your own.”
“No.”
“You and Daniel would be free of the curse you so despise.
“But Daniel and I—”
“Daniel and you would be nothing. It’s a hard reality, okay, fine. But think about it: You wouldn’t have to
Luce opened her mouth but didn’t want to hear her voice break. A life without Daniel was unimaginable. But so was going back to her current life and trying to be with Daniel and having it kill her for good. She had tried so hard to find a way to break this curse, but the answer still eluded her. Maybe this was the way. It sounded awful now, but if she went back to her life and didn’t even know Daniel, she wouldn’t miss him. And he wouldn’t miss her. Maybe that would be better. For both of them.
But no. They were soul mates. And Daniel brought more into her life than just his love. Arriane, Roland, and Gabbe. Even Cam. It was because of all of them that she’d learned about herself—what she wanted, what she didn’t, how to stand up for herself. She’d grown up and become a better person. Without Daniel, she would never have gone to Shoreline, never have found the true friends she’d made of Shelby and Miles. Would she even have gone to Sword & Cross? Where on earth would she be?
Could she be happy one day without him? Fall in love with someone else? She couldn’t bear to think about that. Life without Daniel sounded colorless and grim—except for one bright spot that Luce kept circling back to:
What if she never had to hurt him again?
“Say I did want to consider this.” Luce could barely muster a whisper. “Just to think it over. How does it even work?”
Bill reached behind him and slowly unsheathed something long and silver from a tiny black strap on his back. She’d never noticed it before. He held out a dull, flat-tipped silver arrow that she immediately recognized.
Then he smiled. “Have you ever seen a starshot?”
EIGHTEEN
BAD DIRECTIONS
“So, you’re not actually that bad of a guy?” Shelby said to Daniel.
They were sitting on the lush bank of the old Jerusalem riverbed, watching the horizon where the two fallen angels had just parted ways. The lightest breath of gold-hued light hung in the sky where Cam had been, and the air was beginning to smell a bit like rotten eggs.
“Of course I’m not.” Daniel dipped his hand in the cool water. His wings and his soul still felt hot from watching Cam make his choice. How simple it had seemed for him. How easy and how swift.
And all because of a broken heart.
“It’s just that when Luce found out you and Cam struck up that truce, she was devastated. None of us could understand it.” Shelby looked to Miles for affirmation. “Could we?”
“We thought you were hiding something from her.” Miles took off his baseball cap and rubbed his head. “All we knew of Cam was that he was supposed to be pure evil.”
Shelby made claws with her fingers. “All
“Few souls are pure anything,” Daniel said, “in Heaven, in Hell, or on Earth.” He turned away, looking high in the eastern sky for a hint of the silver dust Dani would have left when he unfurled his wings and flew away. There was nothing.
“Sorry,” Shelby said, “but it’s so weird to think of you as brothers.”
“We were all a family at one point.”
“Yeah, but, like,
“You think just because something’s been one way for a few thousand years, that it’s fixed across eternity.” Daniel shook his head. “Everything is in flux. I was with Cam at the Dawn of Time, and I’ll see him through the End Times.”
Shelby’s eyebrows shot up in disbelief. “You think Cam’s going to come back around? Like, see the light side again?”
Daniel started to stand. “Nothing stays the same forever.”
“What about your love with Luce?” Miles asked.
That stopped Daniel cold. “That’s changing, too. She’ll be different, after this experience. I just hope …” He looked down at Miles, who was still seated on the bank, and Daniel realized he didn’t hate Miles. In their recklessly idiotic way, the Nephilim had been trying to help.
For the first time, Daniel could say truthfully that he didn’t need help anymore; he’d gotten all the help he needed along the way from each of his past selves. Now, finally, he was ready to catch up with Luce.
Why was he still standing here?
“It’s time for you two to go home,” he said, helping Shelby, then Miles to their feet.
“No,” Shelby said, reaching for Miles, who gave her hand a squeeze. “We made a pact. We’re not going back until we know she’s—”
“It won’t be long,” Daniel said. “I think I know where to find her, and it’s no place you two can go.”
“Come on, Shel.” Miles was already peeling away the shadow cast by the olive tree near the riverbank. It pooled and swirled in his hands and looked unwieldy for a moment, like potter’s clay about to spin off the wheel. But then Miles reined it in, spinning it into an impressively large black portal. He pressed open the Announcer lightly, gesturing for Shelby to step through first.
“You’re getting good at that.” Daniel had drawn up his own Announcer, summoning it from the shadow of his own body. It trembled before him.
Because the Nephilim were not here through their own past experiences, they would have to leapfrog from Announcer to Announcer to get back to their own time. It would be difficult, and Daniel did not envy them their journey, but he did envy them because they were going home.
“Daniel.” Shelby’s head popped out of the Announcer. Her body looked warped and dim through the shadows. “Good luck.”
She waved, and Miles waved, and the two of them stepped through. The shadow closed in on itself, collapsing into a dot just before it vanished.
Daniel didn’t see that happen. He was already gone.
Cold wind gnawed into him.
He sped through, faster than he’d ever traveled before, back to a place, and a time, to which he’d never thought he would return.
“Hey,” a voice called out. It was raspy and blunt and seemed to come from right beside Daniel. “Slow down, will ya?”
Daniel jerked away from the sound. “Who are you?” he shouted into the invisible darkness. “Make yourself known.”
When nothing appeared before him, Daniel unfurled his rippling white wings—as much to challenge the intruder inside his Announcer as to help slow him down. They lit up the Announcer with their glow, and Daniel felt the tension inside him ease a little.
Fully extended, his wings spanned the width of the tunnel. Their narrow tips were the most sensitive to touch; when they brushed against the dank walls of the Announcer, it gave Daniel a queasy, claustrophobic feeling.
In the darkness before him, a figure slowly filtered into view.
First, the wings: undersized and gossamer-thin. Then the body deepened in color just enough for Daniel to
