Fallen Angels in the Dark

MILES IN THE DARK





Miles had never meant to splinter off a second Lucinda.

One moment she had been a single girl in danger—his friend, a beautiful girl he’d kissed once, too, but that wasn’t the point—and then a second later, Miles’s eyes went cloudy and his heart pounded and before he knew what he was doing, he had thrown a mirror image of Luce right into the standoff with the Outcasts. Conjured her out of thin air and his deep feelings for her.

Two of her, suddenly. Both as gorgeous as a starry sky: dark jeans, dark shirts, two dark heads of hair. And there was such a dark look in Luce’s mirror image’s eyes when she took flight with the Outcast. And then—Miles pinched his own eyes shut at the memory—with one loosed silver arrow, the mirage image was gone.

Too soon after that, his friend, the real Luce, had disappeared, too.

He was such an idiot! The stupid words he’d said to her the first time they talked about his so-called talent would not stop running through his mind: It’s easy to do with the people you, like, love.

Did Luce remember their conversation that day on the deck at Shoreline? Was what he told her then one of the things that had sent her plunging into the Announcer all alone?

She hadn’t even looked back.

Now the yard was buzzing with the angels and their disbelief. Miles and Shelby were having a tough time grappling with what Luce had just done, but they’d seen her open Announcers. The angels, though, looked ready to keel over from shock.

Miles watched her so-called boyfriend as he worked through his own shock. His stupid mouth opened and closed silently. Daniel didn’t know his girlfriend could do anything. He had no idea how very much she was capable of.

Miles turned away from them all and crossed his arms over his chest. It wouldn’t do him any good to get angrier with Daniel Grigori. Luce was crazy about him. They had been in love forever. Miles couldn’t compete with that.

He gave the dead grass a futile kick—and his foot bumped into something. It glinted in the dark.

An unclaimed starshot.

No one was looking. The angels were huddled together, arguing about how to find Lucinda.


Miles felt wild and unhinged and not like himself at all, but suddenly he snatched the starshot from the ground and tucked it into the inside pocket of his brown corduroy coat.

“Miles, what are you doing?” Shelby’s whisper made him jump.

“Nothing!”

“Good.” She waved to him from behind the shed, out of view of the bickering angels.

“Then get over here and help me with this Announcer. It’s being a royal pain in the—Argh!”

The dark shadow pooled in her hands, completely unresponsive.

“Shelby!” Miles whispered as he jogged over. “Why are you doing that?”

“Why do you think, blockhead?”

Miles laughed under his breath at the fierce determination on her face. It wasn’t the Announcer; it was Shelby. She was terrible at stepping through but would die before she ever admitted it. It was kind of cute.

“You—you want to go after her?” he asked.

“Duh,” she said. “Are you with me? Or are you too scared?” She glared at Miles, then swallowed, changed her pitch, and took his hand. “Please don’t make me go alone.”

Miles took the Announcer off Shelby’s hands and struggled to expand it in the dark. Soon it opened up into an inky portal very much like the one Luce had just stepped through.

“I’m with you,” he said, and took Shelby’s hand. And together, they entered the darkness.