Of Wings and Wolves

eighteen


Flying with Leliel was nothing like flying with Nash. Summer had felt perfectly safe cradled in his arms, while being with Leliel made her dizzy with nausea. The lake and mountains seemed to spin below her. The fingers encircling her wrist were terrifyingly slender, just a tiny shift in grasp from dropping her and her brother.

A rock from the lake’s shore had been stuck to the bottom of Summer’s foot, and she felt it peel away from her skin. It spun through the air, turned tiny, and then disappeared. She watched it tumble with a rising sense of panic.

Summer would have a long time to regret her fall before she hit.

Cold air whipped over her face, and her shoulder ached as Leliel flapped harder, drawing them through the clouds. The world around them turned to a foggy haze. Then they broke through, and the stars were waiting for them on the other side. Their song felt discordant tonight, out of tune, as though disturbed by Leliel’s arrival.

The navy blue sky began to lighten. By the time the sun faded into view, it felt like Summer’s shoulder was going to wrench free of its socket.

And then the sun appeared.

It was so much smaller than Summer expected—no more than a pinpoint of brilliant light and heat. But it was so bright she could barely look at it without wincing.

They soared toward it. As they approached, the air looked like it rippled around them, swirling and fragmenting. The clouds trembled. A single, chiming note grew in volume, louder than the stars.

Summer realized belatedly that the sun wasn’t like the stars—just a mere illusion suspended in the sky. It’s the fissure!

Leliel released her wrist.

Fear rushed through her stomach in the moment of weightlessness, but Summer didn’t even get a chance to scream before her knees impacted something hard. She landed face-down on cobblestone.

Cobblestone?

Pushing herself onto her hands and knees, she stared at the ground surrounding her. It looked like an ancient road built of white stone. But it was no more than a fragment, barely half of a city block suspended in midair, and the clouds clung to it like a low fog. The angel had somehow summoned a platform for them to stand on.

Abram didn’t look surprised at all. He helped her stand.

“What is this?” Summer asked, shading her eyes from the harsh light of the sun. Her knees were shaking.

Leliel dropped beside them gracefully and folded her wings behind her. Feathers swirled around her feet. “Think of it as a scaffold,” she said. “A builder must stand somewhere when birthing her universe.”

“And that’s the fissure,” Abram said, lifting a hand to block out the light of the tiny, furious sun.

“That’s the fissure,” Leliel confirmed.

It seemed cruelly ironic for the way out to have been hiding in plain sight all these years. Abram took a step toward it, but Summer clung to his arm, trying to hold him back. They couldn’t go through. Not yet.

“You’ll like it on the other side,” Leliel said with a cool smile. She was either oblivious to Summer’s panic, or she simply didn’t care. “It’s much more interesting on Earth than it is here. Of all my creations, I must say, this Haven is the least inspired of them all.”

A buzzing noise filled the air, and a pair of balam soared toward them, grasping one another’s hands as they careened through the clouds. Their childlike faces were filled with fear.

The instant they landed on the edge of the platform, they began to chatter in shrieks. Abram tensed underneath Summer’s fingers, and his hand crept toward the small of his back. Judging by the smell of gunpowder, he was hiding a gun underneath his tuxedo jacket.

“What do you mean?” Leliel asked, her sharp gaze focused on the balam. They shrieked again, and she said, “Then he’ll be here soon. Well enough. I’m ready to end this.”

Before Abram could draw his firearm, the platform trembled under Summer’s feet. Another gibborim stepped onto the edge. Summer had almost forgotten how hideous they were. How could a Heaven that produced something as wonderful as Nash make creatures like that?

Abram drew a handgun from the small of his back. “Get behind me, Summer,” he said, lifting the pistol.

Leliel pushed his arms down. “Don’t shoot. They won’t hurt you.”

“But you said that Nash sent them to kill us,” Abram said.

“Ah.” Leliel held her hand out to examine her fingernails. They were perfect, just like every other inch of her body. “I may have prevaricated somewhat.”

“Prevaricated.” His voice trembled with barely-restrained anger. “You f*cking lied.”

She flung her hands into the air. “What does that matter? The truth remains that Nash is a war criminal and must be contained.”

Her attempt at redirection was an utter failure. Abram’s eyes flicked between Summer and the ethereal creatures guarding the edge of the platform, and she saw a subtle shift in his features. His brow creased. Lines appeared on either side of his mouth.

Summer shook her head in a tiny motion, trying not to catch Leliel’s attention. “Don’t do it, Abram,” she mouthed silently.

But he was already raising the gun again—and this time, he turned it on the angel.

Leliel looked utterly unimpressed. The light from the sun caught the stray hairs drifting in the breeze, making it look as though she had a halo. “Does this really matter so much to you? Good Lord, mortals are such brittle things.”

He replied by squeezing the trigger.

Abram was only a meter from Leliel—almost within arm’s reach. He fired at near point-blank range. It should have been impossible to miss her.

But Leliel was suddenly gone.

He turned and dropped to his knees just in time for Leliel’s fist to swing over his head. She had darted around to his other side faster than the bullet had flown. Summer sucked in a gasp, clapping her hands over her mouth.

The gibborim lumbered into motion, and each time his foot landed, it made the entire platform tremble.

“Be careful—just restrain him!” Leliel said, darting away from a second gunshot. Her wings whipped behind her.

High, whining shrieks told Summer that the balam were coming, too. She needed to do something. She had to protect Abram, protect herself, stop the angels. But her body was locked up with terror. She could only watch as Abram fired at the charging gibborim. The first bullet deflected harmlessly off of its chest. The second punched into the gibborim’s face.

It roared and fell, and Abram immediately shot the balam out of the air.

Summer was on her knees now. When had she fallen? Why couldn’t she move?

“Stop shooting my angels!” Leliel cried, and she tackled Abram. It was a wholly ungraceful move for such a beautiful creature, but it was effective. They fell together beside the gibborim’s body as it struggled to stand once more.

Leliel leaned her weight on Abram’s throat. Abram’s struggle with the angel had rolled them closer to the sun, and his approach made the fissure burn brighter and sing louder. His pained gurgle was the tipping point for Summer—there was no time to be afraid when her brother was in trouble. Suddenly, the wolf was within reach.

Her human skin fell away, baring the beast underneath.

Summer’s paws pounded against white cobblestone as she lunged for them.

She launched onto Leliel’s back, and the angel took the momentum with the calm of an experienced football player. She barely even grunted. “I’m not your enemy, mortal,” Leliel said. She punctuated the statement by punching Summer across the face.

It was nothing like being punched by Abram in one of their many playful sparring matches. Not that he held back or was weak. Being struck by an angel was just in a whole new class of pain.

Summer yelped. Leliel pulled back to hit again.

I don’t think so.

Scrambling to her paws, Summer leaped around the angel and bit down on the base of her wing. Blood washed over her tongue, acidic and sour.

That got Leliel to scream.

Summer threw her full weight into the angel’s back, and they wrestled, rolling together in a tangle of limbs.

Another gunshot, and then a click. Abram was out of ammunition.

Leliel’s arm hooked around Summer’s throat, cutting off her air. Her paws scrabbled uselessly against the cobblestone.

“Hold him,” she told the gibborim, and it closed its massive hands on Abram’s arms, pinning them to his sides. Only when he was contained did Leliel release Summer again. “Change back and dress yourself, or I’ll have Abram thrown through the fissure now.” Her voice was so cold that Summer half-expected it to start snowing.

After struggling so hard to turn into a wolf in the first place, her body was reluctant to resume its other form. But Abram’s steady gaze was awfully convincing.

What would happen if he fell through the fissure alone? Would it close and separate them forever? Summer didn’t want to find out.

Her human limbs emerged and the fur fell away. Summer’s dress was still puddled near the heat of the brilliant sun, but she shivered as she slipped into it. “Please,” Summer said, swallowing down the bitter taste of blood. “Just let us go. Let Nash leave. None of us deserve this.”

The plea seemed to destroy what little remained of Leliel’s patience. “Deserve what? You don’t want to be sent to Earth? You don’t want to protect humanity from Nashriel’s assault?”

“He’s not the one threatening to hurt my brother!”

A dark spot appeared in the swirling color of the sky, and Leliel turned to watch it approach.

It was Nash. He soared through the sky with Gran under his arm, and she looked about as thrilled to be flying as Summer was to be at Leliel’s mercy.

Summer’s heart leaped into her throat as they touched down safely on the edge of the platform. With Nash’s wings exposed and his features twisted by rage, she could believe that he had once been a warrior to fear. But she wasn’t afraid of him. Whatever crimes he might have committed, he didn’t deserve to be punished for them after so many thousands of years.

Nash’s eyes met hers across the platform. There was a silent question in his gaze. Are you all right?

It took all of Summer’s strength not to immediately run into his arms, but she couldn’t leave Abram held by the gibborim. She restricted herself to a single nod.

Gran took one look at the situation and stabbed a finger in Leliel’s chest. “You let Abram go,” she growled, straight-backed and defiant.

“And who are you?” Leliel asked, surveying the old woman with a curled upper lip.

“I didn’t invite you to ask questions. I told you to let him go, or I swear by God that I will make you wish you’d never been hatched, bird girl.”

The angel looked at Nash over Gran’s head. “Is she serious?”

“Very,” he said.

Leliel must have given some kind of silent cue to the gibborim because its hands relaxed on Abram. Gran walked around Leliel as calmly as though it were utterly normal to be suspended on floating rocks near a tiny, flaming sun, and went to Abram’s side. The gibborim didn’t step away at Gran’s approach. It loomed over the three humans, a clear threat even as it remained motionless.

“I have to say that I’m surprised you surrendered the last of them,” Leliel said, addressing Nash as though the humans had suddenly, magically vanished.

Though he responded to Leliel, his eyes never left Summer’s. “I had no choice. You threatened to kill her.”

Any doubts Summer might have had about his intentions vanished instantly.

If he hadn’t brought Gran to the fissure, then he could have attempted to break free again later. His appearance didn’t just mean that he was trying to reunite the family. It meant he was giving up his freedom.

Summer’s hands flew to her mouth. “No,” she whispered.

“I’m going to take them to Earth now,” Leliel said, “but I have to know. Why give up so easily? Have you decided that you enjoy your time in this Haven? Do you want to be contained?”

“Not at all,” Nash said. “I would like nothing more to be free. I hate it here…and I hate you.”

“Then why?”

“Because I love Summer,” he said, and it was as though the rest of the world was gone in an instant, taking the oxygen with it.

Summer gripped Gran’s hands for support. Tears blurred her vision.

“You really have changed,” Leliel said softly. “Shame.”

She strolled toward the humans where they waited by the sun. Just a few more steps, and Nash would be trapped forever.

“No!” Summer cried.

She burst into a run, and she wasn’t sure what she was trying to do—whether she was trying to reach Nash or attack Leliel. It didn’t seem to matter. But it was obvious what the gibborim thought she was doing because it stepped in her path and raised a fist.

“Summer, don’t!” Nash shouted.

The gibborim struck Summer. It was like a sledgehammer to the gut, and it sent her flying.

Abram opened his arms to catch her, but her momentum was too much for him to remain on his feet. He stumbled back…and then he began to fall.

The light of the sun grew until it was blinding, and Summer realized that they had crossed the fissure’s threshold. The platform began to vanish around them.

“No!” Nash roared. His voice was distorted.

The last thing that Summer saw was Gran reaching for her—and then she and Abram were sucked into another universe.