time. He stood up, almost capsizing the raft. As he strained to lift Dawn out of the water, Luce saw the briefest ash of gold extend from his back.
His wings.
The way they jutted out instantly, at the moment when Steven needed the most strength--it seemed to happen almost against his will. They were gleaming, the color of the kind of expensive jewelry Luce had only seen behind glass cases at department stores. They were nothing like Daniel's wings. Daniel's were warm and welcoming, magni cent and sexy; Steven's were raw and intimidating, jagged and terrifying.
Steven grunted, the muscles in his arms strained, and his wings beat just once, giving him enough upward momentum to y Dawn out of the water.
The wings stirred up enough wind to atten Luce against the other side of the raft. As soon as Dawn was safe, Steven's feet touched down again on the oor of the raft. His wings immediately slid back into his skin. They left two small tears in the back of his dress shirt, the only proof that what Luce had seen had been real. His face was washed out and his hands were shaking.
The three of them collapsed inside the raft. Dawn had noticed nothing, and Luce wondered whether anyone watching from the boat had either. Steven looked at Luce as if she'd just seen him naked. She wanted to tell him it had been startling to see his wings; she hadn't known until then that even the dark side of the fallen angels could be so breathtaking.
She reached for Dawn, partly expecting to see blood somewhere on her skin. It really felt like something had taken her in its jaws. But there was no sign of any wound.
"Are you okay?" Luce nally whispered.
Dawn shook her head, sending droplets of water ying o her hair. "I can swim, Luce. I'm a good swimmer. Something had me--something--"
"Is still down there," Steven nished, picking up the paddle and hauling them back toward the yacht.
"What did it feel like?" Luce asked. "A shark or--"
Dawn shuddered. "Hands."
"Hands?"
"Luce!" Steven barked.
She turned to him: He seemed like a di erent being than the one she'd been talking to minutes earlier on the deck. There was a hardness in his eyes she'd never seen before.
"What you did today was--" He broke o . His dripping face looked savage. Luce held her breath, waiting for it. Reckless. Stupid. Dangerous. "Very brave," he nally said, his cheeks and forehead relaxing into their usual expression.
Luce exhaled, having a hard time even nding the voice to say thank you. She couldn't take her eyes o Dawn's trembling legs. And the rising thin red marks that looped around her ankles. Marks that looked like they'd been left by ngers.
"I'm sure you girls are scared," Steven said quietly. "But there's no reason to bring a general hysteria upon the whole school. Let me have a talk with Francesca. Until you hear from me: Not a word about this to anyone else. Dawn?"
The girl nodded, looking terri ed.
"Luce?"
Her face twitched. She wasn't sure about keeping this secret. Dawn had almost died.
"Luce." Steven gripped her shoulder, removed his square-framed glasses, and stared into Luce's hazel eyes with his own dark brown ones. As the life raft was winched up to the main deck, where the rest of the school waited, his breath was hot in her ear. "Not a word. To anyone. It's for your own protection." SEVEN
Chapter Seven
TWELVE DAYS
"I don't get why you're being so weird," Shelby said to Luce the next morning. "You've been here, what, six days? And you're Shoreline's biggest hero. Maybe you're going to live up to your reputation after all."
The Sunday-morning sky was dotted with cumulus clouds. Luce and Shelby were walking along Shoreline's tiny beach, sharing an orange and a thermos of chai. A strong wind carried the earthy scent of old redwoods down from the woods. The tide was rough and high, kicking up long swaths of knotted black seaweed, jelly sh, and rotting driftwood into the girls' path.
"It was nothing," Luce muttered, which wasn't exactly true. Jumping into that icy water after Dawn had certainly been something. But Steven --the severity of his tone, the force of his grip on her arm--had put a fear into Luce about ever speaking of Dawn's rescue.
She eyed the salty foam left in the wake of a receding wave. She was trying not to look out at the deep, dark water beyond--so she wouldn't have to think about hands down in