Tormen - By Lauren Kate Page 0,106

unrecognizable as the swanky-casual place to grab some pancakes before class; it had been transformed into a full- edged outdoor banquet hall.

Shelby was still grumbling as she moved from table to table, adjusting place cards and relighting candles. She and the rest of the Decorations Committee had done a beautiful job: Red-and-orange silk leaves had been strewn across the long white tablecloths, fresh-baked dinner rolls were arranged inside gold-painted cornucopias, heat lamps took the edge o the brisk ocean breeze. Even the paint-by-number turkey centerpieces looked stylish.

All the students, the faculty, and about fty of the school's biggest donors had turned out in their nest for the dinner. Dawn and her parents had driven up for the night. Though Luce hadn't gotten a chance to talk to Dawn yet, she looked recovered, even happy, and had waved to Luce cheerfully from her seat next to Jasmine.

Most of the twenty or so Nephilim were seated together at two adjacent circular tables, with the exception of Roland, who was sitting in a faraway corner with a mysterious date. Then the mysterious date stood up, lifted her broad rosebud-shaped hat, and gave Luce a sneaky little wave.

Arriane.

Despite herself, Luce smiled--but a second later, she felt close to tears. Watching those two snickering together reminded Luce of the sickeningly sinister scene she had glimpsed in the Announcer the day before. Like Cam and Daniel, Arriane and Roland were supposed to be on opposite sides, but everybody knew they were a team.

Still, that felt di erent somehow.

Harvest Fest was supposed to be a last pre-Thanksgiving hurrah before classes were dismissed. Then everyone else would have another Thanksgiving, a real Thanksgiving, with their families. For Luce, it was the only Thanksgiving she was going to get. Mr. Cole hadn't written her back. After yesterday's grounding and then the rooftop revelation, she was having a hard time feeling thankful for much of anything.

"You're hardly eating," Francesca said, spooning a great dollop of shiny mashed potatoes onto Luce's plate. Luce was growing more attuned to the thrilling glow that fell over everything when Francesca was talking to her. Francesca possessed an otherworldly charisma, simply by virtue of being an angel.

She beamed at Luce like there'd been no meeting in her o ce yesterday, like Luce wasn't under lock and key.

Luce had been given the seat of honor at the expansive faculty head table, next to Francesca. All the donors came by in a stream to shake hands with the faculty. The three other students at the head table--Lilith, Beaker Brady, and a Korean girl with a dark bob Luce didn't know--had applied for their seats in an essay contest. All Luce had had to do was piss o her teachers enough that they were afraid to let her out of their sight.

The meal was nally wrapping up when Steven leaned forward in his chair. Like Francesca, he displayed none of yesterday's venom. "Make sure Luce introduces herself to Dr. Buchanan."

Francesca popped the last bite of a buttered corn bread mu n into her mouth. "Buchanan's one of the biggest supporters of the school," she told Luce. "You might have heard of his Devils Abroad program?"

Luce shrugged as the waiters reappeared to clear the plates.

"His ex-wife had angel lineage, but after the porce he shifted some of his alliances. Still"--Francesca glanced at Steven--"a very good person to know. Oh, hello, Ms. Fisher! How nice of you to come."

"Yes, hello." An elderly woman with an a ected British accent, a bulky mink coat, and more diamonds around her neck than Luce had ever seen before extended a white-gloved hand to Steven, who stood up to greet her. Francesca rose too, leaning forward to greet the woman with a kiss on either cheek. "Where's my Miles?" the woman asked.

Luce jumped up. "Oh, you must be Miles's ... grandmother?"

"Good heavens, no." The woman recoiled. "Don't have children, never married, boo-hoo-hoo. I am Ms. Ginger Fisher, from the NorCal branch of the family tree. Miles is my great-nephew. And you are?"

"Lucinda Price."

"Lucinda Price, yes." Ms. Fisher looked down her nose at Luce, squinting. "Read about you in one or another of the histories. Though I can't recall what it was exactly that you did--"

Before Luce could respond, Steven's hands were on her shoulders. "Luce is one of our newest students," he boomed. "You'll be happy to know that Miles has really gone out of his way to make her feel comfortable here."

Ms. Fisher's squinty eyes were already looking past them, searching the crowded