Of Wings and Wolves

thirteen


Following Gwyneth Gresham’s directions, Nash drove out to the hills beyond Hazel Cove, beyond MU, beyond the forest. She was quiet for the entire drive, as though distracted by the deepest recesses of her thoughts.

When the road ended, she climbed out of the car just as quietly, and he followed her into the hills.

Nash didn’t recognize the area. He hadn’t bothered exploring since he was first locked away, and he doubted he had so much as flown over those hills in centuries. So he was surprised when she pushed aside a cluster of thorny bushes to reveal a steep tunnel behind it.

“What have you found, Gwyneth?” he asked.

She gestured at the opening in the hill. “See for yourself.”

It was a steep climb down the tunnel, and a dark cave waited at the end. Nash scanned the empty chamber. It was dark, dusty, dry. White chalk was smudged on the left-hand wall. The stones at the back were marked with ancient petroglyphs.

It was an interdimensional door.

He crossed the cave in three long strides and pressed his palms to the wall.

Nash still remembered being exiled like it had happened just days earlier. During his last argument with Leliel, they had been standing beside a door just like this—though it had been on the Earth side, not the Haven side. He had woken up in the forest, naked and alone, so he had never witnessed an intact door in the Haven.

But it was here. It was whole.

“Can you open it?” Gwyn asked from behind him.

He ran his hands over the smooth surface. “Is this how you entered?”

“Yeah. More than twenty years ago, carrying two tiny babies in my arms.”

Nash spread his palm over one of the largest marks. “Close your eyes,” he warned before releasing his ethereal energy into the wall. Gray light flooded the entire cavern—but the petroglyphs didn’t respond.

“What was that?” Gwyneth asked, squinting against the sudden darkness.

“I was knocking, but there was no answer,” Nash said. He slammed his fist into the wall. Stone cracked, and his knuckles ached with the force of it. “Damn it all!”

Gwyneth frowned at the petroglyphs. “No answer? What does that mean?”

He took a few deep breaths to calm himself before speaking. “The other side must be damaged. But you may still be capable of opening the door.”

“What are you talking about?”

“These are one-way gates, intended to contain humans to their native dimensions,” Nash said. “A human from the other side should be able to operate it.”

“But we originally opened it from the other side,” Gwyn said.

“Did you?” Nash asked, lifting an eyebrow. “What mechanism opened it?”

“Computers. Like the ones in your office.”

He scowled and paced, arms folded tight across his chest. “Meddling. Tampering. Perhaps those idiot humans have broken the door entirely.” He gestured. “Try it anyway. Touch the petroglyphs.”

“I’ve tried before. Nothing happens.”

He bore down on her, letting her feel the full weight of his intimidating gaze. “Try.”

Gwyn didn’t look impressed to have him looming over her, but she touched a hand to the wall anyway. As she had said, nothing happened.

The disappointment was immediate, crushing, and final.

The door was broken.

Nash sank to one knee, bowing his head in a moment of silent prayer. “I am dead, you know,” she said from above him. “Might be the problem.”

“That shouldn’t matter,” he said, struggling to pull his composure around him like a cloak. “If anything, the door should respond more readily to the native magic keeping you animated.”

“So nothing’s passing either way, is it?”

“Not through this door.” He was tempted to punch the wall again, but instead, he channeled his frustration into pacing the chamber. “But Leliel didn’t bring herself to the Haven through force of will, and she would not have allowed herself to be confined even if she had. See this?” He jabbed a finger at a symbol near the top of the arch. “This says ‘three’.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that this is the third entrance to the Haven,” Nash said. “Indicating that there are at least two more. The other marks indicate where to look.” He traced his fingers over the petroglyphs. Even though he couldn’t readily read the arcane ethereal language, his fingertips recognized it, like some kind of strange muscle memory.

“What else does it say?”

“The glyphs describe a map,” Nash said, eyes unfocused as his fingers continued to read. “A sphere five hundred thousand cubits in circumference—that would be the Haven. A single land mass. A body of water…most likely the lake beside which I built my home…”

“Why would they describe a map? Why not just draw one?” Gwyn asked.

“An illustration can be interpreted by anyone with eyes. A description can only be interpreted by someone who understands the language. This isn’t meant to be read by mortals.”

Nash fell silent and focused on reading for a few more minutes.

He had already known about the first gate—it lay underneath Wildwood, and it had been destroyed before he even arrived, most likely as a casualty of the war. But the description for the second one was most interesting. It was underneath Lake Ast. “Fascinating,” he murmured, mind spinning with ideas.

But how would Leliel and her “friends” have passed through the second door? They would have emerged from the lake beside his house, and his security cameras would have caught that.

The petroglyphs didn’t describe any more doors. It had to be the lake.

“Let’s speak outside,” he said. He couldn’t stand to be in the cave for a moment longer.

The forest looked huge from his perspective on top of the hill, but he had flown around the entire world too many times to fall for that. The open sky was no more than an illusion of freedom.

He was so close.

Nash took Gwyneth’s hand to help her climb out of the tunnel. Her skin was warm and dry, but something about her didn’t feel quite human. “When I reach the remaining door, I will take Summer and Abram back to their family,” he said, and he was surprised how fiercely he meant it.

“But I don’t want to take them back, angel man. I want to find that other door and bring my family over here.”

He scoffed. “To this prison?”

“To this sanctuary,” Gwyn corrected gently. “You’ve been locked away a long time, so maybe you don’t remember what it was like on the other side, but…it’s nothing like this place. We’re in a place that should be Heaven, Nash. The only thing that makes it Hell is being away from those we love. As long as we’re together, anywhere can be home.”

“Will you think that when you’ve spent millennia of your eternal life in this bubble?”

“So long as I’ve got my family,” Gwyn said. “Tell me what we’ve got to do to send you back.”

“Well, I don’t believe that Leliel entered our world through the second door,” Nash said. “There is one more possibility—the fissure.”

“What’s that?”

He locked his fingers together like the coupler between train cars. “There are physical junctures at which the universes touch, and if you know what to look for, you can walk through it. I once searched for this fissure, but it doesn’t respond to me—it requires a mortal from the other world.”

“You want me to go find it for you,” Gwyneth said. “That’s an awfully big order. I don’t even know where to start looking.”

“Ah, but we do.” He pointed at the cave they had just exited. “The third door.” He pointed to the lake, and then in the direction of Wildwood. “The second, the first. They form a triangle. The fissure will most likely be at the center, in the forest north of Marut University.”

“The forest is awfully big.”

“But you know it better than anyone else. In any case, you’ll know the fissure when you see it. You’ll only need to get within perhaps a thousand meters of it to hear the humming.”

“What will you be doing while I’m off looking for ‘visual artifacts’?” she asked.

“I will find the second door, just to be certain,” Nash said, capturing one of her hands in both of his. “I must ask you to do this for me. If Leliel’s guarding it, then I dare not send Summer there. It’s too dangerous. But you…”

“Do you love Summer?” Gwyneth asked.

He lifted an eyebrow. “Is that relevant?”

“Maybe.”

Nash dropped her hand.

Did he love Summer? Love was a mortal thing. It incited fights, created new life, caused pain and splendor. If someone had asked him if he loved Leliel in the days they were married, he most likely would have denied it. Angels were above such silly emotions.

He had no definite answer for Gwyneth, but he could see that it mattered to her—it mattered very much.

“I am fascinated with her,” he said finally. “She fills the hollow spaces in my mind.”

Gwyn grinned. “I’ll see if I can find this ‘fissure’ thing for you, so long as you promise to keep an eye out for Summer while I’m gone. Whatever’s going on in your head, I certainly love her, like she’s my own daughter. I don’t want none of them nasty things eating her.”

“I’ll care for her until your return,” Nash said. “I’ll lay my life at her feet if I must.”

She snorted. “Don’t be getting all dramatic now. Let’s go find the way out of this world, huh?”



Something about Nash’s gardens had a tranquilizing effect on Summer’s mood. She stretched out on the damp soil underneath an apple tree, closed her eyes, and let the misty drizzle of rain sprinkle on her skin. It washed away all of her stress.

But the peace of the garden did nothing to solve Summer’s problems. There was still no sign of Abram. Gran was keeping secrets from her. And her parents didn’t even love each other.

The bushes rustled. Someone sat beside her.

“Where’s Gran?” Summer asked, rolling onto her side to look at Nash. He had a black umbrella propped on one shoulder again.

“She’s agreed to run an errand.” At her look, he amended that to, “Actually, she’s doing a favor for me.”

“Must be a heck of a favor to convince Gran to do it for you.”

His smile did funny things to her stomach. “You have no clue. She’s an incredible woman. You’re blessed to have her.”

“That’s the truth,” Summer said, sitting up. She wiped clumps of damp dirt off of the back of her arms.

“I must say, I enjoy your grandmother’s company. You have a lot in common. A certain fire.” Nash’s hand brushed over her back, wiping off more dirt. Even that casual gesture made her body ache. “She also possesses great humility. I believe she is truly happier living in that forest hovel than in the grandeur of my manor, and I suspect you’re much the same.”

Her mouth suddenly felt dry. His gaze dropped to her lips when her tongue darted out to wet them.

“So why did you want that scholarship in cash?” he asked.

“Huh?”

“That was one of the terms of your internship that you insisted upon,” Nash said. “A cup of coffee, and fifty thousand dollars in cash. Very uncharacteristic of Gwyneth Gresham’s granddaughter.”

She had completely forgotten about that stipulation. She had been so busy with the attacks and the mystery that the computers presented that money seemed utterly unimportant. “I don’t know.”

His eyes sharpened. “Don’t lie to me. Why do you want the money, Summer? What do you plan to buy?”

She swallowed hard. She couldn’t lie when he was looking at her like that. “A bus ticket.”

His surprise quickly turned to anger. “You want to leave,” he said in a low growl, his hand closing over her hip. His fingers dug into her side.

“I want to explore. I’ve never been beyond the forest outside my cottage, or Hazel Cove, or Lake Ast. Your house is the furthest south I’ve ever seen. Gran said…well, she always told us that our parents were traveling. Exploring the world, doing good deeds, saving people. I just thought…”

“You hoped to travel so that you could find them.”

It sounded a lot stupider to say it aloud than when she had originally thought it. Summer blushed, but she lifted her chin high, stubborn and defiant. “Yeah. I want to travel around and find them. Is that so crazy?”

“There are no other cities,” Nash said.

“What are you talking about? I saw names on the computer. Denver, Chicago—”

“They’re not here,” he interrupted. “Gwyneth may want to keep you sheltered in the safety of your ignorance, but I am not so cruel. I’m not the only one imprisoned in this puny world. You are, too.”

Imprisoned? Summer gave a shaky laugh. “I don’t think—”

“How clearly can I say this? You’re the only werewolf in the world because the world you know isn’t real. This is a construct built by angels.” He waved his hand at the forest, the sky, the truck inching down the beach. “There is no world beyond Hazel Cove.”

Was this what going crazy felt like? If the world wasn’t real, then what about everything she had done in her life? Exploring the forests, learning about art and science and history, her education at the university.

“But if the world’s so small, then where does out-of-season produce come from?” Summer asked. “Or—or the designer imports the Tri Delts wear? Or—”

“You’re trying to force logical rules on a place that is magical,” Nash said, stepping close enough that she could shelter under his umbrella again. “There is a need for food to sustain the populace. Food appears. Fashion changes on Earth, and this place eventually follows.”

“So why doesn’t anyone talk about it?” she demanded. “I’ve been in college for two years and nobody has mentioned any such thing.”

“This place bewitches you,” Nash said. “This is a Haven—a place of peace. The very air has a soporific effect on mortals, particularly those born here.”

She pressed a hand to her forehead. It felt like her brain was going to explode out of her temples. “I have travel catalogs,” she whispered.

“And you’ve seen pictures of rainforests, deserts, oceans, frozen tundra.” His cold exterior had melted away to something resembling sympathy. “All constructs, Summer. It’s Leliel’s magic, Leliel’s rules. She built this place a very long time ago.”

And that was what Gran had been lying about for so long. Wasn’t it? Her parents weren’t just gone. They were in another world—a place where other shapeshifters, immortals, and angels were common.

It was beyond absurd. Totally ridiculous.

But there was only one way to find out if it was true.

“I’m leaving,” Summer said. “And you can’t stop me.”

“I wouldn’t even try,” Nash said.



Summer had been certain that she would find Abram at the cottage when she got back, but all she found waiting for her was the faint smell of balam and a very hungry cat. Only Sir Lumpy attacked when she stepped inside. There was no sight of the balam, so they must have only been snooping. Well, let them snoop—in her current mood, Summer was pretty sure she could take a dozen of them at once.

Sir Lumpy yowled at her and wrapped around her legs, almost tripping her on the way to his food bowl.

“You’re real,” she said, stroking him as he chowed down on pureed salmon.

She read the label on the can. Processed in Wildwood. But that didn’t mean anything—all of the food they ate was locally grown and processed.

Summer sat down at her computer and ran a few searches. Vacation websites claimed that they had cruises to far-flung places. There were blogs talking about world events, too—fashion, politics, scientific discoveries. That couldn’t all be a magical fabrication created by Leliel. It couldn’t be.

Sir Lumpy finished eating and curled around her neck, tickling her cheek with his tail. She stroked the paw that rested over her collarbone. “Either way, someone is lying to me,” she told him as he nuzzled her ear. His wet purrs were like a jackhammer.

Summer had been fantasizing about leaving ever since the day she started college, yet she had never tried to explore beyond the boundaries that Gran had set for her as a child.

The river to the east. The hills to the north. The town to the south. The gully to the west. That was Summer’s hunting ground, her territory, her home. She had only ever dreamed of what lay beyond.

Even though the woods were large enough for a normal person to get lost inside, claustrophobia crept up her spine and gripped her heart. Every article she had read about the outside world on the Internet suddenly seemed flimsy, like poorly-constructed fiction.

Summer was trapped. She had been trapped all along, and never realized it.

This place bewitches you, Nash had said.

That unsettled her in so many ways, not least of all because of the truth that rang out in his voice.

Had she been content to stay within her territory because she was really happy there…or was it because she had fallen under the spell of this “Haven”?

Carefully, she dislodged Sir Lumpy and set him on her bed. He glared at her.

“I need to know,” Summer said, rubbing the bald spots over his eyes. He gave a short, grudging purr. “I’ll come back for you.”

He jumped to the floor and disappeared under her bed.

Summer stripped naked and stood in her doorway, poised on the edge of a precipice. The familiar trees looked like the walls of a prison instead of open arms. It was a challenge.

She swallowed her fear.

“I need to know,” she said again, more firmly this time.

Summer stepped into her second skin, and she ran.