"That does sound rather crazy," Miss Sophia said. "So, of course, you don't believe him?"
"I didn't at first," Luce said, thinking back to their heated disagreement under the peach tree. "He started out by bringing up the Bible, which my instinct is to tune out—" She bit her tongue. "No offense. I mean, I think your class is really interesting."
"None taken. People often shy away from their religious upbringings around your age. You're nothing new, Lucinda."
"Oh." Luce cracked her knuckles. "But I didn't have a religious upbringing. My parents didn't believe in it, so—"
"Everyone believes in something. Surely you were baptized?"
"Not if you don't count the swimming pool built under the church pews over there," Luce said timidly, jerking her thumb toward Sword & Cross's gym.
Yeah, she celebrated Christmas, she'd been to church a handful of times, and even when her life made her and everyone around her miserable, she still had faith that there was someone or something up there worth believing in. That had always been enough for her.
Across the room, she heard a loud clatter. She looked up to see that Roland had fallen out of his chair. The last time she'd glanced at him, he'd been leaning back on two legs, and now it looked like gravity had finally won.
As he stumbled to his feet, Arriane went to help him. She glanced over and offered a hurried wave. "He's okay!" she called cheerily. "Get up!" she whispered loudly to Roland.
Miss Sophia was sitting very still, with her hands in her lap under the table. She cleared her throat a few times, flipped back to the front cover of the book and ran her fingers over the photograph, then said, "Did he reveal anything more? Do you know who Daniel is?"
Slowly, sitting up very straight in her chair, Luce asked, "Do you?"
The librarian stiffened. "I study these things. I'm an academic. I don't get tangled up in trivial matters of the heart."
Those were the words she used—but everything from the pulsing vein along her neck, to the almost un-noticeably light sheen of sweat dotting her brow told Luce that the answer to her question was yes.
Over their heads, the giant black antique clock struck eleven. The minute hand trembled with the effort of snapping into its place, and the whole contraption gonged for so long it interrupted their conversation. Luce had never noticed how loud the clock was. Now, each chime made her ache. She'd been away from Daniel for too long.
"Daniel thought…," Luce started to say. "Last night, when we first kissed, he thought I was going to die." Miss Sophia didn't look as surprised as Luce would have liked her to look. Luce cracked her knuckles. "But that's crazy, isn't it? I'm not going anywhere."
Miss Sophia took off her bifocals and rubbed her tiny eyes. "For now."
"Oh God," Luce whispered, feeling the same wash of fear that had made her leave Daniel in the cemetery. But why? There was something he still wasn't telling her—something she knew had the power to make her either much more or much less afraid. Something she knew already on her own but couldn't believe. Not until she saw his face again.
The book was still open to the photograph. Upside down, Daniel's smile looked worried, like he knew—as he said he always did—what was coming around the next corner. She couldn't imagine what he must be going through right now. To have opened up about the uncanny history they shared—only to have her dismiss him so completely. She had to find him.
She shut the book and tucked it back under her elbow. Then she stood up and pushed in her chair.
"Where are you going?" Miss Sophia asked nervously.
"To find Daniel."
"I'll go with you."
"No." Luce shook her head, imagining showing up to throw her arms around Daniel with the school librarian in tow. "You don't have to come. Really."
Miss Sophia was all business when she bent down to double-knot the laces of her sensible shoes. She stood up and laid a hand on Luce's shoulder.
"Trust me," she said, "I do. Sword & Cross has a reputation to uphold. You don't think we just let students run around willy-nilly in the night, do you?"
Luce resisted filling Miss Sophia in on her recent escapade outside the school gates. She groaned inwardly. Why not bring along the whole student body so everyone could enjoy the drama? Molly could take pictures, Cam could pick another fight. Why not start right here, and pick up Arriane and Roland—who, she realized with a start, had already disappeared.
Miss Sophia, book in hand, had already taken off for the front entrance. Luce had to jog to catch up to her, speeding past the card catalog, the singed Persian carpet at the front desk, and the glass cases full of Civil War relics in the east wing special collections, where she'd seen Daniel sketching the cemetery the very first night she was here.
They stepped outside into the humid night. A cloud passed over the moon and the campus fell into inky blackness. Then, as if a compass had been placed in her hand. Luce felt guided toward the shadows. She knew exactly where they were. Not at the library, but not far away, either.
She couldn't see them yet, but she could feel them, which was so much worse. An awful, consuming itch coated her skin, seeping into her bones and blood like acid. Pooling, clotting, making the cemetery-and beyond—reek with their sulfur stink. They were so much bigger now. It seemed like all the air on campus was foul with their wretched stench of decay.
"Where is Daniel?" Miss Sophia asked. Luce realized that though the librarian might know quite a bit about the past, she seemed oblivious to the shadows. It made Luce feel terrified and alone, responsible for whatever was about to happen.
"I don't know," she said, feeling as if she couldn't get enough oxygen in the thick, swampy night air. She didn't want to say the words she knew would bring them closer—far too close—to everything that was making her so afraid. But she had to go to Daniel. "I left him in the cemetery."
They hurried across campus, dodging patches of mud left over from the downpour the other day. Only a few lights were on in the dormitory to their right. Through one of the barred windows, Luce saw a girl she barely knew poring over a book. They were in the same morning block of classes. She was a tough-looking girl with a pierced septum and the tiniest sneeze—but Luce had never heard her speak. She had no idea if she was miserable or if she enjoyed her life. Luce wondered at that moment: If she could trade places with this girl—who never had to worry about past lives, or apocalyptic shadows, or the deaths of two innocent boys on her hands—would she do it?
Daniel's face—the way it had been bathed in violet light when he'd carried her home this morning—appeared before her eyes. His gleaming golden hair. His tender, knowing eyes. The way one touch of his lips transported her far away from any darkness. For him, she'd suffer all of this, and more.
If only she knew how much more there was.
She and Miss Sophia jogged forward, past the creaking bleachers framing the commons, then past the soccer field. Miss Sophia really kept in shape. Luce would have worried about their pace if the woman hadn't been a few steps ahead of her.
Luce was dragging. Her fear of facing the shadows was like a hurricane-force headwind slowing her down. And yet she pressed on. An overwhelming nausea told her that she'd barely glimpsed what the dark things could accomplish.
At the cemetery gates, they stopped. Luce was trembling, hugging herself in a failed attempt to hide it. A girl was standing with her back to them, gazing into the graveyard below.
"Penn!" Luce called, so glad to see her friend.
When Penn turned to them, her face was ashen. She wore a black Windbreaker, despite the heat, and her glasses were fogging up from the humidity. She was trembling just as much as Luce was.