by Alisa Woods
“You can’t violate Heisenberg’s uncertainty principle,” Jerry objected. “It’s a basic tenet of quantum mechanics—”
“If you could measure them both,” Charlotte went on, ignoring him, “fix them both in our 3D world, then in order not to violate Heisenberg, then something would have to be uncertain. That something… would have to be your location in the 4th dimension.”
“Hang on.” Daxon raised his hand to stop her, but his eyes were bright. “You’re going to use Heisenberg’s uncertainty principle to shove the ant off the paper?”
“Exactly!” She grinned. Yes! This was so going to happen.
Jerry had a slightly panicked look on his face. “But you can’t… how can you…”
“Yes. Exactly. How can you do this?” But Daxon’s tone had all the confidence in the world in her. Even more confidence than she had in this. As if he already believed she could do it. After the vast desert of Craig always tearing down everything she ever said or did, Daxon’s confidence was showering her with a drenching rain of praise.
Her heart was ready to hammer out of her chest. “I’ll need a modified MRI, a vibrator, and a whole bunch of power,” she gushed out.
“A vibrator?” Daxon looked like he was ready to completely believe a sex toy was the key to unlocking the secrets of the universe.
Oh. My. God. Did she actually say vibrator?
“A source of vibration. A vibratory machine. A thing that will induce a certain frequency resonance.” Oh my fucking god, just kill her now.
Daxon’s eyebrows knitted together. He was totally laughing at her on the inside. Jerry was simply disgusted. Please, please, please don’t let her have screwed this up.
Finally, Daxon choked out, “And an MRI?”
She let out the breath she’d been holding. “Yes. An MRI. A modified one. It measures the location and spin of atoms to map out the body. If it was high-enough precision, there’s a theory that you can precisely measure both spin angle and speed. If we vibrated an object to resonance inside the MRI, to get it in the range where the MRI could accurately measure, then everything about that object would be known… at both the macro and quantum levels… then Heisenberg would be forced break it loose from our 3D world. It would have to move in 4th-dimensional space.”
“Like… disappear?” Daxon’s expression was back to amazement, which calmed her raging heartbeat.
“Maybe. I… I don’t know.” This is where her calculations were fuzzy. And why she had a whole matrix of experiments. “Maybe part of it will remain in 3D space? Maybe all of it will move?” She flicked a glance at the matrix of data still in his hands. “That’s what the experiments are for.”
Daxon nodded. Slowly. “You need a modified MRI, something to vibrate your object, and enough power for the whole thing to run.”
She allowed a small smile on her face. “In my head, I call it the Static Extradimensional Intense Magnetic Resonance Imaging machine.”
Daxon grinned. “A SExI MRI?”
Oh god, no. “Uh…” For the love of… how did she not see that acronym? “We can call it something else.”
“Oh no.” Daxon huffed a small laugh. “We are definitely calling it that.”
Charlotte wished she could, through will alone, get all the heat flooding her face to dissipate, but it stubbornly just got hotter. “You’re paying the bills.”
“Yes, I am.” He settled his laugh into a smirk, then shook his head at the paper. “And this is peanuts, Charlotte.”
Her heart seized.
He looked up. “Peanuts in cost. Brilliant in concept.” He handed the paper back to her. “Make it happen. I’ll have contractors here in the morning to acquire and build whatever you need.”
The air went out of her in a whoosh. She wanted to shout yes! or hug him or simply thank him in some professionally appropriate way, but all she could manage was a mumbled, “Thanks.” She sucked in a shaky breath and then managed a stronger, “Thank you. Daxon. Thank you.”
“Thank you.” He smiled. “You and The Point are going to make some history. I’m sure of it.”
Jerry was seething, but his stupid jealousy or whatever barely registered over the buzz of happiness surging through her mind and body.
Daxon glanced at the clock. “I have to run. More corporate nonsense. Oh, and Charlotte?”
“Yeah?” Her voice wasn’t quite as shaky as she felt.
“You’re not still taking the bus, are you?” he asked. “The city’s a mess. I can’t afford to have you on the streets.”
“It’s fine,” she said absently. “It’s just a short—”
“I insist,” he said firmly. “I don’t even want you taking an Uber or anything. I’ll have a private driver for you in the morning, but for tonight—”
“That’s not necessary—” But she stopped at the cool warning look her gave her. “Okay. Personal driver. In the morning.”
“I’ll escort her home tonight,” Jerry jumped in.
“What?” She shot a look at him. It was true there was a surge of violence in the city—she watched the news—but she didn’t believe all this nonsense about witches and shifters or people being possessed. That was just local lore from crazy, hippy Seattleites. Something was happening—maybe there was LSD in the water—but her walk to the bus stop was short, and Hank was always there—
“That’s a great idea,” Daxon said, already checking his phone. “I’d take you myself, but I’m late. Stick together for tonight. I’ll have private cars for each of you and everything else you need here in the morning. Then get to work changing the world, people!” He said the last part with a wave and a grin, already turning to head out the door.
In a moment, he was gone.
She just stood there, stunned. Jerry was already leering at her, sweeping his hot gaze over her chest. Ugh. “I’m fine, really, you don’t need to—”
“You don’t want to make the boss angry,” Jerry said, the voice of a snake.
Goddammit. The last thing she wanted was for Daxon to think she’d go against his direct orders, risking his world-changing company. Not when he’d just handed her everything she could dream of. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll just get my purse.” She turned her back on Jerry The Human Slime and hurried back to her cubicle.
She hesitated a long moment, hovering over the open drawer with her purse. They were actually doing this. They were going to break the surly bonds of earth and venture forth into a new space, a new dimension, a frontier never explored before. She only prayed that it would actually work.
With a quick glance over her shoulder, to make sure Jerry wasn’t lurking nearby, she gave a tiny high-five to the six-inch-tall Flash perched next to her screen. “See you in the Speed Force, Barry Allen,” she whispered. Of course, that was truly crazy. Her experiments would be on small inanimate objects at first. Maybe some living but non-sentient things like grass if they had any success at all. She wouldn’t be sending people anywhere. Human experimentation was decades away, at best.
But the lightness in her step betrayed her.
This would work—she knew it—and someday, people would call it the Brennan Drive or the Brennan Effect or maybe the Brennan Resonator.
Anything but the SExI MRI, for the love of God.
Which reminded her—the divorce wouldn’t be final for another week, but she didn’t have to wait until then. She could change her name before all this went down. The last thing she wanted in any universe was for Craig Brennan to have his name on her invention. She’d been planning all along on going back to her maiden name of Netherman.
The Netherman Drive. It had the perfect ring to it.
Charlotte marched to the front where Jerry met her at the door.
She refused to let the hungry look in his eyes kill any of her buzz.
Chapter Three
A cold, driving rain drenched Tajael, but that wasn’t his misery.
That came in the form of a human male named Jerry.
Tajael hovered over
Charlotte and Jerry as they huddled together under his umbrella. It was small, so the man kept tugging on her arm to pull her back under the dismal shelter. She seemed to be trying to escape the umbrella, not stay underneath it, and Tajael could sense the ill-intent on the man—he was ignoring every body signal Charlotte sent that she was uncomfortable with their close quarters. But whether she was under the umbrella or not, and even with Tajael’s attempt to shelter them from above, they were both getting soaked.
Meanwhile, Hank was huddled in his tent on his porch this evening. Charlotte didn’t even slow down as she passed. That, even more than the discomfort of watching the interplay under the umbrella, sparked alarm through Tajael’s body. Was it the rain that made her skip her habitual, soul-shining stop with Hank? That hadn’t stopped her two days before. Was it Jerry’s presence? That seemed more likely. Tajael knew why the man was escorting her—Tajael was a silent witness to everything that happened in Charlotte Brennan’s life. Her employer wished her to remain safe, and he was unaware she already had a Guardian watching over her. It was a sensible gesture on Daxon’s part—good-hearted, even. And Tajael was enthralled by Charlotte’s explanations of her physics and experiments and lofty ambitions—he’d seen glimpses of her work, but they had been a mystery of symbols and words before. Angels knew every spoken language, and angelings possessed the gift as well, but the language of mathematics was foreign to him. This was the first time he’d heard Charlotte explain her work, laying it all out in terms he could understand. He was glad for Daxon’s visit, both for the explanation he elicited and the protection he offered. With a private driver starting in the morning, the difficulty of Tajael’s job would be greatly reduced.
At least the portion which involved demon slaying.
This part where he had to watch Charlotte but remain silent and separate and unrevealed? That grew more difficult by the day. Inexplicably more so every time Jerry’s hand touched her elbow. The man wasn’t assaulting her, merely making her uncomfortable, but that was coiling a knot of frustration in Tajael’s belly that seemed unreasonably tight. By the time they finally arrived at her apartment building, it was growing into an anger that bordered on Wrath. Which shook him. It was one thing to battle Lust in the presence of a beautiful woman like Charlotte—that was a well-known danger—but Wrath as well?
Charlotte and Jerry had taken shelter under the eave in front of the apartment’s rotating door.
At last… deliverance from Tajael’s torment was at hand.
“Well, thanks for walking me home.” Charlotte was already clutching her purse tighter and heading for the spinning door.
“You can’t leave me out here in the rain!” Jerry protested.
What?
Charlotte hesitated, one hand on the door. “I thought you were taking an Uber home.”
“Well, yeah, but it could take forever to get here.” The man gestured at the substantial traffic moving slowly through downtown. They’d walked the entire way precisely because the bus has been burdened by the slow-moving cars. “It’s the middle of rush hour.”
In Truth, Charlotte normally worked well past the hour when most people attempted to leave downtown Seattle and return to their homes. “It can’t be that long.” But her tone was uncertain now.
“Come on,” Jerry wheedled. “We’ll toast to getting your experiments funded, and by the time the Uber arrives, maybe the traffic will be better.”
Tajael had landed beside them and stowed his wings. The conflict on Charlotte’s face vexed him. Did she not see the way the man’s gaze fell to her body more than her face? Did she not feel the heat of it, his mind obviously filled with Lust for her?
“All right. I guess,” she said. “Just until the Uber comes.”
Jerry waived his phone at her. “Calling them now.”
They passed through the turnstile door, and Tajael had to wait his turn, frustration mounting again. Perhaps she understood that Jerry wanted more than a simple toast. Tajael had no true sense of her interactions with others—she spent most of her time attending to her work and her screens. Her contact with other humans was infrequent. Maybe the previous night, when she was engaged in those… activities… the Lustful ones where she brought pleasure to herself… maybe she sought more of that. He knew what it was—he’d seen it in the shadow realm and even once inadvertently in the mortal one—but it appeared the greater pleasure came when the Lust was shared with at least two people. In his time in shadow, he’d seen every number and position he imagined possible, but those engaged in sexual acts always appeared to prefer partners.
Was that what Charlotte wanted? A partner for a Lustful celebration of her victory?
And if so, what in all the Dominions of heaven would he do during that time?
Because watching wasn’t something he could endure. Of that he was certain.
Tajael slipped into the elevator and rode along with the two of them, taking care to magick away the water that coated his body before boarding the car, lest he drip. His cloaking worked well enough under most conditions, but odd things had to be attended to, or he would be discovered. And that would unravel every intention in Guarding her.
Especially at this critical time when it appeared she was moving forward with her work.
Markos may have a legion of Guardians watching the human scientists who were targets for the fae, but Tajael was convinced Charlotte was something special. Zephan, the prince of the fae’s Winter Court, had been forced to speak the Truth of his intentions—to eradicate the humans before they developed the technology to cross over into the immortal realm—and now, more than ever, Tajael believed Charlotte would be the one to do it. If it were even possible. Zephan now lay in a magical coma, near death—no small feat when his species were practically immortal, living thousands of years—but that didn’t mean the Winter Court was at rest. Rumor was that rage in the Court was building with an unknown plan for revenge upon all angelkind—their ancient enemy—for felling their favored prince.
If Charlotte made serious progress in the very thing the fae feared—bridging the gap between the realms—then Tajael needed to alert his faction leader, Markos, at once. Although this could prove difficult, given Tajael couldn’t endanger Charlotte by simply abandoning her.
As the elevator rose, and when the three of them stepped out, a war waged in Tajael’s heart. If Charlotte's intent was to engage in sexual activities with Jerry, Tajael could scarce watch without an overburdening of Sins. Lust most of all, and if he were Truthful, it could spark Envy as well. But Wrath would also simmer under the surface of his skin. Not at Charlotte for choosing the rather vile man for her pleasure, or even, strangely enough, at Markos for putting him in this position… but at himself for his lack of control. A compounding of Sins that would be dangerous indeed.
He didn’t serve a month in Penance in Worship Choir only to let temptation threaten him again.
The black magic tattoo he carried on his chest was burned into him by a shadow angel—Elyon, an enemy of the light and humanity both. It was Tajael’s shame and his Penance for his Fall. But he also carried a dragon tattoo on his arm—the ancient symbol of the Original Fall—and this was of his own making, before his return to Markos’s Dominion of the light. It was a reminder that the shadow lived inside him and demanded constant vigilance. By making the Sin visible, he hoped to keep his soul Virtuous.
Did he dare risk a Fall by joining Charlotte and Jerry in her apartment? She was unlocking the door, and the man couldn’t be more obvious in his eagerness to get inside. Perhaps… if she and Jerry were to engage in sexual acts, that might be the perfect time for Tajael to momentarily slip away and update Markos on the developments in her work. And, not coincidentally, spare Tajael the need to witness such acts. But while a Fall was horrific for him, he was actually of no consequence in this equation.
Only Charlotte was.
And so, at the last possible moment, he slipped through the door with them before it closed.
Ta
jael kept to the far side of the living room. Charlotte’s loft was small and the kitchen open to the main room. The only separation in the whole apartment was between the main room and the bedroom, by a thin hallway. If Charlotte and Jerry engaged in sex in one place, he would Guard from the other.
It would give him a fighting chance at least.
Jerry was looking through the contents of Charlotte’s kitchen, which struck Tajael as odd. Almost as strange as the fact that Charlotte remained in her coat, only removing her rain-soaked tennis shoes, peeling the socks from her feet. The umbrella sat propped near the door, weeping raindrops on the small square of tile flooring there.
“You don’t have anything to celebrate with here!” Jerry called from the kitchen, louder than necessary, it seemed to Tajael.
“I don’t drink much,” Charlotte said, still standing near the door. Her arms were hung at her sides, hands clenched, like she was frozen in place.
“I guess we can use this.” Jerry returned from the kitchen with two short glasses and a can of soda. He handed one glass to her then poured a drink for each. “To more money for science!” He clinked classes with hers.
Charlotte’s lips were pressed into a tight line. “Money definitely helps.”
Jerry raised his glass. “And may all your experiments be outstanding successes.”
Charlotte frowned but drank with him.
Then Jerry wagged his finger at Charlotte and moved closer. “You really do owe me, you know.”
Charlotte glared. “I don’t owe you any—”
“Ah, but you do.” The smile on the man’s face made Tajael’s wings unfurl and his hand itch for his blade. But this was a human… Tajael shook off the surge of Wrath, dizzied by the sudden intensity. “I kept my mouth shut, now didn’t I?” Jerry was moving in on Charlotte, and she was backing up in equal measure.
“I don’t know what you’re talking—” She nearly tripped over the propped open umbrella, and Jerry caught her elbow—ostensibly to keep her from falling, but anyone could see he used it as an excuse to slide his hand along her arm, holding it firm, trapping her one free hand, the other burdened with the glass. Her eyes went wide, and she seemed to shake, from the tip of her nose to the quirking of her shoulders.
