The Hour of Dust and Ashes

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 pressed 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