Torment - Lauren Kate [117]
“Roland, what part of ‘top-secret mission’ don’t you understand?” Arriane asked.
“It’s my fault,” Miles admitted. “I saw Roland heading over here … and I forced it out of him. That’s why he’s late.”
“As soon as this guy heard the words Luce and Georgia”—Roland jerked his thumb at Miles—“it took him about a nanosecond to pack.”
“We kind of had a Thanksgiving deal,” Miles said, looking only at Luce. “I couldn’t let her break it.”
“No.” Luce bit back a smile. “He couldn’t.”
“Mmm-hmm.” Arriane raised an eyebrow. “I just wonder what Francesca would have to say about this. Whether someone should run it by your parents first, Miles—”
“Aw, come on, Arriane.” Roland waved his hand dismissively. “Since when do you check in with authority? I’ll look out for the kid. He won’t get into any trouble.”
“Get into any trouble where?” Shelby barged into the room, her yoga mat swinging from a string across her back. “Where are we going?”
“Luce’s house in Georgia for Thanksgiving,” Miles said.
In the hallway behind Shelby, a bleached-blond head hovered. Shelby’s ex-boyfriend. His skin was ghost-white, and Shelby was right: There was something odd about his eyes. How pale they were.
“For the last time, I said goodbye, Phil.” Shelby quickly shut the door in his face.
“Who was that?” Roland asked.
“My skeeze-and-a-half ex-boyfriend.”
“Seems like an interesting guy,” Roland said, staring at the door, distracted.
“Interesting?” Shelby snorted. “A restraining order would be interesting.” She took one look at Luce’s suitcase, then at Miles’s duffel, then haphazardly started throwing her belongings into a squat black trunk.
Arriane threw up her hands. “Can’t you do anything without an entourage?” she asked Luce. Then, turning to Roland, “I assume you want to take responsibility for this one, too?”
“That’s the holiday spirit!” Roland laughed. “We’re going to the Prices’ for Thanksgiving,” he told Shelby, whose face lit up. “The more the merrier.”
Luce couldn’t believe how perfectly everything was working out. Thanksgiving with her family and Callie and Arriane and Roland and Shelby and Miles. She couldn’t have scripted this any better.
Only one thing nagged at her. And it seriously nagged.
“What about Daniel?”
She meant: Does he know about this trip already? and What’s the real story between him and Cam? and Is he still mad at me about that kiss? and Is it wrong that Miles is coming too? and also What are the odds of Daniel showing up at my parents’ house tomorrow even though he says he can’t see me?
Arriane cleared her throat. “Yes, what about Daniel?” she repeated quietly. “Time will tell.”
“So do we have plane tickets or something?” Shelby asked. “Because if we’re flying, I need to pack my serenity kit, essential oils, and heating pad. You don’t want to see me at thirty-five thousand feet without them.”
Roland snapped his fingers.
Near his feet, the shadow cast by the open door peeled itself off the hardwood planks, rising the way a trapdoor might to lead down to a basement. A gust of cold swept up from the floor, followed by a bleak blast of darkness. It smelled like wet hay as it shrank into a small, compact sphere. But then, at a nod from Roland, it ballooned into a tall black portal. It looked like the sort of door that would lead to a restaurant kitchen, the swinging kind with a round glass window in the top. Only, this one was made out of dark Announcer fog, and all that was visible through the window was a darker, swirling blackness.
“That looks just like the one I read about in the book,” Miles said, clearly impressed. “All I could manage was a weird sort of trapezoidal window.” He smiled at Luce. “But we still made it work.”
“Stick with me, kid,” Roland said, “and you’ll see what it’s like to travel in style.”
Arriane rolled her eyes. “He’s such a show-off.”
Luce cocked her head at Arriane. “But I thought you said—”
“I know.” Arriane put up a hand. “I know I repeated that whole spiel about how dangerous Announcer travel is. And I don’t want to be one of those sucky do-as-I-say-not-as-I-do angels.