Page 11

A branch snapped behind him and Cam whirled around, fists clenched, the cigarette still clipped between his lips. Interesting. It was one of the females, alone. She hadn’t sensed his presence on the other side of the tree. Her silver bow was not even drawn.

“Got a light, Outcast?”

The girl blinked her white eyes, which made Cam feel nauseated and almost a little bit sorry for her. Almost.

“The Outcasts do not play with fire,” she said in a hollow voice, her pale fingers moving toward the inner pocket of her tan trench coat.

“Yes, that always was the Outcasts’ problem, wasn’t it?” Cam played it cool. No reason to alarm her. That would only draw the starshot faster. He snapped his fingers, igniting a small flame, and held it up to light the cigarette.

“You are spying on her.” The girl jerked her blond head upward, toward the deck where—it was true—Lucinda was seated on a bench, looking striking in a rose-red sweater and her newly bleached hair. She was talking to some Nephilim friend, talking in the open, trusting way she used to talk to Cam. Her hazel eyes wide, her lips pursed with that old sadness. Cam could look at her all day.

Alas, he forced himself to turn back to the lifeless creature before him. “I’m protecting her from the likes of you,” he spat. “There’s a difference, baby, not that you’d be able to see it.”

He stole another glance at Luce. She had risen from the bench. Her eyes traveled down the deck stairs, which led too close to Cam’s hideout in the woods. What was she doing? He stiffened. Was she coming over?

The starshot whizzed through the air when Cam was least expecting it. He sensed it at the last possible second and dodged to the right, scraping his cheek against the tree trunk, catching the shaft of the arrow in his leather-gloved hand. He was trembling, but he would not give the Outcast the satisfaction of knowing how close she had come. He pocketed the arrow.

“I’d use this to extinguish you,” he said lightly, “but it would be a waste of a perfectly good starshot. Especially when it’s so much more fun to beat you Outcasts up.”

Before the girl could draw another arrow, Cam lunged at her and grabbed her by the ponytail. He kneed her in the stomach, hard, then jerked her head back and punched her sideways in the face. She cried out and something cracked, maybe the bone of her nose, but Cam kept punching, even as the blood began to flow—from her nose, from her lip, down his fist. From the moment he started whaling on the Outcast, he forced himself to tune out her girlish whimpers. Otherwise, he couldn’t have gone on like that. The Outcasts were sexless, lifeless, worthless—but in spite of all that, they were a threat to everything that mattered most to Cam.

“You will”—punch—“not”—knee snap—“get her.”

The Outcast gagged as she coughed up one of her teeth and spat blood across Cam’s T-shirt.

“Spoken like someone who never even had a chance.”

He punched her again, right in the eye. “I did. You hear that, Outcast? I may have lost it, but I used to have a chance.”

Beating up the Outcasts was easy—too easy. It was a pointless exercise, like an old video game you’d bested but played again out of boredom. They’d heal like all the fallen, no matter how much damage he inflicted.

The Outcast grunted as Cam gave her skull a final kick that knocked her to the ground. She landed facedown in the mulchy leaves. After that, she did not move. So it was up to Cam to yank her to her feet and shove her bloodied body back from whence it had come.

“Tell your friends you are not welcome in this forest!” he shouted after her, watching as she tugged open an Announcer and fell inside.

He leaned back against the redwood and took a long, calming drag on his cigarette just as Lucinda started down the stairs.

LUCE AND DANIEL’S DATE

Luce looked around the quiet cave, surprised to find that the angels, demons, Outcasts, and the transeternals had all fallen fast asleep. The last thing she remembered was Dee’s instruction to wait until the moon hit theQayom Malakin precisely the right place before the ceremony of the three relics could begin.

What time was it? Rays of sunlight streamed through the mouth of the cave.

A warm hand squeezed her shoulder. She turned and her hair brushed Daniel’s cheek. “By a stroke of luck we find ourselves alone,” he laughed.

She grinned, whispered, “Let’s get out of here.”

They scrambled down the path, laughing like children, holding hands. When they rounded a curve on the path and found themselves looking out across a great vista of the endless desert, Daniel swept her up in his arms again.

“I can’t keep my hands off you.”

Luce kissed him greedily, let her hands fondle the white expanse of his wings. Like Daniel, they were strong and awe-inspiring and absolutely gorgeous. They rippled with pleasure under her hand. Daniel shuddered, exhaled deeply.

“Do you want to fly somewhere?” he asked.

Luce always wanted to be in the air with Daniel. She grinned. “Sure. Wherever. I just want to be with you.”

He looked into the distance.