Passion - By Lauren Kate Page 0,32

she had been here before. This was no ordinary d?j? vu. She was staring at a place that had meant something to her and Daniel. She half expected to see the two of them there right now, wrapped in each other's arms.

But the gazebo was empty, filled only with the orange light of the setting sun.

Someone whistled, making her jump.

Bill.

She'd forgotten he was with her. He hovered in the air so that their heads were on the same level. Outside the Announcer, he was somewhat more repulsive than he'd seemed at first. In the light, his flesh was dry and scaly, and he smelled pretty strongly of mildew. Flies buzzed around his head. Luce edged away from him a little, almost wishing he'd go back to being invisible.

Sure beats a war zone, he said, eyeing the grounds.

How did you know where I was before?

I'm ... Bill. He shrugged. I know things.

Okay, then, where are we now?

Helston, England--he pointed a claw tip toward his head and closed his eyes--in what you'd call 1854. Then he clasped his stone claws together in front of his chest like a gnomey sort of schoolboy reciting a history report. A sleepy southern town in the county of Cornwall, granted charter by King John himself. Corn's a few feet tall, so I'd say it's probably midsummer. Pity we missed the month of May-- they have a Flora Day festival here like you wouldn't believe. Or maybe you would! Your past self was the belle of the ball the last two years in a row. Her father's very rich, see. Got in at the ground level of the copper trade--

Sounds terrific. Luce cut him off and started tramping across the grass. I'm going in there. I want to talk to her.

Hold up. Bill flew past her, then looped back, fluttering a few inches in front of her face. Now, this? This won't do at all.

He waved a finger in a circle, and Luce realized he was talking about her clothes. She was still in the Italian nurse's uniform she'd worn during the First World War.

He grabbed the hem of her long white skirt and lifted it to her ankles. What do you have on under there? Are those Converse? You've gotta be kidding me with those. He clucked his tongue. How you ever survived those other lifetimes without me ...

I got along fine, thank you.

You'll need to do more than get along' if you want to spend some time here. Bill flew back up to eye level with Luce, then zipped around her three times. When she turned to look for him, he was gone.

But then, a second later, she heard his voice--though it sounded as if it was coming from a great distance. Yes! Brilliant, Bill!

A gray dot appeared in the air near the house, growing larger, then larger, until Bill's stone wrinkles became clear. He was flying toward her now, and carrying a dark bundle in his arms. When he reached her, he simply plucked at her side, and the baggy white nurse's uniform split down its seam and slid right off her body. Luce flung her arms around her bare body modestly, but it seemed like only a second later that a series of petticoats was being tugged over her head.

Bill scrambled around her like a rabid seamstress, binding her waist into a tight corset, until sharp boning poked her skin in all sorts of uncomfortable places. There was so much taffeta in her petticoats that even standing still in a bit of a breeze, she rustled.

She thought she looked pretty good for the era--until she recognized the white apron tied around her waist, over her long black dress. Her hand went to her hair and yanked off a white servant's headpiece.

I'm a maid? she asked.

Yes, Einstein, you're a maid.

Luce knew it was dumb, but she felt a little disappointed. The estate was so grand and the gardens so lovely and she knew she was on a quest and all that, but couldn't she have just strolled around the grounds here like a real Victorian lady?

I thought you said my family was rich.

Your past self's family was rich. Filthy rich. You'll see when you meet her. She goes by Lucinda and thinks your nickname is an absolute abomination, by the way. Bill pinched his nose and lifted it high in the air, giving a pretty laughable imitation of a snob. Shes rich, yes, but you, my dear, are a time- traveling intruder who knows