Of Wings and Wolves

seventeen


Nash abandoned the limousine just outside of city limits. He hadn’t wanted to be spotted flying away from Wildwood, but the road to the Gresham house was long and winding, and he would be much faster taking to the skies.

“But how will you get back?” his driver asked.

“Just leave,” Nash said, removing his jacket and tossing it into the passenger’s seat. He paid all of his employees enough money that they couldn’t argue with him, so the limousine left.

He waited to remove his shirt until the headlights faded into night. Then he opened his wings to the wind and took flight.

Abram had said that Summer knew the truth. What truth? That Nash wanted to escape at any cost? That he cared about her in a way that he had never cared about anyone before? There had to have been some kind of misunderstanding—a mistake that he intended to clear up immediately.

As he soared over the dark forest, he began to sense something amiss. Something that felt a lot like balam nearby.

He flew faster.

The Gresham cottage was harder to locate at night, and he had to spiral over the treetops for a half an hour before spotting the meadow. He dropped into the clearing outside the vine-covered building and pulled his wings tight against his back.

All of the windows were dark. There was no sign that anyone had been at the cottage in days.

He burst through the backdoor to the kitchen. “Summer!” he roared, voice shaking the entire house.

The only response was a clatter of pans as a black cat leaped onto the counter and stumbled on the dishes. What had Summer called that feline? Sir Lumpy? He defied every stereotype that said cats should have been graceful, as well as the ones that said cats were beautiful creatures. His eyes seemed to bug out as he opened his mouth in a croaking meow.

“Where is she?” he asked Sir Lumpy, reaching out a hand. The cat bumped into his fingers and purred. If the cat was still there, Summer couldn’t be far.

A twig snapped in the night outside, and he spun, searching for the origin of the noise. The forest was silent again, but it was the kind of silence that preceded a storm. He could feel eyes on him.

Someone was watching.

“This is a trap,” he whispered to himself, and the words fell flat on the air. A strange energy surrounded him—a sensation he hadn’t experienced in a long time.

He wasn’t surprised when the trio of balam emerged from the trees.

They were deceptively cute and childlike, but Nash wasn’t distracted by their wide eyes and innocent features. He knew that sharp teeth were hidden within their mouths, as well as a hunger that was unique to their breed. A hunger for flesh, blood, war. Miserable creatures.

“Where is she?” he asked.

The balam only responded by fanning out and surrounding him. Their deadly intent was clear.

Nash hadn’t had to get in a real fight for years. He dimly recalled engaging some mortals in a fistfight during his time in the Haven due to various unimportant circumstances—bar brawls, disagreements over property, that kind of thing. But such experiences were not common in the idyll of the Haven. Until his conflict with the last gibborim, he hadn’t fought an enemy that presented a real danger since he was forced to leave Earth behind.

Where his memory failed him, his body did not. His blood burned with a lust for violence. “What have you done with Summer?” he demanded, stretching out his wings to their full width to warm the muscles.

The balam spoke in a series of shrieks and whistles. It would have been impossible for a human to understand the language that spewed from their lips, but Nash had no problems interpreting it. We are going to kill her, they said.

Anger bubbled out of his throat in a roar, and he lunged for them, fists balled and wings stretched wide.

They clashed, and all Nash knew was the battle.



Summer woke up somewhere familiar, safe, and warm. She stretched out. Her hands pushed pillows off the bed.

She was in Nash’s bed again, with its fleur-de-lis comforter and the multitude of plush pillows. Starlight spilled through the windows, glimmering dimly through the clouds, and a smile spread across Summer’s lips. It felt right to be there. She would have been happy to wake up in that bed every single morning.

But reality crashed over her a moment later, killing the glow and her smile. Summer hadn’t gone to bed with Nash. It wasn’t morning, either. She had been about to go to the gallery and instead found herself trapped by Leliel.

Then what was she doing at the manor?

Summer pushed the sheets off to discover that someone had dressed her in the golden sheath Margaret had picked out, necklace and all.

As soon as her feet touched the floor, the door opened, and Abram stepped inside. “You okay?” he asked.

“Abram? What’s going on? What am I doing here? Where did the angel go?”

“I brought you back,” he said, catching her arms to steady her when she tried to stand. “Don’t worry, Nash’s not around.”

“What do you mean, don’t worry? Where is he?”

“I don’t know. Leliel’s taken over the manor.”

Summer’s mouth dropped open as everything fell into place.

Leliel had sprung the trap on her, but it was Abram who greeted her when she was awake. Now the enemy angel was in control of the manor, and Abram was obviously not incarcerated—which could only mean one thing. “You’re working with Leliel? But—don’t you realize what she’s done? She exiled Nash here. She’s been trying to kill us!”

“You’ve got the facts all wrong,” Abram said. “Leliel came to me a few days ago. She told me all about Nash’s plans. She wants to help us.”

“Help us? How?”

Before he could respond, Leliel appeared behind Abram. Even when she looked angry, she was gorgeous, and Summer hated her for it a little bit. “I’d like to have a few words with you, woman to woman,” she said, and then she glanced at Abram. “Preferably alone.”

Abram stepped back, and Summer’s heart dropped all the way to her feet. She swallowed hard, lifted her chin, and followed Leliel to the hallway.

The angel was the only woman that Summer had ever seen that was taller than her. In many ways, she resembled Nash—not that they had any similar features or anything. It had more to do with the way that they carried themselves, their dignity, the way that they looked down their nose at the world surrounding them.

Leliel was just as graceful as Nash, too. She seemed to drift rather than walk out the front doors. There was no sign of the cleaning staff or Margaret.

“Where is everyone?” Summer asked.

“We are alone,” Leliel replied, which was no kind of answer at all.

As Leliel continued outside, Summer searched the surrounding hills for any sign of the ever-present guards that had nearly captured her on her first visit. But the most recent smells she could find were hours old, and she couldn’t see anyone on the lawn or beach.

Leliel was right. They were truly alone.

It took a few seconds for Summer to realize that the smoke filling her nostrils wasn’t Leliel’s smell, but an actual fire. And as soon as they moved around to the opposite side of the hill, Summer saw why.

Nash’s garden was on fire.

Flames danced over the orchard, turning the bark black and shriveling the leaves. Smoldering branches lay scattered through the grass near Summer’s feet.

“What have you done?” she asked, her voice barely a rasp.

“This garden was a blasphemous abomination,” Leliel said. “I had to destroy it.”

Summer didn’t even think before reacting. She slapped the angel across the face—hard. It was like trying to slap the garden wall for all that Leliel reacted. Even a shapeshifter wasn’t strong enough to make an angel flinch.

Leliel stroked a finger down her cheek. The skin was pink where Summer had struck. “I’ll forgive you for that one,” she said. “You’re a stupid mortal. You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into.” Her voice hardened. “Do it again, and I’ll rip your skull from your spine.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Summer said, her voice trembling.

Leliel seized Summer’s arm and dragged her toward the garden. There was a table just outside the wall, the kind of place that Summer could imagine having a tea party, and it was covered in the snowing ash. The angel forced her to sit.

“I’m not your enemy,” Leliel said. “Your brother understands this, and I hope you will, too. But we don’t have much time. An hour, perhaps two. You must listen to me.” She spread her skirts and sat at the opposite chair. “I’m sure Nashriel has told you nothing of the war, has he?”

Summer remained stubbornly silent.

“There is a being in our world more dangerous than any other.” Leliel swirled her fingertip through the raindrops on the tabletop. It was tinted gray by the falling ash from the orchard. “Not another angel, but ethereal in nature. He was born a man, and he was named Adam. Have you heard of him?”

Summer shook her head.

“Ah. Well, when the world was new, there was only one universe, and three people to inhabit it. One of them was Adam. He was the first human.”

“If he was the first, then who made him?”

Leliel gave an elegant shrug. “Nobody knows. Adam was accompanied by one ethereal creature, and one infernal. He fell in love with the angel. Her name was Eve.”

“Wait,” Summer said, holding up a hand. “If you’re saying that the world started out with three different species, then there would have had to be at least two of each at the start. And that’s not even considering how many pairs you actually need for genetic diversity.”

“Are you so incapable of thinking beyond mundane human terms?” Leliel swept the water off of the table and flicked her fingers to dry them off.

“I’m capable of thinking enough to tell when someone’s trying to force feed bullshit to me.”

“Set aside the limitations of your puny mind for now and accept it. There was one of each. Fact. Adam lamented that his life was mortal where Eve’s was not, and he craved power. Through a series of events, Adam became omnipotent, omnipresent—immortal. He elevated himself above all angels, such as Nashriel and I. And at first, it was good.” Leliel’s delicate eyebrows creased. “Then Eve died.”

“How?”

“Murder. Adam suffered deeply from this. Suffice it to say, he went insane and began destroying the universes one piece at a time. The factions fought—human, angel, and demon. But within each faction was additional division. Angels were split between those loyal to Adam, and those who were not.”

Summer bit her bottom lip. She had a feeling that she knew where this story was going, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear it.

Leliel stood and paced beside the burning garden. Backlit by the fire, she looked like she was glowing. “Driven insane, Adam began to destroy humankind. His own children. And this war raged for many years until angels found a way to contain his fury.”

“How?” Summer asked.

The angel waved away her question. “Loyalists attempted to prevent Adam’s incarceration, even though his freedom would mean the death of humanity. This was the shortest, and bloodiest, period in our history. A civil war.” Leliel focused glowing blue eyes on Summer. “Tell me what side you think Nashriel took.”

“He was with the rebels,” Summer said. “That’s why you locked him away.”

“No, I was with the rebels. Nashriel was a loyalist. One of Adam’s greatest generals, and among those who slaughtered humans.”

No. It couldn’t be true.

Summer tried to think of a way to argue with Leliel, but nothing came to mind. Nash did seem extremely disdainful of humanity, but she had assumed that it was typical of angels. She never would have dreamed that Nash might have tried to destroy her entire species.

“You understand why I can’t let you open the door for him,” Leliel said, and her voice was gentler than before. She almost looked sympathetic. “He wants to return to the other side so that he can free Adam. For the sake of peace throughout the universe—for the sake of all humankind—we can’t allow it.”

“No,” Summer finally said. That one word rasped out of her, weak and pathetic.

Nash had promised to take her to every city, to fly her toward unreachable stars, to chase the moon. He wasn’t using her to get back to some ancient war.

“I’m not evil, and I’m not trying to hurt you.” Leliel’s eyes softened as she rested a hand on Summer’s shoulder. “Angels are not your enemy. We could be humanity’s greatest allies, if you’ll allow it.”

“I don’t need an ally like you.”

“Maybe not here,” she agreed, “but wait until you find out what’s waiting on the other side.”

That got Summer’s attention. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that I’m going to take you to Earth, you and your family,” Leliel said. “Right now. Today.” Leliel raised her voice. “Abram.”

He emerged from the night. Abram must have been watching from the distance, since he didn’t look shocked to see the state of the destroyed garden.

Summer gaped at him wordlessly. A thousand thoughts passed between them in silence.

“It’s time to finish what I’ve started,” Leliel said.



Summer walked down to the beach in a haze. She was barely aware of Abram at her side or Leliel’s back leading her down the hill. She couldn’t break free of her thoughts.

Several spotlights and a generator had been abandoned near the rocks. Leliel ignored the equipment and kept walking until she was knee-deep in the surf. Her dress floated around her on the waves.

“Behold,” she said.

She spread her arms wide, and the waters parted before her like a plow driving toward the dark depths of the lake. The waves crested and crashed in white arcs, spraying fine mist into the air. The moist sand underneath dried quickly in the air as the tunnel widened, until there was a path broad enough for three people to pass through side by side.

Summer didn’t realize that she had fallen to her knees until her fingers sank into divots where the tide had been moments before. “What the—?”

“A trick I learned from a friend some years ago,” Leliel said. “It’s a petty thing, but impressive to see.” She extended her hand toward Summer, who stared at it blankly. Hands that could split a lake couldn’t be safe to touch.

It was Abram who finally hauled Summer off of her knees. Her shins were covered in sand.

Leliel strode down the path she had created in the water, trailed by the gauzy train of her dress. Summer let Abram lead her into the lake, numb and disconnected.

Sand slurped between her toes as they walked between walls of dark water. It pulsed around her, swaying gently as the wind blew, and Summer thought that she could see fish darting through the waves.

The cave was a dark pit at the bottom of a rocky outcropping in the center of the lake. Water trickled over the doorway. “Come,” Leliel said, and they stepped inside.

The rumbling of the waters was quieter in the cave, and a tiny waterfall drummed out a rhythm over the doorway. Light began to radiate from Leliel’s back—not full wings, but a dim glow that came from everywhere and nowhere. It illuminated the cave with a wash of gold.

Summer could see petroglyphs at the black wall, much like the kind of images she had seen in her history books in her freshman year of college. They were caveman paintings. Primitive images of man chasing beast. And they were arranged in the shape of an archway. She realized with a jolt that she was looking at the way out of the Haven—a path that would lead back to Earth.

“Wait,” Summer said, grabbing Abram’s arm. “We can’t go through. What about Gran? What about Nash?”

“I didn’t bring you down here to use the door,” Leliel said with a pitying look.

The angel drew back her fist and punched it into the wall.

Stone cracked. A sound like a bell shattering on concrete snapped through Summer’s eardrums, and she clapped her hands over her ears, mouth opening in a silent cry. Beneath her feet, the earth trembled and rocked. Only Abram’s hand kept her upright.

Leliel punched again. This time, she struck a symbol that looked like a buffalo, and all of the markings on the wall trembled at the impact of it.

A whining noise pierced Summer’s skull, and then silenced abruptly.

The angel stepped back looking satisfied.

“There,” she said. “That should prevent anyone from passing through. Now we can leave.”

“How? You just broke the door,” Abram said.

“There’s still a fissure between the universes that we can reach. Once no more humans native to Earth are on this side, Nashriel will be incapable of crossing over again. Let’s go.”

Leliel whirled and walked through the cave’s exit without waiting to see if the twins would follow her.

Abram began to follow before Summer stopped him.

“Wait, you don’t understand. We have to get Nash to this thing, this—this fissure. We can’t leave without him!”

“You talked to her, didn’t you?” Abram asked. “You heard what she said that Nash had done. He’s a war criminal. He’s been using you!”

“Can we believe her? Can we trust anything she says?”

“Can you trust Nash?” he snapped.

“I would trust him with my life,” Summer said, hanging tight to her brother’s shirt. “Please, Abe. Listen to me. We can’t leave without him. He’ll be trapped forever.”

He hesitated, but only for a moment. Then he hauled Summer toward the door, and she didn’t have the resolve to stop him. Leliel was waiting for them on the other side, hand extended. There was a distant rushing sound, like a river echoing through a gorge.

The path to the beach wasn’t open anymore. Water rushed toward them, folding together like a deck of cards being shuffled.

Leliel was closing the path to the cave.

The last thing Summer wanted to do was let Leliel drag her away, but she wasn’t given a choice. Abram tightened one hand on her arm, and he gave the other to Leliel. All three of them soared into the air as the water sealed beneath them, crashing closed on the door—and Nash’s last chance for escape.



The balam were intimidating because of force of numbers, rather than raw strength, and they were good at what they did. They swarmed Nash like a hive of insects. Whenever he turned his attention to one, another would swoop in. Their teeth were like razors. Their fingers were tipped with blades.

But Nash had fury on his side, and desperation. He lost himself in the blur of battle.

Limbs flashed, blood splashed. Screams shattered the night.

Finally, he succeeded in seizing one of the little bastards, and he slammed the balam’s head into a rock. It died in his hands with a tiny wail.

The other two flitted into the air with banshee screams. Nash could only respond with a scream of his own, deeper and louder and a thousand times more pained. Though he couldn’t find the strength for words, they seemed to understand his sentiment.

The survivors flew into the night, leaving him alone with blood on his hands and a corpse at his feet. He struggled to stand.

“Bastards,” he hissed, touching the gouges on his chest and arms. His flesh was in ribbons, but his physical form would restore itself. He had much bigger problems at hand.

The balam that he had thought to be dead stirred beneath him. A low moan rumbled from its chest. “Where is she?” Nash asked. “Tell me, and I will spare you.”

A pale, long-fingered hand lifted. The balam pointed one bloody claw toward Lake Ast before going limp.

Nash took to the air, powering through the wind and night toward his house. He flew like a man possessed, and within a few minutes, his house appeared. All he could see was the dancing orange light of flame on the hillside.

His home was on fire.

Nash dropped beside his garden and stared in numb shock at the trees dancing with flame. The entire orchard was consumed. Every branch, every leaf, every blade of grass.

He didn’t care about the garden itself. He really didn’t. All of those hours he had spent maintaining it—they were barely a heartbeat in his long history. But it shattered his heart to lose that little piece of home, like he was watching the last scraps of his past become consumed by fire.

There was a folded piece of paper resting on top of the garden wall. Nash felt like he was moving in slow-motion as he reached out to lift and unfold it.



I have destroyed the door beneath the lake and taken custody of Summer and Abram. I know there is a third in their family. You will bring the last of the Earth natives to me, or I will wring Summer’s neck. Meet me where the sun rises.



Leliel hadn’t signed the note, but he still recognized her handwriting after so many years. No other could have written in the looping symbols of the ethereal language anyway.

He read the note again, and then a third time.

Leliel had Summer and Abram. She wanted Gwyneth. If she had all three of them—if she took all of them back to Earth—then the fissure would not yield to him. Nash would never escape. He would be trapped in the Haven for the rest of time.

Yet if he didn’t surrender Gwyneth to Leliel, Summer would be killed.

Just a couple of weeks earlier, the decision would have been simple. Nash would have gladly surrendered one mortal life or a thousand if it meant that he could escape the confines of the Haven. But now, the very thought of losing Summer was unbearable.

If Leliel killed her…

Nash unfurled his wings and took to the air once more.