by Erin Hayes
I agree and hide my smirk as I spur Alion on faster and faster. Are we expending too much energy in this last burst? Will we get there without collapsing?
“Demonling!” Fatma cries out, her voice anguished. “There’s a demonling nearby.”
Good to know that her gift is still working. And good to know that we’ll make it to the Door Stop to avoid the demonlings.
There.
At the Door Stop, I see an ugly fucker rear his head at the lip of the sheltered area. Of course. A demonling would also use the Door Stops as a place to rest. And it’s using the same one we are trying to hole up in as our energy fades.
This isn’t going to go very well.
I see Murat by me recoil in horror at the sight of the demonling, rearing his horse back as it whinnies. The other Halos do the same, frightened at the sight of the monster in front of us. As well they should be.
But we don’t have time for that shit.
I pull out my yataghan from its scabbard, hearing the metallic snick as I raise it high. Alion’s a good enough sport to not stumble or misstep as he keeps running toward the Door Stop. Maybe this horse and I will get along after all.
We just have to see if we can survive this.
Sweat makes my shirt cling to me, and I grit my teeth as we get closer, closer. The demonling screeches at seeing me. I don’t slow down. Alion doesn’t slow down. I leap from his back, sweeping down my yataghan in an arc. The blade catches the demonling by surprise—I guess he was expecting me to stop or dismount or something, but I don’t have the energy nor the time to do that—and his face splits in two. Hot, black blood spurts from his wound and splatters on my face. The demonling isn’t screeching now—he’s screaming.
Good job.
“Thank you,” I mutter before I drive the blade through the thing’s chest all the way to the hilt. The demonling looks at me, his eyes wide open in shock. “Sorry about that,” I tell him, out of remorse, I think.
Not that he was planning on sharing the Door Stop with us. I’ve dealt with so many demonlings in my time as a miner, it’s better to catch them unawares like this rather than try sparing them. He’d just come back later when we were in the throes of Hibernation. With friends.
He snarls one last time before he dies.
I pull out the blade, and the demonling crumples to the ground. The other Halos trot up to the Door Stop, some of their mouths open in shock or awe.
I wipe some blood off my face and give them a toothy grin, my gaze finding Jennet’s in the crowd. “Another thing,” I tell them, straightening up, “is that you can’t hesitate. Demonlings won’t play nice with you.”
My yataghan leaves my fingers as my grip slackens, the Hibernation deciding now is a good time to take over. I give one last smile to Jennet before I collapse.
Chapter 16
I’m greeted by the crackling of a fire when I wake up—too close for comfort, especially in the Door to Hell. My instincts kick in at how close danger is to me while I was in Hibernation.
“Run!” I shout, my eyes going wild. “Run, you idiots—!”
A strong hand presses against my chest and pushes me back down to the floor. “Relax, Rahym. This is just our campfire.” Jennet. She gently smiles down as the pressure of her hand against my chest increases. I’m fighting her. I need to stop.
I take a few moments to get my breathing under control, swallowing back the lump in my dry throat. “Campfire?” I ask. “Why do we have a campfire?”
“We have to eat, don’t we?” Fatma asks, and I twist my head to look at her. She sits crouched in front of the fire, stoking the flames with a sword. It’s only now that I see the hunks of meat roasting on a jerry-rigged spit.
“We figured with all the fires nearby, it would help us blend in,” Jennet says with a shrug. “Demonlings don’t seem to like fire anyway.”
“The smell will call them,” I remind her. “They like cooked meat just as much as we do.”
“Speak for yourself,” the male witch named Kerem says with a snicker. He bites into an apple. Vegetarian, then. You don’t see too many of those when desperation leads you to eat whatever’s at hand. There are a lot of people who don’t want to eat meat, but with energy in such short supply, if you set a plate of chicken in front of them, they’ll gladly eat it.
“We’re keeping an eye on everything,” Emre says, nodding out over the hills. “Fatma’s keeping her senses out looking for other demonlings, and Rabia and Nury are on watch.”
I nod, knowing that we’ll have to tie ourselves to our saddles tomorrow to keep ourselves aloft.
“Besides,” Nakir says, walking over to Jennet and me. “I’m thinking that we should try making our way to the next Door Stop before the sun rises to avoid the heat and the exhaustion that comes from it.”
“No,” I say, struggling to sit up. Nakir frowns at my short answer. “Because we wouldn’t be the only ones thinking that. The demonlings are out in full force at night, because it’s so damn hot during the day. And we’ll expend all our energies before the sun rises, and you don’t want to have that long between when you pass out and when you’re rejuvenated.”
“I’m just thinking that it would make the most logical sense that way,” Nakir says, his jaw twitching.
I level him with my gaze. “And you came to me because I’m a so-called expert at the Door to Hell. So trust me when I say—traveling the daytime, as much as it sucks, is a much better option than trying to compete with these assholes out there. You think one is bad. Wait until you come up against a whole herd of them.”
Or whatever it is you call a group of demonlings.
Maybe a flock. Or a gaggle. That makes them sound ridiculous, so I’m going with that. Ridiculous gaggle of demonic assholes.
Nakir doesn’t say anything, but I can see that he’s contemplating my words. I know I’m right. Hell, he knows I’m right. Traveling at night is the first mistake anyone makes with the Door to Hell. It lulls you in, because you can’t handle the heat.
But that’s the worst time to try.
“What time is it, anyway?” I mutter, looking around.
“Just after midnight,” Jennet answers quickly. “You’ve been out for around four hours.”
Just after midnight, so we’d have another full twenty-four hours before we’re up again. I look around at everyone who is still up and doing things. It only seems like Rabia and Sena are still asleep. Everyone else is watching over the edge in case a demonling or some fire spreads our way. The horses are tied up, not moving too much, which is a good sign. Hopefully they’ll conserve their strength.
As I’ve mentioned to Nakir, the Door Stops don’t offer much in the way of protection. Someone thought they were clever when they came up with the name, but they’re really just the undersides of enormous rocks in the desert, offering little coves and caves within them. Some are merely just protected on three sides. Others—like the one we’re currently staying in—are actually like little caves, with the rock overhanging and offering up much more protection. This one is one of the better ones I’ve seen, so while everyone else looks like they’re anxious and alert, I feel pretty calm and at ease.
But they are going to wear themselves out if they keep this up.
“We should take turns,” I say. “Only one person awake while the others rest. Otherwise, we’re not going to make it.”
Jennet’s eyebrows push together, but Nakir nods. “You’re a crazy son of a bitch,” he mutters as he moves away from us, telling the others to try to sleep. I almost grin at that.
There’s some vodka somewhere. I want to tell him to use it to get people to sleep. They may be hungover in the morning, but sometimes, that’s the only way you can sleep in the Door to Hell.
Jennet stops me, though, not with an action or anything, but with a silent, reproachful look.
“What?” I ask.
“You attacked that demonling without any regard for yourself,” she says softly. “When you were so close to H
ibernation.”
She’s right. Another second or a moment’s hesitation from me and I would have passed out before killing the demonling.
“You can’t hesitate in the Door to Hell,” I tell her.
“Yes, but…” Her voice trails off. “You had nearly…nearly…”
I shrug. “I have little regard for myself,” I say, trying to be as nonchalant as possible.
She watches me for another moment. “I know you think you have something like a death wish, but don’t you dare waste your life like that.”
“Even though you’re throwing away yours?” I counter. Her eyes widen in shock, and I know I’ve hit her below the belt. Figuratively speaking, since she’s not a man.
“We’re all just trying to save the world,” she says softly.
“And hesitation will get you killed,” I say, bristling. “As I told Nakir, you all came to me for help. My advice? Don’t hesitate, and run. And live your life, Jennet.”
I had meant for her to get angry at me for my hostile tone, for putting her down like that. Anything to push her away, because I know what’s happening. I don’t want her to get hurt. But instead, she watches me for a moment longer before patting my shoulder, surprising me that she’s not getting angry.
“Just don’t do that again,” she whispers. “Don’t think your life doesn’t have meaning.”
Her hand lingers on me, and I feel that comforting sensation of heat in my shoulder again. I feel a flicker of my energy grow. Her hand glows for a brief moment before she pulls back. She opens her mouth to say something but instead closes it and moves away from me.
Leaving me with conflicted feelings and a warm spot on my shoulder. I bite my lip as I watch her, a different kind of warming sensation blossoming in my chest.
Shit.
No, I’m not allowed to feel this way. Not after Maysa and Beste’s deaths. Not when we’re both so close to our own deaths.
Not when you’re broken into so many pieces you won’t ever be good enough for her.
“Rahym.” I turn my head to see Nakir back, looking haggard and tired.
“What?”
“Come with me.”
“But the energy. The—”
“I want to show you something. Bring the telescope with you.”
I dig it out of my saddle bags, not wanting to expend the energy arguing with him—especially since Jennet spent some of hers on me—and I follow him. He walks me toward the edge of the Door Stop, where the divot we’re in overlooks the rest of the Door to Hell. From here, we can see out over the dark desert, spotting the different wildfires burning out of control. The full moon illuminates the landscape, and between that and the wildfires, I feel like we can see a lot of the landscape. I see the dark clouds moving across the desert too, so close to the ground that, if you don’t know what they are, you’d think they are dust devils or small tornadoes. No, these are gaggles of demonlings moving along the desert, attacking anything they come across.
There are lots of those dust clouds, some much bigger than others. And I’m so glad that we’re at a Door Stop right now. Beyond the known map in my mind of the Door, I hope there are enough to get us to the Watchtower.
“Hand it to me,” Nakir says, and without waiting for me to react or respond, he takes the telescope from me anyway. He points it northwest of us, in the direction that we’re going and goes completely still.
“Was it worth ten thousand Manat?” I mutter sarcastically.
“Yes,” Nakir says with complete conviction. “Even if we paid for it with real money.”
“Why?”
“For this.”
He hands it to me, and as I put my eye up to the eyepiece, he directs my gaze. With everything magnified through the telescope, I’m able to see places that I’ve never had a good look at—during the day or night. There’s the Lion’s Rock, which looks like a mythical lion’s head overlooking the plains. Some thought it was a Door Stop until they were entrapped in some quicksand there. There’s the Table Plateau, a place where it looks like a flattened tabletop. And so many others.
“Do you see the Watchtower?” Nakir asks.
I swerve toward it, a big black obelisk that rises over the desert, taller than any building in Derweze or Merve. Abaddon’s Watchtower could be seen from miles away, and most of my work as a miner was in its shadow. I’ve just never had the chance to see it like this. From here, I can see that the tower itself is shiny, like it’s made entirely out of obsidian. Various balconies and windows dot the sides at erratic intervals, where firelight emanates from within. I wonder how big the demon is that lives there. How many others live there.
And why they hold such sway over us.
Seeing it like this gives me a sense of vertigo, that we have to go through that.
“Yeah I see it. Why?”
“That’s the real reason I wanted the telescope,” Nakir says with a sigh. I wanted to see if I could see Abaddon.”
I look away from the view to face him directly, and there’s a strong set to his jaw as he looks at the tower, the fires reflected in his dark eyes. “Why the hell would you want to see him?”
At first, he doesn’t answer me. What a time to suddenly decide he wants to conserve energy. Finally, he does speak, and it’s the last thing I expect to hear from him. “I want to see if he’s still the Abaddon I knew.”
“Wait, you know Abaddon? The monster that has haunted us for over fifty years now?” No wonder he was able to talk about the Demon Lord who is the source of our curse. The angel knows him personally.
Nakir nods. “Knew him, yes. He was like a brother to me. Once upon a time.”
I open my mouth to say something, but shock tightens my throat, and I can’t speak. Because…the implications of Nakir knowing Abaddon are…huge. All that comes out is a pathetic, “How… Why? How?”
Nakir eyes me warily. “We were in Heaven together. He was there from the beginning. We’d do anything for each other. Spent millennia helping each other.”
“What happened?”
He smirks. “Remember that I said I fell in love with a human woman?”
“Yeah?”
“When I fell, he rebelled against God. In my defense.” He crosses his arms, his expression fierce as he looks back at the tower. “He did it in my honor. And while I fell to earth, he fell even farther than me. He became a demon because of me, Rahym. And I feel responsible for that. It’s all because of me. And I wanted to see if there’s any shred of the Abaddon I once knew.” He indicates the telescope with his head. “I was hoping to get another glance at him.”
“And this is the first time you’re telling me of this?” I ask incredulously.
“It’s not something that needs to be broadcasted,” Nakir answers softly.
“Well, this changes everything.”
“It changes nothing,” he snarls at me. “We still have a curse to break. We still have to make it to the Watchtower. And if Abaddon doesn’t relent, I’ll have to kill him.”
“And you’re so sure that you’ll be able to kill him?” I throw up my hands in frustration. “You just told me he was like a brother to you.”
“I will do what I must,” Nakir says, unmoving from his stance.
“I find that hard to believe,” I scoff.
Me too.
“Right,” I mutter with a nod, shaking the porridge from my head. Nakir frowns at me. “After all, you spent ten thousand Manat on a telescope.”
“It wasn’t real money.”
“You told me that it would have been worth it even if it were real money.” I narrow my eyes. “Do you still have feelings for Abaddon? Misplaced camaraderie?”
“It will tell us of Abaddon’s movements,” he says, blinking. As if trying to convince himself of it. It’s the first time I’ve truly seen him unravel even the slightest. He’s really torn up over Abaddon’s current state. “If we need to be on alert otherwise. If we need to keep an eye out for him.”
I look through the tel
escope again, back at the Watchtower. “And you think that we should be more concerned about Abaddon than the demonlings?”
“Abaddon will be much harder to kill than demonlings,” Nakir mutters softly.
I scan over the desert, pausing momentarily as I see other shapes moving along the dunes, heading our way. “Possibly,” I say. “But I think I just found another use for your telescope.”
Maybe Nakir wants it for his own reasons, borne out of a need to see the brother-figure he’d lost a long time ago. But now I see an entirely different reason for it. And this definitely makes it worth ten thousand Manat.
“Where’s the demonling corpse?” I ask, turning back to the campsite. “The one I just killed?”
“It’s over there,” Nakir says, confusedly. He points to the exact opposite side of the Door Stop. “We threw it out because it stinks.”
The stink is exactly why I need it. I bound through the campsite, over sleeping bodies. I spot a spear among our weapons stash and grab it as I grab my yataghan, a madman on my quest. I find the demonling just outside the Door Stop, hidden in the shadows. I forgot how badly they smell, how horrible of an assault they are on your nose.
I pull back the demonling’s head and give it two whacks with the yataghan to sever it from the rest of the body. Apparently, I’m much better at hacking apart demonling corpses than burned trees, which is a sad thought in and of itself, but I guess it comes in handy right now.
The demonling’s thick, coagulated blood drips in large globs as I pull the head away from the body with a squelching sound. I take the end of the spear and stick it through the remains of the neck. It’s sickening work, but I remind myself that it’s necessary.
I run back to the other edge of camp.
“Hey!” Fatma yells after me, a look of disgust on her face at my makeshift warning sign.
“Your little gift about sensing demonlings nearby is apparently very limited,” I snap at her.
Why are you holding this against her? She’s supposed to be asleep.
Maybe that’s why. Or maybe because I’m freaked about how close we are to catastrophe. We’re on a thin line, toeing disaster at every opportunity.
