Angel of Death: (Reaper Series Book 1), Page 34

  1ST CORINTHIANS 15:26

  Azrael stood with Peyton’s glowing soul in the palm of one hand, staring down at it like a child on Christmas who just received a deeply desired gift. With his other hand, he was holding Peyton’s arm, gripping tightly, the only thing that kept her from falling to the ground. There were tendrils of light and energy trailing from the main body of the orb and back into various points on Peyton’s chest. She still seemed to be aware, staring at her own soul in horror, her face completely void of color, her eyes wide and her mouth open in a silent scream of pain and fear. Azrael was pulling out her soul. As she watched, he began to raise it to his mouth. He opened his skeletal jaw, bringing the soul to where his lips used to be. He began to inhale, a long, drawn out breath that sounded like the dying breath of a very old man. As he breathed in, the watery-gas that made up Peyton’s soul began to drift into his mouth. A tendril of energy that still clung to Peyton snapped and broke away from her body. Peyton could feel it snap, felt the pain like breaking a bone. Azrael continued to inhale, slowly sucking in Peyton’s soul, savoring his victory.

  Suddenly, he threw back his head and screamed in pain, at the exact moment the tip of a sharp blade burst through his chest. The blade retracted and Azrael turned to see what had struck him. He came face to face with Darius, wielding the scythe, teeth bared and eyes burning with a hellfire that had never existed there before, glaring with contempt at Azrael through a mask of dried blood that still clung to his face.

  “Impossible,” Azrael snarled.

  Without saying a word in response, Darius lifted the scythe and swung it at Azrael like it was a baseball bat. The back end of the blade caught Azrael in the side of the head and knocked him clear off his feet, cartwheeling once through the air and crashing to the ground a few yards away. At the moment the scythe impacted with the side of his head, Azrael let go of Peyton’s soul and it hovered in mid-air, only a few tendrils of energy keeping it attached to Peyton’s body. Peyton was staring at it, convulsing now, her face so white she might have been already dead. Darius reached out and gently took her soul in his hand. Then, carefully, he slowly lowered it back to her chest. Placing his hand over her chest, he pushed the soul back inside of Peyton’s body, his hand going with it, vanishing inside of Peyton as Darius replaced her soul inside of her. Peyton gasped deeply as Darius pushed her soul back into place, sucking in air like she hadn’t breathed in hours. She looked down, still pale, and saw Darius’ hand inside her chest. She looked back up at his face, shaking, still so pale.

  “Darius?” she whispered hoarsely.

  Darius finished replacing Peyton’s soul and carefully pulled out his hand, hoping that he wasn’t hurting her too badly. As soon as his hand was free, Peyton fell to her knees, coughing and choking, but the color was returning to her face.

  “Peyton, are you alright?” Darius asked desperately.

  Still coughing, Peyton could only nod. She looked up at Darius, her cheeks flushed and sweat beading on her forehead.

  “What have you done?”

  Darius turned and saw Azrael approaching. The exposed bone was cracked on the side of his head, broken from the impact of Darius’ swing.

  “I won’t let you take her soul, Azrael,” Darius said, gripping the scythe in both hands. “You can try, but I’ll never let it happen. You’ll have to kill me first.”

  “I thought I already had,” Azrael snarled. “I’ll just have to try again.”

  There was suddenly a flash of violet light and, without warning, Eve was standing beside Darius, staring at Azrael defiantly.

  “I won’t allow you to take Peyton’s soul, either, Azrael,” she said. Then she looked over her shoulder at Peyton and said, “I’m sorry, but some promises need to be broken.”

  Azrael glared at the pair of them, his eyes moving from one to the other. Peyton was trying to speak, but still hadn’t fully recovered and was gasping on the ground, clutching her chest.

  “I will destroy both of you,” Azrael said quietly.

  “You can try,” Darius said. He tightened his grip on the scythe, brandishing the blade towards Azrael. “But you will fail.”

  The rage seemed to radiate from Azrael’s body. Darius could almost feel the heat of it on his face. “Fine,” Azrael said. “If I have to destroy you first, so be it.”

  Suddenly, without warning, Azrael spread his one remaining wing and snapped it towards Darius. Darius lifted the scythe and blocked the attack, the sound of bone on steel ringing out loudly all around them, like someone striking a church bell with a hammer. Azrael whipped his wing at Darius again and again, Darius only barely managing to block and dodge each attack. He moved toward Azrael, trying to force him back, away from Peyton. Azrael began to walk slowly backwards, still striking at Darius. With amazing speed, Azrael thrust the tip of his wing at Darius’ face, the sharp point rushing forward. Darius, using the staff of the scythe, manage to deflect the attack, but Azrael suddenly rushed toward Darius and slammed his shoulder into him. Darius went flying backwards, the world suddenly turning upside down as he flipped over, but he managed to land on his feet after backflipping through the air, using the scythe to help keep his balance, holding it horizontally like a balancing beam. He landed in a half-crouch, glaring at Azrael, ready for the next attack.

  Before it came, however, Eve suddenly raised her palm to Azrael and everyone stopped. The ground seemed to be rumbling. The ground was shaking, leaves falling from the trees overhead. Suddenly, a deep crevice opened under Azrael’s feet with a loud crack. Azrael teetered on the edge of the chasm, then suddenly fell into its depths, roaring in fury. Eve quickly clapped her hands together once and the chasm slammed shut, the ground sealing and looking as though nothing had ever happened. She hurried over to Darius, still limping slightly from her wound.

  “That won’t hold him for long,” she said in a rush. “What should we do?”

  Darius thought quickly. He knew Azrael’s anger would make the Angel want to finish him off before going after Peyton. Eve was good in a fight, but still wounded. She already looked weakened by the effort of trapping Azrael in the earth. Peyton was still struggling to breathe properly, she would be incapacitated for a while, but even if she wasn’t, Darius would never let her stand against Azrael in a fight. Darius was the only one who could stand up to Azrael right now.

  Or was he? He walked over to Peyton and knelt beside her, leaning on the scythe. He reached out and took Peyton’s hand, squeezing it gently.

  “Just breathe, Peyton,” he said. “It’s okay. You’ll be fine.”

  Peyton’s body shook as she was overcome by another loud cough, then she looked up at Darius with a red face and watery eyes.

  “I thought you died,” she said, her voice hoarse and weak.

  Darius smiled. “It will take more than just the Angel of Death to put me down.”

  Despite her obvious pain, Peyton managed to smile, tightening her grip on Darius’ hand.

  “Peyton,” Darius began, “I need you to stay with Eve. Look after each other. You’re both wounded and won’t last long if Azrael catches you. Eve will take you out of sight. I’ll take care of Azrael.”

  Peyton looked worried as she tried to breathe properly. “But… Fate said-”

  “I believe Fate was wrong,” Darius interrupted. “I spoke to someone else who gave me an idea. A way to stop Azrael for good. But I need you to trust me, Peyton, and do what I ask of you. Can you do that?”

  Peyton stared at him for a moment, fighting back another coughing fit. “Well, you’ve kept me alive this long. How could I not trust you now?”

  Darius smiled and gave Peyton’s hand one last encouraging squeeze, then rose to his feet and turned to Eve.

  “Who did you speak with?” Eve asked. “Who told you how to beat Azrael?”

  “It’s a long story, and we don’t have time,” Darius said. “Eve, take Peyton somewhere safe, but don’t go too far. We need Azrael to know she’s still close. He’s ob
sessed with her soul and if he’s sensing her energy, he’ll be distracted, and that might give me the chance I need to succeed.”

  “But what are you doing?” Eve asked.

  “I need to get him to Tartarus,” Darius said. “I need to wound him. Get his blood. If I can get him or his blood to make contact with Tartarus…”

  “Then Tartarus will claim him,” Eve finished. “But Darius, he nearly killed you once. How do you expect to beat him, even with him distracted by Peyton’s energy?”

  “I have to try, Eve,” Darius said somberly. “It’s the only chance Peyton has.”

  The earth nearby suddenly cracked, as though something very large, or very strong, had hit it from beneath the surface. Darius ushered Eve towards Peyton.

  “Quickly,” he said. “Get going. Remember, stay out of sight, but don’t go far. No matter what you see, Eve, no matter what happens to me, do not get involved. Just get away. Peyton, if I fail, don’t give in. Don’t give Azrael your soul.”

  Peyton tried to respond, but was overcome by another wave of hacking coughs as Eve lifted her to her feet. Darius stepped back and watched, his eyes meeting Peyton’s. They stared at each other, neither one sure when they would see the other again. Or even if they would see each other again. Then, in a sudden flash of violet light, both Peyton and Eve were gone.

  There was a loud bang and the ground cracked open some more. Azrael was fighting furiously to get out of his earthy prison and he would be free soon enough. Darius knew he had only seconds. He turned and ran toward the edge of the clearing.

  The earth suddenly burst open, a skeletal hand exploding out of the ground like a demonic tree, clawing at the sky. A moment later, the ground tore apart in an explosion of dirt and grass, clumps of earth flying in every direction as Azrael burst out of the ground, launching himself several feet into the air before landing on his feet at the edge of the crevice, looking around furiously. He wanted little more than to tear Eve’s head from her shoulders and present it to her father. Azrael cast his burning eyes around the half-destroyed clearing, searching for a sign of her flaming red hair. The color most certainly would stand out against this endless backdrop of green, but she was nowhere to be seen. However, Azrael did see someone of interest. A man in a torn white shirt, with long black hair, running into the trees, holding a scythe. Azrael’s rage burned inside him, as did the many souls he had taken.

  The pain… the pain was getting to be too much now. Every inch of his body burned with an intense fire, while simultaneously felt like it was being flayed, over and over again. He kept telling himself it was nearly over. Once he had Peyton’s soul, he would be free of the pain. He would have the power to heal himself permanently. He would be a god. All of Earth’s pure and decent souls would go directly to him. He would become more powerful than everyone in Heaven and he would lay waste to it, bringing about a new age for both Angels and humanity. Many would die, but those who chose to stand by his side would be spared.

  But as long as Darius was alive, he would never allow Azrael to get Peyton’s soul. Darius would be there to stop him, to fight him at every turn. Only when Darius was dead could Azrael meet his destiny. Trying to ignore the pain in his body, Azrael moved into the trees after Darius.

  Darius was running through the trees, moving as quickly as he could, but was slowed down by the wild terrain. The scythe was large and cumbersome, slowing him down even more. He had heard the ground break open moments before he entered the tree line, so he knew that Azrael was free and most likely pursuing him.

  Suddenly, it became much darker. When it was light only seconds before, it was now a bleak semi-darkness. Darius stopped and looked up. The sky had been clear, but now there were thick ominous storm clouds forming overhead, swirling tighter and tighter together, spinning like an airborne maelstrom, blocking out the sky. Darius knew this was Azrael’s doing. Like Eve and her ability to manipulate the earth, Azrael had Angelic powers as well.

  As Darius stared up at the sky, a bolt of lightning suddenly shot down and struck a tree nearby, the power of the bolt exploding the trunk. Darius ducked and shielded his face and eyes with one arm as he turned away from the explosion, which had sent thousands of pieces of flaming bark and wood in all directions, like fiery fragments of shrapnel, as the tree was instantly reduced to splinters and a burning, blackened stump was all that marked where it had once stood. Darius immediately began to run again, sprinting across the terrain, jumping over rocks, bushes, logs, anything that threatened to slow him down. As he ran, he could hear the rumble of the sky overhead. There was a flash of white light and the ground behind him exploded, dirt and dust flying everywhere as lightning struck where Darius had been only an instant before. He could feel the heat on his back as he ran. There was a quick succession of explosions behind him as bolt after bolt struck the earth again and again, missing Darius’ heels by only inches. Braving a glance over his shoulder, Darius saw the trail of destruction left in his wake, small craters now disfiguring the previously pristine landscape, smoke climbing up out of each hole, marking where each bolt of lightning had struck. And not far behind, he could see Azrael coming after him, moving so fast and easily, he seemed to be gliding over the ground. He had one hand extended towards Darius, as though reaching out to grab him. Then Darius lost sight of him as another bolt of lightning struck the ground and flared in his vision. Darius turned and focussed on where he was going. There wasn’t far to go, now. Tartarus was close. Darius wasn’t entirely sure on what he was going to do once he got to Tartarus. He knew his only hope was to trap Azrael in the depths of Tartarus, but how he was going to manage that was another thing entirely.

  Darius suddenly burst out of the trees and found himself on the black sand beach that bordered Tartarus. He stopped in his tracks and looked around, trying to think quickly of what he should do next, but then he heard the rumble of the booming atmosphere and saw a flash of light up in the sky. Darius instinctively raised the scythe and used the blade as a shield, turning his head and squeezing his eyes shut tight, certain that he was about to die. However, Azrael’s scythe must have grown in power as Azrael did, because the lightning struck the blade, so hard it forced Darius to one knee as he cringed behind it, the power of the lightning strike making his hair stand on end. The lightning crackled around the steel blade, strings of bright blue electricity criss-crossing all over the steel and branching out into the air, reaching for Darius’ face, but leaving him untouched. Then the electricity stopped and Darius looked at the blade in amazement, scarcely believing his luck.

  He heard a noise in the trees behind him and turned to see Azrael gliding closer, his arm still outstretched. The air boomed again and the sky lit up, but Darius was prepared this time. Raising the scythe into the air, Darius caught the bolt of lightning as it sped towards his body. The electricity crackled around the blade once more, but Darius didn’t let it fade. Instead, he gripped the scythe tightly in both hands, stepped towards Azrael while spinning once around like an athlete competing in the hammer throw. He cried out with the force of the swing he put in the scythe, then launched the electricity off the blade like an expert lacrosse player, directly at Azrael. Azrael, caught by surprise, was struck in the chest with the full force of the lightning. The air sizzled with electricity, several nearby trees burst into flames, and Azrael was blown off his feet, vanishing back into the trees.

  Certain that Azrael wouldn’t be firing lightning at him again, Darius glanced down the black sand beach for any clue of how to get Azrael into Tartarus. That’s when he saw the boat. The same boat he and Peyton had used to cross to the Chthonic Island. It must have returned here after he and Peyton failed to go back to it. Darius, quickly glancing over his shoulder to where he had last seen Azrael, sprinted towards the boat. As he neared, he leaped through the air and landed feet-first inside the boat, which then immediately began to sail gently out into Tartarus. Remaining on his feet, Darius turned to face the land, where he saw Azrael stepping out of t
he trees, smoke rising from his body where the lightning had struck him. He looked around the beach, searching for another boat, but saw none. He turned his gaze back on Darius, his featureless skull leering at him from under the tattered hood.

  “Do you think I can’t reach you out there, Darius?” he asked loudly, the storm clouds still spinning overhead. “You don’t seem to understand. I am so much more powerful now.”

  As Darius watched, Azrael hunched over on the sand, extending his remaining wing. The stump where his other wing had been sat uselessly on his shoulder blade, but then, something began to happen. The stump was growing. The stump that marked where his severed wing had been was suddenly beginning to sprout. More bones appeared. Then thin layers of flesh webbed between the bones. It continued to grow and grow and grow until it was as big as its counterpart on Azrael’s opposite shoulder. Azrael stood up straight, stretching his wings, testing them out. He had grown his wing back. Then, with one powerful flap, Azrael launched up into the sky and sped out over Tartarus, directly at Darius, the wind screaming over his hellish wings.

  On shore, Peyton had managed to regain normal breathing. She and Eve were heading through the trees in the direction that they had seen Darius running off in. They were moving quickly, but cautiously, both remembering Darius’ instructions; to stay close, but hidden. Peyton had picked up her speed when the sky suddenly turned dark and thunder and lightning raged overhead. The pair finally reached where the forest ended and the black beach began, but did not dare step out into the open. Instead, they remained hidden behind the trees and peered out onto the beach.

  “I don’t see them,” Peyton whispered.

  Eve stared silently into the distance. A breeze was blowing her fiery red-hair gently around her face, but she made no move to sweep it back. Peyton followed her gaze and saw what was captivating her so.

  “Oh my God,” Peyton said, a feeling of dread rushing through her entire body.

  Darius swung the scythe at Azrael as he swooped overhead, ducking one of the deadly wings as he did so. The blade passed harmlessly by Azrael as he sped over the top of the boat, tilting to the left in order to dodge the attack. His left wing clipped the boat and Darius was nearly rocked off his feet as the small dinghy leaned dangerously from side to side. Once the boat stopped rocking so violently, Darius found sure footing again and searched the sky for Azrael. He was circling overhead, picking up speed. He then folded his wings back and went into a steep dive, coming in low, directly at Darius. Darius prepared to swing the scythe again, but at the last second, Azrael pulled out of the attack and veered upwards. He spread his wings wide and flapped hard, sending himself straight up, but the flap of his wings sent a powerful gust of wind straight at Darius and the boat. Darius felt the wind smash into the side of the boat, rocking it fiercely, and he felt as though he was about to be knocked off his feet. He stumbled backwards and nearly fell over the side of the boat, but managed to drop to his knees and brace himself against the inside of his tiny boat, preventing himself from falling overboard and into Tartarus, where he would never get out. He quickly rose back to his feet and searched the sky for Azrael once more.

  He had vanished. Darius turned left, then right, turning slowly on the spot as he scanned the dark horizon. Azrael was toying with him now. He had disappeared in the clouds, waiting for Darius to have his back turned. Darius kept the scythe ready, gripping it tightly in his hands. He focussed on the sounds he could hear, listening for something out of the ordinary. It seemed the seconds took an eternity to tick by. Everything was silent on Tartarus. Darius held his breath and listened.

  Suddenly, behind him, he heard an almost silent whooshing sound. The sound of air being disturbed by something moving very fast. Darius tightened his grip on the scythe and waited. When the sound seemed to be directly behind him, he jumped. He leaped straight up into the air, everything seeming to slow down. As he jumped, he tucked his legs up and began to flip backwards. Azrael came into his field of vision, a dark nightmare flying through the sky, a wing cutting through the air where Darius’ head had been a split-second earlier. Darius spun as he flipped, now looking down on Azrael’s back as he sped by. Darius swung down the scythe and felt it cut into Azrael’s robes and hit something hard. He felt a strong resistance, and then something gave. Azrael sped underneath Darius, quickly zooming upwards, back into the air. Darius landed on his feet in the boat, rocking only slightly on impact. Looking up, he saw Azrael hovering in the sky, holding his arm. Darius had sliced into Azrael’s arm, cutting into the bone. Darius looked up at the blade of the scythe, expecting to see blood, ready to fling the whole scythe into Tartarus, ready to give Tartarus Azrael’s blood so that the entity knew the enemy. But there was none. Not a single drop of blood was to be seen, the blade of the scythe shining traitorously above Darius’ head. Darius stared up at the steel in shock, knowing he had cut deep into Azrael’s flesh, horrified as he realized why there was no blood. Azrael had decayed so much he no longer had any blood to bleed.

  I’ve failed, Darius thought blankly.

  Peyton, watching from the shore, had unconsciously emerged from the trees, stepping closer to the violent aerial display and Darius trying to fend of the horrific creature that tormented him from the air. She had gasped on several occasions when she thought Darius was going to fall overboard. She knew what it meant when a Reaper touched Tartarus.

  “Is there anything we can do?” she asked Eve, sounding as though her inability to help was causing her physical pain.

  “We have to wait,” Eve said, also having stepped out of the trees and onto the beach. “We have to pray that Darius can get Azrael into Tartarus.”

  Peyton turned her gaze back out to the sea-to-air battle that continued to rage. Then she did something she hadn’t done since she was a little girl, going to church with her grandmother.

  She prayed.

  Darius ducked as Azrael swooped down and whipped at him with both of his deadly wings, the pointed tip of one wing barely missing his throat, Darius blocking the other with the blade of the scythe, the sound of impact clanging loudly across Tartarus. He slashed outward at Azrael, but the Angel had already shot up into the sky.

  Darius was getting tired. He could feel it. He had forgotten that when so close to Tartarus, he would be weakened. He knew he wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer, but his plan had failed. Azrael had no blood that Darius could use to draw Tartarus to him. The tar-like ocean continued to be silent and still while a Reaper and an Angel battled to the death above it in a furious, seemingly endless clash of bone against steel, Azrael swooping and slashing and flapping and striking like a giant bat. In that moment, Darius found himself suddenly angry at Tartarus. Angry for not being more intelligent, to know when he was needed. All he needed was Azrael to touch Tartarus. Just one touch, a single drop of blood or flesh or bone, but Azrael moved so fast and was so strong, Darius couldn’t hurt him.

  Darius then thought of Shekinah and was angry all over again, even as he dodged another attack from Azrael, the bone cutting so close, it ripped open the sleeve of his shirt, leaving a trail of blood in its wake. Darius cried out in pain and slashed at Azrael with the scythe, but missed as Azrael quickly moved backwards and resumed circling Darius and the boat, a black and gray blur zooming by on all sides. Azrael swooped down on the boat and landed a kick to the side with both feet. The boat tipped to the side, over and over, threatening to capsize and throw Darius down into Tartarus. Darius dove onto the higher side of the boat, throwing his weight down hard to try and force the boat to level out again. The boat teetered on its side, Tartarus silently waiting directly beneath Darius’ feet now, calmly waiting for a soul to claim. Darius flattened himself as much as he could against the raised side of the boat, willing it to lower.

  Slowly, so slowly, the boat began to level out. Then it fell back into the black sea and rocked from side to side as it resumed its position. Darius quickly rose back to his feet and searched the sky. Azrael was
gliding high overhead, circling back for another attack.

  Darius thought desperately. What could he do? He had trapped himself out here on Tartarus. There was nowhere he could go. He couldn’t make Azrael bleed, so he couldn’t encourage Tartarus to claim him. Darius thought of everything Fate had said. How if Darius continued to protect Peyton and didn’t allow her to give in to Azrael, then his soul would be lost. Perhaps this was what she meant. Perhaps he had sealed his own fate by thinking he knew better than Fate. Tartarus was sure to claim him. Why had Shekinah insisted that he could save Peyton? Why had she been so sure? Had Darius misunderstood something? Had he made a mistake? If only she hadn’t been speaking in riddles. If only she had leveled with him. If only she hadn’t been so cryptic, asking ridiculous questions.

  Who are you, Darius?

  The words suddenly loomed in his memory. He remembered her asking about how he died. Commenting on his sacrifice to save a girl he didn’t know. Much like he was trying to do for Peyton. He barely knew her, but he was risking his life for her. Shekinah had called him selfless. Told him that that was who he was.

  When things seem at their worst, remember this question. Who are you?

  Who was he? He was the man who had sacrificed himself to save the life of a stranger. That was what Shekinah had been saying to him. That he was the kind of man who would give his life to save another.

  Darius looked to the shore that lay behind him. It was much farther away than when he last saw it, but he could still see two people standing on the black sand, staring out at him. He recognized Peyton, even from the current distance, her golden hair making her stand out against the forest of green and the black sand she stood upon. In that instant, he knew what he had to do. It was the only way.

  As Darius heard the whistling of wind over wings beginning to approach, he turned to face the oncoming Azrael. He threw the scythe down onto the floor of the boat, where it clattered loudly against the wood before it came to rest. Darius reached behind his back and pulled out his own curved knife. He glared at Azrael defiantly as he swooped closer, screaming over the surface of Tartarus, ready to use his wings to slice Darius’ head clean off his shoulders. Still staring at Azrael, Darius placed the blade of his knife in his opposite hand and squeezed tightly. He felt the sharp edge bite into his flesh and then the warm blood began to flow down the blade to the hilt. Darius quickly slashed his palm, making the cut all the more deep. Azrael was close, now, coming in faster and faster, green eyes blazing with certainty of his victory. Darius clenched his hand tightly, feeling the blood pooling in his fist and running through his fingers. Suddenly he turned and flung his hand out towards Tartarus on the opposite side of the boat, the side with empty skies. He watched as several large drops of his own blood sailed out over the black sea, arcing out over Tartarus and slowly beginning to fall. Before they hit Tartarus’ surface, Darius turned to face the oncoming Azrael.

  The blood fell through the air, soaring down towards a sea of black eternity. They splashed into the watery substance silently, instantly disappearing beneath the surface. For a heartbeat, nothing happened. Tartarus was as still and calm as ever, not even a ripple in his surface to indicate that anything out of the ordinary had happened. Then, suddenly, Tartarus roared to life. He seemed to erupt, a giant column of black water exploding out of the mass and reaching skyward, stretching dozens of feet high, branches breaking off in every direction, clawing at the sky, like a giant, many fingered hand. The branches immediately began racing through the air towards Darius.

  Darius could hear it coming, could see in Azrael’s eyes that it was coming. The normally placid Tartarus was now sounding like a torrential downpour, like standing at the base of Niagara Falls, water rushing and crashing and churning. Azrael tried to slow and change course, but he was already too close. Darius leaped off the floor of the boat and planted one foot on the wooden edge. Then pushed with all his might, leaping through the air towards Azrael, his curved knife clenched tightly in his hand. He sailed through the air, out over Tartarus, not taking his eyes off Azrael as the Angel tried to turn away from the approaching clutches of Tartarus. Darius reached out with his bloody hand and grabbed hold of Azrael’s robes, then landed heavily on Azrael’s back, holding tightly to his shoulders. Azrael spun and flapped, trying to shake Darius off, but he held firm. He raised the bloody knife in his hand, high above his head, and plunged it down, deep into Azrael’s back, directly between his wings. Azrael cried out as the blade pierced his rotten flesh, then again as Darius twisted it so that the curve of the blade hooked around Azrael’s spine. Darius wrapped his arms around Azrael’s body, holding himself firm, his body getting in the way of Azrael’s wings and preventing him from flying effectively. They spun and struggled in the air, Azrael trying desperately to shake Darius off, but Darius held on with all the strength that he had. He turned his head and saw the hundreds of branches of Tartarus racing forward to take him. For the first time, Azrael looked frightened.

  Darius leaned in close to Azrael and sneered, “See you in Hell.”

  Then Tartarus hit. The branches struck Darius in the back, immediately wrapping themselves around every part of him and beginning to spread over his entire body. As the inky darkness spread over Darius, they also struck Azrael, initially trying to get at Darius’ blood that was lodged inside of him, but the moment they made contact with Azrael, he was a target as well. The black watery-gas that was Tartarus enveloped the Angel and the Reaper, spidering across their bodies with ferocious speed. It pulled them away from one another and began to wrap them both separately, both now all but consumed in darkness.

  “No!” Azrael was screaming, over and over again. He roared in fear and rage, trying to flap his wings and fly away, but Tartarus had glued to them and was pinning them against Azrael’s body. Azrael clawed at the sky, watching as his hands were swallowed by the darkness. Azrael managed to let loose with one final roar, before he was silenced as Tartarus dragged him beneath the surface. Darius, however, was completely silent while Tartarus swept over him. He closed his eyes, spread his hands, and allowed Tartarus to take him, pulling him down to the surface, which churned hungrily with the anticipation of a new soul to claim. Before he vanished beneath the surface of Tartarus, he thought of Peyton.

  And, despite everything, he smiled.