She stepped down from the ambulance and backed away.
“It was nice to meet you, Doria,” Lucia called.
But Luce was already gone.
It took six wrong rooms, three startled soldiers, and one toppled-over medicine cabinet before Luce found him.
Daniel was sharing a room in the east ward with two other soldiers. One was a silent man whose entire face had been bandaged. The other was snoring loudly, a bottle of whiskey not very well hidden under his pillow, two broken legs raised in a sling.
The room itself was bare and sterile, but it had a window that looked out onto a broad city avenue lined with orange trees.
Standing over his bed, watching him sleep, Luce could see it. The way their love would have bloomed here. She could see Lucia coming in to bring Daniel his meals, him opening up to her slowly. The pair being inseparable by the time Daniel recovered. And it made her feel jealous and guilty and confused because she couldn’t tell right now whether their love was a beautiful thing, or whether this was yet another instance of how very wrong it was.
If she was so young when they met, they must have had a long relationship in this life. She would have gotten to spend years with him before it happened. Before she died and was reincarnated into another life completely. She must have thought they’d spend forever together—and must not even have known how long forever meant.
But Daniel knew. He always knew.
Luce sank down at the side of his bed, careful not to wake him. Maybe he hadn’t always been so closed off and hard to reach. She’d just seen him in their Moscow life whispering something to her at the critical moment before she died. Maybe if she could just talk to him in this life, he’d treat her differently than the Daniel she knew did. He might not hide so much from her. He might help her understand. Might tell her the truth, for a change.
Then she could go back to the present and there wouldn’t have to be any more secrets. It was all she really wanted: for the two of them to love each other openly. And for her not to die.
She reached out and touched his cheek. She loved his cheek. He was beat-up and injured and probably concussed, but his cheek was warm and smooth and, mostly, it was Daniel’s. He was as gorgeous as ever. His face was so peaceful in his sleep that Luce could have stared at him from every angle for hours without ever getting bored. He was perfect to her. His perfect lips were just the same. When she touched them with her finger, they were so soft she had to lean down for a kiss. He didn’t stir.
She traced his jawline with her lips, kissed down the side of his neck that wasn’t bruised and across his collarbone. At the top of his right shoulder, her lips paused over a small white scar.
It would have been almost indiscernible to anyone else, but Luce knew that this was the place from which Daniel’s wings extended. She kissed the scar tissue. It was so hard to see him lying helpless on that hospital bed when she knew what he was capable of. With his wings wrapped around her, Luce always lost track of everything else. What she wouldn’t give to see them unfurl now, into the vast white splendor that seemed to steal all the light from a room! She laid her head on his shoulder, the scar hot against her skin.
Her head shot up. She hadn’t realized she’d drifted off until the stretcher wheeling squeakily down the uneven wood floor in the hallway startled her awake.
What time was it? Sunlight streamed through the window onto the white sheets on the beds. She rotated her shoulder, trying to loosen a crick. Daniel was still asleep.
The scar above his shoulder looked whiter in the morning light. Luce wanted to see the other side, the matching scar, but it was wrapped in gauze. At least, the wound seemed to have stopped bleeding.
The door opened and Luce jerked up.
Lucia was standing in the doorway, holding three covered trays stacked in her arms. “Oh! You’re here.” She sounded surprised. “So they’ve already had breakfast, then?”
Luce blushed and shook her head. “I—uh—”
“Ah.” Lucia’s eyes lit up. “I know that look. You’ve got it bad for someone.” She put the breakfast trays on a cart and came to stand at Luce’s side. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell—so long as I approve.” She tilted her head to look at Daniel, and stared at him hard for a long time. She didn’t move or breathe.
Sensing the girl’s eyes widening at the sight of Daniel for the first time, Luce didn’t know what to feel. Empathy. Envy. Grief. All of it was there.
“He’s heavenly.” Lucia sounded as if she might cry. “What’s his name?”
“His name is Daniel.”
“Daniel,” the younger girl repeated, making the word sound holy as it left her lips. “Someday, I’ll meet a man like that. Someday, I’ll drive all of them crazy. Just like you do, Doria.”
“What do you mean?” Luce asked.
“There’s that other soldier, two doors down?” Lucia addressed Luce without ever taking her eyes off Daniel. “You know, Giovanni?”
Luce shook her head. She didn’t.
“The one who’s about to go in for surgery—he keeps asking about you.”
“Giovanni.” The boy who’d been shot in the stomach. “He’s okay?”
“Sure.” Lucia smiled. “I won’t tell him you have a boyfriend.” She winked at Luce and pointed down at the breakfast trays. “I’ll let you do the meals,” she said on her way out. “Find me later? I want to hear everything about you and Daniel. The whole story, all right?”
“Sure,” Luce lied, her heart sinking a little.
Alone with Daniel again, Luce was nervous. In her parents’ backyard, after the battle with the Outcasts, Daniel had seemed so horrified when he saw her step through the Announcer. In Moscow, too. Who knew what this Daniel would do when he opened his eyes and found out where she’d come from?
If he ever opened his eyes.
She leaned down over his bed again. He had to open his eyes, didn’t he? Angels couldn’t die. Logically, she thought it was impossible, but what if—what if by coming back in time she’d messed something up? She’d seen the Back to the Future movies and she’d once passed a test in science class on quantum physics. What she was doing here was probably messing up the space-time continuum. And Steven Filmore, the demon who cotaught humanities at Shoreline, had said something about altering time.
She didn’t really know what any of that meant, but she did know it could be very bad. Like erase-your-whole-existence bad. Or maybe kill-your-angel-boyfriend bad.
That was when Luce panicked. Grabbing hold of Daniel’s shoulders, she began to shake. Lightly, gently—he’d been through a war, after all. But enough to let him know that she needed a sign. Right now.
“Daniel,” she whispered. “Daniel?”
There. His eyelids began to flutter. She let out her breath. His eyes opened slowly, like they had last night. And like last night, when they registered the girl in front of them, they bulged. His lips parted. “You’re … old.”
Luce blushed. “I am not,” she said, laughing. No one had ever called her old before.
“Yes, you are. You’re really old.” He looked almost disappointed. He rubbed his forehead. “I mean—How long have I been—?”