Free Passion by Lauren Kate Page A

hard. The rush of a waterfal l ed her ears, close enough that she could feel cool drops of spray on her skin. “Where am I?”
    “You’re here. You’re … on Pause. Ever heard of stopping to smel the peonies?”
    “You mean roses.” Luce felt around in the darkness, taking in a pungent mineral smel that wasn’t unpleasant or unfamiliar, just confusing.
    She realized then that she hadn’t yet stepped out of the Announcer and back into the middle of a life, which could only mean—
    She was stil inside.
    It was very dark, but her eyes began to adjust. The Announcer had taken on the form of some sort of smal cave. There was a wal behind her made of the same cool stone as the oor, with a depression cut into it where a stream of water trickled down. The waterfal she heard was somewhere above.
    And below her? Ten feet or so of stone ledge—and then nothing. Beyond that was blackness.
    “I had no idea you could do this,” Luce whispered to herself.
    “What?” the hoarse voice said.
    “Stop inside an Announcer,” she said. She hadn’t been talking to him and she stil couldn’t see him, and the fact that she’d ended up stal ed wherever she was with whoever he was—wel , it was de nitely cause for alarm. But stil she couldn’t help marveling at her surroundings. “I didn’t know a place like this existed. An in-between place.”
    A phlegmy snort. “You could l a book with al the things you don’t know, girl. In fact—I think someone may have already writ en it. But that’s neither here nor there.” A rat ling cough. “And I did mean peonies, by the way.”
    “Who are you?” Luce sat up and leaned back against the wal . She hoped whoever the voice belonged to couldn’t see her legs trembling.
    “Who? Me?” he asked. “I’m just … me. I’m here a lot.”
    “Okay.… Doing what?”
    “Oh, you know, hanging out.” He cleared his throat, and it sounded like someone gargling with rocks. “I like it here. Nice and calm. Some of these Announcers can be such zoos. But not yours, Luce. Not yet, anyway.”
    “I’m confused.” More than confused, Luce was afraid. Should she even be talking to this stranger? How did he know her name?
    “For the most part, I’m just your average casual observer, but sometimes I keep an ear out for travelers.” His voice came closer, causing Luce to shiver. “Like yourself. See, I’ve been around awhile, and sometimes travelers, they need a smidge of advice. You been up by the waterfal yet? Very scenic. A-plus, as far as waterfal s go.”
    Luce shook her head. “But you said—this is my Announcer? A message of my past. So why would you be—”
    “Wel ! Sor-reee!” The voice grew louder, indignant. “But may I just raise a question: If the channels to your past are so precious, why’d you leave your Announcers wide open for al the world to jump inside? Hmm? Why didn’t you just lock them?”
    “I didn’t, um …” Luce had no idea she’d left anything wide open. And no idea Announcers could even be locked.
    She heard a smal whoomp, like clothes or shoes being thrown into a suitcase, but she stil couldn’t see a thing. “I see I’ve overstayed my She heard a smal whoomp, like clothes or shoes being thrown into a suitcase, but she stil couldn’t see a thing. “I see I’ve overstayed my welcome. I won’t waste your time.” The voice sounded suddenly choked up. And then more softly, from a distance: “Goodbye.” The voice vanished into the darkness. It was nearly silent inside the Announcer again. Just the soft cascade of the waterfal above. Just the desperate beat of Luce’s heart.
    For just a moment, she hadn’t been alone. With that voice there, she’d been nervous, alarmed, on edge … but she hadn’t been alone.
    “Wait!” she cal ed, pushing herself to her feet.
    “Yes?” The voice was right back at her side.
    “I didn’t mean to kick you out,” she said. For some reason, she wasn’t ready for the voice to just disappear. There was