Of Wings and Wolves (23 page)

“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 fucking 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.

nineteen

Light and heat built around
Summer. She knew that she was screaming because she could feel the rawness of her throat, but the sound didn’t reach her ears. All she could hear was her heartbeat as it slowed. Each beat took longer than the last. Minutes passed between each thud.

She was blind, bloodless, dying.

Then there was solid earth beneath her feet again, and Summer smacked into the ground. Dirt scraped against her palms. Her hair hung in her face. She looked up, chest heaving with breaths. She was in another cave, much like the one under the lake, but this one was a mess of rubble.

Dust tickled her sinuses and made her sneeze. Summer wiped off her face and took a sniff. There was the smell of rain, just like she had left behind on the other side. She smelled gunpowder and blood, too. That couldn’t be a good sign.

There were so many new scents that it was almost overwhelming. The pictures it splashed through her mind were confusing.

A firefight. Injuries. There was saliva, pheromones, fur. Were those other wolves she smelled, too?

Summer sneezed again.

Once she got past all of those smells, there was also a familiar musk, something that reminded her of Gran. It was a feminine perfume, and just a whiff of it made Summer’s heart slow immediately as a calm settled into her bones.

And she smelled Abram. He had appeared beside her in the same instant that she had.

“You okay?” she asked, which triggered a bout of coughing. It felt like the dirt and dust had gotten into her lungs.

He didn’t respond, which probably wasn’t a good sign. He groaned and pressed a hand to his ribs.

Summer pulled his fingers away to take a look. There was no visible blood, so it must have been the impact of landing. Judging by the heat she felt in her knees and palms, she had probably hurt herself, too, but her shapeshifter body was already knitting itself back together again.

She twisted to look behind her. There was nothing but a blank wall and a handful of petroglyphs, which had been cracked down the middle.

No Leliel. No Gran. No Nash.

“Where are we?” Abram asked, sitting back on his heels and offering a hand to Summer. She used his grip to steady herself on her knees.

“I don’t know.”

The air in the cave was thick and dusty. It looked like there had been some kind of collapse, but people must have been attempting to clean it up because there was a path to a door on the opposite wall.

Between the sight of the rubble and all of those smells, Summer was getting a sick sense of being on the scene of a disaster. Death. Destruction.

“Where’s Gran?” Summer asked. “Where’s Nash?”

The grim look on Abram’s face was answer enough. If they hadn’t already crossed over, then something must have happened. Leliel changing her mind. Maybe another fight, or the fissure closing.

It was too terrible to contemplate, so Summer tried to put it out of her mind and focus on what she did have—a whole new world waiting for her.

“I guess we’re stuck here,” she said, trying to sound upbeat. It totally failed. Her chin quivered. “Now I’ll never get to see your painting.”

Abram pulled her into a hug. “I know,” he said, cheek pressed to her hair. “I’ll paint another one for you.” Using each other as leverage, they stood, and the shift in air brought that comforting smell washing over Summer again. He caught her expression. “What is it?”

“It kind of smells like…” She trailed off. She had been about to say “it smells like Mom,” but how could she know what their mother would smell like? They had never been in the same universe before, much less the same room.

But he seemed to understand what she wasn’t saying. His gaze sharpened. “Were they here?”

“I think so,” Summer said slowly.

She took a few steps forward. The smell was stronger toward the door.

Her heart sped. “Actually…I think they’re here right now,” she tried to say, but her voice failed her.

Abram took her hand and held it tightly. He might not have shown his emotion, but he was her twin, the other half of her soul. She knew that his nerves were ringing, too.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

She leaned her forehead into his arm and shut her eyes. Was she ready to see their parents? The people that she had been waiting to meet for her entire life? Was she ready to set foot in a new world, so much bigger and more dangerous than the one she had left behind?

“Yes,” Summer said. “I’m ready.”

They stepped through the door and climbed to the surface.

The forest waiting for them was sensory overload. Summer could hear squirrels, rabbits, the rustling of bushes, the swaying of trees. She smelled a dozen new people she had never met before. Summer felt a powerful sense of cognitive dissonance. This was the forest that she had seen in the photos on that archaic computer in Nash’s office.

There was a woman standing just a few meters away, facing the trees. She had long blond hair, skinny legs, and big eyes, just like Summer had seen in the photo. But even if Summer hadn’t seen her before, the smell would have been more than enough to identify her.