Passion - By Lauren Kate Page 0,80

over and over again: to put their love above everything else.

That night on the fjords, her soul was between incarnations, newly purged from her last body. What if he stopped seeking her out? Daniel was tired to his core. He didn't know if he had it in him anymore. Watching his earlier struggle, sensing the imminent arrival of absolute breakdown, Daniel recalled what he had to do. It was dangerous. Forbidden. But it was absolutely necessary. Now, at least, he understood why his future self had taken him that long-ago night--to lend him strength, to keep him pure. He had weakened at this key moment in his past. And future Daniel could not let that weakness be magnified across the span of history, could not let it corrupt his and Lucinda's chances.

So he repeated what had happened to him nine hundred years before. He would make amends tonight by joining with--no, overriding his past.

Cleaving.

It was the only way.

He rolled back his shoulders, unleashed his trembling wings into the darkness. He could feel them catch the wind at his back. An aurora of light painted the sky a hundred feet above him. It was bright enough to blind a mortal, bright enough to catch the attention of seven squabbling angels.

Commotion from the other side of the boulder. Shouting and gasps and the beat of wings coming closer.

Daniel propelled himself off the ground, flying fast and hard so that he soared over the boulder just as Cam came around behind it. They missed each other by a wingspan, but Daniel kept moving, swooped down upon his past self as fast as his love for Luce could take him.

His past self drew back and held out his hands, warding Daniel off.

All the angels knew the risks of cleaving. Once joined, it was nearly impossible to free oneself from one's past self, to separate two lives that had been cloven together. But Daniel knew he'd been cloven in the past and had survived. So he had to do it.

He was doing it to help Luce.

He pressed his wings together and dove down at his past self, striking so hard he should have been crushed--if he hadn't been absorbed. He shuddered, and his past self shuddered, and Daniel clamped his eyes shut and gritted his teeth to withstand the strange, sharp sickness that flooded his body. He felt as if he were tumbling down a hill: reckless and unstoppable. No way back up until he hit the bottom.

Then all at once, everything came to a stop.

Daniel opened his eyes and could hear only his breathing. He felt tired but alert. The others were staring at him. He couldn't be sure whether they had any idea what had just happened. They all looked afraid to come near him, even to speak to him.

He spread his wings and spun in a full circle, tilting his head toward the sky. I choose my love for Lucinda, he called to Heaven and Earth, to the angels all around him and the ones who weren't there. To the soul of the one true thing he loved the most, wherever she was. I now reaffirm my choice: I choose Lucinda over everything. And I will until the end.
Chapter Fifteen
THE SACRIFICE

CHICHN ITZ, MESOAMERICA 5 WAYEB

The Announcer spat Luce into the swelter of a summer day. Beneath her feet, the ground was parched, all cracked earth and tawny, dried-up blades of grass. The sky was barren blue, not a single cloud to promise rain. Even the wind seemed thirsty.

She stood in the center of a flat field bordered on three sides by a strange, high wall. From this distance, it looked a little like a mosaic made of giant beads. They were irregularly shaped, not spherical exactly, ranging in color from ivory to light brown. Here and there were tiny cracks between the beads, letting in light from the other side.

Besides a half dozen vultures cawing as they swooped in listless circles, no one else was around. The wind blew hotly through her hair and smelled like ... she couldn't place the smell, but it tasted metallic, almost rusty.

The heavy gown she had been wearing since the ball at Versailles was soaked with sweat. It stank of smoke and ash and perspiration every time she breathed in. It had to go. She struggled to reach the laces and buttons. She could use a hand--even a tiny stone one.

Where was Bill, anyway? He was always disappearing. Sometimes Luce got the feeling the gargoyle had