she set down her co ee. "How rude of me to not even introduce myself to your friends, Luce." myself to your friends, Luce."
"Um, we know who you are," Shelby said.
"Yeah, there was a whole chapter on you in my eighth-grade History of Angels textbook," Miles said.
Arriane clapped. "And they told me that book had been banned!"
"Seriously? You're in a textbook?" Luce laughed.
"Why so surprised? You don't nd me historic?" Arriane turned back to Shelby and Miles. "Now, tell me all about yourselves. I need to know who my girl's been palling around with."
"Lapsed nonbelieving Nephilim." Shelby raised her hand.
Miles stared at his food. "And the ine ectual great-great-great-to-the-nth-degree-grandson of an angel."
"That's not true." Luce bumped Miles's shoulder. "Arriane, you should have seen how he helped us step through this shadow tonight. He was great. That's why we're here, because he read this book and the next thing you know, he could--"
"Yeah, I was wondering about that," Arriane said sarcastically. "But what concerns me more is this one." She gestured at Shelby. Arriane's face was much graver than Luce was accustomed to. Even her manic light blue eyes looked steady. "It's not a good time to be a lapsed anything right now. Everything's in ux, but there will be a reckoning. And you will have to choose one side or the other." Arriane stared deliberately at Shelby. "We all have to know where we stand."
Before anyone could respond, the waitress reappeared, wielding a huge brown plastic tray of food.
"Well, how's this for speedy service?" she asked. "Now, which one of you had the pigs--"
"Me!" Shelby startled the waitress with the quickness of her reach for the plate.
"Anybody need any ketchup?"
They shook their heads.
"Extra butter?"
Luce pointed down at the ice cream scoop of butter already on her pancakes. "We're all set. Thanks."
"If we need anything," Arriane said, beaming down at the whipped cream happy face on her plate, "we'll holler."
"Oh, I know you will." The waitress chuckled, tucking the tray under her arm. "Holler like the world's about to end, this one will."
After she left, Arriane was the only one who ate. She plucked a blueberry from the pancake's nose, popped it into her mouth, and licked her
ngers with relish. Finally she glanced around the table.
"Dig in," Arriane said. "There's nothing good about cold steak and eggs." She sighed. "Come on, guys. You've read the history books. Don't you know the drill--"
"I haven't," Luce said. "I don't know any drills."
Arriane sucked meditatively on her fork. "Good point. In that case, allow me to present my version to you. Which is more fun than the history books anyway because I won't censor the big ghts and curses and all the sexy stu . My version has everything but 3-D, which, I have to say, is totally overrated. Did you see that movie with"--she noticed the blank looks on their faces. "Oh, never mind. Okay, it starts millennia ago. Now, do I need to catch you up on Satan?"
"Waged an early power struggle against God." Miles's voice was a monotone, as if he were repeating a third-grade lesson plan while he speared a bit of steak with his fork.
"Before then they were super-tight," Shelby added, dousing her pigs in blankets with syrup. "I mean, God called Satan his morning star. So it's not like Satan wasn't worthy or beloved."
"But he would rather reign in Hell than serve in Heaven," Luce chimed in. She might not have read the Nephilim histories, but she'd read Paradise Lost. Or at least, the Cli sNotes.
"Very nice." Arriane beamed, leaning toward Luce. "You know, Gabbe was big friends with Milton's daughters back in the day. She likes to take credit for that phrase, and I'm all `Aren't you enough people's darling already?' But whatever." Arriane moved in on a forkful of Luce's eggs. "Damn, these are good. Can we get some hot sauce over here?" she bellowed toward the kitchen. "Okay, where were we?"
"Satan," Shelby said through a mouthful of pancake.
"Right. So. Say what you will about El Diablo Grande, but he is"--Arriane tossed her head--"somewhat responsible for introducing the idea of free will among angels. I mean: He really gave the rest of us something to think about. On which side do you throw your weight? Given the choice, a whole lotta angels fell."
"How many?" Miles asked.
"The Fallen? Enough to cause something of a stalemate." Arriane looked thoughtful for a moment, then grimaced and called out to the waitress. "Hot sauce! Does it exist in this establishment?"
"What