by Alisa Woods
Okay, maybe not impossible—but from everything Charlotte had said, highly improbable.
“This is the Bounce Back run?” Oriel asked. “So the plant should be returning to us?”
“That’s the idea.” She grabbed a pair of headsets from the rack and handed one to him. “Charlotte’s measurement fixes the certainty of the plant’s position in our frame of reference and Heisenberg’s uncertainty principle shoves it into the over-dimension. But we don’t know where it goes exactly. If my calculations are right, there’s a small window of time—less than a picosecond, really—during which its uncertainty is unresolved.”
“Meaning it’s in two places at once.” His gaze was attentive on her face, eyes alight.
A gush of pleasure went through her. He’d been paying attention to all her ramblings. “Exactly. During that time, if we shut down the measurement-fix, there’s a fifty-fifty chance the plant will return. If the first one doesn’t come back, we’ll run a succession through, quickly, until we get something to return. If none of them return, we’ll know something’s wrong… then we go back to fundamentals and figure out what happened.”
“Picoseconds aren’t very long,” Oriel said. “How will you know if it worked?”
She smiled. “I’m hoping you can be our magic detector.”
His eyebrows lifted. “I didn’t know I was part of the experiment.”
She gave him a mischievous look, but then when his eyes flashed with more than a little interest, she forced herself to kill that and get serious. Flirting with him was not cool, not with the stakes so dire for even a simple kiss. “We’ll take every normal measurement we can… assuming the camera shows it actually traveled. Who knows what we’ll find. I think that the plant might bring a trace of dimensional energy back with it. Tajael says he feels a pulse through magical space whenever we send something through the drive.”
“I feel it as well. It’s… unusual.” A tinge of worry marred his perfect face.
“I suspect the drive is a fundamentally different travel mechanism than the one you guys use.” She wished she could ease away that tiny frown. “We’re disturbing the physics at a fundamental level. Makes sense that it might ripple through. Like a shockwave when you break the sound barrier.”
“It’s a signal to the entire magical realm.” The seriousness of his expression just deepened.
“Well, it’s not like they don’t already know where we are.” But she pursed her lips. It was dangerous. And he would be the one on the front line. She reached to squeeze his arm and reassure him but thought better of that at the last second and pulled her hand back. She dropped her voice. “Thank you for watching over me. I know it’s risky.” She meant that in all the ways and tried to communicate her gratitude with her eyes.
His expression softened. “My concern is only for you. Each step closer—”
“We’re ready to run,” Jimmy announced from his spot by the monitors.
“Talk later,” she whispered, smiling at Oriel as they donned their headsets.
He nodded.
And she really did want to talk to him about all this. It was better to get it out in the open where they could be adults about things like attraction and flirtation… especially when those things were such a threat to him. She wanted him to know that he was safe with her. That she would do nothing to put him in danger. He was already putting so much at risk just guarding her.
The machine was quickly warming up.
Oriel’s voice came over the headset. “I’m still in favor of the physicists keeping as far back from the machine as possible.” He’d argued earlier for them being in a separate domain entirely, sectioned off in a warded space while the run was being conducted, but Charlotte had vetoed that. At least for herself—she was happy to let Lizza stay in a magically locked box while history was made. There was no way was she doing that.
“Agreed,” Tajael said, gesturing Charlotte away from the machine. He was suddenly in a toga, and his wings protectively wrapped around Charlotte, encasing her in a small wall of feathers. She was just peeking out enough to watch the monitors. The techs didn’t even bat an eye at the transformation—they’d done it for the last several runs. Oriel gestured with his chin for her to move away from the MRI, then he quickly transformed.
The next part was hard, knowing what she knew now—about the risk and the temptation for him. He brought her close, her back to his nearly bare chest, and wrapped his wings around her, the same as Tajael had around Charlotte.
“Ready,” he intoned through the headset. Even if she didn’t hear the strain in his voice, she could feel it in the tension of his hands, resting lightly on her shoulders… like the barest contact was causing him pain, so he kept it to a minimum.
They really needed to talk. She was sure that would make some of this better.
The machine was clacking and banging at full speed. She couldn’t see the potted plant from this angle, but Tomaz was stationed at the camera, and they’d have it all on film to watch afterward.
Tajael counted down the test run, coordinating via phone with the angeling stationed at the wards. “Three… two… one…” A split moment later, Tomaz jerked back from the camera screen, his mouth falling open.
Lizza’s heart lurched.
“And we’re done,” Tajael intoned. Jimmy cut power to the machine. The wards were no doubt back up, so Lizza glanced over her shoulder at Oriel to see if he’d release her from his winged protective cover… a frown darkened his face, but he let her go.
She hurried over to peer into the machine—then her mouth dropped open.
The grass was dead.
Not just dead… it was deflated. As if every cell in the tall, green blades was blown apart, leaving nothing but a hollow remnant of the original plant behind. The clay pot was perfectly intact, as was the dirt under the ravaged grass. But the living part—the part that was her responsibility—was utterly annihilated.
It felt like a punch to the gut. “I… I guess… I need to figure out…” She couldn’t even put her failure into words, it was so dramatic and absolute.
“It’s all right, Lizza.” Charlotte was just behind her, peering at the oozing mess. “This is just the first run. And at least it came back. So that’s good. We’ll get some data and go over the tapes and see what we see. Not every run is going to be an unqualified success. But it’s close to the end of day. Let’s just call it a night. We’ll figure it all out tomorrow.”
Lizza’s shoulders slumped. She could hear it in Charlotte’s voice—the disappointment. All of Charlotte’s experiments had gone flawlessly well. It felt like another jab to Lizza’s already spasming stomach. Her hand automatically went there, soothing it. What if she couldn’t do this? What if, just like being with Oriel, it was simply impossible? Either way, all the dreams she had about this work being her shining moment—that moment when she got to fulfill all of her life’s purpose—was suddenly in serious question. She hadn’t even started her own Ph.D. research. Who was she to think she could pull off something ground-breaking like this?
Maybe she simply wasn’t good enough.
She felt literally sick to her stomach.
Oriel’s hand landed lightly on her shoulder. He was in his black body armor again. “Let’s get you home.” Voice gentle. Expression kind. As always, saying just the right thing at just the right time. The perfect guy she’d never have… just like her dream of being a world-changing physicist.
The blade spearing through her stomach just twisted again.
It was all she could do to stay upright.
The techs were already heading out. Charlotte and Tajael followed them. Tajael was back on the phone, orchestrating the bringing down of the wards again, as soon as they were ready to go. The routine was to meet at the front door, make sure no one was nearby, drop the wards, then Tajael and Oriel would transport them to their respective apartments.
Lizza dully dragged herself through the motions of getting her purse and coat and mar
ching to the door. Oriel’s hand held her shoulder or the small of her back or gently took her hand… but never once did he let her go. Which was good. His touch kept her moving.
As Tajael counted down again, Lizza braced herself for the travel.
It always felt like she was being squeezed through an invisible not-quite-big-enough doorway and popping out the other side. It’s only one experiment, she tried to tell herself. We’ll just keep trying until we get it right. But deep down, she knew something was fundamentally wrong. Whatever had happened was nothing like she’d predicted.
And when Oriel pulled her through time and space, she had a dead sense that travel-by-angeling was the only interdimensional travel she would ever do.
The shadows under Lizza’s eyes just kept getting darker.
Oriel worried enough about that—for four days, it seemed he had to cajole her into every meal, convince her to leave the office every night, and insist that she get more rest before returning. But the toll of her work on her body wasn’t his greatest concern—the darkness that blemished her otherwise bright-shining soul was growing. What started as a deep-buried break seemed to be widening into a chasm… one she was tumbling into.
The failed experiment was breaking her.
And the harder she worked, the more she chased after an answer with her mathematics and physics and computer runs, the more desperate the look in her eyes.
Oriel kept his distance even more. He could scarce look at her without wanting to seize hold of her and breathe a life kiss upon her. It was like watching a bird with a broken wing flutter helplessly on the ground yet being completely forbidden to help.
In Truth, it was killing him.
So he remained just out of view—to minimize his temptation and to not distract her from her work—but it was a Purgatory of his own making. He’d had time in the Penance rooms which caused him less pain. Yet he forsook all thought of returning to Markos to ask for another angeling to spell him in his duty—they would not know Lizza. She would simply be their charge, and he couldn’t bear that they might mistake her obsession for something normal—that they might not see the deterioration because they hadn’t witnessed her prior shining glory. The smiles that easily sprung to her lips. The sweet concern that suddenly gripped her. The shine in her eyes when she teased him. It was a terrible pleasure to be on the receiving end of those small pokes with words and sometimes actual touches, but it was far worse to have them vanish into the dark shadows of her soul.
No, he couldn’t trust another angeling with her care. In Truth, he might Fall from Envy or Wrath if he tried. He was in deep with Lizza, and there was no relinquishing that duty now.
Yet he could scarce trust himself with her, either.
Time itched up his back as the day wound to a close at the office. Usually, Charlotte and Lizza both worked late, which functioned well for the incantations Tajael needed to perform to bring down the wards and transport at the end of the day. Such things were simply easier without humans around to witness. But Charlotte and Tajael had already gone ahead, eager to return to their lovemaking, no doubt. His friend had kept his promise to lower the sound of it—either that or he had installed noise suppression in Charlotte’s apartment. Oriel occasionally heard a curious thumping vibrate through the walls, but he couldn’t be sure it wasn’t a noise the building made.
It was getting well into evening now, and Lizza was still at her desk.
Oriel scrubbed his face and left his self-assigned post at the front door to wind through the cubicles and find her. She was bent over her drawing pad, earbuds in—he could hear the angry music booming as it leaked into the room. She was so focused on her mad scribblings, brow furrowed in concentration, he couldn’t even catch her attention by waving from the door. He edged forward, hoping not to startle her, but she didn’t look up, just kept scratching and slashing with her charcoal-black pencil across the snow-white field of the page. As he got closer, he saw her renderings—angels. Or demons more likely. Shadowkind. Their wings were black like the one who attacked her…
Now he had another worry to add to the list. But he didn’t think the trauma of the attack sent her spiraling into her own personal shadow world. That descent started the moment her living grass came back from the over-dimension as green sludge. Tests had shown disruption at the cellular level, a violence to the living substance horrific in its implication. He knew that living things could transport—he did it daily with Lizza—but whether it could be accomplished with human technology was a separate question altogether.
He edged forward a little more, finally—he hoped—stepping into her field of view.
She gasped and screeched all at once, jolting up from her seat. Pencil, pad, earbuds, and phone all went flying, but he cared not for that—it was the terrified look in her eyes that seized his heart.
“Oriel!” she scolded him, but then she seemed to tip sideways.
He caught her without hesitation—instinct overtaking his determined need to keep his distance—but instead of simply bracing against him for support, she seemed to melt against his chest. She clutched the front of his black security shirt with both hands and slumped into him, her head curling in to rest against the place where his swiftly-beating heart was knocking hardest. His hands held her automatically, one at the small of her back, the other splayed across her shoulder blades to hold her.
Words caught in his throat.
She simply stayed there, gripping his shirt, burying her head, like she was holding onto something, and it wasn’t him—some tether to keep her going. His mind raced. Was she simply fatigued? Physically or emotionally? He guessed it mattered not, and he only had a few things to offer. Words. Food. Safety. He would give what he could and pray that alone wouldn’t bring his downfall.
“You’re working too hard.” His words were a bare whisper. Her long red hair was spilling over his hand on her back, the tickling softness calling to his fingers to run through the delicate strands. He held her more firmly just to keep his hands from straying. “You cannot go on like this.”
She curled tighter into him, and he felt rather than heard her hiccupped laugh. Or was it a sob? He truly could not tell. Then she pulled back, and his hands slid along her back, releasing her. It felt like pulling apart into pieces.
Her eyes were glassy with tears, but her smile had returned, at least in small measure. “You’re too good to me, Oriel.”
“In Truth, I’m nowhere near good enough.” He couldn’t resist tucking an errant lock of hair that had mussed while she clung to him. He grazed the softness of her skin while he did so, and the way she closed her eyes briefly in response almost undid him.
He stepped back. “You need food and rest.” His voice was rough. She needed a life kiss… and a real man to care for her, not an angeling who could only tend to her most basic needs without imperiling his soul. An idea struck him—that he could do exactly that, give her the one thing he could, and then Fall into shadow and clear the way for someone else—but Envy reared up and stopped him cold. The man who would have her in every human way, after Oriel was gone? His mind swerved fast away from that thought, afraid of the reaction it would surely rouse in him.
Lizza’s shoulders sagged, and she was back to looking haggard. Her gaze fell to the floor. “No, you’re right. My brain is oozing out my ears at this point.”
“What?” His voice hiked up.
She sighed and turned off the computer. “Just an expression.”
Of course. His foolishness—his lack of experience in the human world—burned his face. He was so awkward with her sometimes. But his alarm was justified, if not because her brilliant mind was somehow literally melting and dripping out her ears, but because he could see all too clearly the true darkness slowly consuming her.
When she was ready, he escorted her to the front, as they usually did, in silence. He drew down the wards with a quick muttering of incantations, transported them both from the office to her apartment, then kept his hand on her
shoulder as he raised the wards once more. She seemed woozy from the travel, and while he didn’t think repeated transport of humans through interdimensional space had any negative side effects, it was not as if this were tested and known. Guardians did not normally even reveal themselves, much less transport humans with great frequency. Travel could leave one unsettled, even under normal conditions, and Lizza was nowhere near her “normal”—she appeared exhausted in every way.
She kicked off her shoes on the way to the couch, dropping her purse and curling up at the end. She lay her head back against the cushion, and he thought she might just fall asleep right there. But he also knew she must be hungry, so he busied himself in the kitchen, bringing the cheese and salami and cracker snack she liked, along with a cup of coffee that he used magic to brew quickly. He wanted to get her some sustenance before she passed out if only so she might sleep better.
He returned to the couch with his bounty, and his easing onto the cushion next to her—much closer than normal—roused her from her rest. She looked at him with interest, ignoring the food and coffee altogether, and that look was dangerously affecting him, but he stayed the course, holding the plate and mug out on offer. She frowned and dropped her gaze to them. “I’m not really—”
“Lizza.” Her gaze bounced back up to meet his. “If you wither away on my watch, I will have failed in the one thing I’m supposed to do.”
“I thought you were supposed to keep me safe.” But she took a cheese-and-cracker pair and bit into it.
“Guarding a dead person is rather easier.”
She flashed a look up to his eyes, then seeing his smile, one side of her mouth lifted. Better. Perhaps humor would be how to draw her out.
“Have you guarded dead people before?” she asked, a smile growing. “You’ll need a proper control sample for comparison.”
“An excellent point,” he conceded then offered her the mug again. She took it and clasped it with two hands. He set the plate on the table behind the couch. “As soon as I’m done with this assignment, I’ll seek out the cemetery for a proper control group.”
