Halo Goodbye by Nazri Noor (first ebook reader .TXT) 📗

light that shimmered, gradually solidifying into a very familiar shape. My mouth was hanging open, my breath caught in my belly.

“Is that – is that really? You’re joking.”

“Yes, indeed,” Sadriel squealed. “Your very own halo.”

She held her hands with her palms facing up, and the halo floated into position, hovering there, waiting. I swallowed, remembering to breathe, a little too nervous. I was getting a halo? For real? I had to relax. This was just a halo, right? Not a coronation. And yet it felt every bit like it, the way Sadriel treated the ring of light like it was a delicate golden crown.

Sadriel stopped just a foot away from me, grinning excitedly into my face, like she was waiting for my permission to proceed. So I nodded. Carefully, and with some reverence, it seemed, she placed the halo on my head with both hands, stepping back and away slowly, her eyes reflecting its golden light.

I shrugged. “I guess I thought it was supposed to feel different. It’s just – I don’t know, it’s kind of warm, I guess? Like a warm hat.” I turned to Samyaza hopefully. “How do I look?”

He studied me, then reached out to adjust the halo’s position on my head, the way someone might fidget with the tongue of a baseball cap. The light spilling from it wavered, then stabilized when he drew away.

“There,” he said, smiling. “Looks good on you, kid.”

I perked up, both my chin and my spirits lifting. “Thanks. I hope it goes with my wardrobe.”

“Oh,” Sadriel said, her voice very serious. “I’m afraid it only comes in the one color. We don’t have a line of designer halos, as interesting as that might be. It was proposed to the higher ups once – by Raziel himself, would you believe – but the idea was put down quite quickly.”

“I was joking,” I said. “It works just fine. I think. I don’t know, I’ll have to look in the mirror and find out.”

“This is unprecedented, Mr. Albrecht. To my knowledge, heaven has never granted authorized use of a halo to a nephilim. To wear one, otherwise, would be considered sacrilege, stolen valor.” Sadriel cleared her throat. “Your father, unfortunately, won’t see any such privileges, and neither will any of the other Grigori.”

“I can live with that,” Samyaza grunted, his eyes dark. It was weird seeing him so grumpy. I’d gotten so used to him being so cheerful around Paradise, even borderline goofy. “I’ve worn them before. Overrated.”

Sadriel rolled her eyes away from him, then returned her attention to me, smiling. “Now that that’s all in order, Mr. Albrecht, I must make my return to the high heavens. I trust that you will wear your halo with pride.”

“Before that,” I said. “A very important question. Your department watches my kind all over the planet, right?”

It could have almost been so funny if it wasn’t so suspicious, seeing how quickly Sadriel stiffened and dropped her smile. “Indeed. The Department of Extracelestial Angelic Delinquency keeps a watchful eye on all active nephilim.” Then she added, under her breath: “Unlike some people.”

Samyaza grumbled.

“Right. You guys really need to find a better name for your department. DEAD isn’t the most appropriate acronym.” I folded my arms, then tilted my head at her. “Or maybe it is, because that’s exactly what seems to be happening right now. Nephilim. Dead. Everywhere. Did you know about this?”

Sadriel nudged her glasses up the bridge of her nose, then adjusted the collar of her shirt. “Well, it might have come to our attention, yes, but it wasn’t the reason I came to visit tonight.”

I folded my arms, planting my feet on the ground into a wider stance. “Were you planning on mentioning it to us at all?”

Her mouth pressed together into a flat line. I couldn’t tell if she was trying to convey that her lips were sealed, or if she was restraining the urge to say something nasty right to my face.

“Tell us what you know, Sadriel. Please. This halo, it’s a kind gesture, I guess. But help us. Help me help my siblings.”

She shook her head slowly. I was surprised by the softness in her face and her voice when she answered. “I cannot, Mr. Albrecht. Not right now.”

“Whoa,” Artemis called from afar. I peered out of my hut’s doorway, baffled by the interruption, only just realizing how bright the halo was. “Looking snazzy, kiddo.” She put her fingers in her mouth and wolf whistled. But then she stopped whatever she was doing, muttering to herself as she approached my hut. “Hey, who’s that in there with you?”

Sadriel backed up a couple of steps, her legs brushing against the edge of my bed, cornered. Samyaza stood beside me, legs astride, his arms folded, his face as dark as a storm.

We made way when Artemis arrived, partly because she shoved herself between us. She jabbed a finger towards Sadriel. “Who the hell is this chick? Did she bring you your shiny new hat?”

I sighed. “Long story.”

“Goodness,” Sadriel said, glancing at her wrist like she was supposed to be wearing a watch there. “I really should be going.”

“Your refusal to help speaks volumes of your character, Sadriel.” Samyaza was angry, but his voice was thick with sadness.

Something like hurt passed across Sadriel’s face, but the creases smoothened almost instantly, and the angel of order was perfect and unruffled once more. She lifted her nose, then vanished into a pillar of light that shot into the sky.

Artemis clucked her tongue. “Damn angels breaking in where they’re not wanted. That Raziel guy’s okay because he brings the right offerings, but her? Where are the snacks? I’m offended.” She stamped her foot. “Deeply offended, and hungry.”

“Aww, give her a break. She was kind of cute.”

That voice was familiar. We turned to find yet another intruder in Paradise, this one a man with blond curls, sun-kissed skin, and a white linen shirt that was unbuttoned way too low on his torso.

“Oh wow,” I said. “It’s been a