Fallen Halos

by Erin Hayes

  My hand reaches to my hip, grasping for a pistol that I stupidly forgot back inside.

  Whoopsies.

  “Dammit,” I mutter.

  Rookie mistake. I have the hatchet, so that will have to serve as weapon if it comes down to it.

  No one comes to my Lodge at this time of night. Most travelers have already expended their day’s energy by now.

  My first instinct is that it is a group of demonlings. Bastards. If they attack us now, there’s no way that I’ll be much help. I have a few other hired hands that are fresher and will be able to defend the Lodge until midnight. But it’s always a risk, and judging by the size of this group, we wouldn’t make it.

  As the group comes closer, I see that they’re all riding horses. I know from experience that demonlings and horses don’t mix—they tend to eat the horses—so my fear of danger eases, but just slightly.

  They must be more guests, then. Where’s your sense of propriety?

  I must have locked it up at the shed behind the Lodge. I hide the hatchet behind my back as I step into the loose sand of the Karakum Desert, heading toward them. I note that with every step out into the open air, I have to take that many steps back.

  That could be a problem if I take too many steps one way.

  But these travelers are human. And it’s my duty to help them if they need it. Otherwise, they could very well die out here. And I might not have the energy to move their bodies. It’d be bad for business.

  I clear my throat. “Stop right there!”

  To my relief, the group slows about fifty yards from me. I count a dozen, noting that it’s a mix of riders on horses and runners on foot with pack mules carrying supplies. Based on their bulky appearances, I’m guessing that they’re all wearing armor. And that they’re probably armed to the teeth.

  Definitely not the latest fashion craze from Derweze.

  Who are these people?

  “State your name and your purpose,” I tell them.

  “Rahym? Rahym Tezel? Is that you?”

  I still, recognizing the voice. The memories seem to physically hit me, sucking the air out of my lungs.

  “Yes, it’s me,” I say warily. “Who are you?”

  Please don’t let it be him. Please don’t… both my subconscious and I chant.

  I really don’t want to deal with that asshole right now. Or ever again, for that matter.

  I get my answer. One of the riders dismounts, landing in the sand. He lifts his hood back and looks at me, his emerald green eyes glowing with unearthly power. The sharp planes of his face are exaggerated by the light from the Door as he gives me a lopsided smile.

  Goddammit.

  “Nakir,” I say with a false sense of bravado, and I wish I were seeing him under different circumstances. I’m sure he can smell my armpits as I haven’t showered in over a week—that’s number five on any good day. “What are you doing here?”

  The smile grows as a second rider swings a leg over the side of his horse. The rider strides up next to the asshole that I blame for the shattered remains of my life. This much closer, I can see that it’s a woman, although she doesn’t lift her hood, so I can’t see her face.

  “We’re on the road, Rahym,” Nakir says, drawing my attention back to him. “And we need your help.”

  “My help?” I ask.

  He nods.

  “I’m flattered, but I don’t do that anymore. People tend to die around you.”

  To my surprise, the woman next to Nakir chuckles mirthlessly. Shit, she may be crazier than I am. Not a good sign.

  Nakir smirks. “Dying. Right. That’s exactly why we need you, Rahym.”

  “Why?”

  Nakir exchanges a glance with the woman. She pulls back her hood as well, and from the depths of my memory, I recall her.

  Shit.

  Well, this night has taken an unexpected turn.

  “Jennet,” I say, calling out her name. It’s been years, and the last time I saw her was when we were teenagers. She disappeared just after her father died many years ago, so it may not be here. The curve of her lips tells me that I identified her correctly.

  A new sort of horror overtakes me; what is Jennet doing with Nakir?

  “Hello, Rahym,” she says in a clear voice. “We’re going to lift the curse. And we need you to lead us through the Door to Hell.”

  Chapter 2

  No.

  For once, my inner voice and I agree.

  “No,” I whisper aloud, feeling much like a sand lizard trapped between two walls of fire. I’ve seen it happen before—it didn’t end well for the lizard. Much like this crazy vendetta that Nakir and Jennet are talking about. I’ve tried it. Seen what happens when you try it.

  And it always ends with charred bodies.

  “No,” I say again, louder this time. “That’s—”

  “A lost cause?” Nakir raises an eyebrow as if amused by my sudden tied tongue. He always did have a warped sense of humor, the bastard. I’m telling them how crazy this is, and here he is, smirking at me. Jennet, too.

  “Fucking insane,” I tell him. “Are those…” I nod toward the group behind them. Afraid of what they are, even though I know it.

  He nods. “Halos.”

  Your old group.

  I lick my lips, my eyes darting between each of them. “I don’t recognize any of them.”

  “That’s because you don’t know them,” Nakir says.

  I laugh—actually laugh at that. Nakir and Jennet exchange that glance again, and I wonder when they became so buddy-buddy. I had no idea that Nakir knew Jennet. Or why, out of all the Lodges in Turkmenistan surrounding the Door to Hell, they had to come to mine.

  And out of all the possible schmucks they could have approached, they chose me. Surely there are others who know the Door to Hell like I do.

  “I know what you’re thinking, Rahym,” Nakir says placatingly.

  I shake my head. “You have no idea.”

  He waves me off. “We really have a chance this time. We’ve got a secret weapon.”

  “A magic wand?” Because that’s all that I can think of that would get them through the Door to Hell. And that requires a fairy godmother and a list of good karma out the ass.

  Neither of which Nakir has.

  “No. Her.” He points to the woman at his side.

  “Jennet?” I ask, certain that can’t be right. “How is…? What makes her…?” My mind stumbles across the thoughts and implications. “How is she a secret weapon?”

  Even in the darkness, I can see that she flushes at my assessment. “That is a story best told in private,” she says, casting a furtive glance around us.

  “And you expect me to give you a private place?”

  You do have room, my mind tells me.

  Shut up.

  “For an old friend,” Nakir says, as if feeding off my traitorous brain. “Yes.”

  No.

  He’s not throwing that “old friend” business on me. We may have been friends in the past, but friends don’t disappear on you when your family dies. Friends don’t come back and pretend like it’s all okay.

  Because it sure as hell isn’t.

  Nakir seems to finally understand that I’m not budging. He sighs and combs a hand through his hair. “Hear us out, Rahym. And if you still don’t like what we have to say, you can kick us back out on the road, and we’ll figure something else. You owe me that much.”

  I snarl. “I don’t owe you anything.”

  He clears his throat, visibly caught off guard. “No, you don’t. But I owe you. I misspoke.”

  I want to tell him that he has misspoken about a great many things in our times together. Mainly about false hope and prophecies and this idea that if we head into the Door to Hell and kill the Demon Lord Abaddon, we can lift the curse. It’s all bullshit, and it costs more than people’s lives. It costs the hopes and dreams of those left behind.

  Tell him like it is, Rahym. I’m egging myself on now, wanting to sta
rt something. Usually that gets me into trouble.

  Then again, Nakir is nothing but trouble, and while he was wrong about me owing him my time, I do owe him a piece of what’s left of my mind.

  I even open my mouth to do so when Jennet steps forward and gently puts a hand on my shoulder. The touch grounds me, and I look at her, shocked at her close proximity. We haven’t seen each other in years, and my memory must be hazy of her, because there’s no way she was as beautiful then as she is now.

  Then again, the last time I saw her was when we were thirteen years old. We grew up in the same village, too close to the Door to Hell, but also so achingly close to the place where we knew we could lift the curse. Back then, Jennet was all legs with too little on her bones, and she often traveled with my family to deliver supplies.

  Now, the woman looking back me beneath the folds of her hood is startlingly stunning. Smooth, olive skin. High cheekbones framing a proud nose, with square, luscious lips. Intelligent, azure eyes watch me, pleading with me. A wisp of dark hair has fallen in her dirt-stained face. She’s dirty from her travels, but it only seems to enhance what’s already there.

  Like a diamond in the rough.

  Stop staring.

  I clear my throat, and I’m about ready to speak—even though questions fly through my head at the moment, mainly what happened to her?—when I hear something heavy collapse to the dirt.

  The three of us startle, looking at the group that are accompanying Nakir and Jennet. I almost forgot they were there.

  “Who was it?” Nakir demands tiredly.

  “Nury,” a young woman’s clear voice rings out, a touch of panic to her words. “The Hibernation overtook him.” I get a better look at this Nury guy. He’s a tall, wiry man, slight of build and strength, apparently.

  There’s a stillness to the group, as we are all reminded that we’re expending energy standing here, talking. They’re waiting for me to either turn them away or to invite them into the Lodge.

  And, to be honest, I don’t know what’s right. Letting them in would be inviting disaster back into my life. But turning them away may be sentencing some of them to death, if any more are as close to Hibernation as this Nury fellow was.

  Nakir looks back at me, his eyes pleading. “Please, Rahym.”

  I glance at Jennet, who is also watching me, and I realize that I can’t do it. I can’t turn them away. “Come inside,” I say. “There are warm beds and sofas for you. Replenish your strength.” I give Nakir a hard look. “Don’t you dare say anything to my staff about who you are. Or what you are.”

  Nakir sighs, and I can feel the relief traveling through the whole group. Well, the ones that are conscious, at least. Nury is still on the ground like a forgotten log.

  “Thank you,” Nakir whispers.

  He brushes past me and singlehandedly picks up the man who collapsed and carries him back to the Lodge as if he’s a sack of potatoes.

  You’ve forgotten what it’s like to be around Nakir.

  “Not entirely,” I whisper. I haven’t forgotten the most important pieces about that.

  Jennet smiles gratefully, and as her hand leaves my shoulder, I can feel its lingering touch. I close my eyes, wondering if this is wise.

  But I promised that I would help travelers in need. And this is a group of travelers in need. I don’t have to like it, but I promised Maysa I would do it.

  “Yusup!” I yell. “Come take these horses to the stable.”

  As they enter my Lodge, I can’t help but wonder why Nakir is here. Why he thinks I give a damn about helping him again, after the last time.

  He’s a fallen angel, after all. And the last time he tried killing the Demon Lord and removing the curse, we both nearly died. And even now, I wish I were with those who did die.

  Chapter 3

  No vacancy. It’s been a long time since you had that.

  “Yeah,” I mutter. Since long before the village of Darvaza was destroyed in a fire.

  No one hears me, though. The Halos all fall into Hibernation soon after entering the Lodge. I didn’t realize they were so close to collapse when they arrived.

  Nothing is more dangerous than going into Hibernation outside at night. If ten people had collapsed, I’m not sure my staff would have had the strength to bring them in.

  They fill up most of the remaining couches on the bottom floor. As they haven’t cleaned themselves from their travels and they’re not paying for their rooms—Nakir never did like dealing with money, the bastard, so I don’t expect to see one coin from him—I’m not about to put them up in one of the good beds.

  It still feels like I’m moving through a dream. That this is not really happening. I’ve had some crazy, messed-up dreams when Hibernation took me, but nothing like this.

  “Thank you again,” Nakir says with a long sigh as he sits on a recliner in the Great Room. A few feet away, Jennet is curled up on a daybed herself, stone cold and passed out to the world. Nakir himself looks like he’s nearly at the end of his strength, too.

  The curse even affects the likes of a fallen angel.

  That always amazed me. That such a strong, able-bodied creature could still be affected by the curse.

  “Don’t thank me,” I say, crossing my arms as I appraise him quietly. He winces as he leans back, and I nod at him. “Do the stubs of your wings still hurt?”

  He purses his lips a moment before answering. “They still bleed.”

  I nod. “Right. I remember that now. You always wore bandages to keep the blood at bay.”

  He raises an eyebrow. “It’s been a while, Rahym.”

  “Not long enough.” I spit out the words like they’re fire. “You can stay until morning. But then I want you out. Gone. Kaput.”

  Don’t be that way.

  I can be any way I want. It’s my Lodge.

  I turn to head out the front Door.

  “You’re not going with us?” Nakir asks behind me.

  I scowl back at him. “Your new group of Halos interrupted me when I was trying to mark number nineteen off my list,” I tell him.

  I may have another hour’s worth of strength left in me yet, and midnight is right around the corner. The shovel is outside; I can make a start on digging up the tree.

  I leave him there and go out into the night air again. Even though it’s colder outside, I can still feel the heat in my cheeks as I pick up my shovel and hatchet and start hammering at the tree, using up my strength too quickly and too haphazardly to really be effective.

  I just feel like I need to destroy something.

  Chapter 4

  My work on the tree did nothing. I can’t even see a dent in it the next morning, and I don’t feel better for having tried to remove it. It makes me feel jittery, as if there’s something not done. Maybe because that’s exactly the issue. It’s not done. After years of completing tasks one through four, not having completed something I’ve started takes me aback.

  Blame it on Nakir.

  Oh, I am. Trust me.

  Morning is nowhere near as frightening as the night, but that doesn’t make it any less dangerous. From my spot in the Great Room, I can see the dust trail of something moving through the Karakum desert. Something fast, at a faster clip than even horses.

  Demonlings. Stirring up trouble.

  We may have to deal with that later. As it is at the moment, I need to conserve strength.

  Just in case.

  I frown unhappily and return my attention to Nakir and Jennet. The other travelers in their group are still curled up in their beds, saving themselves for the day ahead.

  Because based on this meeting, they may be out on the road again.

  Nakir is watching me with an amused smirk on his perfect face. As it’s sometime after eight in the morning, the morning light makes him look as though he’s some sort of sun god. The angel may have been a fallen one, but he’s no less a thing of perfection. Even as a widowed, straight man, I can see the appeal of Nakir, and I know that a great
many women (and men) have fallen under his spell.

  I’ve never met another angel, fallen or otherwise, but I assume they’re all the same. They have the look that they’re chiseled from marble, beautiful creatures, looking at me hopefully now.

  No, it’s just Nakir doing that.

  And Jennet.

  I pointedly try not to look at her, but it’s hard. While Nakir is a being to be admired, Jennet looks both ethereal and human in her appearance. It’s a contrast to him, and it’s one that I want to gravitate toward, because he’s just so damn blindingly perfect.

  And she’s…well, she’s Jennet.

  I clear my throat. “Speak.”

  Exhaustion from last night gave me one nugget of mercy, and I agreed to hear him out, even though I told him vehemently that I doubted anything he said would fix it.

  Nakir arches an eyebrow before he leans forward and sighs. He combs his hands through his hair—That means he’s nervous, right?—before speaking.

  “Where do I even start?”

  “Where do you start?” I repeat. Annoyance pinches at the back of my head, and I gesture helplessly, trying to feed him prompts. “How about the thing you’re doing. What you’re doing with the Halos. Why you want me. And what you’re doing with Jennet.”

  “Heh.” He smirks. “You make it seem easy, Rahym. We both know nothing is easy.”

  Including his logic. Then again, my logic isn’t very good right now, either. I tell it to shush. It does, thankfully.

  “Just tell me what you’re doing here.”

  Nakir exchanges a glance with Jennet one more time before speaking. “We’re here to break the curse.”

  I nod. “You told me that. You do realize that our curse makes it impossible to break the very same curse, right? That’s the whole point of it. Hell, you even told me that when we first met.”

  He laughs. “Too true. But we may have found a loophole. And we need you to help.”

  I shake my head. “You already tried doing that with me once, and look where it ended up.”