by Kelly Gay
For two months one of the world’s busiest airports had been closed and there was nothing anyone could do about it except deal with it until the darkness was gone. Deal with it being an extremely casual term, but in the end that’s just what it came down to. The FAA, the government, the airlines, workers, the unions, everyone had to find a way to cope until the darkness was gone.
The place had taken on a dark visual silence. The only traffic led to and from the new off-world terminal, which—lit up as it was—looked like a beacon in a sea of dark buildings and shapes.
We drove around to the employee deck. After flashing his badge, Hank parked in an area reserved for security and law enforcement. One more checkpoint, and then we were striding down the long service tunnel. We came out into the long rectangular terminal at the midway point between the gates.
The gates had been built at each end of the terminal and offered continuous passage to and from Elysia and Charbydon. Departures and arrivals had been allotted special time periods throughout the day and night—half the day for those leaving, half the day for those incoming, and the same for the nighttime hours.
We veered right and headed down the terminal with its clean white tiled floor, glass walls, exposed steel beams, terminal seating, ticket counters, luggage checkpoints. In many ways, it was like any other travel terminal with clerks, gate patrol officers, stores, cafes … But that’s where the similarities ended. Once you got a look at the glowing spheres at each end of the terminal it was an entirely different story.
Several uniformed ITF officers were standing by the Charbydon gateway, which had been closed off, much to the chagrin of the irate departing travelers loitering in the waiting areas of the terminal.
I flashed my badge at the gate agent behind the desk, knowing she was no typical agent; I was well aware she had three loaded weapons beneath her desk and was highly trained to protect the gate and oversee travel. As she read my credentials and then Hank’s, my gaze lifted a notch to the copper alloy platform behind her. And, of course, hovering just a hair above the platform, the Charbydon gate—a large, glowing sphere colored with shifting shades of blue.
A low drone emanated from the sphere, a contained frequency which I knew to be the “music” of Charbydon—its individual signature, an electromagnetic frequency that not only manifested in sound but in light as well. The Elysian gate, on the other hand, was a pinkish-orange ball with a slightly different drone.
Above the entranceway to the Charbydon gate was a quote by Pythagoras:
There is geometry in the humming of the strings … there is music in the spacing of the spheres.
Titus Mott’s passion had been the mathematics of music, the harmony of geometry, of the universe and its electromagnetic vibrations. He was inspired by Pythagoras and Kepler’s “music of the spheres.” His experimentation in sound and light waves and electromagnetic fields had led him to the discovery of the other worlds almost fourteen years earlier and then the subsequent building of the gates in Atlanta first and then in other cities around the country and world.
Like Earth, Elysia and Charbydon possessed unique electromagnetic vibrations that, once identified and then manipulated, could be heard and seen as color. And once enhanced by Mott’s patented “harmonic resonance generator,” a rift from our dimension to theirs appeared. A doorway.
So went the simple explanation anyway.
The biblical stories of trumpets signaling the arrival of “angels,” for instance, came from the Adonai’s sound wave instrument that allowed them to jump between Elysia and Earth. Some off-worlders had long ago created their own means of travel between worlds and they meddled in our civilizations long before we knew they existed. There were, apparently, more ways than one to open a portal. But after their existence became common knowledge, and laws, policies, and peace treaties were put into place, off-worlders adhered to travel laws just like everyone else. And if an illegal immigrant was caught here without the proper paperwork or visa, well, there were laws for that, too.
And that’s why I was heading to Telmath without wasting time searching for Bryn in Atlanta. If Solomon, the Father of Crafting, was truly inside of her, he’d know how to get into Charbydon without needing to use the terminal.
I paced the tile floor in front of the gate, waiting for Rex, letting my thoughts and worries run wild. My blood pressure was high, causing me to chew on the inside of my cheek. Mentally, I wasn’t prepared to go into Charbydon. I wasn’t like a lot of other humans who found adventure in inter-dimensional travel. I liked my city. I stayed put. Yet I was about to go into a fucking rift in space/time—whatever the hell that meant.
The sudden gasps and shouting e fact that every single officer in the terminal had drawn his weapon kind of clued me in to the fact that someone had arrived.
I turned slowly, pretty sure I’d know who’d be standing there.
Rex.
In the center of the terminal with a battle-axe strapped to his back and Brimstone standing beside him. Now, that surprised me.
Christ, he was going to get shot—
“Stand down!” I yelled, running toward them. “Stand down!” I went immediately to the officer closest, the one with the best line of sight. “Stand down. They’re with me.”
The officer didn’t lower his gun or take his eyes off Brim. “Hellhounds … or whatever the fuck that thing is … are license to kill.”
“Not this one.” And not anymore. Once this was over, I was going to see what could be done about that license-to-kill policy. “That thing has a name. And he’s under special permit 6673 of the ITF Weapons Research Allowance.” I leaned in closer, my voice dropping into a tight threat. “Lower your goddamn weapon or I’ll do it for you.”
The barrel of his gun dropped a half inch off target. “Permit.” He swallowed, his eyes flicking from me to Brim.
I pulled the small card I kept in the leather case behind my badge and handed it over. After a detailed read, he lowered his weapon, called the stand-down order, and handed me back the card.
The relief that washed over me was so great it left me dizzy for a second. I re-clipped my badge and headed for the center of attention.
“What do you think?” Rex pulled down the edge of one of Will’s old black T-shirts. “The shirt’s a little tight. Probably from all that pasta I’ve been making. Found these black cargo pants. And how do you like the leather jacket? Bought it off eBay a few weeks ago. Says badass, doesn’t it?”
Rex was one of only a few people who could make my mind go temporarily blank in utter astonishment. I literally didn’t know what to say or how to even respond to that. Finally I shook the cobwebs from my brain and grabbed his arm, propelling him down the terminal. “What the hell were you thinking, Rex? And I don’t remember telling you to bring Brim! If anything happens to him, Emma will be devastated.”
“She’s the one who told me to bring him! Besides, we’ll need him. Trust me.”
“I have a cell phone. A little warning next time might be good. You know, so you don’t get him shot on sight.”
We approached the gate agent, who remained unaffected by the sight of a hellhound stalking toward her. “Ready to go, Detectives?” She eyed Brimstone with one quirked eyebrow, but other than that she didn’t seem impressed. I liked her. I scanned her name tag. Officer Finley Holbrook.
I turned to Rex. “You sure you remember how to get there?”
He tapped his temple. “It’s all up here.”
Gee. That was comforting.
“And besides,” he said with a shrug, his interested gaze caught on the gate agent, “I’m caught up to speed on history and geography in Charbydon, thanks to Em’s Off-world Studies class.”
“Ear protection,” Holbrook said, ignoring Rex’s un-abashed ogling and handing us each a pair of disposable earplugs in plastic. “Walk into the sphere. Don’t stop. You’ll come out on the other side in the terminal at Telmath. Your boss called in for your permits …” She pulled out a stamp and pre
ssed an ITF notary seal onto three permits and then handed them to us. “The Inter-Dimensional Bounty Hunter Act allows you to retain your weapons. You have seventy-two hours to retrieve your fugitive before you must reapply at the Telmath ITF station.” I took the permit, shoved it into my pocket, and then opened the plastic bag.
We stuck the earplugs in as Officer Holbrook opened the gate and said, “Have a safe trip.”
I drew in a deep breath, gave Hank a glance, and then the four of us walked past the agent and up the three steps to the platform. I was just about to step on when I noticed Hank had stopped and was staring over his shoulder, frowning.
At the far end of the terminal, a group of sirens had come through the Elysian gate. One of them was trying to rush past the gate agent, pointing at us … No, I realized, pointing at Hank.
Hank’s profile went tight. The muscles in his jaw flexed once. Then he slowly pulled the hood over his head, turned, and walked into the sphere.
I had no idea what the siren was shouting because of the earplugs, but there was no time to waste and the last thing we needed was to get embroiled in something we couldn’t get out of. We had to cut Bryn off before she made it to the City of Two Houses. I followed the others into the sphere.
Keep walking, I told myself as I stepped inside the large ball of light. Just keep walking and you’ll make it to the other side.
Every hair on my body lifted. Even with the eaplugs, I could feel the sound, the frequency inside the sphere pulsating into my bones and chattering my teeth. I’d once heard an audible recording of Jupiter and this droning beat was very similar, though amplified to an enormous degree.
Keep walking.
Six steps and I was out of the sphere and onto the copper alloy platform in the terminal in Telmath, feeling just a twinge of disorientation and nausea.
Shaking it off, I went down the steps, through the gateway, and tossed the plugs into a trash can nearby. The terminal was smaller, only one gate that went between Earth and Charbydon. It was darker here, the sphere casting a blue glow onto everything.
After we presented our permits and got some strange and appreciative looks at our hellhound, we left the terminal, pushing through the tall wooden doors outfitted with dark metal. I braced for the impact, my Charbydon genes already responding to the familiar power here.
If I’d thought the darkness covering Atlanta gave me energizing vibes, this place was off the charts. But my human and Elysian genes counterbalanced and allowed me to handle the jacked-up, live-wire sensation without bouncing off the walls.
Rex, Hank, and Brim were ahead of me, coming to a rest at a railing that looked out over the city below. I glanced over my shoulder and saw that the terminal was built into the side of a jagged rock wall that shot up to dizzying heights.
I approached the railing, surprised at the vastness of the city. Homes made from mud and brick and stone. All gray, all linear and grid-like with small, straight lanes and wide main roads separating areas. The buildings clung to the floor, the walls, the ledges, and even atop the massive rocks that jutted up from the cavern floor. Telmath was spread out over several acres.
To my right and far into the distance was a gaping, oval-shaped opening at ground level leading to the outside world, and the wilds of Charbydon lay beyond.
By my estimation, we had to be four stories up on the ledge, yet the cavern’s ceiling rose another ten stories at least. Raw typanum ran in thick, jagged veins through the rock ceiling and down through the walls and outcroppings, casting a strange violet glow over everything.
“Telmath,” Rex breathed, grabbing the railing. “Much bigger than I remember, but the landscape is the same …”
My gaze travelled over some beautifully crafted gray stone buildings, walls, squares, bridges over a black river below—so many bridges, spanning the sides of the cavern, linking one massive rock to the next, and the entire thing lit by the veins of typanum above us. It was breathtaking.
Moving in and out of the terminal were beings I was quite familiar with—ghouls, goblins, darkling fae, a few humans, nobles, jinn …
So far Hank was the only Elysian to be found. The two worlds rarely mixed. Seeing a blond-headed, angel-like being walking around in what basically amounted to hell would’ve been downright astonishing and not the kind of exposure we needed. The deep hood of the cloak hid him well, and he was smart enough to put a secure lock on his aura. But despite this, I was pretty sure some here could feel that his presence was … different.
Two roads led from the terminal, one winding down toward the city below and the other wrapping around the terminal and going up the rock in a zigzag fashion. The air was humid and warm, much like the deep southern states, but heavy with the scents of tar, damp rock, and muddy water. Sweat was already forming at the small of my back.
“Well,” Rex said in a clipped voice, “there’s our destination.”
I followed his gaze upward and far across the cavern to a gargantuan spear of a rock that jutted at a slight angle from the floor below. It rose several stories into the air. The top of the rock was flat and several acres in size from the look of it. Palaces with thick columns and straight sides and balconies populated the space and clung to the very edges of the rock.
The small city was lit by open fires in massive stone basins and by the glow of violet typanum in the cavern ceiling above. The entire plateau seemed to shine. A winding road had been cut into the rock, appearing and then disappearing on the other side or hidden within the clumping of dwellings, like tiny villages clinging and cut into the massive gray stone. Bridges spanned where the road couldn’t be supported.
“The City of wo Houses.” Hank’s voice broke the awestruck reaction I was having. I cleared my throat, narrowed my gaze, and looked at the city from an invader’s perspective instead of a tourist’s.
The Abaddon Father was within those thick walls. Now we just had to get to him before Bryn/ Solomon did.
Rex snorted. “It’s like some dark-ass version of Mount Olympus, isn’t it?”
A reluctant sigh blew through my lips as I noted the steep, winding stairs that wound up the rock toward the city. “And I’m so not a fan of heights.” Hank grunted in agreement. Not surprising after we’d taken a tumble together off the ledge of a forty-six-story penthouse …
“Looks like that road of steps is the only way in,” I said.
“Unless you’re escorted by one of the nobles,” Rex said. “And we all know who we’re thinking of, don’t we?”
My hands flexed on the warm railing as I weighed our options. The only person we knew who lived in that city was Carreg. A royal. A Lord Lieutenant from the House of Astarot. Two and a half months ago, I’d met him in the back of Mynogan’s limousine. He’d given me aid when I needed it most, helped take my daughter to safety while I faced Mynogan, but he’d been very clear—his assistance hadn’t been out of kindness or honor or anything of the sort. He helped me because it suited his own agenda, whatever that was.
Question was, would aiding me now suit the Char-bydon noble?
Hank shifted. I glanced up to see him gazing down at me, his face lost in the dark shadow of the hood. “Carreg is our only way in,” he said, echoing my thoughts.
“He could stall us in our tracks, though.”
“I think he’ll listen. He might be the only one who will.”
“Well, I say you go for it,” Rex said, turning to rest his back against the railing. “Beats walking and then being turned away at the gate. Might as well save some time and get our answer right here.”
I swallowed and made my decision. “Okay, so how do we get in touch with him?”
Rex shrugged, eyes on the terminal doors. “We can always ask at the Info Desk.”
“State your business.”
We stood at the Info Desk as the receptionist, a lithe darkling fae female, returned from an Employees Only hallway with a dark-haired noble dressed in a robe of deep black lined with gold embroidery. He paused at the corner
of the long counter and regarded us imperiously, taking in our strange group and the hellhound standing between me and Rex.
Nobles had meddled in Earth’s affairs in ancient times, their presence inspiring the Sumerian pantheon, along with some early Egyptian and Greek mythologies. They had predominantly olive skin and dark hair, and were tall and very powerful. The one before us certainly fit the mold.
Brim growled. Rex made a soft command and the beast relaxed.
“You are aware training or housing a hellhound is not permittin Charbydon? They are creatures for the wilds.”
“Under the Bounty Hunter Act, we have the right to search for our suspect while being armed.” An eyebrow shot up and he opened his mouth to argue. I cut him off. “As long as we have a permit for our weapons of choice, you have no grounds to detain him.” I pulled out my permit.
He took it and read. “Humans are training hell-hounds now? I should think the Federation will have something to say about that.”
I leaned forward and snatched my permit back. “We’d like to request an audience with Carreg, Lord Lieutenant of the House of—”
“I know who he is.”
And apparently this particular noble wasn’t a fan. My heart pounded, though, and fear that we wouldn’t even get past the terminal had a firm grip on me. “This is federal business and part of a criminal investigation,” Hank spoke up in a clear, commanding tone. “We must speak with him immediately.”
The noble’s eyes went blacker than they already were, and his lips pursed together, making dark shadows beneath his sharp cheekbones. “A siren in Telmath. How … original.” He paused for a long moment. “Stay here. I will return shortly with an answer.”
We waited. And waited. And waited …
I knew we should’ve walked. We’d be halfway there by now.