Lauren Kate: Torment

There was a flash of light, like a camera flash, and then: The white-eyed boy didn’t even have time to cry out at the impact—he just vanished into thin air.

Daniel’s eyes raced over Luce’s body, and he patted her down, as if in disbelief that she was still alive.

At her side, Callie gulped. “Did he just—Did that guy really—”

“Yes,” Luce said.

“Don’t do this, Luce,” Daniel said. “Don’t make me drag you inside. I have to fight. You have to get away from here. Now. ”

Luce had seen enough to agree. She turned back toward the house, reaching for Callie—but then, through the open doorway of the kitchen, she caught a brutal glimpse of Outcasts.

Three of them. Standing inside her house . Silver bows aimed to shoot.

“No!” Daniel bellowed, rushing to shield Luce.

Shelby lurched out of the kitchen and onto the deck, slamming the door behind her.

Three distinct thumps of arrows struck the other side of the door.

“Hey, she’s exonerated!” Cam called from the lawn, nodding at Shelby briefly before bashing an arrow into an Outcast girl’s skull.

“Okay, new plan,” Daniel muttered. “Find someplace to take cover somewhere nearby. All of you.” He addressed Callie and Shelby and, for the first time all night, Miles. He grabbed Luce by the arms. “Stay away from the starshots,” he pleaded. “Promise me.” He kissed her quickly, then shooed them all against the back wall of the deck.

The glow of so many angels’ wings was brilliant enough that Luce, Callie, Shelby, and Miles had to shade their eyes. They crouched down and crawled along the deck, shadows of the railing dancing before them, while Luce directed everyone to the side yard. To shelter. There had to be some, somewhere.

More Outcasts stepped out from the shadows. They appeared in the high branches of faraway trees, came ambling out from around the raised garden beds and the termite-eaten old swing set Luce had used as a kid. Their silver bows gleamed in the moonlight.

Cam was the only one on the other side with a bow. He never paused to count how many Outcasts he was picking off. He just loosed arrow after arrow with deadly precision into their hearts. But for each one that vanished, another seemed to appear.

When he ran out of arrows, he wrenched the wooden picnic table out of its decade-old rut in the ground and held it in front of him with one arm like a shield. Volley after volley of arrows bounced off the tabletop and fell to the ground at his feet. He just stooped, plucked, and fired; stooped, plucked, and fired.

The others had to get more creative.

Roland beat his golden wings with such force that the air around him sent the arrows back in the direction they had come from, taking out the unseeing Outcasts several at a time. Molly charged the line again and again, her rakes spiraling like a samurai’s swords.

Arriane yanked Luce’s old tire swing from its tree and twirled it like a lasso, deflecting arrows into the fence, while Gabbe raced around, picking them up. She spun and slashed like a dervish, taking out any Outcast who got too close, smiling sweetly as the arrows bit their skin.

Daniel had commandeered the Prices’ rusted iron horseshoes from under the porch. He pitched them at the Outcasts, sometimes knocking three of them senseless with one horseshoe as it ricocheted off their skulls. Then he would pounce on them, slip the starshots from their bows, and drive the arrows into their hearts with his bare hands.

At the edge of the deck, Luce caught sight of her father’s storage shed and motioned for the other three to follow. They rolled over the railing to the grass below and, ducking, hurried to the shed.

They were almost at the entrance when Luce heard a quick whiz in the air. Callie cried out in pain.

“Callie!” Luce whirled around.

But her friend was still there. She was rubbing her shoulder where the arrow had grazed her, but otherwise, she was unharmed. “That totally stings!”

Luce reached out to touch her. “How did you …?”

Callie shook her head.

“Get down!” Shelby shouted.

Luce dropped to her knees, tugging the others down with her and pulling them inside the shed. Among the dirty shadows of Luce’s dad’s tools, lawn mower, and old sporting equipment, Shelby crawled over to Luce. Her eyes glistened and her lip was quivering.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” she whispered, grabbing hold of Luce’s arm. “You don’t know how sorry I am. It’s all my fault.”

“It’s not your fault,” Luce said quickly. Of course Shelby hadn’t known who Phil really was. What he really wanted from her. What this night would bring. Luce knew what it was like to carry around guilt for doing something you didn’t understand. She wouldn’t have wished it on anyone. Least of all Shelby.

“Where is he?” Shelby asked. “I could kill that sorry-ass freak.”

“No.” Luce held Shelby back. “You’re not going out there. You could get killed.”

“I don’t get it,” Callie said. “Why would anyone want to hurt you?”

That was when Miles stepped toward the entrance to the shed, into a beam of moonlight. He was carrying one of Luce’s father’s kayaks over his head.

“Nobody’s going to hurt Luce,” he said as he stepped outside with it.

Right into the battle.

“Miles!” Luce screamed. “Come back—”

She rose to her feet to take off after him—then froze, stunned by the sight of him chucking the kayak right into one of the Outcasts.

It was Phil.

His blank eyes gaped and he cried out, falling to the grass as the kayak struck him. Pinned and helpless, his dirty wings writhed on the ground.

For an instant Miles looked proud of himself—and Luce felt a little bit proud too. But then a short Outcast girl stepped forward, cocked her head like a dog listening to a silent whistle, raised her silver bow, and aimed point-blank at Miles’s chest.

“No mercy,” she said tonelessly.

Miles was defenseless against this strange girl, who looked like she had no understanding of mercy, not even for the nicest, most innocent kid in the world.

“Stop!” Luce cried out, her heart pounding in her ears as she ran out of the shed. She could sense the battle going on around her, but all she could see was that arrow, poised to enter Miles’s chest. Poised to kill yet another of her friends.

The Outcast girl’s head canted on her neck. Her vacant eyes turned on Luce, then widened slightly, like, just as Arriane had said, she really could see the burning of Luce’s soul.

“Don’t shoot him.” Luce held out her hands in surrender. “I’m the one you want.”

The Outcast girl lowered her bow. When the arrow relaxed along its bowstring, the string made a creaking sound, like an attic door opening. Her face was as calm as a still pond on a windless day. She was Luce’s height, with clear, dewy skin, pale lips, and dimples even in the absence of a smile.

“If you wish the boy to live,” she said, her voice flat, “I will yield to you.”

Around them, the others had stopped fighting. The tire swing rolled to a stop, thudding against the corner of the fence. Roland’s wings slowed to a soft beating and carried him down to earth. Everyone was still, but the air was charged with an electric silence.

Luce could feel the weight of so many gazes falling on her: Callie, Miles, and Shelby. Daniel, Arriane, and Gabbe. Cam, Roland, and Molly. The blind gazes of the Outcasts themselves. But she couldn’t wrench herself away from the girl with the depthless white eyes.

“You won’t kill him … just because I say not to?” Luce was so baffled, she laughed. “I thought you wanted to kill me.”