Angel of Death: (Reaper Series Book 1), Page 30

  AZRAEL'S WRATH

  Peyton, Darius and Eve all looked towards the voice. Azrael stood nearby, walking slowly towards them, his skeletal fingers wrapped tightly around the steel shaft of his scythe, only small patches of stringy, rotten flesh still clinging to the bones, some hanging like fallen cobwebs.

  “Azrael,” Darius sneered. He rose to his feet and stood between Azrael and Peyton, sliding his curved blade out of its sheathe. “You can’t have her.”

  Azrael began to laugh. It was a cruel laugh, full of condescension and ridicule. Darius only glared, gripping his blade tightly.

  “Eve couldn’t stand against me,” Azrael spat. “What chance do you think you have? You can’t stop me, Darius.”

  Azrael began to walk closer again, and Darius noticed he was limping, using his scythe to lean on. Darius suddenly grinned.

  “You’re weakened,” he said. “The souls inside you… They’ve begun to take their toll, haven’t they? You’re losing strength.”

  “I am still stronger than you, Darius,” Azrael sneered. “Stronger than any of you. And once I have the girl’s soul, I will be stronger than anyone in Heaven. I will be all-powerful.”

  “I don’t think so, Azrael,” Darius replied. “I’ll never let you take Peyton’s soul. Even if that means I have to die to protect her. But no matter what happens here, I can guarantee that you will lose. One way or the other, you will be stopped. You will be destroyed. But if you walk away now, I won’t stop you. I won’t hunt you. I’ll let you go. We all will. If you just leave and give up on this pointless war you’re waging. Just walk away.”

  Azrael stopped and stared at Darius from under his hood. Darius could feel the rage radiating out from him. Azrael definitely looked in bad shape. He seemed to be unsteady on his feet. Even his robe seemed to have decayed, now looking frayed and torn, the ribbons blowing gently in the breeze.

  “I’ll never stop,” Azrael spat.

  Darius paused before saying anything further. Then, without taking his eyes off of Azrael, he spoke over his shoulder. “Peyton? Please.”

  Everyone was silent for countless heartbeats. Eve watched weakly from the ground as Peyton thought hard. Darius prayed that she would give him the chance he asked for. Azrael stared at her from under his hood as he slowly advanced. Finally, Peyton looked squarely at Darius and replied.

  “Fate said this is the only way, Darius. I need to give Azrael my soul.”

  Darius felt his heart sink at Peyton’s response. He didn’t want the outcome to be like this. But, he was left with no alternative.

  “That’s your choice, Peyton. But I have a choice, too. Eve!” Darius shouted. “Take Peyton!”

  In the blink of an eye, Eve’s wings burst forth from behind her shoulders and closed around Peyton and herself, Peyton trying to protest, but everything happened too fast for her to react in time. The violet vortex spun open and the two women were drawn into it, vanishing in its light.

  “NO!”

  Azrael cried out as the vortex began to close. He moved forward in a flash, extending his wings as he moved. Using one wing, he knocked Darius aside, sending him flying backwards. As the vortex drew closed, Azrael swung his scythe at the fading light, swinging it blade-first directly into the vortex. There was a bright flash and a loud crack of electricity, and Darius felt a rush of wind blow over him. He looked up and saw Azrael standing with his scythe still in his hands. His robes were billowing around him in a hurricane of wind. His scythe was stuck inside the vortex, the powerful blade preventing it from closing all the way. Sparks were flying from the steel blade as the violet portal tried to close itself, but couldn’t. Azrael tightened his grip on the staff of his scythe and, as Darius watched, he began to pull. The vortex resisted, but began to slowly widen as Azrael used his scythe to force it open.

  Darius jumped to his feet, brandishing his curved blade and squaring off with Azrael. He raced forward, only a blur in the darkness, and drove his blade deep between Azrael’s ribs, the momentum carrying them both through the air, away from the vortex and the scythe. Darius slammed Azrael into the ground, pulling his blade out of Azrael’s body and stood over him. Darius looked over his shoulder, back at the vortex. Azrael’s scythe was still lodged in the small opening, sparks flying through the air, the staff vibrating from the effort of the portal trying to close. Darius turned back to Azrael and saw him rising to his feet, decayed wings slowly spreading wide. Darius couldn’t see the expression on Azrael’s face, as his hood still kept him hidden in darkness, but Darius could feel the anger pulsing through the air around the Angel.

  Darius slashed at Azrael, his blade whizzing through the air, but Azrael dodged every slash, every stab, every cut. The air was full of whirling steel, Darius’ hand only a blur as he moved with immeasurable speed, but Azrael avoided every blow, leaning left, right, sidestepping, ducking, Darius’ blade catching nothing but air as it sailed harmlessly by. As Darius brought the blade swinging down towards Azrael’s chest, Azrael reached out and wrapped his skeletal fingers around Darius’ wrist, his vice-like grip stopping Darius from bringing the blade any closer. Then, with his other hand, Azrael punched Darius in the chest with an open hand and sent Darius soaring backwards. Darius smashed straight through a tree, reducing it to splinters, before crashing to the ground and rolling through the grass and dirt, the tall tree now falling sideways, creaking loudly until it crashed noisily to the ground. He looked up and saw Azrael advancing on him.

  “Why do you insist on defying me?” Azrael roared, his voice growing louder and louder. “Why? We could have helped one another!”

  Azrael reached Darius and, before he could climb back to his feet, Azrael kicked Darius in the stomach. Darius rolled along the ground several feet, then stopped, clutching his stomach and gasping for air.

  “I created you!” Azrael continued to shout. “I gave you life!”

  “You used my fear of death against me,” Darius hissed.

  “You were weak!” Azrael spat. “You were weak in life, so in death, I gave you strength! And what do you do to repay my kindness? You betray me!”

  As he shouted the word ‘betray,’ Azrael kicked Darius in the face. Darius spun on the ground, the force of the kick sending him skidding across the dirt again. He felt blood spill from his mouth and run down his chin.

  “You could have been at my side, with me, when I take back Heaven,” Azrael whispered, pointing down at Darius and sounding genuinely saddened.

  “To what end, Azrael?” Darius demanded, slowly climbing to his knees. “Will you be a kind and fair God? Will you help guide humanity and Angels to a higher plain of existence? Or will you decimate Heaven and subject humanity to a life of imprisonment and slavery? A farm of souls to power you for eternity?”

  “You don’t understand,” Azrael said. “None of you understand. I never wanted this! I never wanted to be here! I was not supposed to ferry the wretched dead from one world to the next! I did not volunteer! I was told, ordered to take this duty, which I never wanted. This is not what I was supposed to do. I’ve had enough. I can’t do it any longer. I want to go back to Heaven, I want to have the power to rule over my own life and fate! Not because I am selfish, but because I believe the humans need me! Their gods ignore them, they are left alone to live meaningless, empty lives of self-preservation and fear. They do not even know how alone they truly are! They feel it, but do not understand it. Many think that creatures like us do not exist, that there is no God, no Heaven, no Hell, no Angels or any of it. They do not understand what is required of them, they do not understand their importance in the universe. The ones who do believe suffer, because they feel abandoned. Their God has abandoned them. They can feel it! They are lost and lonely children, in desperate need of a hand to guide them, to discipline them. To stop all the senseless violence, death and war that is carried out daily in the name of a God that has chosen to ignore them. I will lead humanity into a new age, an age where they will sacrifice some freedoms fo
r the good of everyone, guided by a new God, one who will not ignore them, one who will not abandon them. But you… You think you can stop me?”

  Azrael swung a fist down at Darius and punched him square on the left cheek, the sound of the impact sounding like thunder booming across the sky. Darius fell down to the earth again. He tried to push himself up, but was feeling dazed and couldn’t seem to balance himself well enough to lift himself off the ground.

  “You can’t stop me, Darius,” Azrael said in a whisper. “No one can. Even as the souls inside me burn away my flesh and weaken my body, I am still stronger than anyone who will oppose me. And now, even you will die.”

  Azrael reached down and grabbed Darius by the throat and lifted him up to look into his eyes. Darius looked into the hood and, though he couldn’t see Azrael’s face clearly, he could just see that Azrael was looking far more skeletal than the last time he saw his face. His green eyes burned bright, but they seemed sunken into their sockets.

  “Did I ever tell you what happens to a Reaper when it dies, Darius?” Azrael asked quietly.

  Darius struggled to break free of Azrael’s tight grip, but the bony fingers were like stone and Darius could not remove them from his throat. He looked around and saw his blade lying in the dirt several yards away. There was no way he could reach it.

  “Nothing,” Azrael said. “When a Reaper dies, nothing happens. They don’t go to Heaven, they don’t go to Purgatory, even Tartarus won’t claim them. They simply cease to exist. You will vanish as though you never were. And your very last thought will be that you could not save the mortal and that her soul will soon… be… mine.”

  Darius felt Azrael’s grip begin to tighten. He felt his air supply get cut off and he began to kick wildly, trying desperately to break free. His eyes bulged out and his mouth opened and closed in a futile attempt to breathe. Azrael stared from under his hood, watching his favorite Reaper die.

  Suddenly, Darius reached out to his blade that lied yards away, far out of reach. A black void opened beneath it and the blade fell inside. The void closed and, in an instant, another void opened in the air above Darius’ outstretched hand. The blade fell through and Darius caught it in the air. Before Azrael could react, Darius brought the sharp steel down and implanted it deep inside Azrael’s hood. He felt bone resist, then break, as the sharp blade broke through and impaled Azrael’s face.

  Azrael shrieked in pain and let go of Darius’ throat. Azrael pulled away and Darius held on to his blade, pulling it out of Azrael’s skull with a sickening grind of steel on bone. Darius gasped for breath, holding his throat where Azrael had nearly crushed the life out of him. Azrael staggered away, holding his face and groaning. Darius took the opportunity to hurry over to the scythe that was still sparking and vibrating in midair. Sheathing his blade, Darius took hold of the scythe and tried to pull it out, so the portal could close. Once it was closed, Azrael wouldn’t be able to follow Peyton.

  Before Darius could move the scythe an inch, Azrael crashed into him, his wings extended to their full width, and carried him through the air at breakneck speed. They soared higher and higher into the sky, the ground quickly dropping from beneath their feet, leaving Central Park and heading toward the city. Darius saw the zoo flash by in an instant, then found himself surrounded by the tall buildings of New York City. Darius began fighting against Azrael’s hold, his fists and elbows and feet flying as he used every part of his body to attack, but Azrael fought back, holding Darius with one hand, throwing punch after punch at Darius’ head. As they fought in mid-air, Azrael circled around the southern end of Manhattan and began flying back towards the center of the island and directly towards the bright lights of the city, tall buildings rising around them. Darius looked ahead and saw his own reflection rapidly growing as he and Azrael flew at full speed toward the dark windows of a tall building.

  Azrael carried Darius with full force straight into the windows of the building, the pair of them shattering the glass and flying straight through the empty offices and hallways inside. Azrael smashed his way through the building, using Darius’ body as a battering ram, crashing through walls, desks, pillars, anything that stood in the way was instantly reduced to rubble, splinters and dust. Finally, they came out the other side of the building, glass shards bursting outwards with them in a magnificent bullet-paced exit. Azrael spun in the air and launched Darius through the air with extra momentum. Darius tumbled and spun helplessly, having no means to stop himself from falling. He fell at incredible speed, tumbling over and over, the world spinning so fast around him he had no idea if he was facing up or down.

  Finally, he crashed into the street with enough force that he cracked the road, bounced from the impact and continued to tumble through the air along the street. He collided with a yellow cab with such force that the side of the vehicle crumpled and the whole car tipped over as Darius continued sailing through the air, then he tumbled along the street until he crashed through a statue of some sort, shattering it from the force of his crash, the head of the statue sailing through the air. Darius crashed into something big and red and finally stopped, dust floating down around him as he lied motionless in the chaos.

  Slowly, carefully, Darius began to climb to his feet. He stumbled and nearly fell again, rubble collapsing around him as it was disturbed by his movements, but he managed to hold himself up against the broken remains of the red thing. Looking around, he saw where he had landed.

  Times Square. He had crashed right on 7th Avenue and smashed into the red stairs on Duffy Square. The stairs were crushed beneath him, snapped and broken from his impact, the statue of Francis P. Duffy reduced to rubble, the head lying in the street several yards away. Bright lights and billboards shone down at him from all directions, illuminating the otherwise dark night. There were people all around. They were staring at Darius in shock, whispering to each other, many were taking pictures. Traffic had all but stopped, drivers and passengers staring out their windows at the path of destruction that had crossed Times Square and come to rest on the infamous red steps, where a bleeding man was slowly rising to his feet. Darius realized that he had not hidden himself from the eyes of mortals, having become accustomed to letting Peyton see him.

  Before he could even consider hiding behind the veil, a dark figure sped out of the sky and landed on his feet on the road in front of Darius, the impact of his landing cracking the pavement beneath his feet. His wings were still extended, the bones and tattered remains of flesh still exposed. Azrael glared at Darius from under his hood, letting his wings reach their full width, which nearly reached from 7th to Broadway, close to the full width of Duffy Square. People suddenly began to scream. They screamed and suddenly people were running, fleeing from the terrifying creature from their nightmares, while others still continued to furiously take photographs. A uniformed officer of the NYPD hurried over, pulling his gun from his holster. He aimed the revolver at Azrael, the gun quivering as the young cop held firm, but shook with fear.

  “Freeze!” the cop shouted.

  “Get out of here!” Darius yelled at him, but it was too late.

  In no mood for interruptions, Azrael sped towards the cop and, using one wing, cut the officer in half. The cop looked momentarily surprised, blood instantly pouring from his mouth and down his chin, but then he collapsed in two separate heaps, staring at his own legs, now detached from his body.

  Darius dove forward to tackle Azrael, but with an almost careless backhand, Azrael knocked him out of the air. Darius hit the ground and was still. His face was broken and bloody, his entire left arm covered in his own blood as he suffered numerous cuts from broken glass. He felt like most of his ribs were broken and one eye wouldn’t open all the way. Blood poured, thick and dark, from his nose. Darius turned his head and spat, coughing up more blood that splattered against the concrete.

  “You can’t stop me, Darius,” Azrael said. “You can’t stop Death.”

  Darius glared up at Azrael from the gr
ound, pain and fury mixing on his face. “You’re not Death, Azrael. Just an Angel who became a monster.”

  Sirens blared in the distance and red and blue lights began flashing down the street. Azrael turned his head and watched as a pair of police vehicles screeched to a halt a few yards away, the officers inside staring in horror at the creature that stood in the middle of Times Square, wearing a dark cloak that was ripped and rotten, with enormous skeletal wings folded on its back. The officers jumped out of their cars and, crouching behind the open doors, pulled their guns out and trained them on Azrael.

  “What the hell is that thing?” Darius heard one of them ask.

  Azrael looked back down at Darius. “They’re worthless, Darius,” he said. “They’re pathetic insects. A drain on all creation, wasting their potential as they float through their lives. They have no idea what they’re doing, where they’re going, why they’re here. They don’t care about anything but themselves. They consume every resource they have until there is nothing left, then they move on to the next to devour that as well. They need me to stop them. They need me to show them the truth. They overpopulate this planet, this beautiful planet that they had handed to them, a wondrous gift from their creator, and they are on the verge of destroying it. Between their relentless pollution and out-of-control overpopulation, they are destroying this planet and themselves. But once I destroy their industries and thin out their numbers, they will be free to learn the secrets of the universe that I can share with them. They will understand, as I do, why they all exist.”

  “Attention… winged-man!” one officer shouted out, sounding unsure of how to address Azrael. “Keep your hands where we can see them! Step away from the man on the ground!”

  Azrael looked back towards the officers. There were four guns aimed directly at his chest, but he didn’t care. He glanced back down at Darius.

  “Let me show you how fragile and weak these humans are,” Azrael said.

  “No…” Darius tried to say, but Azrael was already moving.

  Azrael turned towards the police officers, arcing his wings upwards in a threatening fashion, looking like a dragon about to take flight. He reached up to his hood, letting his skeletal hands and forearms show through the tattered remains of his rotting robes. When the police saw Azrael’s rotting limbs, they all took a hesitant step backwards, like they were all considering fleeing, but New York’s finest stood their ground and watched as Azrael took hold of his hood and slowly lowered it from over his head.

  “Oh my God,” one cop said in horror.

  Azrael’s face had been ravaged. Where it had once been smooth and attractive, it was now a grotesque disarray of peeling flesh and exposed bone. Only a small amount of tendons and skin remained around the jawline and in patches down his neck. His exposed skull was dark and rotted, his skeletal mouth clenched tightly as he surveyed the horrified cops, but how he could see was unclear, because even his eyes had decayed to nothing. His eye sockets were empty, but deep inside, an ethereal green light burned like small fires, like the flames of a bright candle. Azrael stared at the police officers with the burning light from his otherwise empty sockets. He began to walk towards them. Slowly, with obvious ill-intent, he flapped his wings once, the air disturbance blowing the hats off the officers’ heads and making them squint their eyes. Azrael stopped halfway between the police and Darius and, spreading his wings wide and curling his skinless fingers at his sides like claws, he opened his mouth and roared. He roared at the police with a horrifying sound that reverberated all through Times Square, making the air quiver and teeth rattle. The sound he made was unlike any sound ever heard by human ears. It was louder than any animal roar, making a lion’s roar sound like the meow of a kitten. It was a deep, resonating bass, the sound completely surrounding, but also shaking right through the body, but within the bass of his roar, there was also a high-pitched wail, the shriek of an eagle that went on and on.

  “Open fire!” one cop screamed.

  He, and the other three officers, began firing at will, each bullet landing home in Azrael’s chest. Azrael stopped roaring, but simply stood there, allowing the police to empty their clips into his body. Shot after shot rang out across Times Square, none of them having any effect on Azrael. Finally, one by one, the cops stopped firing and slowly lowered their revolvers. Azrael stared back at them, his skull grinning at them all. The moment seemed frozen in time, Azrael glaring at the officers, them staring back at him. No one seemed willing to move, but then, Azrael began to laugh. It was a cruel laugh, full of ridicule. And then he suddenly stopped laughing and rushed at the police.

  He moved so fast that the police barely even knew what was happening while it happened. Only Darius was able to keep track of Azrael as he shot through the police with all the speed of an Angel. Azrael reached the first officer and, grabbing him by the jaw, instantly snapped his neck with one hand. Then he tossed the lifeless corpse aside and moved in a blur towards the next cop, who was trying to load a new clip into his gun. Azrael impaled him through the back with his wing and then immediately flung him backwards over his shoulder. The next cop had noticed something happening to his left and was turning to see what the movement in his peripheral vision was, only to come eye to eye with Azrael’s burning green embers, deep within the sockets of his skull. Then Azrael grabbed him by the throat and threw him through the air. As the officer soared, Azrael opened a void, which swallowed the officer as he screamed, the screams being cut off as the void closed. Then another void opened somewhere above and the man came tumbling out of it, screaming, speeding headfirst towards the ground. The final officer saw Azrael coming for him and had managed to reload his gun. He took aim and fired more shots into Azrael’s body as he rushed towards him, wings flapping to build even more speed. Azrael raced right up to the officer and plunged a hand into the officer’s chest. The cop froze and made a noise like he had been punched in the stomach. He dropped his gun and stared at Azrael in horror. Right before Azrael ripped out his heart.

  Darius closed his eyes and looked away, feeling more helpless than he ever had in his life. It had all happened in only a few seconds and Darius was too injured to have done anything to stop it. Azrael, his skull still grinning horribly, began to slowly walk towards Darius, ready to finish him off, the green fire in his eyes burning brighter and brighter. Darius watched him approach, not moving, barely able to see out of his half-closed eye, his face filthy with his own blood. Azrael stood over him now, staring down at him, his rotten skull grinning horribly. Azrael folded his wings against his back and just stood there, staring down at Darius. Then, with curled fingers, he reached down to grab hold of Darius.

  Darius, without thinking, then opened another portal. Right beneath his body. Azrael tried to grab him, but his fingers only curled around air as Darius plummeted into the void, vanishing into darkness as the opening closed, Azrael’s furious roars echoing only in his memory.