by Erin Hayes
I go berserk.
I hack and I hack and I hack, wanting to kill it, wipe it away from this world. It and things like it have caused so much pain and torment, it’s all I can do to not rip off its skin.
This is what killed my family. This is what burned my Lodge to the ground. This is why the curse weighs so heavily on us. If I could just kill all of them, then I could sleep easier at night.
I make a decision, one that is unexpected for me, but it’s one that I know there’s no coming back from.
I realize that my hearing was gone at some point, because I suddenly hear someone shouting my name, over and over again, trying to stop me from overexerting myself.
“—hym! RAHYM!”
I look up to see Nakir and the rest of the group that went out of the front Door staring at me in both disgust and disbelief. Nakir’s face is set into a stone-like visage as his eyes flick to the now-mound of flesh at my feet and then back at me. He has an expression of wonder and fear on his face.
The others, from Faruk to Sena and Yusup—both workers that I’ve known for years and Halos that I’ve only just met—watch me with that same expression.
I grit my teeth, knowing that I must look like something back from the dead, covered in the gore of this beast.
And then a combination of the Hibernation and my injury grabs at my body.
No one’s close enough to catch me, even if they wanted to.
Chapter 7
I still have nightmares, even while I’m in the throes of the Hibernation.
They all go the same way.
Flames eating at me. Burning my side. I feel my side hurting where I had talons pierce me, intending to kill.
I hear screams, screams I can’t get to in time, before my body seizes underneath me and I fall hard to the earth, my own blood spilling out in front of me. I hear their voices echo again and again in my mind, ricocheting inside my skull and shattering every piece of my soul.
Screams. Maysa screaming, Beste screaming.
I can’t do anything to save them.
I lay on the dirt, unable to move, unable to reach them. All I can do is witness their deaths with my ears.
I want to wake up. Get up from my spot and save them.
Why can’t I save them?
Why am I so useless?
Why am I cursed?
I must get. Up. NOW.
I scream, kicking aside the furs on top of me. Ready to bolt. Rage has settled in over me, clouding my eyesight. I just have to get out of here to save them. I’m awake, my limbs can move, and I can still save my family.
“Rahym!”
That voice.
The rage ebbs from my vision, and I find myself staring right into Jennet’s turquoise eyes. Her hair is disheveled, and while she’s not afraid of me, she watches me with the wariness one would have around a sleeping rabid dog.
The rabid dog being me.
I let go of her, realizing that I’ve been clutching her roughly by the shoulders, probably enough to hurt her.
“Sorry,” I mutter, combing a hand through my hair. “I’m sorry, Jennet.”
Her fingers lightly caress my bicep. “It’s all right. Some have violent fits when they come out of Hibernation.”
I sigh. “No excuse.”
“After everything you’ve been through, Rahym,” she says, and I can hear the somber smile in her voice, “no one faults you for what happened.”
That makes me look up at her and take further stock of my surroundings.
With a sinking feeling, I see that I’m not in my Lodge. The burlap panels of a tent surround us, fluttering in the wind. It’s daytime, meaning that I’ve been out for quite some time. I feel somewhat relieved to be alive.
At the same time, I know why I’m in a tent, sleeping on a sand floor, and a strangled noise escapes my throat.
A look of anguish crosses Jennet’s face before she masks it with a deep sigh. “Demonlings attacked last night. They—”
“The Lodge?”
She licks her lips, and her eyes are listless.
That’s all the information I need.
“No…” I whisper, shaking my head. “No.”
“Rahym…” she starts. She reaches for me, but I roll to my feet and storm out of the makeshift tent to go out into the bright daylight of the desert. I have to see it for myself. I know we can’t be far, not after the events of last night.
I freeze to my spot just outside. We’re not far at all from where the Lodge used to be.
I see the still-smoldering, burning embers of the place that I called home. A dream that I shared with Maysa and our daughter.
It’s gone, reduced to…this…
“Rahym!” Jennet cries, following me out of the tent. She stops, seeing my reaction, as if she’s almost afraid of the repercussions. Gingerly, she reaches out to put a hand on my arm, but I shy away from it. “Rahym, I’m so sorry,” she whispers.
I don’t even look at her. I can’t take my eyes off it.
Maysa. What would Maysa think?
She’d have killed me for letting this happen.
Suddenly, something ripples up from the depths of my soul, growing in crescendo as it hits my throat. A low laugh escapes my throat as the remnants of my sanity crack. I laugh, throwing my head back with it. Once it starts, I can’t stop. Jennet’s face is fearful as my features morph into that of a gremlin.
I’m laughing at the absurdity of it all.
What’s the point? Of this, of anything else, if it’s just going to be stripped from us?
My to-do list would never get done now. The tree is now gone, and number nineteen is now struck through. I wasn’t even the one to tear it down, and I lost everything else with it.
I’ll never get that closure. I’ll never get to put that final stone on the gravemarker of my soul.
I collapse to my knees, laughing until tears stream down my face. And I keep going even beyond that.
Chapter 8
“I’ll do it.”
Nakir’s hand shoveling bread to his mouth stops midway between mouthfuls as he snaps his head to me, astonished. “Are you sure?”
Great. Blurting that suddenly during breakfast doesn’t make you look any less crazy after having a nervous breakdown in the desert.
But I just did. And I mean every word of it.
I nod in answer to Nakir’s question. “I am. I’ll help you goons on this crazy-ass quest.”
We’re sitting around in a loose circle inside one of the tents. Yusup, Faruk and my staff all look shell-shocked after last night’s events—probably even as much as I do—but at least they’re alive. The Halos manage to look relieved.
All except Jennet.
Her expression is hard, intense, like she’s trying to read into why I’ve made my decision. I want to take her aside and tell her that there’s nothing left of me. That I’m nothing without my Lodge. I’m nothing without Maysa.
“You know that you could very well die, right?” she asks pointedly.
She sounds a lot like you did.
I shrug. “Life ain’t going to get any better this way. I might as well do something.” Not to mention that my soul has already died.
“Rahym—” Jennet starts.
“He’s made up his mind,” Nakir cuts in, his voice harsh. But Jennet turns on him, her eyes flashing angrily.
“He’s obviously making this choice out of grief,” she says, motioning toward me.
“Grief sometimes makes our choices for us,” he says.
She fumes angrily. “Yes, but he’s not in his right mind, Nakir, and that could get us all killed if he loses it at the wrong time.”
“I’m still here. You realize that, right?” I ask mildly as I place my own piece of bread in my mouth. But they’re too embroiled in their argument to even consider my remark.
“We’ve all lost someone,” Nakir tells her. “That’s why any of us are here. To make a better future for those who still have hope.”
�
�We shouldn’t take advantage of someone right after they’ve lost everything,” she shoots back.
“Again, I’m still here,” I point out. “And thanks for the reminder.”
“Rahym has been through enough to know what’s driving us.” Nakir leans in to Jennet, his eyes imploring her to agree. “He’s our only shot of making it through the Door.”
This stops Jennet’s protests, and she sits back, chewing on her thumbnail. Things never change. I remember her doing that when we were kids, a nervous tick of hers when something never sat well with her. Growing up in the desert next to the Door, a lot of things never sat well with us.
“If it helps any,” the young witch says to all of us, breaking into the conversation. She’s the one who sensed the demonlings outside of the Lodge last night. “I’d like to point out that most of our supplies were destroyed last night, so we still have to go back to Derweze to pick up more. That should give Rahym some time to reconsider his agreement before we go into the Door.”
Nakir gives the girl a broad smile. “And that’s why you’re one of the best witches out there, Fatma,” he says in a fatherly tone.
She blushes at his appreciation.
Jennet considers this. “What do you think, Rahym?” she asks, her eyes flicking back to me. She wants me to say no, to save my life, because she thinks I can’t make a rational decision at this point.
With our energy limitations, Derweze would be an extra day of travel. That would be plenty of time for me to change my mind. Not that I would change my mind. I tend to be stubborn that way. My tenacity at getting things done around the Lodge is testament to that.
“Sounds good,” I say through dry lips.
Jennet glowers at me as she turns back to her food.
I don’t blame her.
I’m not a very smart man. Never have been. And this is the latest example of my genius.
Which reminds me, I don’t want more people to get killed on behalf of my foolishness.
“Actually,” I say cautiously, “I will travel with you on one condition.”
And Nakir wasn’t going to be a fan of it.
Chapter 9
“No, boss,” Yusup says.
The big man is in tears. I don’t judge, because I’ve had my own tears myself through the years, but it really doesn’t suit him. His big cheekbones act as walls, meaning that the rivulets have to go nearly all the way to his ears before gravity takes them down his face.
Good thing he doesn’t cry all too often, then.
I hide my smirk, which is fighting to shine through my seriousness. He’s allowed to do what he wants. After all, good-byes are never easy.
I know that better than anyone.
Faruk is near tears himself as is the rest of my staff, but Yusup is the only one to openly cry. I have seven employees to worry about: Yusup, Faruk, Hamza, and Damla are my security staff, working in shifts to keep my travelers safe, while Beyza, Tuana, and Deniz work to keep the place in order from turning over beds to cooking warm meals.
They all did that. Past tense. Your Lodge is no more.
I clench my jaw at my inner voice, telling it to shut up, because I don’t want to join Yusup in crying in front of everyone. I don’t want the rest of my staff crying, because that takes energy.
“You will be fine,” I tell Yusup, giving him a brotherly pat on the back. His muscles feel like solid brick. Damn, he’s strong. I’m going to miss him on the road through the Door to Hell. “We all knew this day was coming eventually.”
Even if they hadn’t considered it, I knew it was coming. In our world, nothing is forever. Everything is taken from us. To make peace with that now is to guard your heart before it crumbles.
“But why should we go to Merv without you?” Hamza asks, his deep voice a rumble.
I nod conspiratorially toward Nakir and the other Halos as they pack up their camp. “Trust me, you don’t want to be anywhere near these guys. You think last night was bad? They’re going to bring death and destruction wherever they go. Like moths to flame, you can bet your ass there will be demonlings following us.” I nod to the small group of shell-shocked travelers that are waiting for their escort to Merv. “Plus, we have our guests to help cross the desert safely. And what’s our number one rule?”
“Do everything we can to help our guests,” a few mumble in answer. It’s something I say a lot, and they repeat with the practiced diligence of children reciting a prayer.
I nod proudly at them, and I know, in my gut, that they’ll make it there fine. Damn, I’m going to miss them.
“But what about you?” Faruk asks.
I shrug. “It’s not about me anymore.”
Tuana clamps a hand to her mouth, stifling a cry. “You were one of the best bosses we’ve ever had,” she tells me.
“Aw, come now, Tuana,” I tell her, giving her a sympathetic pat. “I’ve been your only boss.”
Granted, I think I have been a good boss, if I do say so myself. While I can be a hardass to my employees, I paid them well and always made sure that they were well-rested in light of the curse. Maysa taught me a lot of things in my time, and patience and humility were her specialty. It’s made me a better manager of my staff. It’s made me a better man.
Beyza can’t take anymore and gives me a hug. “Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?” she sobs into my shoulder.
I smile, feeling that strange tightening in my chest which means that my emotions are getting out of control. I swallow back the lump in my throat.
“I’m sure,” I say. “I have to do this.”
I started this quest years ago. Now I’ll either finish it or it will finish me. Why am I fighting? I don’t really know, except that it’s the right thing to do.
Plus, I’d love to stab a few more demonlings through the eyes. God, I hate those bastards.
One of the three horses that I bartered for with Nakir huffs impatiently. “Easy, boy. You’ll have your time to shine,” I tell the animal. Tuana hiccups a laugh. I’ll take that as a victory.
“Will we ever see you again?” Yusup asks, and the rest of my former staff nod.
I stifle the urge to laugh, since it’s an absurd question, especially given my mission. There’s no coming back from this. So instead, I ask truthfully, “Now why would you want to do that?”
That makes a few snort with bittersweet laughter, a few more tears fall. Time is running short and energy is running even shorter, so we spend a few more minutes hugging and saying good-bye before they head over to the group of travelers with the horses and leave.
I stand stoically, watching them. I don’t have the energy to feel remorseful for what I’ve done, don’t have the energy to feel too much of anything right now, and my sarcastic inner voice is gone. So I just watch them, trying to untense my body the entire time.
Wasted energy.
“I know that was hard,” a voice says beside me. “They were family to you, weren’t they?”
Jennet. Without turning, I close my eyes, sensing her presence near me. I know that she’s close enough that I could reach out and take her hand in mine.
But why would I do that?
Then, to my utter surprise, she takes mine in hers. It’s much smaller than mine, with a delicate touch that only a woman would have. And we stand there like that until Nakir calls for us to leave, heading the opposite direction toward Derweze.
I startle at the sound of his voice and drop her hand. She watches me curiously, her blue eyes imploring me.
“You don’t have to do this,” she whispers. “You’ve already given so much, Rahym.”
I look out over the dune where I know Yusup and Faruk and all the others are making the trek north to Merv. They’re counting on me to help break the curse in any small way I can. Even if it’s leading a group of rebels to their deaths.
“I have to try,” I tell her, my voice raspy. “Maysa would have wanted me to.”
Her eyes cast down. “Okay,” she whispers with a nod. “Ok
ay.” And as I look at her, I feel that thing—whatever it is—shudder to life once again in my chest.
Chapter 10
I have a very different kind of list in my pocket as I stalk up and down the stalls of the bazaar in Derweze.
It goes something like this:
Food (Sena and Kerem)
Chal (fermented camel’s milk) (Fatma)
Vodka (Fatma)
Yurts (Murat)
Horses (Nakir)
Weapons (Emre)
And the list goes on and on and on. Far past number nineteen, on a shopping list that one man could never buy for himself in a single day. Like me, Nakir and the Halos lost everything in the fire at the Lodge, and they have to start from scratch in order to get enough supplies for us to travel into the Door. Each member of Halos has certain items that they need to source and find for the entire group. Mine is all the way down the list, for simple navigation through the Door. Like we’re going out on a safari or a tour of the Door.
Not that we’re trying to save the world or anything.
I take out the note, not because I need reminding of what I’m trying to get, but because I need to keep my hands occupied. Storekeepers peer up at me curiously, as if trying to figure out who I am and what I’m doing.
I guess most people here aren’t very lively.
“Maps, compass, binoculars, telescope…” I murmur to myself. All rare treasures in this dilapidated world, especially the binoculars and the telescope. If they haven’t been used as spare parts to repair something with glass, then I’m sure they’ll cost the same amount as a horse. Or more.
The bazaar is mostly still. Silent. Like a cemetery. Funny, since I remember it being a much livelier place when I was younger. Maybe people had more hope back then. Or maybe I’m seeing everything through the lens of a man who has lost everything.
There’s a smattering of fruit carts with decaying produce on them, marked down to nearly free, as it’s cheaper to have customers buy the perishable good than it is to deal with it. Tattered fabrics and carpets flutter in the hot, dry breeze, and it seems like only the flies are checking out the bazaar.
