Yet as I listened more closely, I realized that it had an unnatural quality that wasn’t quite human. I prayed that the scream came from the other fallen. And that Michael was the cause. I pretended that I hadn’t heard it. I returned to my game of clasping Barakel’s hand, and playacting capitulation. But my split-second hesitation—my straining to hear if the voice belonged to Michael—had given me away. “How dare you!” Barakel seethed. He lunged for me. The sudden assault left me totally unprepared. Rafe had assured me that the fallen wouldn’t attack, that they’d try to woo me instead, and I’d banked on that. I dove away to avoid him, but the maneuver threw me off balance. I started to tumble downward, spinning out of control, and plunging headlong toward the ground. Familiar landmarks of Ransom Beach—the enormous boulders, the steep cliff from which Michael dove—got closer and closer, and I became more and more terrified. I desperately tried to remember how Rafe had helped me right myself that night I nearly crashed headfirst into the ground.
