Lauren Kate: Torment

“You and what army?” Cam said. “You know, I think you’re the first Outcast I’ve ever met with a sense of humor.” He glanced around the cramped kitchen. “Why don’t you and I take this outside? Get it over with, shall we?”

“Gladly,” the boy replied, a flat smile on his pale lips.

Cam rolled his shoulders back as if he were working out a knot—and there, right where his shoulder blades came together, an enormous pair of golden wings split through his gray cashmere sweater. They unfurled behind him, taking up most of the kitchen. Cam’s wings were so bright they were almost blinding as they pulsed.

“Holy Hell,” Callie whispered, blinking.

“More or less,” Arriane said as Cam arched his wings backward and plowed past the Outcast boy, through the door and into the backyard. “Luce will explain, I’m sure!”

Roland’s wings unfurled with a sound like a great flock of birds taking flight. The lamplight in the kitchen highlighted their dark gold and black marbling as he squeezed out the door after Cam. Molly and Arriane were right behind him, butting into each other, Arriane pressing her glowing iridescent wings ahead of Molly’s cloudy bronze ones, sending off what looked like little electric sparks as they hustled out the door. Next was Gabbe, whose fluffy white wings spread open as gracefully as a butterfly’s, but with such speed they sent a rush of floral-scented wind through the kitchen.

Daniel took Luce’s hands in his. He closed his eyes, inhaled, and let his massive white wings unfurl. Fully extended, they would have filled the entire kitchen, but Daniel reined them in, close to his body. They shimmered and glowed and looked altogether too beautiful. Luce reached out and touched them with both hands. Warm and satin smooth on the outside, but inside, full of power. She could feel it coursing through Daniel, into her. She felt so close to him, understood him completely. As if they’d become one.

Don’t worry. Everything’s going to be fine. I’ll always take care of you .

But what he said aloud was “Stay safe. Stay here.”

“No,” she pleaded. “ Daniel. ”

“I’ll be right back.” Then he arched his wings backward and flew out the door.

Left alone inside, the unangelic gathered together. Miles was pressed against the back door, gaping out the window. Shelby had her head in her hands. Callie’s face looked as white as the refrigerator.

Luce slipped a hand into Callie’s. “I guess I have a few things to explain.”

“Who is that boy with the bow and arrow?” Callie whispered, flinching but still holding tight to Luce’s hand. “Who are you?”

“Me? I’m just … me.” Luce shrugged, feeling a chill spread through her. “I don’t know.”

“Luce,” Shelby said, clearly trying not to cry. “I feel like such a chump. I swear I had no idea. The stuff I told him, I was just venting. He was always asking about you, and he was a good listener, so I … I mean, I had no idea what he really was … I would never, never—”

“I believe you,” Luce said. She moved to the window, next to Miles, looking out onto the small wooden deck her dad had built a few years ago. “What do you think he wants?”

In the yard, fallen oak leaves had been raked into neat piles. The air smelled like a bonfire. Somewhere in the distance, a siren was going off. At the foot of the deck’s three steps, Daniel, Cam, Arriane, Roland, and Gabbe stood side by side, facing the fence.

No, not the fence, Luce realized. They faced a dark crowd of Outcasts, standing at attention with their silver arrows aimed at the row of angels. The Outcast boy was not alone. He’d amassed an army.

Luce had to steady herself against the counter. Aside from Cam, the angels were unarmed. And she’d already seen what those arrows could do.

“Luce, stop!” Miles called after her, but she was already rushing out the door.

Even in the darkness, Luce could see that all the Outcasts had similar expressionless good looks. There were just as many girls as boys, all of them pale and dressed in the same brown trench coats, with closely cropped bleached-blond hair for the boys and tight, almost white ponytails for the girls. The Outcasts’ wings arched out from their backs. They were in very, very bad shape—tattered and frayed and revoltingly filthy, practically caked with dirt. Nothing at all like the glorious wings of Daniel or Cam, or any of the angels and demons Luce knew. Standing in solidarity, with their strange empty eyes staring out, their heads tilted in different directions, the Outcasts made a horrible nightmare of an army. Only, Luce could not wake up.

When Daniel noticed her standing with the others on the deck, he doubled back and seized her hands. His perfect face looked wild with fear. “ I told you to stay inside. ”

“No,” she whispered. “I won’t stay locked up while the rest of you fight. I can’t just keep watching people around me die for no reason.”

“No reason? Let’s have this fight another time, Luce.” His eyes kept darting toward the dark line of Outcasts near the fence.

She balled up her fists at her sides. “ Daniel— ”

“Your life is too precious to squander in a temper tantrum. Get inside. Now. ”

A loud shriek rang out in the middle of the yard. The front line of ten Outcasts raised their weapons toward the angels and loosed their arrows. Luce’s head shot up just in time to catch the sight of something—some one— catapulting off the roof.

Molly.

She flew down from it, a dark clot wielding two garden rakes, twirling them like batons in each of her hands.

The Outcasts heard but couldn’t see her coming. But Molly’s rakes twirled, tilling the arrows from the air as if they were crops in a field. She landed on her black combat boots, the dull-ended silver arrows thudding and rolling along the ground, looking about as harmless as twigs. But Luce knew better.

“There will be no mercy now!” an Outcast—Phil—bellowed from the other side of the yard.

“Get her inside, and get the starshots!” Cam shouted at Daniel, mounting the railing of the deck and pulling out his own silver bow. In quick succession, he nocked and loosed three streaks of light. The Outcasts writhed as three of their ranks vanished in puffs of dust.

With lightning speed, Arriane and Roland darted around the yard, sweeping up arrows with their wings.

A second line of Outcasts was advancing, readying a new volley of arrows. When they were on the brink of shooting, Gabbe leaped onto the railing of the deck.

“Hmmm, let’s see.” With a fierce look in her eyes, she pointed the tip of her right wing at the ground below the Outcasts.

The lawn shuddered, and then a clean seam of earth—the length of the backyard and a few feet wide—split wide open.

Taking at least twenty Outcasts deep into the black chasm.

They bellowed hollow, lonely cries on the way down. Down to God-knew-where. The Outcasts behind them skidded, halting just in front of the awful gorge Gabbe had pulled from nowhere. Their heads moved from left to right as if to help their blind eyes make sense of what just happened. A few more Outcasts teetered on the edge and tumbled in. Their wails grew fainter—until no sound could be heard. An instant later, the earth creaked like a rusty hinge and closed back up.

Gabbe drew her downy wing back to her side with the utmost elegance. She wiped her brow. “Well, that should help.”

But then another bright shower of silver splinters rained from the sky. One of them thunked into the top step of the deck at Luce’s feet. Daniel yanked the arrow out of the wooden step, wound up his arm, and flung it sharply, like a lethal dart, straight into the forehead of an advancing Outcast.