Passion - By Lauren Kate Page 0,116

He had to leave, no matter what.

Aloft. You were always aloft up here. Always gliding through the purest air. He spread his wings and felt the white mist ripple over him. He soared across the pearly forests, swooping above the Orchard of Knowledge, curving around the Grove of Life. He passed satin-white lakes and the foothills of the shining silver Celeste Mountains.

He'd spent so many happy epochs here.

No. All that must remain in the recesses of his soul. This was no time for nostalgia.

He slowed and approached the Meadow of the Throne. It was just as he remembered it: the flat plain of brilliant white cloudsoil leading up toward the center of everything. The Throne itself, dazzlingly bright, radiating the warmth of pure goodness, so luminous that, even for an angel, it was impossible to look directly at it. One could not even get close to seeing the Creator, who sat upon the Throne clothed in brightness, so the customary synecdoche--calling the whole entity the Throne--was apt.

Daniel's gaze drifted to the arc of rippled silver ledges circling the Throne. Each one was marked with the rank of a different Archangel. This used to be their headquarters, a place to worship, to attend, to call on and deliver messages for the Throne.

There was the lustrous altar that had been his seat, near the top right corner of the Throne. It had been there for as long as the Throne had been in existence.

But there were only seven altars now. Once there had been eight.

Wait--

Daniel winced. He knew he'd come through the Gates of Heaven, but he hadn't thought about precisely when. It mattered. The Throne had only been imbalanced like that for a very short period: the sliver of time right after Lucifer stated his plans to defect but before the rest of them had been called upon to choose sides.

He arrived in that blink of a moment after Lucifer's betrayal but before the Fall.

The great rift was coming during which some would side with Heaven and some would side with Hell, when Lucifer would turn into Satan before their eyes, and the Great Arm of the Throne would sweep legions of them off the surface of Heaven and send them plummeting.

He drew nearer to the Meadow. The harmonious note grew louder, as did the choral buzz of angels. The Meadow was glowing with the gathering of all the brightest souls. His past self would be down there; all of them were. It was so bright Daniel couldn't see clearly, but his memory told him that Lucifer had been permitted to hold court from his repositioned silver altar at the far end of the Meadow, in direct opposition to--though not nearly as high as--the Throne. The other angels were assembled before the Throne, in the middle of the Meadow.

This was the roll call, the last moment of unity before Heaven lost half its souls. At the time Daniel had wondered why the Throne ever permitted the roll call to occur. Did he who had dominion over everything think Lucifer's appeal to the angels would end in sheer humiliation? How could the Throne have been so wrong?

Gabbe still spoke of the roll call with startling clarity. Daniel could remember little of it--other than the soft brush of a single wing reaching out to him in solidarity. The brush that told him: You are not alone.

Could he dare to look upon that wing now?

Perhaps there was a way to go about the roll call differently, so that the curse that befell them afterward did not strike so hard. With a shiver that reached his very core, Daniel realized that he could turn this trap into an opportunity.

Of course! Someone had reworked the curse so that there was a way out for Lucinda. The whole time he'd been racing after her, Daniel had assumed it must have been Lucinda herself. That somewhere in her heedless flight backward through time, she'd opened up a loophole. But maybe ... maybe it had been Daniel all along. He was here now. He could do it. In some sense, he must already have done it. Yes, he'd been chasing its implications through the millennia he'd traveled to get here. What he did here, now, at the very beginning, would ripple forward into every one of her lives. Finally, things were beginning to make sense.

He would be the one to soften the curse, to allow Lucinda to live and travel into her past--it had to have begun here. And