by Erin Hayes
She only looks at me, aghast, as I run past Nakir, grabbing the telescope, and stop at the outer edge of the Door Stop. I check the telescope one last time before driving the butt of the spear into the sand, expending way too much energy on trying to make it stand upright. But I manage after some difficulty, the demonling’s face pointing outwards, its mouth permanently open and the stink almost unbearable.
I check the telescope again and see the gaggle of demonlings halt, sniffing the air slightly. They smell their fallen comrade, even if they don’t know him personally. Even though they’re miles away, I see the leader of the horde pause, baring his teeth our way. This one is ugly too, and through the telescope, I can see him clearly.
It’s a grisly thing I had to do, but it does the job, because the demonling signals the group to stop advancing our way and change direction. He gives one last glance at me, narrowing his eyes before turning and stalking away from the group.
He could have easily used fire against us and initiated a battle, but he didn’t. Maybe I scared him off. Or maybe he’ll come back stronger. Angrier.
Either way, there won’t be a fight between us tonight.
I let out a breath of relief and make my way back toward the Door Stop. I toss the telescope to Nakir, who catches it deftly.
“We’ve already found its worth,” I tell him. “We should keep it handy in case the demonlings decide to attack later.”
Alion huffs at me as I walk by him and find a patch a land that I can spend the rest of the night sleeping on. I don’t bother with a tent—I think my little stunt of running back and forth to ward off other demonlings is enough energy spent for the rest of the night. I need to conserve as much as possible.
And as I try to fall asleep, I see that Emre is watching me, even though he’s meant to be asleep as well.
He gives me a slight nod, and I can’t help the smile that breaks on my face.
One day down. And tomorrow’s another long day. Another day of impossibilities.
Chapter 17
Jennet hoists her pack over her shoulder and stops at the sight of the demonling’s head. A flit of different emotions passes over her face as she looks at it, from pity to disgust. At me, I think for doing such a barbaric thing, and I feel the shame spread across my cheeks as she glances at me.
I feel like she sees right through me, all the way to my insecure heart.
She finally takes a breath, sighs, and then pushes past me.
“Don’t lose yourself on this journey, Rahym,” she murmurs, her voice so soft, I wonder if I imagined it. But then she looks directly at me and says, stronger, “Don’t become a demon yourself.”
I watch after her as she pulls herself up into her horse’s saddle and turns away from me. Even though she grew up near this area, there are still so many things she doesn’t understand. I clench my fist, realize that I’m expending too much energy—mental and physical—and release it with a deep sigh. I comb a hand through my hair, which is already sweaty from the heat, before bending over to grab my own bag and mount Alion.
“You can tell those who have never seen battle,” Emre tells me, a small smirk on his face. “She doesn’t know that you sometimes have to do things that make your skin crawl for the greater good.”
“No, she’s right,” I tell him as I clench my jaw and give a curt nod. “She’s right.”
I only have one item on my list today: 1. Survive. Which, given our current predicament, seems nearly impossible.
You just have to brave the heat, avoid demonlings, find a Door Step before you collapse, not veer off in the wrong direction, and keep everyone else alive too.
Hence, it’s all under the one umbrella of “survive.”
No wonder it seems so hard.
The demonling’s head is even more gruesome in the daylight, its mouth hanging open in a frozen scream. Its blood has coagulated down the pole of the spear, darkening the sand around it. I guess that’s one spear we won’t take with us. We could take it with us to ward off other demonlings from getting any ideas, but…the smell is so bad, my eyes water as I pass it. Even Alion huffs and skitters away from it.
Just like you after you haven’t bathed in a month.
“Hey, that was just one time,” I say, rolling my eyes. I see that Emre hasn’t left my side, as he watches me silently, his lips pressed together in a thin line as he mulls over these events.
It’s a fact of life I’ve had to live with since before Maysa and Beste were killed. Being so close to the Door to Hell, I have to know how to deal with these monsters every day and what to do if they ever attack.
It’s worth it to protect Jennet, I’ve decided. Worth it, and I’d do it again. Even if she hated me for stooping to the level of the monsters around us.
I catch another whiff of the demonling’s head and crinkle my nose. Yep, definitely not taking that thing with us.
We trek through the desert in the silence. Even my mind is quiet as our horses clomp along, which is a nice for a change. I feel like I’m hanging on by threads as my anxiety and fear are heightened the entire time I’m here. I’d spent the night in a relatively fitful state of rest—you never ever truly relax while you’re in the Door to Hell, so the longer you’re here, the more you drain yourself. The time is ticking, making us weaker as time goes on.
We have to keep going. The Watchtower seems both so close and so far from us, and no matter how far we travel, it seems like we’re the same distance away from it. Or even farther away, but that may just be my own desperation coming into play.
Jennet keeps her mare ahead of Alion, riding beside Nakir and the other witches. She glances back every so often at me, her expression guarded except for the slight pinch of her eyebrows as our eyes meet. Every time it happens, a few heartbeats pass before she shifts back in her saddle and talks with everyone by her.
Excluding me. It shouldn’t hurt, because I shouldn’t care what she thinks about me. But it does, and that feeling in my chest twists and aches just a bit.
Just as well.
I roll my eyes. “Was wondering when you’d show up.”
Was wondering when you’d stop feeling sorry for yourself.
And despite everything, I grin. I see that Jennet’s looking back at me again, obviously hearing my conversation to my inner workings. She quirks an eyebrow, her own lips pulling up in amusement, but she turns back to the front as Sena tells her something. Jennet answers, and the other witches laugh. Watching her interact with them is…something else. I can tell that the others have a lot of respect for her. I’m not sure what life was like for her when she moved to live with the other witches, but they care for her. And she cares for them, too.
I hope they aren’t broken apart after this journey.
You’re putting too much pressure on yourself.
Well, I’ve been here before. I know what happens when people get too hopeful about breaking this curse. I know what it feels like to have those you care about die before your very eyes. And the nature of our curse makes it very hard to do anything about it when we’re spent.
I sigh and comb a hand through my hair, mussing it up so it stands straight up. We’re all sweaty and too hot and dirty from yesterday. Yet another thing that’s going to wear on us throughout our trip into the Door. I forgot how shitty this feeling is, and every moment is a new reminder of it.
Nury brings his horse up close to mine, so close that I turn my head and blink at him curiously. You don’t get this close to someone unless you want something from them.
“Yeah?” I ask.
Nury blinks at my shortness, then nods to the group ahead of us. “Is it safe for them to be up front? I thought they were the most important part of all the Halos.”
“They’re witches,” the human female named Rabia says as she kicks her heels into her horse to make it trot faster. “They don’t really need our protection.” She’s a big woman and speaks even less than Kerem, so I haven’t had much interaction with her, but she seems steady eno
ugh on her horse. I’m sure she knows how to swing the swords strapped to her back—and I wouldn’t want to ask to make double sure, because she has this fuck-off attitude that tells me to keep quiet.
But Nury doesn’t know to not push her. “Still though—we can’t take any chances, right?”
Rabia snorts. “I wouldn’t want to get in their way.”
“What do you think, Rahym?” Nury looks at me, his innocent eyes wide. I know exactly why he’s worried, too—Fatma’s up there, and he wants to swoop in and be the hero. The problem is there are no heroes in our world.
But I do remember being in his shoes with Maysa when I was younger. And, perhaps, I understand his position in a different way now. I want to be up there as well, because I want to make sure that Jennet is protected. I know that she can take care of herself, but that doesn’t keep me from having this sense of…overprotectiveness toward her.
I clench my jaw. “I think you’ll get your chance, Nury. Later. But don’t get in the way now.”
Nury watches the woman who has captivated his attention and gives a slow nod. “I guess you’re right.”
I can tell a defeatist attitude when I see one, so I change tack, trying to make him feel more at ease. “They all have different powers, right? Fatma will know if there are any demonlings coming. And they can do things we can’t.”
“Yeah.” He nods. “Fatma senses demonic presences. Kerem can heal injuries. Sena can hold back fire. And Jennet has the ability to transfer energy to one person.”
“Together, they make their own Halos with Nakir,” Rabia says gruffly. “I don’t even know why we’re here.”
“To make sure they get there,” Emre says, finally piping up. “Or are you doubting your own position within our group?”
She shakes her head. “No, sir. But I’m not here to be fodder for the demonlings. You know that.”
He nods. “I do.”
“Everyone else has their reasons, but…”
“I know, Rabia,” Emre says gently, and I remember him saying that her family died at the Caspian Sea. Suddenly, I see a flash of myself five, maybe ten years into the future where the absence of Maysa and Beste has molded me into someone cold. Someone I don’t recognize. And I don’t want that to be me. I’m sure that Rabia hasn’t always been someone who hardened her heart. But there’s a madness about her that comes when you don’t care for anyone, when you’re just living out of habit.
Which I realize I’ve been doing for three years now.
Does she have her own voice that speaks to her, too, I wonder?
Even though I’m still convinced that this whole journey will end in our deaths—I’m suddenly glad for it. I feel alive in a way that I haven’t in a long time. It’s giving me purpose for however much longer I’ll be living.
Maybe I should mark off Survive. I may have moved beyond that to something else.
Live.
At least, I feel tranquil that way until the demonlings attack. And everything goes to hell.
It starts with Fatma screaming.
Chapter 18
“They’re coming!” Fatma screams. “They’re coming! Theyrecomigtheyrecomingtheyrecoming…”
She sways on her horse, dangerously close to falling off, and Nury spurs ahead beside me to catch her—he won’t make it in time, but who am I to stop him? Thankfully, Kerem steadies her, and he rears back to us, shouting, “Demonlings are coming!”
“How many?” Nakir asks her. “And from where?”
Fatma looks way too pale and terrified for it to be anything but a huge crowd of them. “Lots,” she whispers. With a shaking hand, she points toward the horizon. Right in our path. It’s like they know we’re coming to the Watchtower.
Maybe Abaddon already knows we’re coming.
I exchange a nervous glance with the angel, and he catches my meaning. “We need to go,” he says, licking his lips. “Now.”
“Fatma can’t ride like this,” Jennet says, reaching out to touch a hand to the younger witch’s forehead. “She can barely stay in her saddle as it is.”
“We’ll die if we stay here. Rahym!” he roars at me, and I find myself gulping at the wrath of the angel. “Where’s the closest Door Stop?”
It’s the second day of our hard ride into the desert, and we’re nearing the furthest extent of my knowledge of this landscape. I shift to pull the map out of my saddlebags, unrolling it with a slight tremor to my own hands.
Don’t lose yourself now.
The map, to my dismay, shows the closest one about a three-mile ride in the direction right where Fatma was pointing. What kind of range does she have? Maybe they are too far. And maybe we can make it before we cross paths with the demonlings.
Assuming they aren’t out specifically looking for us. Fuck, wouldn’t that be bad luck? I think of the demonling that glared at me last night when I put out the other one’s head as a deterrent. Like he was promising vengeance for his fallen comrade.
Shit.
“We have to head three miles in that same direction,” I say, and I can see the change in everyone’s demeanor as they realize what that means. I just love being the bearer of bad news. Based on Fatma’s own shudder that runs through her body, it’s close enough to them that she doesn’t like it.
A few of the Halos curse under their breaths, panic evident on their faces.
“Where’s the second-closest Door Stop, then? One that’s not toward those monsters?” Murat asks desperately, speaking up for the first time in a long time. Good man. Smart man. Maybe he’ll have conserved enough energy to survive this.
Unlike the rest of us.
I shake my head, because that was the first thing I’d looked at. “Too far. We’d all fall into Hibernation before we ever get there.”
“Then we have to go toward the demonlings,” Nakir says.
Murat blinks. “But—”
“If we’re caught out in the open, we will all die,” Nakir says through gritted teeth. “We have no choice.”
“I’ll take Fatma,” Nury pipes up. Kerem opens his mouth to object—I see it, but he exchanges a glance with Jennet, an unspoken conversation happening between them, and he relents, helping the young witch change horses from hers to sitting behind Nury. She wraps her arms around his middle and buries her face into his back. His cheeks redden, and it’s not from the heat of the sun. Kerem takes the reins of Fatma’s horses and ties them to Nury’s saddle.
“Now, go,” Nakir orders without skipping a beat. He snaps his reins, and his horse spurs into a gallop. The rest of us follow suit, urging our horses to go forward.
“Go, Alion!” I cry, clacking the reins.
For once, he listens, streaking across the desert, reminding me why Akhal-Teke horses are legendary for their speed. He may have been a bit of a bastard earlier, but he’s moving, and that’s what I’m hoping for. And maybe, with his speed and the other horses running at the same pace, we’ll be able to make it after all.
Fat chance.
“Telescope!” Nakir shouts, holding out his hand to me.
I lean to one side of my saddle, dig around in my saddlebags, and pull out the telescope. I’m reminded just how expensive the damn thing is—and he wants to pass it off like a baton while riding our horses at this clip?
We’re all kinds of insane, aren’t we?
Yep. We wouldn’t be here if we weren’t. And with that thought in my mind, I grit my teeth and pass it to him. No problems there as Nakir grabs it from me and holds it up to his eye. He stands up in his stirrups to get a better look ahead of us, his angelic strength and balance keeping him in the saddle. Another moment and then he yells, “Go faster!”
How the hell can we possibly go faster when we’re already at our horses’ limits, when we’re nearing our own limits of exhaustion? Jennet glances at Nakir, disbelief in her eyes, before she looks at me, as if looking for validation from me. As if asking if I agree.
Hey, you’re the crazy one.
That’s right. I
guess it’s up to me. Suddenly, Survive seems like an impossible item on my to-do list.
At that thought, I dig my heels into my mount as I snap the reins again, harder. He snorts unhappily but surges forward, ahead of our pack.
I hear the pounding of hooves behind me, telling me that the other Halos are following suit.
Desperation edges into my mind as I haven’t seen the Door Stop yet. It should be in view, since it’s fewer than three miles from us now. There’s not a lot of landscape to obscure it. The terrain’s messing with me. We round a corner that must have blended with the rest of the tanned dunes, because I see a semicircle of rocks ahead of us, the outcropping casting shade into a little circle below. The Door Stop. It’s not as protected as the one from last night, more of a lean-to than a cave.
Some Door Stops are much more secluded than others. This falls into the other camp.
“Shit,” I ground out. I’d been hoping for something far more…protected. Less exposed to the elements. At this Door Stop, we’d have to hope that they miss our position entirely, or they’ll be able to see us if they have half a brain. We’re kicking up a huge trail of sand leading straight to our Door Stop. And then there’s the fact that they can probably hear us. Or smell us.
How well can demonlings smell anyway?
I inhale the hot desert air deeply through my nose and nearly gag. Hopefully not enough to smell my own brand of aroma.
Rabia and her horse near me, and even from my position on Alion’s back, I can feel the sand shifting underneath me.
“Rabia!” I shout in warning as I flail wildly, veering away from the ground as it splits and erupts underneath Alion’s gallop. No, no, no, not now. Don’t do this to us.
Rabia has time to meet my eyes before the very earth belches fire, spewing with hot bursts of flame. Her horse collapses underneath her with a shriek as she goes down with a cry herself.
I yank hard on the reins, and Alion rears back with his own neigh. The other Halos stop to look at us, but I wave them on. “Go! Get to the Door Stop!”