Chapter 7

W hen we get settled in the tiny car, Nariel in the backseat keeping an eye out, Seamus turns to me fiercely. "All right then. Let's have it."

Unlike in High Earth, or even at my grove, there's no feeling of ceremony to this.

"Is this what teenagers dealing drugs in the school parking lot feel like?" I mutter as I pull out both sticks.

Seamus snorts. "You have got to get out more, girl."

"I get out plenty," I protest. I've traveled to more places than many people have even heard of.

"With people , I mean." He looks to Nariel as if for backup, but the spirit just raises his eyebrows and puts his cap back on. My heart is inexplicably lighter at the sight.

Seamus shakes his head and mutters something to himself that I don't catch and holds out his hand.

It only takes me a minute. Gather the magic of Stonehenge, key it to my wand so I can pull from it. Feel the rush of magic like a rush of warmth leaving my skin tingling, breathe, don't just relax into the sensation that I never thought I'd have again, that still I can't quite believe.

Gather it again, key it to the new wand, link the wand to Seamus' magic. It ought to feel practically bureaucratic, like I'm just knocking some chores off my to-do list in rapid succession.

It doesn't. Even cramped in his car, it feels sacred. Maybe more so, because of the taste of the forbidden.

Unreasonably, that makes my thoughts flash to Nariel, who is somehow managing to lounge in the cramped back seat. Quietly watching, interested—interested!—but never interfering.

I'd never realized that my type is a man who can appreciate how competent I am and is dedicated to helping me achieve what I'm capable of without trying to overshadow me.

Not to mention, you know, being the most beautiful person I've ever seen. I guess that helps.

I do know Nariel's in this for his own reasons, no matter how much it might feel like I've made an actual connection with someone for the first time in... a really long time.

Take that, Seamus! Getting out more with, uh, sort of people.

Hmm.

Nariel isn't exactly forbidden, either—maybe uninterested , but I'm not exactly trying to send interested signals myself. There's too much to do, too fast, and too much that can go wrong if I lose focus.

So I carefully do not look at Nariel as, once Seamus' eyes are no longer rolled back into his skull with the sudden sensation of magical access, I explain what he can do with the magic for the time being.

No big spells while we're operating under the radar, but then, Seamus never learned any big spells anyway. I'm about the only wizard here who did.

But Seamus is sharp, and I run through some of the things I figured out on the plane, and he asks about some of the spells I used in actual combat with Destien, with Nariel chiming in occasionally with comments on other ways we might get different use out of the same spells.

Seamus is all-business at first, but as we talk his palpable anger wanes under the possibilities of what he can now do. I sketch out a couple other big spells for him to teach himself for future reference, and before he leaves us at the airport, he performs a restricted version of a lantern spell: lighting a tiny glowing white bulb off the tip of his wand like a candle.

It's a small light in the darkness, outmatched by how fierce I feel watching someone else in this world do even a tiny piece of magic. My eyes mist.

Seamus' grin falters, seeing that, and something softer enters his gaze. Stiffly, he inclines his head to me.

No thanks. He's still mad at me. But an acknowledgement.

I nod back at him, not trusting myself to speak, and that's how we leave him: nothing resolved, but with a light to keep him going.

A s fast as I can manage it, Nariel and I are on the next flight, starting with a quick stopover in France—sorry Paris and the Nutella crepes of my dreams, catch you next time—just to change planes and then onward to San Jose, Costa Rica, for the anchor I'll set up in the Americas.

Costa Rica is extremely invested in protecting its environment if for no other reason than that their country's main industry is ecotourism, which makes it an ideal choice for protecting all that sustains the power spot I'm going to anchor.

When we're finally settled in for the long leg of this trip, I rub my eyes when I pull out my phone on the plane. Wire money to Seamus first for a mechanic. Then I start making the next wave of arrangements, squinting. Focus, Sierra, focus. There's no time to waste.

A shadow clouds the screen, and it takes too long to realize this is not my vision going blurry from lack of sleep but magic from the demon next to me, who could have just said something to get my attention rather than making a point. I glare at him.

"I assume we're heading for the Cloud Forest?" Nariel asks.

It's the biggest power spot in Costa Rica that's not on a volcano—not optimal for long-term anchors, volcanoes—so it's not a big surprise that he's guessed.

"It's like a three-hour drive from the airport. We need transportation, we need uninterrupted access—"

"And you need to sleep."

I really need sleep. "So why are you keeping me from getting started?"

"Because you're not going to get much rest if you're waking up every few minutes to check your messages about arrangements. Let me handle the logistics this time."

I blink.

Blink again.

"You can—wait. Where did your car in Seattle even come from? Didn't you just show up when the portal did?"

Nariel's lips quirk. "It's taken you this long to ask?"

Dammit. "You didn't steal it, did you?"

"Would that bother you?"

Hmm. "Yes, but not enough to have turned down your offer of a ride. Needs must."

Nariel flashes his grin. "And the devil drove. But no, I didn't steal it. Can you trust me to make the necessary arrangements?"

Trust, trust. I've always tried to handle all my business independently, but somehow on this mission, the most important thing I have done in my life, I keep needing people to help me.

I don't want to need people. Not a single wizard when I returned was willing to help find a way to do magic. Help me learn to pass as normal, help me "move on," oh sure, full of advice. But not the thing that actually mattered.

This is, frankly, really galling.

But Nariel did offer material assistance, before he even understood what I was planning. And our interests in this align, so he's not super likely to just deliver me into mage hands. And I really do need sleep, because High Earth can keep sending fresh teams. Since I'm the only wizard who can counter them, I can't afford to not be at my best.

But somehow this feels like I'm letting him save me rather than saving myself, and I hate that.

"Don't angels need to sleep?"

"No," Nariel says. "Angels meditate to rest their minds and recover power, but they don't have a sleep cycle."

I frown. "‘They'? Do you not consider yourself one anymore?"

"I do not."

There's no humor on his face anymore. Shit. I guess no follow-up questions now, then.

"Sierra," Nariel says again, and there's a little bit of a growl in his voice this time that unreasonably makes me shiver, and I'm tired enough that I actually do. Double shit.

"Yes?" I ask too quickly.

"You are not just on your own now, and you are no good to me or anyone else like this."

I suck in a breath like he's punched me. Goddamn.

I'm not sure which part of that statement hits harder—that I'm not alone, or that I can't afford to be at less than my best because the magic of the entire world and maybe more than one rests on my shoulders.

Is it any wonder I'm too afraid to close my eyes lest something go wrong?

But: Wonder of wonders, for once there's someone else on my side.

"Are you too childish to take the chance of sleep when it is offered to you?"

I blow out a breath. "You had me at the last one, jeez. Do you need—"

"We will go straight from the airport to the Cloud Forest and be able to attend to your business directly. Will that suit?"

I frown. "Really? But we're landing at—"

" Sierra. " Exasperation in his voice this time.

I laugh a little and rub my eyes. "Okay, okay. Wake me if you need anything."

"Of course."

I fix him with a look. "No. Really."

He returns my look with a sardonic one of his own, and conjures a cloud over my eyes.

A sleep mask of shadows.

"Can you do a pillow too? Maybe a blanket?"

A snort.

But then he takes his jacket off and arranges it over me, and while I'm still processing that he gently pulls me over to his side, leaning my head against his very warm and muscled arm.

My heart hammers, and it's probably good that my eyes are closed or he'd see just how much that shocked me.

Also that my face is pressed into his arm so he can't see me blushing.

Maybe I'm not the only one who wants to be friends.

"I'm not going anywhere," Nariel murmurs. "Sleep."

And wonder of wonders, I do.

I wake up when the flight attendants serve breakfast before landing to find that I have burrowed into Nariel while I slept.

Like, really burrowed. I'm hugging his arm like it's a stuffed animal.

While I'm still processing that, Nariel murmurs in my ear, "Fortunately I do not require both hands to make arrangements."

I burst out laughing, and he flashes his grin at me, and I am all at once both warm and strangely comfortable with having let someone else drive for a bit.

And ready to do some magic.

I use Nariel to warm up—stealing his jacket back after returning it, tying his shoelaces together ( that takes some fine control, let me tell you) before he clouds my vision, prodding him repeatedly with different magical sensations (sizzle, tingle, tap...) to try to get him to tell me how we're actually getting out of here while he ignores all my efforts with aplomb.

This is amusing to us both for a while, but as we actually exit the airport I'm beginning to get worried and annoyed.

I'm also still wearing his jacket—and his cap, which is loose enough on me that it's falling into my face. I'm beginning to feel weird about wearing his clothes like I have any sort of claim on them, and not because I'm sure I look silly.

"Okay, ceding making arrangements to you doesn't mean I don't need to know what the arrangements are," I finally say, dropping all the magic so he'll know I'm serious this time. "How are we actually getting there?"

Nariel turns and holds out one hand, and my heart pounds at the sight of him. Effortlessly confident, his hair dancing in the breeze like shadows, smile sensual, gaze a challenge.

As well it might be, since he looks like he's about to walk right into traffic and take me with him.

Stupid, to take his hand with no more information. I could trust my instincts, but they're telling me two different things—that I can trust him, that I should not.

But I'm a wizard, so I don't have to rely on his goodwill or my own emotions to save me. I have a wand, and I can afford to be bold.

In fact, I can't afford not to be.

I take his hand.

He does lead us into traffic, and my hand clenches on his when I feel him gather shadows to cloak us, because surely that will make it harder for cars to not hit us.

But we simply fade out of sight as we cross, and then before I know it Nariel wraps his arms around me and launches into the air, and I hear rather than see the sound of giant wings beating around us. The much-too-big-for-me cap tragically flies off my head.

Reflexively I clutch him, but only with one arm.

"Got your wand in hand, do you? So much faith," he murmurs.

"Faith is for people who can't work their own magic if someone decides to drop them out of the goddamn sky on a lark," I retort into his neck.

"Oh? Shall we try that?"

I lean back and look at him with narrowed eyes.

There's a light in his gaze, but I can't tell if he's amused or offended.

I smile at him, and it's more like a baring of teeth. "Do it."

Something passes through his expression, and I think he viscerally wants to challenge me and take me up on that dare.

But I also see that he won't. Not when he flew up with me without asking. Not when he apparently wants me to trust him, and is bothered that I don't.

That, I'm not sure what to do with. I feel in tune with him, but how well do I know him, really?

Then again—I know what matters to him. I know his goals and what he'll risk his life for. I know how he'll do in a crisis. I know his sense of humor and what I can get away with with him.

Fuck. Maybe I do know him.

How did that happen? It's been—ugh, time differences, I have no idea, but not more than three days, right?

The air is cooler up here, and I fight a shiver. "So this is why you let me keep your jacket. It'll cover the holes in your shirt when we land."

"Yes, that's exactly why," Nariel says dryly. "I'm going to loosen my hold so that I can spin you around. It will make flying easier. Are you ready?"

Ah, going from my front plastered against him to feeling him warm at my back. Definitely an improvement that will help me keep my head on straight. "Yes."

Nariel smirks. "I knew you were."

He means on the street. "Thank you for asking anyway," I say mildly.

Not that the hand he offered was an invitation without expectations.

He snorts as if he hears my unvoiced thought, and his arms slide against me until he's gripping my upper arms in his hands like he could just hold me up like that. My hands and feet break out in a clammy sweat, because no matter what my head believes, my body knows I am hundreds of feet in the air with no cushion under me.

I clench my hand on my wand, and then Nariel spins me sharply. There's an instant where nothing is holding me and I barely have time to gasp let alone perform a spell before he's wrapped his arms around me again, this time holding my torso from behind.

I breathe deeply a few times, my heart hammering.

"See?" Nariel says in my ear. "Isn't this more comfortable, with your wand at the ready?"

I did just think that I understood his sense of humor, didn't I?

I drawl, "Trust me, the man says, while throwing me around in the sky."

A big flap of his wings that I still can't see. We appear to be going sideways now, rather than just up . "And so you should," Nariel says flippantly.

"You're not telepathic, are you?"

"Would you trust me if I told you I was not?"

Hah. "Depends on your next answer."

A beat, then Nariel sighs and says testily, "I'm not telepathic, but are you sure you want to see them?"

I burst out laughing. Against all evidence, this does reassure me. "Yes," I manage breathlessly. "I'm sure."

A long moment.

Then the shadows around us clear, and when I tilt my head, I can see Nariel's wings for the first time.

They're not feathery like angel wings. They're like bat wings—or dragon wings—enormous and black with shades of charcoal, the edges shadowy like his hair, and my breath catches.

"Can I touch them?"

A pause, and I think I've offended him. Which is fair, he's not, like, a pet —

"You don't have to force yourself. You're afraid."

What? "No, I'm not."

"Your heartrate accelerated, Sierra," Nariel says tightly, because of course plastered together as we are he can feel that.

He really isn't telepathic. "Of course my heartrate accelerated, you moron, you're beautiful."

That shocks him silent for a moment, and his shock makes me awkward about it too in a way I wasn't waking on the plane to discover I'd latched onto him like a limpet.

I lower my non-wand hand to pat him impersonally on an arm wrapped around my stomach. "Don't worry, no matter what you look like, I promise I can control myself well enough not to throw myself at you in a lustful haze."

Nariel snorts. "I'm overcome with relief."

He sounds amused, not relieved, so I dare to tease, "Business first, after all."

"Oh?" he asks in a low voice, breath right at my ear. "And then what?"

I shiver again, and while that could totally be because of the wind, it obviously isn't.

"Hey now," I mutter, leaning my head away from his, and Nariel laughs softly.

But I don't answer, because the truth is I don't have one. And then what?

The future where I succeed is such a fragile possibility that I've never dared imagine what I would do with my life once I had magic again, and now I stare aimlessly out at the landscape rushing beneath us.

In what world will High Earth just go away and leave me to it? Will I spend the rest of my life flying between anchors and repairing them so that we can keep magic? What happens when I die?

Then my breath catches for a wholly different reason as I actually look down for the first time. "Is this Guayabo?"

Nariel rests his head on my shoulder, and my heart thumps again.

I am in so much trouble.

"It is what's left," Nariel says as we pass over the ruins, circling us around so I can get a longer view.

I turn my face toward his, which is a mistake, because it puts my lips very close to him. Focus, Sierra. "Did you ever see it before?"

"When it was a city? Yes. The Cloud Forest was powerful enough that once upon a time wizards here nurtured the power spot and in turn powered their infrastructure with its magic."

"Like they do in High Earth." I pause, trying to remember how old this place was from whenever I last read a Costa Rica guidebook. Ancient, like the fallen angel talking about it so casually—fun question with absolutely no relevance to current events, do age differences matter with immortals?—but I thought it had still been inhabited in the last thousand years. "And so that all would have come undone when our magic was stolen."

"Yes, though with their careful stewardship they managed for quite some time still. But eventually, the protections faded."

So much lost. Ways of life, knowledge. I can't even fathom how much.

"There is so much to rebuild," I murmur. "So much I still have to learn."

A moment, and then with satisfaction Nariel says, "Yes."

I turn my head more fully to look him in the eye. "You know, I believed you before when you said you weren't telepathic."

Nariel's lips quirk, but his eyes in this moment look old, so old. A man who has lived through centuries if not millennia.

"Your silences are speaking," he says. "But even if they weren't, I remember how I began my journey. You spoke to Seamus of the limitations. You gave him combat spells. You wonder if you'll ever be able to stop fighting."

"I won't," I say, in this moment absolutely sure.

Nariel nods against my shoulder, gazing out at the ruins of an ancient city. "But it isn't all about limitations or fighting, Sierra."

I take his point.

Once we have magic, it's also about building. And it's what we build with that. That's why it matters to him that I'm giving magic to everyone, that I make allies and not just go on my own.

No one builds a city of magic like the one that was here alone.

I don't know anything about building, but no other wizards in this world will thrive alone.

"I get it," I say thickly.

"Do you?" Nariel asks, and he turns to me.

His lips are quirked, but his gaze is fierce and fathomless. "Because sometimes," he tells me with that velvet voice, "it's about soaring."

And then with an enormous flap of his impossibly powerful wings, he sends us speeding over the trees, my startled whoop of laughter lost to the skies.