o ce to retrieve my turkey. We're both going to forget this ever happened. Okay?"
"Okay."
"Good. I'll be back in ve minutes, so don't disappear on me."
But as soon as the door closed, Luce was out the window, climbing to the at part of the ledge where she and Daniel had sat the night before. Putting what she'd just seen out of her mind was impossible. She had to summon that shadow again. Even if it got her in more trouble. Even if she saw something she didn't like.
The late morning had turned gusty, and Luce had to crouch down and hold on to the slanting wooden shingles to keep her balance. Her hands were cold. Her heart felt numb. She closed her eyes. Every time she tried to summon an Announcer, she remembered how little training she'd had. She'd always just been lucky--if watching your boyfriend look down at someone he'd just murdered could be considered luck.
A damp brushing crept along her arms. Was it the brown shadow, the ugly thing that showed her an even uglier thing? Her eyes shot open.
It was. Creeping up her shoulder like a snake. She yanked it o and held it in front of her, trying to spin it into a ball with her hands. The Announcer rejected her touch, oating backward, out of her reach just past the roof's edge.
She looked down two stories to the ground below. A trail of students were leaving the dorm to head to the mess hall for brunch, a stream of color moving along a sheet of bright green grass. Luce teetered. Vertigo hit, and she felt herself falling forward.
But then the shadow rushed like a football player, knocking her back against the slope of the roof. There she stayed, stuck against the shingles, panting as the Announcer yawned open again.
The smoky veil di used into light, and Luce was back with Daniel and his bloody branch. Back to the caw of seagulls circling overhead and the stench of rotting surf along the shore, the sight of icy waves crashing on the beach. And back to the two gures huddled on the ground. The dead one was all tied up. The living one stood to face Daniel.
Cam.
No. It had to be a mistake. They hated one another. Had just waged a huge battle against one another. She could accept that Daniel did dark things to protect her from the people who were after her. But what foul thing would ever make him seek out Cam? Work alongside Cam--who took pleasure in killing?
They were in a heated discussion of some sort, but Luce couldn't make out the words. She couldn't hear anything over the clock in the middle of the terrace, which had just struck eleven. She strained her ears, waiting for the gongs to cease.
"Let me take her to Shoreline," she nally heard Daniel plead.
This must have been right before she arrived in California. But why should Daniel have to ask Cam's permission? Unless--
"Fine," Cam said evenly. "Take her as far as the school and then nd me. Don't screw up; I'll be watching."
"And then?" Daniel sounded nervous.
Cam ran his eyes over Daniel's face. "You and I have work to do."
"No!" Luce screamed, slashing at the shadow with her ngers in anger.
But as soon as she felt her hands break through the cold, slippery surface, she regretted it. It broke into spent fragments, settling into an ashy pile at her side. Now she couldn't see anymore. She tried to gather the fragments up the way she'd seen Miles do, but they were quivering and unresponsive. unresponsive.
She grabbed a stful of the worthless pieces, sobbing into them.
Steven had said that sometimes the Announcers distorted what was real. Like the shadows cast on the cave wall. But that there was always some truth to them too. Luce could feel the truth in the cold, soggy pieces, even as she wrung them out, trying to squeeze out all her agony.
Daniel and Cam weren't enemies. They were partners.
Chapter Fifteen
FOUR DAYS
"More Tofurky?" Connor Madson--a towheaded kid from Luce's biology class and one of Shoreline's student waiters--stood over her with a silver platter at the Harvest Fest on Monday night.
"No, thanks." Luce pointed down at the thick stack of lukewarm fake meat slices still on her plate.
"Maybe later." Connor and the rest of the scholarship wait sta at Shoreline were suited up for the Harvest Fest in tuxedos and ridiculous pilgrim hats. They glided past each other on the terrace, which was nearly