Chapter 1
Haatim clutched the gun in his hands. They shook, and he worried that he might lose his grip and drop it onto the floor. He stood in the loading area of the hotel in Switzerland, where the Council had resided over the last few months, and aimed the pistol at his father.
He had found the weapon on the floor near his father, who looked to have a broken leg and had trouble moving. Aram looked at him with an expression of sadness and terror, which should have made it harder for Haatim to want to hurt him.
It didn’t.
“I should shoot you,” he whispered, the words barely audible. “I should pull the trigger and end this.”
“Haatim, please. I’m your father.”
“Is that supposed to make everything better? Should that absolve you of your crimes?”
“I love you, son. I never wanted any of this to happen. Please, don’t do this.”
The sheer insanity of the situation washed over Haatim and made him feel dizzy. A year ago, he had known nothing about the Council of Chaldea or the Hunters who served them by stopping supernatural and demonic threats. He’d had no idea that his father was anything except a religious figure in his community who went on a lot of business trips on behalf of his congregation.
Now, here he stood, trying to wrap his mind around the fact that he might actually pull the trigger. He might end his father’s life, the man who’d raised and protected and taken care of him. The man who’d taught him right from wrong.
The man who’d gotten it wrong.
Nausea gripped Haatim, and everything about this situation felt surreal as if he watched all of this happen from outside his body rather than as an active participant. His mind numb, and hands sweaty, he couldn’t think straight.
“Why would you do this?” he asked. Then he shook his head. “No. I don’t want to know. Nothing you say could absolve you for your crimes.”
Abigail dead. The Council betrayed and murdered. The hotel a devastated wreck out in the middle of nowhere. And all caused by the man cowering on the ground before him. Haatim couldn’t remember ever getting so angry in his entire life. He felt furious at the betrayal, the manipulations, the hypocrisy, everything.
At the same time, an empty pit of grief also filled his heart. The sheer finality of what had happened sank in for him, albeit slowly. There could be no going back. This part of his life had finished, and he would never look at his father the same way again.
It seemed like he was closing out a chapter of his life and losing a part of him that he could never get back. He had never imagined that his father could keep so much from him.
Aram whimpered on the floor in front of him, leg broken and battered. The man held his left hand in the air between the two of them with an expression of confused fear. Mixed in with that fear, though, Haatim saw resignation. It looked as though he’d already decided that Haatim would pull the trigger and end his life.
Maybe he should.
“Haatim, please …”
Haatim didn’t want answers, but he needed them.
“How could you do this?” he asked his father. “All of these people are dead because of you.”
“Let me explain.”
“Explain what? Nida? Betraying the Council? What could you possibly say to justify this?”
“I did it for us.”
The words hit like a punch to Haatim’s gut, a lie so brazen it took his breath away. Haatim’s hands tightened on the grip of his gun, and he narrowed his eyes. Could his father have become so deluded that he believed his words true?
“You did it for you. All of this, you did for your own selfish reasons and nothing else. Don’t you dare try to bring me into this.”
“When Nida got sick, your mother—”
“Not her, either. My mother had nothing to do with this.”
“You don’t understand …”
“I understand perfectly. You made a deal with the devil to get back your daughter, and now everyone else has paid the price for your crimes.”
“It isn’t that simple.”
“No. It is. You are a coward and a traitor.”
“Haatim.”
Haatim ignored him. “Right now, I’m just trying to decide if I should shoot you, or let Frieda decide what to do with you.”
Aram blinked. “Frieda is still alive?”
“Does that surprise you? Did that not form part of your bargain with The Ninth Circle?”
Aram winced. “No, it isn’t that. I just … she was all Nida wanted. She promised me … I didn’t think …”
“You didn’t think what?”
Aram took a deep breath. “Nida promised to take only Frieda and leave everyone else. No one should even have known of her presence until Frieda had gone.”
“Oh, so you only tried to betray and murder one person. Is that supposed to make me feel all rosy inside?”
“No. No … I just … who else survived?”
Haatim didn’t reply immediately. He felt unsure if he should withhold any information from his father, considering what had happened. Not because he thought his father might use it against them or betray them further.
The thing was, he didn’t doubt his father’s sincerity; at least, not in how things had played out. Aram seemed genuinely distraught by what had happened here, and it was clear that none of this had been in his original plan.
He had simply tried to play with fire and learned the hard way that it’s easy to get burned.
No, Haatim considered withholding the information because his father didn’t deserve to know. He had betrayed them and caused all of this to happen, and Aram found it painful not to know how badly everything had turned out. Part of Haatim wanted to keep him in the dark about it and torture him further.
But that part of himself, he didn’t want to give rise to. He felt furious, and the more he tapped into that anger, the angrier he became. No matter what happened, he didn’t want to become that kind of person. At length, he could see nothing to be gained by withholding the information.
“Dominick,” Haatim said.
A moment passed. “Is that all?”
“Yes.”
“You said I got her killed a few moments ago,” Aram said. “Who did you mean?”
Haatim’s hands shook again while emotion coursed through his body. He couldn’t find the words to speak, only rage.
“Abigail,” Aram finished, face turning pale. “Oh, son, I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t say her name,” Haatim said in an anguished whisper. Then, with more anger, “You have no right.”
“You have no idea how much I regret what happened.”
“Your regrets mean nothing. Only actions, and your actions got her killed.”
“Then, do it. Please. Pull the trigger. I’m guilty. I confess. I deserve this.”
“I know you’re guilty. But I need to know everything. I need to know what else you’ve done.”
“You know it all.”
“I need you to say it.”
“I worked with The Ninth Circle. I thought I could manipulate them, but clearly, they manipulated me.”
“What else?”
“Nothing.”
“Don’t lie.”
“I’m not. I have nothing to hide. I’ve lost everything in my life, everything that mattered to me, and without you, I have nothing; I can see it in your eyes: I’ve lost you too. Pull the trigger and end it, Haatim. You’re right, I’m guilty, and I should pay for my crimes.”
Haatim’s hands shook some more. With his finger, he could feel the cool, curved metal of the trigger. He wanted to squeeze it in the hopes that it might offer a solution to the pain and misery coursing through his soul. Silent, jaw clenched and eyes hard, he prayed that it would give a balm against the agonizing loss and despair that smothered him.
However, killing Aram wouldn’t bring a solution to his problems or the way he felt. It wouldn’t make anything better, and if anything, would serve to make things worse.
Haatim lowered the gun to his side and let out a shuddering breath.
“Abigail is dead,” he said, the words spilling forth. Even as he spoke, he had trouble admitting them as true. The words sounded hollow and unreal, like a sentence he wasn’t supposed to say aloud. “You got her killed.”
“I’m sorry; I never—”
“Yes, you did. You got your wish. She died saving Frieda’s life.”
“How?”
“A train wreck and explosion. We couldn’t even find her body.”
“Haatim, I …”
“Maybe, I should execute you.” Haatim ignored the man on the ground in front of him. “A part of me knows it would be the right thing to do. I know you deserve to pay, the same as I know that all the people you betrayed didn’t deserve it.”
Aram stared up at him, bottom lip trembling.
“But I won’t kill you.”
“Thank you, Haatim.”
He shook his head. “Not because I shouldn’t kill you, but because I want to. A large part of me wants to kill you, but for vengeance. Not justice. Then, I would be just as bad as you. I refuse to sink to that level.”
Aram didn’t reply, but Haatim could tell by his father’s face that the words had stung him.
“Also, I won’t forgive you. Ever. I’m done with you, and I never want to see you again for the rest of my life. Do you understand?”
“Haatim.”
“Do you understand?” He gave his father a hard stare. “We’re done.”
Aram remained silent for a long moment, letting the finality of the words sink in. Finally, he looked away, unable to meet his son’s gaze. “I understand.”
Haatim nodded. “This is the last time you’ll ever speak to me. Goodbye, Aram.”
Haatim turned and strode out of the room before his father could respond. He headed back out into the cold night air outside the loading bay of the hotel. The wind washed over him, chilling the sweat on his skin and making him shiver.
For a long while, he stood there, listening to the wind and watching the snow swirl around him. Emotion and energy drained out of him, leaving him a husk standing in the cold Switzerland air, alone and broken.
Haatim couldn’t believe how close he’d come to murdering his father, but he also couldn’t believe that a part of him still wanted to go back in and finish the job. Lost and confused, he didn’t have any clue what he should do.
This world, he didn’t know. This world, he didn’t belong in. This life seemed too brutal, too evil, and he felt unready to spend his entire future balancing on a knife’s edge between life and death.
This wasn’t his world.
