The Tears of Nero (The Halo Group Book 1)

by Jason Brannon

  A stone antechamber sat atop the temple. Inside, a set of stairs descended into the bowels of the structure. Nero had gone on before them, and waited for Edward and Sadie at the top. Despite the tears that were painted on and the perpetual frown that cut across the bottom half of the façade like a knife wound, Nero smiled at them from behind his mask. Meanwhile, he cursed them with his eyes, glaring at them through the harlequin‘s face. It was as if the man’s features were simultaneously displaying characteristics of both Lindell and Nero.

  Edward and Sadie trudged upward, stopping periodically to catch their breath. Sweat poured down their necks, drenching their salt-stained clothing and acting as a glue that adhered polyester and cotton to sunburned flesh. Carrying themselves up the steps was bad enough, yet doing so with a dozen guns pointed at their heads was worse still.

  “This is the test to end all tests,” Nero said, pointing a gun of his own at them. Edward felt the reassuring jut of steel pressing into his back from the sidearm he had taken from Nick. He resisted the urge to pull out the gun and open fire because he knew he wouldn’t last five seconds. He wasn’t sure he could outdraw Nero, but even if he did, the other members of the group would cut them down where they stood. He had to choose his moment carefully.

  He needed to see what Nero wanted him to see, if there was truly an angel buried somewhere in the temple depths. Edward believed in angels, and although he believed Lindell was crazy, he needed to understand the kind of theology that would transform someone from a hellfire and brimstone preacher to a raving homicidal sociopath. He wanted to understand why bad things happened to good people, why Jenny and Connor had been taken from him when he needed them the most. He wasn’t sure the answers to any of those philosophical questions could be answered here, but he trudged onward anyway in search of clarity. He had been brought to this island for a reason, and he needed to know some of the circumstances regarding his kidnapping.

  Nero waited for them patiently, studying them with all the moral superiority of a human surveying an ant. Edward stopped when they were only a few feet away from him.

  “If there’s an angel in there and you’ve found it, why do you need us? I thought that was the whole reason we were brought here. You‘ve got the bone of John the Revelator now. You can use it to exert influence over Alastor and keep yourself safe. What else do you want with us?”

  “I need answers,” Nero said. “I need to understand what it is that I’ve seen.”

  “Why do you think we’re the ones to give you those answers?” Sadie asked.

  “I don’t think you are,” Nero said. “But I think he is.”

  “Why me?” Edward said.

  “Have a look first. Then I’ll explain. No more questions now.”

  Inside the antechamber there was an otherworldly glow that had the warmth of a roaring fire but was far brighter. Edward experienced a strange sense of comfort as he entered the small rock building and descended the stairs leading toward the angel’s resting place.

  The interior of the temple had been wired with electricity. Cables snaked along the walls, and bare bulbs glowed brilliantly in the darkness. But it wasn’t the electricity that made the place seem so bright. Maybe it was the hope that there might actually be something supernatural waiting for them at the bottom. A real angel would have been comforting at this point. It could have helped them escape.

  Unless it was Alastor.

  Sadie kept close to Edward and did her best to position her body between Nero and the gun that was hidden underneath Edward’s sport coat. She knew that was their only hope of getting out of this alive. They couldn’t afford to tip their hand yet. Not until they had Nero where they wanted him.

  The paintings inside the temple were different from any others they had seen. Like the paintings they saw in the secret passage just off the Mother room, these featured the familiar faces of Lindell and his mother. Lindell had commissioned the recreation of various scenes from his youth. The two of them picking sunflowers in a golden field. Mother and son riding in a sailboat. A young Hal in his Boy Scout uniform with a very familiar den mother beside him, straightening his medals. High school graduation. His first sermon.

  “It’s like a photo album,” Sadie said.

  “These memories were ripped straight out of Lindell‘s life,” Edward said. “I bet Nero hates them.”

  Nero stopped at the top of the stairs. “I’ll let the two of you have some time alone at the bottom. We can talk later. Meanwhile, I think Mr. Gentry and some of my brothers have some things to discuss.”

  The sound of that worried Edward but he knew they couldn’t do anything at this point to help their new friend. So he did what he had to do and kept going down the steps.

  Although the temple looked authentic, there was something about it that bothered Edward. The steps were too well manufactured. The angles a little too sharp. He didn’t see any of the tell-tale signs of aging inside to indicate that the elements had been busy reclaiming this place for their own. None of the stones were broken. No rubble littered the ground beneath their feet. Then there was the small matter of electricity.

  “I think Lindell had this place built,” Edward said. “I don’t think it’s that old.”

  “Why would he do that?” Sadie asked.

  “I suspect we’ll find out at the bottom.”

  About halfway down, they saw oil lanterns suspended from iron rings which had been bolted into the ceiling. Beneath them, they saw Nero’s “angel” laid to rest on a stone pedestal.

  The old woman was dressed in white and encased in a clear vacuum sealed box. She wore a peaceful look on her face and had both hands clasped across her bosom. Wrinkles gathered at the corners of her mouth and eyes, but she didn’t wear the mask of someone who had died violently. This woman looked at peace, like an angel was supposed to.

  “This is the angel?” Sadie said.

  “It makes sense,” Edward said. “Lindell obviously cared for his mother very much. In his mind, she was an angel. He had a very tumultuous childhood. His father was abusive. I expect his mother was his refuge in that particular storm. She was his protector. When she passed away, it didn‘t seem fair to him. It probably even frightened him. Ever since, he’s been trying to understand why God would allow something like this to happen. He’s questioning the very nature of God. He has been from the start.”

  “This woman is an angel,” a familiar voice said from behind them.

  “I think he’s speaking as Lindell now,” Edward whispered. “Nero wouldn’t be too keen on angels.”

  “Oh quite the contrary,” their captor said, slipping easily back into Nero’s lunatic persona. “I love angels. They’re true, pure, holy. It’s the flawed Christians that I hate. This fine woman is an angel.”

  “No, she’s not,” Sadie said. “This is your mother. I’m sure she was a devout woman, but she’s no closer to God than the rest of us.”

  Nero grunted and raised the gun with a shaky hand. “Don’t you say that. Don’t you dare say that. This woman is sitting at the throne of God right now.”

  “But she’s not an angel,” Sadie persisted.

  “Sadie,” Edward cautioned. “I think you should keep quiet.”

  “Good advice,” Nero said. “But Sadie seems to think she’s so much better than this dear creature. Maybe she believes herself to be angelic. Lindell certainly called her his angel from time to time. Why don’t we test that theory and see if the good preacher was right?”

  “I’m no angel,” Sadie said, realizing her error. “I’m nothing compared to this woman. I’m sorry.”

  “Oh, don’t be modest now,” Nero said as a little of the old psychotic seeped back into his voice. “You seem to be an authority on who is an angel and who isn’t. Only angels would have that kind of knowledge. So it stands to reason that you are one. And if you are, I owe you my allegiance. So let’s see a demonstration.”

  “What do you mean?” Sadie asked, growing nervous.

  “A
ngels can fly,” Nero explained. “So will you.”

  The Slaves of Solomon began to file down the steps. Their guns were holstered now, but that didn’t make them any less menacing.

  “What are you going to do to me?” Sadie asked.

  “Worship you,” Nero explained. “As we do all angels.”

  “You said Sadie couldn’t give you the answers you were looking for but I can,” Edward offered. “Let her go. You don‘t need her. I‘ll do whatever you want me to.”

  “No, sorry, that’s not an option,” Nero said. “She thinks she is so high and mighty. I’d like to know why. Maybe there’s more to her than meets the eye. Maybe we should bow at her feet too.”

  Two of the Slaves of Solomon carried a large framework contraption that looked like something ripped straight out of the Spanish Inquisition. Sadie’s eyes went wide at the sight of it. Another member of the group hoisted a large burlap sack over one shoulder. A fourth wheeled in a rusted metal drum.

  “Angels are creatures of flight, yes?” Nero said, beginning his speech in much the same way Lindell had begun his sermons once upon a time. “They need wings to fly. The Bible tells us that they have wings. Some have four pairs of wings. Others two. The point is that angels and wings go together like Lindell and his dear, sweet mother. You can’t have one without the other.”

  “He’s talking about himself in the third person,” Edward whispered to Sadie. “That can’t be good.”

  “Can you imagine what the war in Heaven must have been like? All those seraphim soaring through the heavens, swords drawn, their feathers misted with the blood of fallen comrades and enemies. I’d like to see you fly like they did, Sadie. I’d like to see you take to the air from the steps of this temple and circle the skies like the creature of Heaven you are.”

  “No, please,” Sadie said.

  “I’ve still got the gun,” Edward whispered. “I won’t let them do this to you.”

  The Slaves of Solomon came toward her. One held her while the other strapped her into the mechanical wings. The one with the bag came over next, followed by the one with the steel drum. The black viscous substance in the drum was easy recognizable as tar, and there wasn’t much doubt that there were feathers in the bag.

  Edward reacted and pulled the gun. “Don’t even think about it,” he said, pointing the pistol at Nero. Immediately twelve guns were drawn and trained on him. “One shot is all it will take,” he said, trying to be brave even though his insides felt knotted and raw.

  “You’re right,” Nero said. “One shot is all it will take, and my friends here will turn you into a piece of Swiss cheese. You can take your shot, and maybe it will count. But what if you miss? Maybe you hit me in the shoulder, and I live to see another day. You certainly won’t. Of all the members of your group, you alone have a chance to survive. Are you willing to risk it?”

  Edward hadn’t considered this. Everything happened so fast, and he had reacted. Now, he wished he had waited.

  “Put the gun down,” Nero said. “I have an extra set of wings if you’d like to go flying with Ms. Gale.”

  “We don’t deserve any of this,” Edward said.

  “Good people never do,” Nero said. “That’s the nature of the world though. You and I think alike. I knew I could count on you.”

  “Put the gun down, Edward,” Sadie said. “We don’t stand a chance here.”

  “I promised you I wouldn’t let this happen.”

  “You’re off the hook,” Sadie said. “You tried. You risked your life to help me. I couldn’t ask for more.”

  Edward turned to look Sadie in the eyes, and that was the only opportunity needed. One of the Slaves fired. The bullet hit Edward in the hand, and he dropped the gun, howling in pain.

  “Now, see, that wasn’t so hard,” Nero said. “You put down the gun as I asked. Very good! Somebody throw him something to use as a bandage. We don‘t want him desecrating this place with his filth.”

  Edward grunted and groaned and clutched his injured hand. One of the Slaves cut a strip of his robe off with a nasty looking knife and tossed the scrap to Edward. He wasted no time wrapping his hand and tying the wound off with pressure.

  Meanwhile, the rest of the group was busy with Sadie. They tarred and feathered her, making sure to create wings that even the angel Gabriel would have marveled at. She struggled and didn’t make it easy for them, but they were much stronger than she was. Soon the framework for the wings was completely covered and strapped to each of Sadie’s arms.

  “If we go back and read history, Daedalus made his son, Icarus, a set of wings much like these. Only he used beeswax instead of tar. Maybe our innovation will fare better than his did. Do you know what happened to Icarus, Ms. Gale?”

  Sadie shook her head, thankful this was one story her photographic memory couldn’t recall.

  “Icarus flew and circled the clouds…but only for a few moments. He flew too close to the sun, and his wings melted. He died. Of course, there’s no need to worry about that with you. You’re a bonafide angel. Your wings will hold. I have no doubt of that.”

  One of the Slaves held a gun to the back of her head and prodded her back up the steps. Edward watched her go and sadly realized there was nothing he could do. Another member of the group, this one wearing an angry mask, prompted him with the barrel of his gun to get up and follow her.

  They reached the antechamber atop the temple within a couple of minutes, and only now did Edward realize how high up they truly were.

  “Ok, Ms. Gale, time to shine!” Nero said. Sadie trembled and wept and stared up at the sun. “Please don’t do this,” she said.

  “Do what?” Nero said with glee. “All I want to do is see why you believe you’re so much better than the angel downstairs. Lindell called you his angel once upon a time. Maybe he saw something in you that I’ve missed. Now fly!”

  Nero gave Sadie a push and she lurched ahead. Her arms pinwheeled to maintain balance, but the large framework wings kept her momentum moving forward. She careened off the side of the temple, and for a moment, she stretched out both arms and glided on the air, like a butterfly carried on warm summer currents. Then gravity took hold, and she plummeted like a falling star. She screamed all the way down.

  It only took a few seconds for the screaming to stop.

  “Ah,” Nero said with obvious satisfaction. “I suppose she wasn’t quite the angel she believed herself to be. They never are.”

  Chapter 31

  The Slaves of Solomon didn’t carry Sadie’s body away. They left her broken corpse at the base of the temple steps like a bird that has fallen in flight. Edward tried not to look at her.

  “Let’s go back downstairs,” Nero said at last. “We have things to discuss. It‘s time for you to play your part in all this. You‘re all that‘s left, it seems. You will assume your role as the rider of the pale horse.”

  Edward nodded solemnly. All of the fight in him was gone. Clutching his injured hand, he did his best to navigate the steps leading down to the corpse of Cecelia Lindell.

  The body was there, bathed in light, as it had been before. She looked peaceful, but only because she didn’t know what kind of monster her son had become. Such knowledge might have made the poor woman sit up and weep.

  “I’m sure you’d like some answers,” Nero said. “I’m sure you wonder why I’ve gone to these extremes.”

  “It has crossed my mind,” Edward admitted, not bothering to hide the sarcasm in his voice.

  “The world is an unfair place,” Nero began, studying Edward from the other side of his mother’s casket. “This is proof. This woman endured more in her lifetime than most people can imagine, and she did it while praising the name of God. Why would God allow her to die?”

  “Maybe to reward her,” Edward said. “Surely you believe she’s in Heaven. She’s doing better than we are. Of course, maybe it’s not her torment you’re concerned with but your own.”

  Nero snarled at the insinuation. “That
’s not it! That’s not it at all. Night after night a man proclaiming to be a Christian stumbled drunkenly into his son’s room and beat him unmercifully. This woman did all she could to defend him. This woman took the beatings for him more times than you could count. God created everything, including the drunkard. If God is so perfect, why did he create things that aren’t?”

  “You’re asking a question I don’t know the answer to.”

  “But you should.”

  “Why did you bring us here?” Edward asked.

  Nero didn’t answer right away. Instead, he focused on the pasty white face of his mother. He cocked his head to one side like a dog listening to an ultrasonic whistle. He placed his ear to the top of the glass and ran his hands over the smoothness.

  “Why am I here?” Edward asked.

  Nero lifted his head off of the casket. “You were brought here for a different reason than the rest. The others were brought here to be tormented and to pay for what they allowed to happen.”

  “I don’t understand,” Edward said.

  “Kelly was my friend,” the man behind the mask said, temporarily casting Nero aside. “She knew what my father was doing to me. She knew and she didn’t tell anybody. And so the beatings continued. Henry was my teacher in school. I went to him in confidence and told him what was happening to me. I had lied to him earlier in the semester about cheating on a test which made me less than trustworthy in his eyes. So he didn’t do anything to help me, and the beatings continued. Franklin was a man that I considered a friend, and he took the love of my life away from me. He ripped my heart out. Sadie put my broken heart back together, and she betrayed me too. People have let me down time after time, and I can’t understand why. I’ve tried so hard to be a good person. I’ve tried so hard to serve God. I’ve tried to overcome the hand that destiny has dealt me, and yet on so many occasions I find myself looking down the barrel of a gun and wondering if there’s peace to be found there. Why has God allowed my life to turn out like it has? I dedicated myself to Him, and this is the thanks I get!”