading up to the smal loft that overlooked the main room. The green lamp stil hung from a rafter.

“How did you know to come here?” Daniel asked Cam.

“Roland read something in the Announcers this morning. He thought you might be coming back—and that something else might be developing.” Cam eyed Daniel. “Something that af ects us al .”

“If what Luce says is true, this is not something any of us can take on alone.” Cam tilted his head at Luce. “I know. The others are on their way. I took the liberty of spreading the word.” Just then, in the loft, a window shat ered. Daniel and Cam shot to their feet.

“Just us!” Arriane’s voice sang down. “We’ve got Nephilim in tow, so we travel with the grace of a col ege hockey team.” A great burst of light—gold and silver—from above made the wal s of the cabin shudder. Luce jumped to her feet just in time to see Arriane, Roland, Gabbe, Mol y, and Annabel e—the girl Luce had realized in Helston was an angel—slowly floating down from the rafters, al with their wings extended. Together they were a myriad of colors: black and gold, white and silver. The colors stood for di erent sides, but here they were. Together.

A moment later, Shelby and Miles thundered down the wooden ladder. They were stil dressed in the clothes—Shelby’s green sweater and Miles’s jeans and basebal cap—that they’d worn to Thanksgiving dinner, which seemed like an eternity ago.

Luce felt like she was dreaming. It was so wonderful to see these familiar faces right now—faces that she’d truly wondered if she would ever see again. The only people missing were her parents, of course, and Cal ie, but she would see them soon enough.

Starting with Arriane, the angels and Nephilim al circled Luce and Daniel in another massive hug. Even Annabel e, whom Luce barely knew. Even Mol y.

Suddenly, everyone was shouting over everyone else—

Annabel e, bat ing shimmering pink eyelids: “When did you get back? We have so much to catch up on!” And Gabbe, kissing Luce on the cheek: “I hope you were careful … and I hope you saw what you needed to see.” And Arriane: “Did you bring us back anything good?” And Shelby, out of breath: “We were searching for you for, like, ever. Weren’t we, Miles?” And Roland: “Pret y cool to see you made it home in one piece, kid.” And Daniel, silencing them al with the gravity of his tone: “Who brought the Nephilim?”

“I did.” Mol y draped an arm around Shelby and Miles. “You got something to say about it?” Daniel cast his eyes over Luce’s Shoreline friends. Before she had a chance to stick up for them, the corners of his lips pul ed upward into a smile, and he said, “Good. We’re going to need al the help we can get. Everyone sit down.”

“Lucifer can’t mean it,” Cam said, shaking his head, stunned. “This is just a desperate last resort. He wouldn’t—He was probably just trying to get Luce to—”

“He would,” Roland said.

They were spread out in a circle near the re, facing Luce and Daniel on the rocking chair. Gabbe had found hot dogs and marshmal ows and packets of powdered hot chocolate in the kitchen cupboard and had set up a lit le cook station in front of the fire.

“He would rather start again than to lose his pride,” Mol y added. “Besides, he has nothing to lose by erasing the past.” Miles dropped his hot dog and the plate clat ered on the hardwood oor. “Wouldn’t that mean Shelby and I—wouldn’t exist anymore?

And what about Luce, where would she be?”

No one answered. Luce felt embarrassingly aware of her nonangelic status. A hot flush spread across the tops of her shoulders.

“How are we stil here if time has been rewrit en?” Shelby asked.

“Because they haven’t finished their fal yet,” Daniel said. “When they do, the act is done and can’t be stopped.”

“So we have—” Arriane counted under her breath. “Nine days.”

“Daniel?” Gabbe looked up at him. “Tel us what we can do.”

“There is only one thing to do,” Daniel said. Al the glowing wings in the cabin pul ed toward him in expectation. “We must draw everyone to the place where the angels first fel .”

“Which is where?” Miles asked.

No one spoke for a very long time.

“It’s hard to say,” Daniel nal y answered. “It happened long ago, and we were al new to Earth. But”—he glanced at Cam—“we do have means of figuring it out.”

Cam whistled lowly. Was he afraid?

“Nine days isn’t a lot of time to locate the site of the Fal ,” Gabbe said. “Let alone gure out how to stop Lucifer if and when we do arrive.”

“We have to try.” Luce answered without thinking, surprised by her own certainty.

“We have to try.” Luce answered without thinking, surprised by her own certainty.

Daniel scanned the gathering of angels, the so-cal ed demons, and the Nephilim. His gaze encompassed them al , his family. “We’re in this together, then? Al of us?” At last, his eyes rested on Luce.

And though she couldn’t imagine tomorrow, Luce stepped into Daniel’s arms and said, “Always.”

RAPTURE

THE FINAL BOOK IN THE FALLEN SERIES

SPRING 2012

WWW.FALLENBOOKS.COM

DEŁACORTE PRESS

LAUREN KATE is the international y bestsel ing author of The Betrayal of Natalie Hargrove and the FALLEN novels: Fal en, Torment, Passion, and the forthcoming Rapture. Her books have been translated into more than thirty languages. She lives in Los Angeles with her husband. You can visit her online at:

laurenkatebooks.net