by A. Catherine
They buzzed back similar-to-identical responses.
Nothing. We’re still looking.
Her assistant waited just inside the door, patiently quiet during her frustration.
She turned to him, “Nile, go see about the other souls downstairs. Report back if anything requires my personal attention.” He nodded and left the room without a word. The door shut with a quiet click.
Azrael gazed at her book again, grateful for its resolving influence. Even the moderate nature of hers could sometimes feel overwhelming anger, but an outburst from her would be deplorable beyond reason.
She had to remain calm during this endeavor.
“Azrael.” The almighty’s warm familiar voice filled the room, his presence brightening the monochrome office.
“I don’t have news for you,” Azrael explained without turning to face him.
“I feared as much.” God was always a patient leader, but his concern influenced the atmosphere. “Lucifer knows nothing as well.”
“I’m not all that surprised,” She stated. Her eyes remained on the souls below.
“You seem to be the only one willing to believe him.”
She turned to him slowly then. “I know him better than most. We do work in tandem quite a bit.”
Azrael and Lucifer both handled the aftermath of death, their relationship was always respectful. And even though she didn’t agree with his uprising, she understood it. The Fall was more disappointing for her than it was for her siblings.
God sighed, not looking at anything in particular. “It would be nice to work with him without having to keep one eye open for deception.”
She nodded. “It’d also be nice if Michael weren’t always itching for a fight.”
God gave her a knowing smile. “You all have your key traits. Lucifer the cunning, Michael the mighty—"
“Azrael the just,” she finished for him.
Her thoughts drifted to the first millennia of their existence. So much about their world was fresh, ripe for corruption. When it was just the three of them, things were simpler. Power pulsed beneath their feet as the fabric of this universe still settled and built into life.
Even as more of her siblings came into existence, the realms trembled as they were stitched together. It wasn’t until the dust settled when their rivalry really began roaring. Powerful beings having to share space, share duties.
They needed purpose, needed regular tasks to distract them from competing against one another. For most of them, that need to ascend eventually dulled and settled along with the universe. For others, it only festered into something unending.
Azrael sat at her desk, her fingers scanned mindlessly through her book. Mortal souls seemed so minuscule compared to the issue at hand.
“Gabriel coming into his new assignment alright?” Azrael asked.
“He’s being professional about it.” Azrael shot him a perceptive glance. The almighty clarified, “I have no doubt that he’ll rise to the occasion.”
Azrael nodded in agreement.
God asked, “Where could a Guardian’s soul go if it didn’t return to me or here for judgement?”
Azrael hadn’t ran into a problem like this in all the many years she’d been in charge of soul retrieval.
“There are still forces in this universe that are beyond our knowledge. I wouldn’t be shocked if something eluded me, but you’re the almighty, one of the Eternals. If anyone knew of something that powerful, it would be you. Perhaps you’ve forgotten something?” she asked.
God could think of others powerful enough, but the possibility of that was unfeasible now. Long departed from this universe. It had to be something else.
Azrael’s assistant came running in. “Azrael, your presence is needed.” He looked to the almighty, embarrassment and shame replaced his worried expression. “Oh, I’m sorry for intruding” He bowed before turning back to Azrael.
“What is it Nile?”
“Some of the Reapers, ma’am, they haven’t been reporting back. And human soul arrivals have slowed, our data indicates that deaths are increasing but the souls aren’t reaching us.”
Azrael’s eyes widened. She looked to her father. “You’re sure none of Lucifer’s demons aren’t involved?”
“He gave me his word,” God responded.
“How many Reapers are missing?” she turned back to Nile.
“Five are not answering so far, but were losing more, some of the others are going to their last locations.”
Azrael tapped her book, seeking its stable equilibrium. It answered back, soothing away the most frayed pieces of her sanity.
She looked back up to Nile’s waiting face. “We’re pulling them back. Reapers and Thrones must return to the gates immediately. Tell them to not linger around their assignments, only grab and go. If souls refuse to come, leave them to Purgatory.”
God’s head snapped towards hers, she met his wary gaze.
“We’ll go back for them when we can. When they get back here we’ll begin pairing them off, no one goes out alone.” She nodded towards Nile to carry out the order, he dipped his chin and exited.
“A Guardian dies and now Reapers and mortals are vanishing out of sight? I don’t like the direction this is going.” Azrael conveyed her dismay to her father with her eyes. “I’ll have to notify Uriel that her realm is going to have increased occupation—temporarily.”
God agreed. “When this is resolved, we can readjust as needed. If the disappearances continue, I recommend ceasing your Reapers completely,” he said.
A thought crossed Azrael’s mind. “This feels an awful lot like the beginnings of a war. You think there is a chance of combat?” she asked.
God met her gaze, nothing but calm seriousness in his eyes. “It wouldn’t hurt to prepare for it. Some of the other divisions are already refreshing their combat training. Maybe your Reapers and Thrones should do the same.”
Azrael began shaking her head. “I don’t think the Spectrals would be able to accommodate for all of us, not all at once.”
Spectrals, the trainers of angels. Gabriel’s division already overwhelmed as it is, a large influx of returning angels looking for additional training would cripple them.
“Perhaps it would be best if they came to you instead. I’ll send a message to them, see if they can send trainers to the divisions. Reduce the bottleneck,” the almighty reasoned.
Azrael sighed, worry weighing heavily on her shoulders. She didn’t usually let it affect her, but even this she couldn’t hide from her father.
“I was really hoping we were done with fighting after The Fall.”
“This is eternity, Azrael. Peace is only a portion of it. But let’s hope it doesn’t get to that point.” Azrael and God stared at one another.
“Hope for the best, prepare for the worst,” she recited. He smiled at her.
He waved his hand in the air. “I always thought our next conflict was going to be caused by Lucifer’s Heir,” he mused.
Azrael snorted. “Lucifer’s losing his grip on that boy’s leash. I don’t see him doing Lucifer’s dirty work for much longer.”
“I assume he’s going to be the one leading Lucifer’s caravan.” God shared with her.
“Oh, Gabriel is going to love that,” she chuckled.
God chuckled with her. “I don’t know. I think it’ll be good for him, for both of them.”
“If you say so.” She shrugged.
Her eyes scanned the edges of her book again. Thinking about her Reapers, about the angels that were now at risk. For the first time in a long time, Azrael felt the cold, dry feeling of dread.
“We may need your help as we move forward,” the almighty amended.
The angel of death was a powerful being, and she may offer unrivaled assistance in certain circumstances.
She dipped her chin in response. “I’ll be there when I’m needed. Just tell Gabriel to call me. But I have faith in him. He’s smart and dependable. If anyone can see this
through, it’s him.”
“I’m sure he would be grateful for your immoveable confidence in him.”
“If only some of that confidence would transfer to him.”
The almighty smiled to himself, “All of my archangels have exceeded any expectations I had for them, especially Gabriel.”
“Even Chamuel and Lucifer?” she teased.
Chamuel was a romantic naturally, a bit eccentric, but most importantly docile in comparison to the other archangels.
“Tell me someone else who could’ve done Chamuel’s job better? Lucifer, like all of you, has his part to play in keeping the Balance. The Fall a necessary evil in the path towards change,” the almighty explained.
Lucifer was always the epitome of free will and rebellion, it wasn’t all that surprising when he started the Uprising.
Though Azrael would love to continue this invigorating conversation, her Reapers were going missing, and that was pressing on her mind.
However, Azrael wanted to end their interaction on a relatively positive note.
“It’s good to see you, I wish it was in better circumstances, but I’ve missed home anyhow.”
The almighty embraced his third oldest, kissing her cheek.
“Heaven misses you as well. You know you are always welcome to visit? You don’t need the excuse of a supernatural crisis.”
Azrael chuckled, “Yes, because I have time for those lively family reunions.”
“I will reach back if I find answers,” he said.
She nodded, as if to say that she’d do the same.
The almighty vanished. The light of his presence faded and the shadows that crowned the room returned. Leaving Azrael alone to fret and ponder what tasks lay ahead.
SIX
THE SUPERNATURAL WEB was a universal communication tool that angels and demons used to speak to each other. In the web, when an immortal chooses to open their mind to another then they may communicate that way. Though rarely do demons and angels open that line of connection with one another.
This particular situation was one of those rarities. Duma had served as the main messenger of the angel cohort, so it was he that coordinated the meeting with Lucifer’s chosen group.
It was a Thursday evening; dusk was setting on the horizon. A small, abandoned cabin in an old, barren town was their rendezvous. After the initial meet-and-greet, they would establish a better headquarters.
Gabriel was the first to arrive because of his close proximity. At least here he was able to release some of his power without fear of breaking the buildings.
The old cabin wasn’t large, but it lacked a lot of furniture. A rotting table sat against the far west wall underneath the window. A rocking chair and a deteriorating coat rack sat on the south wall.
Duma and Iaoel appeared in the doorway together, having winnowed into the town.
Iaoel was an Angel of Sight, seers of the fates of mortals and resources for Reapers and Cherubim’s. The information they gained with their ability were an essential piece that made up the chain of destiny.
Angels of Sight were gifted with premonitions, and Iaoel was one of the highest ranked angels in the division. A good choice for this mission, an angel with Sight might give them an advantage against their adversary.
“Gabriel, long time no see.” Iaoel shook hands with him.
“Indeed,” Gabriel responded. “You’ve changed since we last spoke, Iaoel. I like the haircut.”
Iaoel self-consciously brushed the short fuzz with their fingers.
They exchanged smiles that didn’t quite reach to their eyes. Iaoel wore a button up top, bowtie and suspenders connected to black capris. Their hair a chestnut brown, cleanly combed back.
“It’s been a while since I’ve been in this realm, I didn’t want to be too far behind the fashion,” Iaoel said.
Duma, dressed in a simple blue t-shirt and worn jeans, having only seen Gabriel a couple days prior, felt no need for an introduction.
“Do we know which demons Lucifer sent?” Gabriel asked, the question mostly pointed towards Duma, but there was reason that Iaoel might know, with their abilities.
Iaoel smirked. “Of course we know, but that would ruin the surprise,” they teased.
Gabriel chuckled.
“I don’t even get a hint?”
“Mmm, I think I’d rather see your reaction.” Iaoel was used to having their abilities spoil every inch of surprise, sometimes it was refreshing to leave things to the unknown.
“You’ll just have to be patient,” Duma recanted.
“Gabriel may be patient, but I’m not.” Jophiel’s voice alerted her presence, she was standing by the back door, a distasteful frown painting her archangel grace with gloom.
“Jophiel,” Gabriel greeted with a nod.
She wasn’t an affectionate or cheerful type. So he wouldn’t deign to behave as such with his older sister.
“Gabriel.” She nodded back. Jophiel jerked her chin towards the outside of the cabin. “Jade should be here soon.” Jophiel picked a piece of loose dust that had floated onto her Prussian pantsuit.
“We haven’t all worked together for some time,” Iaoel stated.
Duma chuckled, “Some of us work together quite frequently, Iaoel.”
Gabriel ignored him and grinned at Iaoel. “You are always welcome to come back to training. A refresher course couldn’t hurt you.”
Iaoel waved their hand idly in the air. “As much as I’d love to stretch my legs in the ring. I have other things I have to do in my leisure.”
Jophiel grumbled, “Like socialize with demons.”
Iaoel didn’t face Jophiel fully, only shooting her a sidelong glance. “They’re interesting creatures, I find them incredibly intriguing. You’ll forgive me if I choose to be open-minded towards our fellow keepers of the Balance.”
“You’ll forgive me if I don’t share the sentiment.” Jophiel picked at the chipping door frame, not looking at anyone.
Her resentment of the demons ran deep, and her chilled temperament was always such a joy to have around.
None of them gave a response—not seeking to rouse her fury any further. Iaoel, however, rolled her eyes at Gabriel, forcing him to bite his lip to keep from chuckling out loud.
“This place is so dry,” Jade said as she appeared next to Jophiel.
She slipped past her in one smooth motion and walked towards the others further in the cabin. Worry was shrouded over her hazel eyes, but Jade tried to hide it with her positive attitude.
“I’m not late, am I?”
Gabriel shook his head. “You’ve never been late a day in your life.”
She grinned wider, shrugging. “Punctuality is a virtue.”
“Well, I wish the demons felt the same way. Leave it to the hellborn to be consistently tardy,” Duma teased.
Perfection was a well-known expectation of angels, often without a lot of room for individuality, some room, but not much. They were soldiers, a part of one synchronized machine. Even something as silly as tardiness made the hellborn stand out.
The sound of revving motorcycle engines stirred the silence of the decaying town, drawing the attention of the gathered angels. Their roar grew louder and louder until they were right outside of the cabin. Though the cycles had stopped, the riders revved them again for good measure. Sending a loud, obnoxious noise around the cabin before they cut the engines.
There was one specific individual who liked to ride motorcycles as a mode of transportation. The realization hit Gabriel along with a coiling of an old grudge in his gut.
Though he shouldn’t be surprised that Lucifer chose him for this group, it didn’t make Gabriel any happier about it. The archangel locked his gaze on Iaoel.
“Not him?”
Iaoel only grinned with amusement, mouthing an apologetic Sorry.
The front door of the cabin opened by a phantom wind and in walked two figures. The first was dressed in a worn t-shirt, leather jacket and ripped jeans, though he
sauntered in wearing his signature smirk, the temperature rose from his presence.
Accompanying him was a short female, her dark skin tattooed immensely, contrasting starkly against her almost white coiled braids. She wore skin-tight black pants and an oversized matching shirt that she had twisted and tucked tight to her body. Her specialized weapons barely glinting behind the various straps and flannel shirt tied around her hips.
