Three days since the attack.
Three days of agony and bliss.
Those emotions took turns wracking Tajael’s mind and body and soul, like he was a plaything at their disposal.
The agony of listening to Charlotte pleasure herself had ceased, now that she knew he was watching. But she still had breathy dreams where she called out his name—he hadn’t told her about those. The real agony came when they discussed physics and magic, everywhere and anywhere, in stolen moments at the office or on her couch or in her bedroom before she retired for the night. The worst was saying goodnight, that awkward parting where they both knew he’d be back as soon as she was asleep. Watching. Never touching.
Strangely enough, the bliss came at those very same moments.
She was endlessly curious, and he tried to satisfy all of it—he made love to her mind in a way he couldn’t with her body. Teasing and revealing by turns. Pleasing her with knowledge of the magical realm, even though he suspected she only half believed. The only time he went too far was when he unfurled his wings for her inspection. She ran her fingers along the feathers, marveling along the length of his wingspan, which filled her small bedroom, but he was so breathless—and so embarrassingly erect—that he had to cloak and compose himself again.
He understood the dangerousness of the game.
He just couldn’t bring himself to stop playing it.
So she knew the fae wished to stop humanity’s technological progress, her experiments in particular. She listened attentively to his description of their ancient feud with the angels. How the fae had always been creatures of the magical realm, but then they stole the knowledge of longevity and used it to gain more magic—dimensional energy, as she called it—and expand their powers. Whereas angelkind were either light or shadow, the fae were chaotic. The Winter Court was cooler and more cruel, the Summer Court warmer and more cunning, but they both used their magic for their own pleasures, whether good or evil. Yet all fae were bound to Truth—a legacy of their original Sin, eating from the Tree of Knowledge that gifted them with their long lives.
He explained how the vampire who attacked her used Lust as a weapon. He described the lesser species on earth with magic in their blood—the witches and shifters and dragons. She listened, but laughed, as if he were spinning tales, not crafting warnings. He told her of the dragons’ treaty with the fae and how it protected humanity… and why that meant the fae used a vampire to attack her instead. He was certain it was something like that.
She wanted the stories behind his tattoos—the magical shadow Regiment ink on his chest and the dragon on his arm—and so he told her in brief, leaving out his greatest shame. His Temptation. Because the temptation Charlotte provided every day was far more than the one that made him Fall, and he was not blind. He could see the yearning on her face for things he could not give.
So they talked of physics and magic, immortal wars and mortal perils, anything and everything but the Sin he was playing so dangerously with… or the Love in his heart growing stronger by the day.
Today, there was blessed distraction in the form of a series of very successful experiments. Tajael was at his normal perch above the machine—the paper crane had taken its place inside, now that Charlotte’s team had perfected the operation of the resonator. At the moment, they were programming the large ring-like device he perched upon to run with the virtual resonator during operation. It made a tremendous cacophony, and as far as he could tell, Charlotte was not actively involved. She watched, but they scurried around her, turning the wrenches, plugging the cables, writing the code. At such times, he couldn’t resist—they had their own code for when she should sneak away and meet him. The six-inch-tall Flash character she was enamored with had been brought to the lab as a mascot, and a possible future transport object, once the paper crane had been successfully sent to the immortal realm. Tajael floated down from his perch and, while no one was looking, he turned The Flash to face away from the device and toward the door. He waited until Charlotte noticed, which wasn’t long.
Then she slipped outside and made her way to the washroom.
There he could decloak and talk freely.
“Did you see those results?” she gushed. Her long, dark hair was contained behind her head in a knot he found fascinating… and far too alluring.
“Of course,” he said. “Not that I understood them a bit.”
She grinned and leaned against the tiled wall, crossing her legs at the ankle in front of her. “Remember I told you about the interference?”
“The magical waves that kept bumping into each other.”
“Not magic,” she teased. “Radio frequency waves. They don’t play well with our resonator.”
“Perhaps they need more training.” He had to work to keep the stupid grin off his face when they talked. His heart sang with their words, though.
“Precisely!” she exclaimed, delighted.
He gave up the fight and grinned, although he did not understand what she meant.
“We were able to tune it more precisely,” she said, regaining seriousness. “I thought I might have to fold another crane because that one’s getting pretty beat up by the cycling all over the place, but once we got it trimmed out, it’s better now.”
“Good.” At least, he thought it was good.
“Once they get this last round of checkouts done, we’re ready!”
“Ready?”
“Ready to run it for real.” Her luminous blue eyes simply glowed.
He couldn’t help the hammering of his heart, both with the look on her face and because this he understood. This was her dream. “And if it works?” he said with a small smile. He imagined a victory celebration. In his fantasies, when he allowed them to happen, she would forget their unspoken rule of no touching for a moment and embrace him in her glee. He felt sure if he did not respond, at least not too eagerly, that he might enjoy that small moment without danger.
“Well, then we’ll have a ton of work to do!” She seemed delighted by this.
He just chuckled. And still hoped there would be a bit of celebration.
“Wait! That reminds me.” She wagged a finger at him, pushing away from the wall and coming to stand closer. Not too close. And when she got near, she folded her arms across her chest, as if that were some kind of impenetrable barrier to them touching. It was effective, he supposed, though it emphasized her breasts, which were neatly covered by her pristine white t-shirt emblazoned with Physics is real; why aren’t you? in purple lettering. He valiantly ignored that. “I had a question for you,” she was saying, snapping his attention back to her mind, the only part of her he was allowed to tangle with.
“And that was?” he asked with a smile.
“Say we send the crane into extra-dimensional space.”
“Yes?”
“Where will it go?”
“I honestly have no idea.”
She frowned at this. “I mean, it’s just a paper crane. It’s not a weapon or anything. But I don’t want to materialize it inside anyone’s heart. Wait… you have a heart, right?” She peered at his chest, and then suddenly, she moved too close, breaking all the rules and placing her hand on his chest. His bare chest.
He froze.
She held her hand there, skin-to-skin—he only wore his standard training toga when they were alone. He told himself human clothing was unnecessary, but the Truth was he knew she enjoyed it. She was staring intently at her hand, feeling for his heartbeat. Considering the amount it was pounding, he didn’t know how she could miss it. “Definitely a heart,” she said, but her voice was hushed as she slowly dragged her gaze up to meet his.
“As I said, I am half human.”
He could hear her own heart rate pick up. “Which parts aren’t human? Exactly.”
It was not his imagination. Both their breathing had become uneven.
He should move away.
But no force on earth could make him.
“I am human in every way that you can sense. Every way that you can feel in this reality.” This was dangerous talk. He should stop immediately. But satisfying her curiosity—and his own need for her to know him—drove him relentlessly. “I am as much a man as any.” He meant it precisely the way he could see her take it, with her lips parted, and her stuttering heartbeat.
Angels of light, he would find his doom with this woman. It was just a matter of when.
“Most men I know don’t have wings that magically fold into their backs,” she said, softly. Her hand was still on his chest.
He didn’t move away. “There is that.” He smiled. “And I have little need for food or sleep. And a strength and endurance mere mortals cannot match. And a few other things.” He would rattle them off for an hour if it would keep her close.
“That’s the magical part,” she whispered, looking up into his eyes. “The inter-dimensional energy that’s in your blood.”
“Yes, I suppose so.”
She frowned, curiosity grabbing hold of her again, but she stepped back, taking her hand with her. He could breathe again, but he wasn’t glad for it. “Wait,” she said, tapping her chin. “How do you travel to the other realm?”
He shook his head a little. “We discussed this. I simply twist and open an inter-dimensional doorway.”
“Right. The flash of light is you changing states. The pop in the air is the sudden displacement of mass in our realm. But I mean…” She tapped more, searching for words. “How do you know where to go?”
“Ah.” He caught her meaning. “That is a fine question. I honestly can’t say that I know the answer, but I have a theory.”
She grinned. “I’d like to hear this theory.”
He had to contain the small hum of angelsong that started up in his chest. She had that effect on him, more and more often. “You speak of the two realms—mortal and immortal—as being separate, but that’s plainly not true. I exist here… but I also exist there.”
She frowned. “You mean there’s a part of you that exists extra-dimensionally, in both places, all the time?”
“Not physically. But mentally, yes. And magically.” He tried to articulate his thoughts. “I use my mind to reach into the magical realm. To summon my faction leader. To sense shadow angelings. To call upon the energy I need to create, say, an angel blade. The magic is in my blood, it’s woven into the fabric of my being, but it’s my mind that controls it. My theory is that the mind—perhaps consciousness itself—is a projection.”
Her eyes went round. “A shadow of the higher dimension.”
He smiled. “Precisely. It’s the connection between them.”
“But only for those with magical blood.” He could see her mind spinning with this.
“Yes and no.” He frowned. “Only the fae and angelkind are strong enough in magic to travel. The other species have lesser amounts of magic in their blood—they can access magic, er, dimensional energy, with their minds, but they can’t leave the mortal realm.” He left out the witches and their incantations and how even the dragons used spells to conjure wards and other things. He figured it was much like Charlotte and her mathematics—the symbols themselves didn’t contain the power, they merely described what already existed, drawing it into being.
The corners of her mouth turned down. “And humans can’t do any of it.”
He smiled and stepped toward her, closing the distance between them again. He dared to touch her cheek, just for a moment, just a soft brush of agony and bliss at the tips of his fingers. Then he dropped his hand. “Trust me, you are the most beloved of God’s creatures. The shadowkind are Fallen from Envy of it. You have all the gifts. I’m certain it’s only a matter of time before you unlock them.” This was a Truth he believed… and one reason why assisting Charlotte in her quest seemed the highest calling for an angeling like himself. He might Fall from Lust for her, but it would be worth whatever help he could give along the way.
Her eyes had that shine again—excitement and wonder and an attraction he felt jump through the air between them like an electric charge—and then she threw her arms around his neck. The hug was sudden and tight, and his hands immediately found ways to hold her even tighter. All breath escaped him as she pulled back, and he nearly chased after her.
The will it took to hold him in place was one he didn’t know he possessed. But she was nearly to her breakthrough. He couldn’t fail her now.
“Sorry.” She ducked her head and shook it as she stared at the floor. Then she tucked an errant lock of hair behind her ear and peeked up. “We should probably get back.”
“Yes.” He could barely speak.
When she turned away, he dutifully cloaked and followed after, the agony and bliss once again wracking him, body and soul.
Back in the lab, things were bustling even more. There was an energy, a shine in the workers’ eyes, that was a mirror of Charlotte’s.
“Hey, you’re back,” Jimmy said as he looked up from the console that controlled the device. He flicked a look at the others and seemed to be suppressing a smile. “We’re ready for Test Zero, if you are, Dr. Netherman.”
Test Zero. Tajael heard them speak of it before. It was some kind of check-out preparation before the first actual test.
She beamed. “I am so ready.”
Tomaz reached into the machine and retrieved the paper crane, carefully placing the somewhat battered bird on top of the bank of power boxes they had brought it. This Test Zero run would be without an object, sending the air alone inside the device to the immortal realm… if it worked at all. They had no measurement for success in that case. It was merely a full instrument checkout.
Tajael was perched on top of the device, but then he thought better of it. If they were to open a dimensional door, he wasn’t sure what would happen to him, should he be standing on top. Or near it. And while the entire affair had seemed reasonably safe, he wasn’t taking any chances with Charlotte either.
Once everyone had assumed their stations, mostly hovering around the screen displaying all the functioning and measuring of the device, Tajael unfurled his wings and placed himself between Charlotte and her workers and the device. He was still cloaked, and he was unsure if he provided much of a barrier, but he was the only other “extra-dimensional” object in the room, so he figured it was better than nothing. Plus his body would serve as an invisible, physical shield if nothing else.
They donned their ear protection and started the device. The hum grew steadily, then the clacking of the Magnetic Resonance Imaging machine began. It took tens of seconds for the device to come to full power, but the smiles on their faces told him that whatever was supposed to be functioning properly was doing so.
Then they moved aside so Charlotte could access the imaging button. It was a large red square on the screen emblazoned with what looked like a lightning bolt—the same symbol found on her inter-dimensional hero, The Flash. This button was the one which would activate the scan, the part of the device that was supposed to fix everything in a “known” position in their mortal realm, thus forcing, by some principle of physics he did not truly understand but nevertheless believed, the object—in this case a small volume of air—into the immortal realm.
Charlotte took a breath and pressed her slender finger to the button on the screen.
Tajael had his back to the machine, facing Charlotte and her workers as he protected them, but he felt… something. A small rustle that brushed his feather tips. He wasn’t entirely sure if it was a small displacement of air or something magical. But it was only in that tiny instant of time. And it could have been nothing. Charlotte’s grin and the others’ looks of excitement said that whatever was on the screen pleased them. They powered down the device, and it slowly whined to a stop.
Tajael had to leap out of the way as they scurried around the lab, checking connections and the machine itself, making sure that nothing had gone awry. From his perch once again on top of the large ring, he watched Charlotte carefully place the paper crane back in the small defined space where their magical waves were focused.
She stepped back and exchanged looks with her workers. “We’re going to make history, gentleman,” she said with a smile that was infectious. Everyone in the room caught it. “Maybe not today. Maybe not with this run. But someday. And maybe… just maybe… that day is today.” The grins fell off their faces as the gravity of the moment took hold. They once again gathered around the screen, but this time, all eyes were focused on the small window in the corner that showed the paper crane sitting inside the device. Tajael leaped down to take up his defensive position once more. The machine powered up, and when it was making a steady noise… Charlotte pressed the button.
It was unmistakable this time.
The pop of air was small, just a kiss across his feathers, but that wasn’t what reverberated throughout his body. A pulse of magic. Something had happened. Something had changed in the magical realm. Like a rock thrown into a lake, he heard the splash and felt the wave… but then watched helplessly as the wave carried, emanating out and rippling across the fabric of the realm.
Oh no. A chill swept through him. Why in all the heavens had he not thought of this?
Charlotte’s gasp and the cries of exclamation from the others bounced around the crowded lab, but Tajael didn’t have to turn around or peer at the screen to know the crane had disappeared. He still didn’t know where it had gone, but he knew exactly what it had done.
Sent a signal.
To the entire magical realm.
Holy angels of light. He scrambled to turn around the Flash figurine, to catch Charlotte’s attention, but she was in the midst of hugging each of her workers by turn, a hand over her mouth to contain her smile and a glassing of tears in her eyes. But this was urgent. It was just as when the treaty was renewed in the House of Smoke by the birth of Erelah’s child, tiny Aurora. The treaty was magical in source—no mere agreement between immortals, it was carved from an ancient curse, True Love, and Death. Forces that carried magical weight and were magically binding. So when it renewed—when the conditions were satisfied to make the treaty continue to be True—there was no debate. The effect was felt throughout the immortal realm by everyone connected to it and sensitive enough to feel it.
A ripple in the fabric of magic space.
And a signal.
Like the one Charlotte just sent.
He needed to move her, and he needed to do it now. Tajael spun The Flash figurine, faster and faster, an unmistakable sign he prayed would catch her eye. If not, he would forsake all cloaking and pretense and simply appear and inform her of the danger she was in. Thankfully, she caught sight of it and, to the surprise of her colleagues who were just now starting to power down the machine, she muttered some excuse and scurried from the lab. He hurried after her, and as soon as she was out of sight of the others, he dropped his cloak.
“We have to leave,” he said.
“Why?” Her eyes went wide. “Did something go wrong?”
“No. Something went terribly right.” He didn’t bother to explain further—he simply reached out to place a hand on her shoulder. Then he twisted and opened an inter-dimensional door and stepped through… bringing Charlotte with him.