Lauren Kate: Torment

Then, like turning off a light switch, Steven and Francesca snapped their fingers and the image disappeared. The remnants of the shadow shattered into a small black cloud of ash that settled eventually on the floor of the classroom. Around Luce, the other students all seemed to be catching their breath.

Luce couldn’t take her eyes off the place where the shadow had been. How had it done that? It was starting to congeal again, the pieces of dark pooling together, slowly returning to a more familiar shadow shape. Its services complete, the Announcer inched sluggishly along the floorboards, then slid right out of the classroom, like the shadow cast by a closing door.

“You may be wondering why we just put you through that,” Steven said, addressing the class. He and Francesca shared a worried look as they glanced around the room. Dawn was whimpering at her desk.

“As you know,” Francesca said, “most of the time in this class, we like to focus on what you as Nephilim have the power to do. How you can change things for the better, however each of you decide to define that. We like to look forward, instead of backward.”

“But what you saw today,” Steven said, “was more than just a history lesson with incredible special effects. And it wasn’t just imagery we conjured up. No, what you were seeing was the actual Sodom and Gomorrah, as they were destroyed by the Great Tyrant when he—”

“Unh-unh-unh!” Francesca said, wagging a finger. “We don’t go for easy name-calling in here.”

“Of course. She’s right, as usual. Even I sometimes lapse into propaganda.” Steven beamed at the class. “But as I was saying, the Announcers are more than mere shadows. They can hold very valuable information. In a way, they are shadows—but shadows of the past, of long-ago and not-so-long-ago events.”

“What you saw today,” Francesca finished, “was just a demonstration of an invaluable skill some of you may be able to harness. Someday.”

“You won’t want to try it right now.” Steven wiped his hands with a handkerchief he’d pulled from a pocket. “In fact, we forbid you to attempt this, lest you lose control and lose yourselves in the shadows. But someday, maybe, it will be a possibility.”

Luce shared a glance with Miles. He gave her a wide-eyed smile, as if he were relieved to hear this. He didn’t seem to feel at all shut out, not the way Luce did.

“Besides,” Francesca said, “most of you will probably find that you feel fatigued.” Luce looked around the room at the students’ faces as Francesca talked. Her voice had the effect of aloe on a sunburn. Half of the kids had their eyes closed, as if they’d been soothed. “That’s very normal. Shadow-glimpsing is not done without great cost. It takes energy to look back even a few days, but to look back millennia? Well, you can feel the effects yourselves. In light of that”—she looked at Steven—“we’re going to let you out early today to rest.”

“We’ll pick up again tomorrow, so make sure you’ve done your reading on disapparition,” Steven said. “Class dismissed.”

Around Luce, students rose slowly from their desks. They looked dazed, exhausted. When she stood up, her own knees were a little wobbly, but somehow she felt less shaken than the others seemed to be. She tightened her cardigan around her shoulders and followed Miles out of the classroom.

“Pretty heavy stuff,” he said, taking the stairs down from the deck two at a time. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Luce said. She was. “Are you?”

Miles rubbed his forehead. “It just feels like we were really there. I’m glad they let us out early. Feel like I need a nap.”

“Seriously!” Dawn added, coming up behind them on the winding path back to the dorm. “That was the last thing I was expecting from my Wednesday morning. I am so conking out right now.”

It was true: The destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah had been horrifying. So real, Luce’s skin still felt hot from the blaze.

They took the shortcut back to the dorm, around the north side of the mess hall and into the shade of the redwoods. It was strange seeing the campus so empty, with all the other kids at Shoreline still in class in the main building. One by one, the Nephilim peeled off the path and headed straight to bed.

Except for Luce. She wasn’t tired, not at all. Instead, she felt strangely energized. She wished, again, that Daniel were there. She badly wanted to talk to him about Francesca and Steven’s demonstration—and to know why he hadn’t told her sooner that there was more to the shadows than she could see.

In front of Luce were the stairs leading up to her dorm room. Behind her, the redwood forest. She paced outside the entrance to the dorm, unwilling to go inside, unwilling to sleep this off and pretend she hadn’t seen it. Francesca and Steven wouldn’t have been trying to scare the class; they must have intended to teach them something. Something they couldn’t come right out and say. But if the Announcers carried messages and echoes of the past, then what was the point of the one they’d just been shown?

She went into the woods.

Her watch said 11 a.m., but it could have been midnight under the dark canopy of trees. Goose bumps rose on her bare legs as she pressed deeper into the shady forest. She didn’t want to think about it too hard; thinking would only increase the odds of her chickening out. She was about to enter uncharted territory. Forbidden territory.

She was going to summon an Announcer.

She’d done things to them before. The very first time was when she pinched one during class to keep it from sneaking into her pocket. There was the time in the library when she’d swatted one away from Penn. Poor Penn. Luce couldn’t help wondering what message that Announcer had been carrying. If she had known how to manipulate it then, the way Francesca and Steven had manipulated the one today—could she have stopped what happened?

She closed her eyes. Saw Penn, slumped against the wall, her chest aproned with blood. Her fallen friend. No . Looking back on that night was too painful, and it never got Luce anywhere. All she could do now was look ahead.

She had to fight the cold fear clawing at her insides. A slinking, black, familiar shape lurking alongside the true shadow of a low redwood branch a mere ten yards in front of her.

She took a step toward it, and the Announcer shrank back. Trying not to make any sudden moves, Luce pressed on, closer, closer, willing the shadow not to slip away.

There.

The shadow twitched under its tree branch but stayed put.

Heart racing, Luce tried to calm herself down. Yes, it was dark in this forest; and yes, not a soul knew where she was; and okay, sure, there was a chance no one would miss her for a good while if anything happened—but there was no reason to panic. Right? So why did she feel gripped by a gnawing fear? Why was she getting the same tremor in her hands she used to get when she saw the shadows as a girl, back before she’d learned they were basically harmless?

It was time to make a move. She could either stand here frozen forever, or she could chicken out and go sulking back to the dorm, or—

Her arm shot out, no longer shaking, and took hold of the thing. She dragged it up and clutched it tightly to her chest, surprised by its heft, by how cold and damp it was. Like a wet towel. Her arms were shaking. What did she do with it now?

The image of those burning cities flashed into her mind. Luce wondered whether she could stand to see this message on her own. If she could even figure out how to unlock its secrets. How did these things work? All Francesca and Steven had done was pull.

Holding her breath, Luce worked her fingers along the shadow’s feathery edges, gripped it, and gave it a gentle tug. To her surprise, the Announcer was pliant, almost like putty, and took whatever shape her hands suggested. Grimacing, she tried to manipulate it into a square. Into something like the screen she’d seen her teachers form.