Illuminate: A Gilded Wings Novel, Book One

by Aimee Agresti

  “Do you need me up there or the Vault?”

  “All set here. Try the Vault. With Lance. Use this to get people out!” He held his hand up, about to throw something. I steadied myself on the top of the ottoman, praying to make the catch. He lobbed something the size of a grenade over the balcony to me. It was a good throw, right on target. I saw it coming at me and needed it to not explode in my face. I held up both hands making a landing cushion and caught it firm and tight in my palms, breathing a sigh of relief. Green and riddled with bumps, it looked like some type of exotic fruit but was actually from that mysterious garden. Dante had said last night that he had stolen as many of the rare plants as he could find: all you had to do was smash them into the floor, shattering them, and they would release a sort of tear gas that could not only get people to disperse, but also neutralize any poisons in the air.

  “Be careful!” he yelled back.

  “You too!” I called out, just as a huge crash erupted in the ballroom. It sounded as if some part of it had caved in. The crowd yelped, pushing forward, a stampede overtaking the stairs.

  I leapt off the top of the ottoman, twisting my ankle as I landed on the ground and feeling the slightest crunch—my high heel—but remaining on my feet. I felt a superhuman energy. I reached down and pulled that broken heel clean off and then with all my force yanked off the other one too. Now I had flats. Thank goodness I’d gone with Mary Janes; that ankle strap was handy.

  I had to wrap my head around this one final task—the only thing that stood in the way of us getting out of here alive. It needed to be done, that’s all there was to it. I took off, back through the lobby to the stairwell down to the Vault. I had it to myself, which was a bad sign: no one was clearing out of the club yet.

  I ran through that light-splashed tubular entranceway and couldn’t help but slow to a halt when I reached the club. The place was packed, the DJ still spinning, music thumping. Everyone still drinking and dancing. No one here seemed to have any idea the hotel was on fire. I wondered where Lance might be and, as if answering my thoughts, an explosion sounded in the far back corner of the room and a cloud of smoke engulfed the area. As Dante had promised, the haze sent revelers scrambling for the exit and covering their faces, leaving those standing near me wondering aloud to each other, “What was that?” “What’s going on?”

  “Fire,” I told the group nearest me, prom-goers who had filtered down to this underbelly. “You’ve gotta get out. Over there, go!” As they headed for the exit, I slipped through the crowd, to the opposite side of the back area, over by that blazing wall of fire.

  I was about to throw down that sphere Dante had given me when I heard my name from the space behind me.

  “So, it’s Haven, right?”

  I turned around to find Jason Abington standing there, hands in his pockets, looking oddly shy. This obviously could not have been a worse time. I just stared for a moment.

  “Can I get you, like, a drink or something?” he went on.

  “Jason, hi, wow, really? Now, of all times?” I shook my head. “I’m kinda busy, but thanks. And don’t take this the wrong way, but you’ve gotta get outta here. Like, now. Trust me, you’ll thank me. Go.” And with that I slammed Dante’s plant into the floor and a puff of stinging smoke exploded out of it. The people standing around me began flowing toward the front exit, a relief. Another tear-gas bomb went off in the distance, echoing mine. Then I felt a tug on the skirt of my dress. Maybe he thought I was playing hard to get?

  “Jason, you have to—” I started as I spun around. But it wasn’t him. A hot poker wrapped itself around my calf and another clamped onto my thigh, melting my skin and forcing me to the sticky, drink-splattered ground as I let out a scream. Crumpled on the floor, gripping me, was the charred, twisting mass of what was left of Aurelia, embers still glowing. Amid the chaos, she had slithered down here, following me, not ready to let me get away with what I had done. I kicked and crawled, trying to wriggle out from her grasp as she tried to drag me closer to that wall of fire. I had no doubt that if she got me near enough, she would find the strength to throw me into it. My beat-up palms, ravaged from this night of horrors, clung and dug into the floor as my legs scissored trying to buck her off me. A scream rose to my lips again but was instantly drowned out by an explosion shattering the air, like the crackle of a firecracker. I knew that sound by now.

  I looked up to discover a body of one of the few remaining Outfit members combusting above in the ring of fire. A collective, primal scream broke out and then another body exploded into flames, then the DJ. The dozen people still on the platform flew down the spiral staircase and pushed their way into the crowd leaving the club, pushing, pushing, making the whole mess of them spill out faster and with far greater urgency than they had upstairs. The entire space was consumed by a thick, suffocating cloud now. Hard to see. No one to help.

  All I could do was keep fighting for my life. Punching and kicking, I knocked Aurelia off me for a split second and tried to get to my feet. But she launched herself at me once more, pulling me down again, clutching my aching leg in her searing grip. I flailed messily to break free, and just when I thought I couldn’t hold her off any longer, I felt it—the slightest loosening of her grasp. She was weakening, her charred, disfigured body growing more brittle. I delivered a final swift kick, sending her sliding across the floor and turning her to sizzling, simmering ash.

  A strong hand grabbed my arm, pulling me away and lifting me to my feet.

  “Nice job,” Lance said. His tuxedo jacket and bow tie were long gone, his shirt was untucked, torn and dirty. He had mostly dried from his dip in the Alcatraz moat, but he looked just as weathered as I did.

  “Thanks,” I panted, steadying myself on bleeding legs. Even in this smokiness, I could feel that we were alone now.

  “Ready to get the hell out of here?” he asked. In the space behind him, the flames of the Outfit members had spread, joining the ring of fire’s perimeter. The whole platform looked like a blazing cauldron. I froze.

  “Only if we can run and not walk to the nearest exit.” Lance followed my line of vision.

  The entire platform, a ball of fire, crashed to the floor.

  Lance and I looked at each other with knowing eyes. And we took off speeding, out the back exit, into the tunnels. We bound down those corridors just like we had all those nights blowing off steam and making ourselves strong. Behind us, the fire rolled and rumbled, spitting at our backs, the thick smoke hanging in the air like a net trying to stop us. Blood raged in my veins, and I felt a superhuman surge. Though I had been beat up, battered, and bruised, I felt stronger than I ever had before. We sprinted at a speed that I didn’t even know we were capable of, generating so much wind it felt like we were riding in a convertible.

  The fire was catching up with us, threatening to overtake us, sweep us into its blazing maw. Through that tunnel we soared, until we reached that hidden door into the pantry of the bar we had pillaged nightly, and raced up the steps, taking them two at a time until we emerged directly behind the bar, knocking into the bartender who had once kicked us out and toppling over a whole shelf of bottles that crashed and shattered in our wake.

  “Fire! Fire! Get out!” we yelled as we rammed straight through the dense crowd of drunk patrons looking for their Saturday night fix. They all scowled at us like we were playing a prank and they didn’t move an inch.

  But by the time we had cleared their front door and thrown ourselves into the warm night air, we heard the manic rush of the herd storming out.

  We kept running down the narrow alley between the worn brick buildings, running and running as shrieking sirens pierced the night.

  It took several minutes before it occurred to us that we had made it. Lance and I didn’t even slow to a walk until we had run almost to the other side of the block, back to the hotel. Then we let our bones and muscles cry out; we let our feet drag so it was almost as if we weren’t moving forward at all. I had the sense that I
could drop right there, just collapse in the alley and sleep for days and days. The volume turned back up on the rest of the world, reminding us that we were still a part of it: the murmur of a thousand nervous strangers asking one another what happened and that befuddled shuffle of all these confused bodies standing around getting in the way. An ambulance whirred and whistled, shaking us both awake, and came screaming down the alley. Lance took me by the wrist, yanking my whole body over to the side of one building, sending himself stumbling too, to let the noisy, bleating monster pass without hitting us.

  We smashed against the wall, tripping messily, practically drunk with exhaustion. And as we recovered our footing, he grabbed me to steady me against the brick wall of the building. Before I could even process it, his lips were on mine as he pressed against me, stealing my breaths and making me dreamily dizzy. Like vines, his arms wound around me, pulling me close, his hands webbed in my hair. I didn’t even feel the bricks against my back. I didn’t feel anything but him.

  Slowly, he inched back, loosening his hold on me. As soon as our lips parted, in awe, I couldn’t keep it in: “It was you . . .”

  He pushed his glasses up on his nose, that nervous tic telling me I was right.

  “It was you in the Vault. The night of the gala. Not Lucian.”

  I noticed for the first time that we were probably standing too close to the hotel. Smoke billowed all around. We could feel the heat emanating from the building and the soft misty spray of so much water pressure ricocheting off the ages-old façade from the fire trucks’ serpent-like hoses. Flames danced in the sky. He gazed up silently watching, then looked at me. He rested his shoulder and head wearily against the wall, still so close I could stop his words with another kiss without even having to move, but I let him talk first.

  “Yeah, I followed you guys. I never trusted him—never thought he was right for you—even before we knew what he really was. So I followed you when you left the gallery. Then when the power went out, he disappeared and . . . I took a chance.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m really glad you did.”

  “I’m glad you’re glad.” He meant it too.

  We both stared off for a moment, retracing the whole whirlwind from the past few months to the past few minutes.

  “So, I guess this is why they say you remember prom forever,” I said finally.

  “No kidding,” he said. “So, not to jinx anything, but I can’t help but notice that it’s after midnight and you’re still alive.” He shrugged, like it was just another casual observance.

  My body received the news like an electric jolt.

  “You’re right. How ’bout that?” I let it sink in. “But, I mean, I still feel kinda, I don’t know, mortal. Are we angels now? Am I an angel? Do you have any thoughts on this matter? I hope?”

  “Well, you know, I got one more postcard message today . . .”

  “Oh yeah? What did it say? Illuminate me.” I brushed off my dress. It had gotten beyond dirty, torn at the hem. I looked like I had been through a war zone—which was about right.

  “Well, actually, it said to tell you—and I’m paraphrasing here—at the end of the night, if we were both still here that we’ve passed the first test toward full-fledged angelhood.”

  “Okay . . .”

  “And that apparently we’ll be notified when it’s time for the next test.”

  My heart fell. “Oh . . . great. There’s another test.”

  “Yeah. And also, I’m supposed to let you know that your ‘mystical powers’”—he made quotes around the words—“are becoming stronger, but to be patient with your physical powers because they’ll take longer to start up.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Yeah, I don’t know EXACTLY what that means—”

  “Um, I just destroyed a pack of devils and outran a ball of fire.”

  “Yeah, I’m guessing you did that all on your own.”

  “Whoa.” I had to pause to recall exactly how I had done this. Confidence can do a lot for a girl, even misplaced confidence.

  “Not sure if you noticed but we don’t have wings yet.”

  “I’ll have to remember that.”

  “Thanks, because if we’ve got another ‘test’ like this ahead of us, then I’m gonna need you there and all in one piece.”

  I liked how he said that; I liked us as a team. “It’s a date.”

  I looked out into the end of the alley, where it met the street. People were cordoned off from the building and I could see the edge of an ambulance, and the back of an EMT bandaging up someone sitting in back. He moved out of the way and Dante came into view. He caught me looking and smiled and waved, then pointed to a square of gauze being secured on his forehead. I frowned and he shooed his hand at me like he was fine. He pointed at the EMT, who was young, cute, and not facing Dante at the moment, and he nodded his head in approval. I nodded back. Lance tugged my wrist and pulled me back, kissing me again. As he did, rock-size pieces of the building crumbled down around us. Without unlocking ourselves, we slid over a few steps to avoid being pelted. But I pulled back just long enough to reach my arm up and catch one of the gold disks of the façade that had been hurtling right for us.

  “Ow,” I said, shaking it now.

  “Wow.” He looked up. “Good save.”

  “Thanks.” I turned it over in my hands and held it out. “A souvenir.”

  He took it and studied it. The disk was nicked, chipped, weatherworn, but the LH insignia was clear. “I think this is us. You know, I think I’m the L. You think?” He held it out, pointing to it.

  I looked and nodded. I liked that. And he was; all along it had been him. “L, yes.” I smiled. He kissed me again, scooping me against him with one arm. The sirens and the fire and the people all around, none of it mattered right now.

  Not all the remaining questions would be so easy to answer though. In the days that followed, Aurelia, Lucian, and all the very public and known members of the Outfit would be assumed burned to nothing in the fire and the people who had adored them and admired them from afar would accept this as fact because it was as mythic and mysterious as they had been themselves. But I still had so many mysteries left to be solved, and I couldn’t settle for such simple explanations. How many souls had been lost tonight? How many had we saved? Somewhere, there were more like Aurelia and I had that burning sense that they would find me or that I would need to find them. What more would I be called upon to do? And when would I finally learn about my past? But I would have to wait to discover these things. I would have to wait to make sense of so much. Right now, I took a deep, smoky breath as the sirens roared around us, Lance’s heart beating against mine, and I reveled in being alive.

  Acknowledgments

  Wow, I’ve been so lucky to have so many phenomenal people helping me grow my wings with this book. A few extra-special thank-yous:

  To my amazing agent, Stéphanie Abou, for years—and years and years—of encouragement and friendship. I can’t thank you enough for always being there to listen, to read and offer advice, and to field my millions of questions. What can I say? You’re the best. And to the lovely Hannah Gordon and my friends at Foundry Literary + Media.

  To my incredible editor, Julie Tibbott, for your laser-sharp eye and tremendous guidance. I’ve learned so much from you and I’m so grateful to have had you shining your light on Illuminate! And to the whole team at Houghton Mifflin Harcourt for your support and hard work shepherding this book.

  To the fantastic Stephen Moore, for your great enthusiasm and for helping the book reach an even larger audience.

  To the brilliant and inspiring Richard Ford, for always having the perfect words of wisdom and for telling me to keep writing no matter what.

  To my family for being the best cheering section a girl can ask for: my loving parents, Bill and Risa (who introduced me to all the great books as a kid); my fabulous sis (and trusted first reader!) Karen, for looking over those early drafts; and my wonderful in-laws Steve, Ilene,
Lauren, Dave, Jill, and Josh.

  To my unbelievably supportive friends for letting me talk your ears off about this book, with an extra shout-out to Sasha Issenberg, Jenny Laws, Ryan Lynch, Jessica Mehalic, Poornima Ravishankar, Anna Siri, Kate Stroup, Jennie Teitelbaum, Kate Zeller; and Eric Andersson, Albert Lee, Kevin O’Leary, Jennifer O’Neill, and all my pals at Us Weekly.

  To Brian, of course, for, well, everything: for your endless patience and love and for keeping me going through the marathon of writing this book.

  And, finally, to you, the reader: Thank you so much for picking up this book and devoting some of your time to living in Haven Terra’s world. I so hope you’ve enjoyed reading these pages as much as I’ve enjoyed writing them!