by Erin Hayes
The rest of the room is silent as the fallen angel sweeps his eyes around the room. “The curse is lifted,” he says simply. “Go live your lives.”
I see the demonlings exchange uneasy glances with each other, as if doubting it to be true. After all, there could be no way, right?
After living my entire life with it, I don’t even believe it myself.
But I could care less what an asshole gaggle of demonlings are doing. They should know better than to try anything right now.
After all, I’m barely hanging in there in a different way.
I look down at Jennet in my arms, and she still hasn’t stirred. Like the curse being lifted hasn’t changed her status.
“No,” I say hoarsely. “No, the curse is gone, Jennet. You have to wake up! You have to—”
I feel the footsteps near me, and I look up as Nakir kneels next to me. “I tried a few times,” he murmurs softly, “to break Abaddon’s curse. My brother’s curse. So much energy wasted. So much I could have done differently to tip the scales. She made all the difference, you know,” he adds, gesturing with his chin to her still body. “It was arrogance that had prevented me from considering going to the witches before for help. To use their powers to help.”
He looks at me, his expression grim. “A happy ending isn’t just the work of one man,” he says. A smirk plays across his lips. “It’s the result of those who help you along the way. To remind you why you’re fighting. And,” he adds softly, coyly, as he takes Jennet’s hand in his own, “every happy ending needs a kiss to wake up the princess from the spell. Or in our case, the curse.”
For a crazed second, I think he means I need to kiss him. I lick my dry, chapped lips and look down at Jennet’s form, still so beautiful and so still in my hands. I lean forward and kiss her, gently at first, but more insistent, more needy, as I beg her to come back to me, from wherever she is.
It starts as a flutter of movement in my arms, so faint that I don’t even realize it’s happening until I pull back to look at her. A muscle twitches in her cheek, and a shallow breath rocks through her lungs.
And she opens her eyes. I cry out her name, holding her to me. Unable to believe that a miracle as wonderful as this could have happened.
“Hey,” she whispers. “Did we win?”
Chapter 29
The sun is high in the sky and the heat is as intense as ever as we emerge from the Watchtower. Tired, spent, and at our wits’ end.
But alive and free of the curse.
I hadn’t believed it could happen until now. That it was even possible. Because when the odds are stacked against you like they were against us, it seems like all hope fades.
Good thing you’re too stubborn to give up.
“There you are,” I mutter to myself. For a few blissful hours, I wondered if that voice had gone away with the curse. Turns out, it’s still here. Like an old friend. Or like a permanent part of my conscience.
Jennet glances up at me, as I’ve spoken the words out loud, but doesn’t say anything. A playful smile tugs at her lips, but she lets me deal with everything the way I need to.
I’ll always be the broken man from three years ago, but bit by bit, I’m finding out that it’s not the end of the world. I’ve faced that and lived to tell the tale. I look down at Jennet’s hand in my own and give it a squeeze.
How wonderful and absolutely freeing it is to have her give me a squeeze back without calculating how much energy that will take.
Fatma is waiting for us with the horses, a look of utter disbelief on her features. She knows that she should be deep into Hibernation by now—after the hard ride we had this morning, we should all be at the mercy of the curse now.
“Did you…” she calls out to us, and she hesitates, like she can’t find the right words to accurately convey the question. Like she can’t believe what she’s feeling herself.
Jennet nods, and a strangled cry escapes the younger witch’s lips as she launches herself into the other woman’s arms. Deep, wracking sobs shake Fatma’s body as she buries her face into Jennet’s shoulder, tired, worn-out sobs, and the two witches kneel to the ground, hugging each other as they cry.
A sense of guilt hits me then, for those we lost. Nury almost made it, could have had a happy ending with Fatma.
Not only him, but Kerem, who used his last moments to heal Nakir.
Rabia, who joined the Halos to fight for her dead family.
Murat, who had conceded that he lost in the game of love with Jennet.
Sena, who bravely walked through fire to protect us.
The first group of Halos and dreamers who had this crazy idea of taking on the Demon Lord themselves for the good of mankind.
I think of Emre, who, for his own reasons, decided to betray us. I’ll never understand why, but I know what desperation looks like on a man. It’s in the daily lists that are needed to make it through another day of life. It’s in the fact that he’s too tired and attached to cut down the tree that reminds him of his dead wife.
It’s in his decision to join a suicide mission.
It’s in the fact that I’m standing here now, after beating the odds, and wondering how I live a life without boundaries.
“I imagine the people of Derweze are probably still conserving their energy,” Nakir says to me. I glance over at him. “They probably don’t know what happened. They probably won’t believe it for a long time from now.”
“I still don’t believe it,” I murmur softly as I lock eyes with Jennet. She gives me a tired smile but turns away to take care of Fatma. I imagine Fatma will need a lot more help to get through these next few months, but it is possible to move on.
Now that we’ve done the impossible, I know that it can be done.
Nakir clasps my hand, a broad smile on his face. “Thank you,” he says. “Thank you for not giving up on me.”
“We had no choice,” I say with a nonchalant shrug, although my heart swells with emotion. “It was either follow you here or die out in the Door.” Neither decision was appealing.
“No.” Nakir shakes his head. “Even beyond that. You joined Halos again after…after everything I put you through the first time.”
I pause. Of course, I’m not going to tell him it’s all right. So many hopes and dreams were shattered on that first trip. I nearly didn’t make it out myself, but…
“I understand your reasons,” I say simply. “I may not agree with them, but I understand.”
A nod. “That’s all I ask for.”
Nakir takes the reins for his big bay Akhal-Teke and slings himself into the saddle.
I frown after him, my mind stuttering to a halt. “Wait… Where are you going?” When we had just accomplished everything we set out for?
The fallen angel grins down at us, his eyes sweeping from Fatma, to Jennet, finally to me. “You don’t need an angel with you anymore,” he says finally. “You don’t need me around.”
“But…” I fumble for words.
Nakir nods over toward Jennet and lowers his voice so he only speaks to me. “A long time ago, I fell from Heaven for the love of a woman. I was a broken man like you once, and now that I see you’re able to put the pieces back together, then maybe…” His voice trails off as he looks at the two witches. “Then maybe there’s something more for me after all this.”
“So you’re leaving?” My voice rises in anger, but the angel doesn’t back down.
“What else are you going to do with an angel?” he asks amusedly. “You already have one there. Two by my estimates.”
Jennet stills as she looks up at him, her jaw falling open. “What do you mean?” she asks.
But the fallen angel tilts his head toward us in good-bye, grinning like a madman. “I may be seeing you around,” he says with a laugh. “Maybe.”
He clacks the reins and gallops away. To where, I’m not sure.
But he has all the time and energy in the world to find out.
About the Authors
&n
bsp; Sci-fi junkie, video game nerd, and wannabe manga artist Erin Hayes writes a lot of things. Sometimes she writes books.
She works as an advertising copywriter by day, and she's an award-winning New York Times Bestselling Author by night. She has lived in New Zealand, Hawaii, Texas, Alabama, and now San Francisco with her husband, cat, and a growing collection of geek paraphernalia.
You can reach her at [email protected] and she’ll be happy to chat. Especially if you want to debate Star Wars.
www.ErinHayesBooks.com
NEW YORK TIMES, USA TODAY, and WALL STREET JOURNAL bestselling author Rebecca Hamilton lives in Georgia with her husband and four kids, all of whom inspire her writing. Somewhere in between using magic to disappear booboos and sorcery to heal emotional wounds, she takes to her fictional worlds to see what perilous situations her characters will find themselves in next. Represented by Rossano Trentin of TZLA, Rebecca has been published internationally, in three languages.
www.rebeccahamiltonbooks.com