cannot get you out of my mind. Will you meet me in the gazebo this evening at nine oclock? Ill

be waiting. Yours eternally,

Lucinda Biscoe

Luce ripped the letter into shreds and tossed them into the parlor fire. If she never gave Daniel the note, Lucinda would be alone in the gazebo. Luce could go out there and wait for her and try to warn her again. She raced into the hall and made a sharp turn toward the servants' stairs down to the kitchen. She ran past the cooks and the pastry makers and Henrietta.

You got both of us in trouble, Myrtle! the girl called out to Luce, but Luce was already out the door.

The evening air was cool and dry against her face as she ran. It was nearly nine o'clock, but the sun was still setting over the grove of trees on the western side of the property. She tore down the pink- hued path, past the overflowing garden and the heady, sweet scent of the roses, past the hedge maze.

Her eyes fell on the place where she'd first tumbled out of the Announcer into this life. Her feet pounded down the path toward the empty gazebo. She had stopped just short of it when someone caught her by the arm.

She turned around.

And ended up nose to nose with Daniel.

A light wind blew his blond hair across his forehead. In his formal black suit with the gold watch chain and a small white peony pinned to his lapel, Daniel was even more gorgeous than she remembered. His skin was clear and brilliant in the glow of the setting sun. His lips held the faintest smile. His eyes burned violet at the sight of her.

A soft sigh escaped her. She ached to lean a few short inches closer to press her lips on his. To wrap her arms around him and feel the place on his broad shoulders where his wings unfurled. She wanted to forget what she had come here to do and just hold him, just let herself be held. There were no words for how much she had missed him.

No. This visit was about Lucinda.

Daniel, her Daniel, was far away right now. It was hard to imagine what he'd be doing or thinking right now. It was even harder to imagine their reunion at the end of all of this. But wasn't that what her quest was about? Finding out enough about her past so she could really be with Daniel in the present?

You're not supposed to be here, she said to Helston Daniel. He couldn't have known that Helston Lucinda wanted to meet him here. But here he was. It was as if nothing could get in the way of their meeting--they were drawn toward each other, no matter what.

Daniel's laugh was precisely the same laugh Luce was used to, the one she'd heard for the first time at Sword & Cross, when Daniel kissed her; the laugh she loved. But this Daniel did not really know her. He didn't know who she was, where she was coming from, or what she was trying to do.

You're not supposed to be here, either. He smiled. First we're supposed to have a dance inside, and later, after we've gotten to know one another, I'm supposed to take you for a moonlit stroll. But the sun hasn't even set yet. Which means there's still a good deal of dancing to be done. He extended his hand. My name is Daniel Grigori.

He hadn't even noticed that she was dressed in a maid's uniform instead of a ball gown, that she didn't act at all like a proper British girl. He'd only just laid eyes on her, but like Lucinda, Daniel was already blinded by love.

Seeing all of this from a new angle put a strange clarity on their relationship. It was wonderful, but it was tragically shortsighted. Was it even Lucinda whom Daniel loved and vice versa, or was it just a cycle they couldn't break free of?

It isn't me, Luce told him sadly.

He took her hands. She melted a little. Of course it's you, he said. It's always you.

No, Luce said. It isn't fair to her, you're not being fair. And besides, Daniel, she's mean.

Who are you talking about? He looked like he couldn't decide whether to take her seriously or laugh.

From the corner of her eye, Luce saw a figure in white walking toward them from the back of the house.

Lucinda.

Coming to meet Daniel. She was early. Her note said nine o'clock--at least it had said nine o'clock before Luce had tossed its fragments into the fire.

Luce's heart began to pound. She could not be caught here when Lucinda arrived. And yet, she couldn't leave Daniel so soon.

Why do you love her? Luce's words came out in a rush. What makes you fall in love with her, Daniel?

Daniel laid his hand on her shoulder--it felt wonderful. Slow down, he said. We've only just met, but I can promise you there isn't anyone I love except--

You there! Servant girl! Lucinda had spotted them, and from the tone of her voice, she wasn't happy about it. She began to run toward the gazebo, cursing at her dress, at the muddiness of the grass, at Luce. What have you done with my letter, girl?

Th-that girl, the one coming this way, Luce stammered, is me, in a sense. I'm her. You love us, and I need to understand--

Daniel turned to watch Lucinda, the one he had loved--would love in this era. He could see her face clearly now. He could see that there were two of them.

When he turned back to Luce, his hand on her shoulder began to tremble. It's you, the other one. What have you done? How did you do this?

You! Girl! Lucinda had registered Daniel's hand on Luce's shoulder. Her whole face puckered up. I knew it! she screeched, running even faster. Get away from him, you trollop!

Luce could feel panic washing over her. She had no choice now but to run. But first: She touched the side of Daniel's face. Is it love? Or is it just the curse that brings us together?

It's love, he gasped. Don't you know that?

She broke free of his grasp and fled, running fast and furiously across the lawn, back through the grove of silver birch trees, back to the overgrown grasses where she'd first arrived. Her feet became tangled and she tripped, landing flat on her face. Everything hurt. And she was mad. Fuming mad. At Lucinda for being so nasty. At Daniel for the way he just fell in love without thinking. At her own powerlessness to do anything that made a bit of difference. Lucinda would still die--Luce's having been here didn't matter at all. Beating her fists on the ground, she let out a groan of frustration.

There, there. A tiny stone hand patted her back.

Luce flicked it away. Leave me alone, Bill.

Hey, it was a valiant effort. You really got out there in the trenches this time. But--Bill shrugged-- now it's over.

Luce sat up and glared at him. His smug expression made her want to march right back there and tell Lucinda who she really was--tell her what things were like not so far down the road.

No. Luce stood up. It's not over. Bill yanked her back down. He was shockingly strong for such a little creature. Oh, it's over. Come on, get in the Announcer.

Luce turned where Bill was pointing. She hadn't even noticed the thick black portal floating right in front of her. Its musty smell made her sick.

No.

"Yes," Bill said.

You're the one who told me to slow down in the first place.

Look, let me give you the CliffsNotes: You're a bitch in this life and Daniel doesn't care. Shocker! He courts you for a few weeks, there's some exchanging of flowers. A big kiss and then kaboom. Okay? Not much more to see.

You don't understand.

What? I don't understand that Victorians are as stuffy as an attic and as boring as watching wallpaper peel? Come on, if you're going to zigzag through your past, make it count. Let's hit some highlights.

Luce didn't budge. Is there a way to make you disappear?

Do I have to stuff you in this Announcer like a cat in a suitcase? Let's move!

I need to see that he loves me, not just some idea of me because of some curse that he's bound to. I need to feel like there's something stronger keeping us together. Something real.

Bill took a seat next to Luce on the grass. Then he seemed to think better of it and actually crawled onto her lap. At first, she wanted to swat him, and the flies buzzing around his head, but when he looked up at her, his eyes appeared sincere.

Honey, Daniel loving the real you is the last thing you should be worried about. You're freaking soul mates. You two coined the phrase. You don't have to stick around here to see that. It's in every life.

What?

You want to see true love?

She nodded.

Come on. He tugged her up. The Announcer hovered in front of them and began to morph into a new shape, until it almost resembled the flaps of a tent. Bill flew into the air, hooked his finger into an invisible latch, and tugged. The Announcer rearranged itself, lowering itself like a drawbridge until all Luce could see was a tunnel of darkness.

Luce glanced back toward Daniel and Lucinda, but she couldn't see them--only outlines of them, blurs of color pressing together.

Bill made a sweeping motion with his free hand into the belly of the Announcer. Step right in.

And so she did.

Chapter Eight

WATCHING FROM THE WINGS

HELSTON, ENGLAND JULY 26, 1854

Daniel's clothes were sun-bleached and his cheek was caked with sand when he woke up on the desolate coast of Cornwall. It might have been a day, a week, a month that he'd been out there wandering alone. However much time had passed, he'd spent all of it punishing himself for his mistake.

Encountering Lucinda like that in the dressmaker's had been so grave an error that Daniel's soul burned every time he thought of it.

And he couldn't stop thinking of it.

Her full pink lips curling around the words: I think I know you. Please. Wait.

So lovely and so perilous.

Oh, why couldn't it have been something small? Some brief exchange well into their courtship? Then it might not have mattered so much. But a first sighting! Lucinda Biscoe's first sighting had been of him, the wrong Daniel. He could have jeopardized everything. He could have distorted the future so badly that his Luce could end up dead already, altered beyond recognition--

But no: If that were so, he wouldn't have his Luce in his memory. Time would have revised itself and he would have no regrets at all because his Luce would be different.

His past self must have responded to Lucinda Biscoe in a way that covered Daniel's mistake. He couldn't quite remember how things had begun, only how they'd ended. But no matter: He wouldn't get anywhere near his past self to warn him, for fear of running into Lucinda again and doing yet more damage. All he could do was back away and wait it out.

He was used to eternity, but this had been Hell.

Daniel lost track of time, let it drift into the sounds of the ocean washing up against the shore. For a little while, at least.

He could easily resume his quest by stepping into an Announcer and chasing Luce to the next life she visited. But for some reason, he stuck around Helston, waiting until Lucinda Biscoe's life ended here.

Waking up that evening, the sky slashed by purple clouds, Daniel sensed it. Midsummer. The night she would die. He wiped the sand from his skin and felt the strange tenderness in his hidden wings. His heart throbbed with every beat.

It was time.

Lucinda's death would not happen until after nightfall.

Daniel's earlier self would be alone in the Constances' parlor. He would be drawing Lucinda Biscoe one last time. His bags would sit outside the door, empty as usual save for a leather-bound pencil case, a few sketchbooks, his book about the Watchers, an extra pair of shoes. He really had been planning to sail the next morning. What a lie.

In the moments leading up to her deaths, Daniel rarely was honest with himself. He always lost himself in his love. Every time, he fooled himself, got drunk on her presence, and lost track of what must be.

He remembered particularly well how it had ended in this Helston life: denying that she had to die right up until the instant he pressed her up against the ruby-velvet curtains and kissed her into oblivion. He'd cursed his fate then; he had made an ugly scene. He could still feel the agony, fresh as an iron's brand across his skin. And he remembered the visitation.