It was calling to her.
She answered, reaching inside herself, drawing on that glow to guide the shadow up off the ground.
The shard of darkness peeled itself off the white snow and took shape as it moved closer. It was deep black, colder than the snow falling all around her, and it swept toward Luce like a giant, dark sheet of paper. Her fingers were cracked and numb with cold as she expanded it into a larger, controlled shape. It emitted that familiar gust of foul-smelling wind from its core. The portal was wide and stable before Luce realized she was out of breath.
You're getting good at this, Bill said. There was a strange edge to his voice that Luce didn't waste time analyzing.
She also didn't waste time feeling proud of herself--though somewhere she could recognize that if Miles or Shelby had been here, they'd have been doing cartwheels right now. It was by far the best summoning she'd ever done on her own.
But they weren't here. Luce was on her own, so all she could do was move on to the next life, observe more of Lucinda and Daniel, drink it all in until something began to make sense. She felt around the clammy edges for a latch or a knob, just some way in. Finally, the Announcer creaked open.
Luce took a deep breath. She looked back at Bill. Are you coming or what? Gravely, he hopped onto her shoulder and grabbed hold of her lapel like the reins on a horse, and the two of them stepped through.
LHASA, TIBET ? APRIL 30, 1740
Luce gasped for breath.
She'd come out of the dark of the Announcer into a swirl of fast-moving fog. The air was thin and cold and every lungful stabbed at her chest. She couldn't seem to catch her breath. The fog's cool white vapor blew her hair back, rode along her open arms, soaked her garments with dew, and then was gone.
Luce saw that she was standing at the edge of the highest cliff she'd ever seen. She wobbled and staggered back, dizzy when she saw her feet dislodge a pebble. It rolled forward a few inches and over the edge, plummeting forever down.
She gasped again, this time from fear of heights.
Breathe, Bill coached her. More people pass out up here from panicking over not getting enough oxygen than from actually not getting enough oxygen.
Luce inhaled carefully. That was slightly better. She lowered the dirty mink on her shoulders and enjoyed the sun on her face. But she still couldn't get used to the view.
Stretching away from the cliff where she stood was a yawning valley spotted with what looked like farmland and flooded rice paddies. And to either side, rising into misty heights, were two towering mountains.
Far ahead, carved right into one of the steep mountainsides, was a formidable palace. Majestically white and capped by deep-red roofs, its outer walls were festooned with more staircases than she could count. The palace looked like something out of an ancient fairy tale.
What is this place? Are we in China? she asked.
If we stood here long enough, we would be, Bill said. But right now, it's Tibet, thanks to the Dalai Lama. That's his pad over there. He pointed at the monster palace. Swanky, eh?
But Luce wasn't following his finger. She'd heard a laugh from somewhere nearby and had turned to seek out its source.
Her laugh. The soft, happy laugh she hadn't known was hers until she'd met Daniel.
She finally spotted two figures a few hundred yards away along the cliff. She'd have to clamber across some boulders to get closer, but it wouldn't be that difficult. She hunched in her muddy coat and started carefully picking her way through the snow, toward the sound.
Whoa there. Bill grabbed her by the collar of the coat. Do you see any place for us to take cover?
Luce looked around the bare landscape: all rocky drop-offs and open spaces. Nothing even to serve as shelter from the wind.
We're above the tree line, pal. And you're small, but you ain't invisible. You're going to have to hang back here.
But I can't see a thing--
Coat pocket, Bill said. You're welcome. She felt around in the pocket of the coat--the same coat she'd been wearing at the funeral in Prussia--and pulled out a brand-new, very expensive-looking pair of opera glasses. She didn't bother asking Bill where or when he'd got them, she just held them up to her eyes and twisted the focus.
There.
The two of them stood facing each other, several feet apart. Her past self's black hair was knotted in a girlish bun, and her woven linen dress was the pink of an orchid. She looked young and innocent. She was smiling at Daniel, rocking back and forth on her feet like she was nervous, watching his every move with unbounded intensity. Daniel's eyes had a teasing look in them; a bunch of round white peonies were in his arms and he was doling them out to her one by one, making her laugh harder each time.
Watching closely through the opera glasses, Luce noticed that their fingers never touched. They kept a certain distance from each other. Why? It was almost startling.
In the other lives she'd spied upon, Luce had seen so much passion and hunger. But here, it was different. Luce's body began to buzz, eager for just one moment of physical connection between them. If she couldn't touch Daniel, at least her old self could.
But they were just standing there, now walking in circles. Never getting any closer to each other or any farther apart.
Every once in a while, their laughter would carry over to Luce again.
Well? Bill kept trying to squish his little face next to Luce's so he could look through one of the lenses of the opera glasses. What's the word?
They're just talking. They're flirting kind of like they're strangers, but at the same time they also seem to know each other really well. I don't get it.
So they're taking it slow. What's wrong with that? Bill asked. Kids today, they just want things to go fast--boom boom BOOM.
Nothing's wrong with taking it slow, I just-- Luce broke off.
Her past self fell to her knees. She began to rock back and forth, holding her head, then her heart. A horrified look crossed Daniel's face. He looked so stiff in his white pants and tunic, like a statue of himself. He shook his head, looking at the sky, his lips mouthing the words No. No. No.
The girl's hazel eyes had gone wild and fiery, like something had possessed her. A high-pitched scream echoed out across the mountains. Daniel fell to the ground and buried his face in his hands. He reached out for her, but his hand hung in the air without ever connecting with her skin. His body crumpled and quaked, and when it mattered most, he looked away.