Az

by A A Bavar

  I remained motionless, my muscles tight and ready to spring. I did not want to act rashly, but it was difficult, and when I spoke it was in a guttural and almost animalistic whisper. “Cain, where is Abel?”

  Cain eyed the scythe nervously, but I could see that the initial panic that he felt was subsiding. He knew that I, as an archangel, was there to serve Man and could not harm him. “I don’t know. I’m not his babysitter,” he said curtly, even arrogantly, as he shifted his position and took a step closer to me, forcing me to have to look up at him if I wanted to meet his eyes. But I did not flinch or move a muscle and stared ahead at nothing.

  “Do you see the blade in front of you? It’s covered with your brother’s innocent blood,” I said. “Be humble and repent while I’m still willing to offer you such mercy. But I want you to know,” I continued, still on my knees, “if it was not for Father, I would do to you with this same blade what you did to Abel, but tenfold.” And then, without warning, looking up or moving anything but my arm, I swung the scythe through the air and brought it down with great force to within inches of his face. “Is this not your scythe?”

  Cain choked a squeamish cry and stared at the blood-charred blade barely touching his forehead. “You know it is, so why the games? Abel is dead and nothing can change that,” he blurted, taking a short breath and momentarily closing his eyes to recompose as I rested the scythe once again at my side and slowly got to my feet. Cain’s face was still pale but when he continued, his tone was controlled and demanding, “Tell me what will happen to me.” It was obvious that he wasn’t sorry for what he had done. “You can’t do anything to me!” he said, but then added as an afterthought, "But if the people find out what I’ve done, they will kill me. You have to protect me!”

  I stared at Cain and tried to be angelic or compassionate; after all, he was Adam’s son. But there was nothing in me but contempt. I wanted him to suffer. “Yes, they will. And no, I don’t,” was my icy response. But then, I had an idea. Maybe if I managed to deny Lucifer his first condemned soul, humanity could still be saved from the forces of temptation and darkness that he had cast on it. Yes, I know. I was naïve and didn’t know what the man in human was truly capable of and the depths he would willingly submerge to for power and fame. The glory of immortality, what a damning illusion. Pointing to Cain, I said, “You will die and I can let Lucifer have you. You’d be the first condemned soul.” The fear in his eyes at that instant gave me great satisfaction, just as it did today; different eyes, different killer, same damned soul.

  Cain watched with alarm and took a step backwards as I passed the scythe from my right to my left hand, but the movement was casual and it became obvious that I wasn’t going to use it as a weapon against him. Instead, I closed my right hand and pointed to his chest. Almost immediately, my finger ignited in blue flames. I grinned.

  “What are you –” Cain started to ask, but the answer became apparent and he bellowed a primeval roar of pain. He looked down and what he saw horrified him. The tan skin to the left of his chest was scaring with red tissue as it burned. Cain screamed in agony, his terrified gaze passing between his chest and me repeatedly. “You can’t do this!” he screamed.

  I wasn’t quite sure if I could or not, but it didn’t matter. The rules of the game had changed, and I had to adapt. Lucifer would not get his soul; at least not on that day. “I think you’re mistaken,” I said in a tranquil voice, “because, well, I’m doing it and who’s to stop me?” Cain screamed while I continued. But what I was doing was not a banal form of torture or punishment. It was a branding and it had a very significant purpose in my mind; to mark ownership of that soul. Slowly, the scarred tissue began to take shape and defined a snake in the form of the number six. It was Man’s number in Lucifer’s image, the serpent of Eden. I extinguished the flame and released Cain from my hold. He fell to his knees and whimpered like a wronged dog. The mark was finished and permanently set. I looked down at him and all I saw was a deplorable being void of any dignity. This duality, the nobility that I had felt through Abel and the debasement of Man’s soul through Cain, would become the bane of my existence.

  “As of today, you will be known to all for the evil that you are by the mark that you bear. And you will wander the earth for as long as there is lust and desire in your heart. No one will dare touch you in fear of my retaliation.” I stopped and stared at the mark. It was the first one and stayed like that for thousands of years. Until today, when I inflicted it again on another soul just as wicked. I blinked and the room was dark again, the robed figure motionless where I had last seen her.

  NINE

  Her restraint was slowly getting under my skin. How could she sit there and listen without comment or emotion? Weren’t women supposed to be all emotional and compassionate when it comes to injustice and other people’s pain? Apparently not. She was, most certainly, a better man than I. I shrugged and decided to continue. What difference did it make what she thought? Recounting my story was liberating and I wanted to tell it, get it all out in the open and let her know why we were where we were. I turned and looked at the single candlestick at the far end of the table. It was almost completely burned out, its orange light flickering hopelessly as it tried to fend off the invading darkness. Suddenly, the light became blindingly bright and I had to close my eyes. When I opened them again, just seconds later, I was there no more, but standing in the Room of Candles. The carved wood doors were open and I could feel the gentle breeze that nourished the never ending rows of hundreds of thousands of tiny burning lights. Michael was there, leaning against the doorframe while intently watching my every move, and behind him, almost swallowed by the dark, I could make out the silhouette of the hooded figure.

  It was rare for Michael to visit me. It usually meant that I had done something of which he did not approve, or that in his mind I needed counseling – if I had known how profitable that profession would become, I wouldn’t have accepted this one. I shrugged it off and walked back and forth between the rows of lights and extinguished candles here and there with the tip of my finger, my pace deliberate and unconcerned. To the common observer, my countenance and demeanor were relaxed and without intention, but Michael was my brother, the one closest to me, and I knew that he could feel the charged energy caged beneath my seemingly callous and uninterested demeanor. I stopped in front of a bronze plate hanging on the wall at the end of one of the rows and looked at my reflection. I looked older and more mature – or maybe just tired and spent, but the lines on my face were real and they attested to the thousands of years that I served humanity since the murder of Abel. This servitude had its toll on me, and although I tried hard to maintain my beliefs, I was not the same altruistic young angel who for five millennia stood up to Lucifer as a shield for Man and showed love and empathy for all souls; well, almost all. The monstrosity of human history – rampant with war and destruction, chipped away at me relentlessly and I felt disillusioned and empty. I needed a break from it all – the barbaric ways of Man; doesn’t matter what they called themselves: Goths, Vandals, Vikings, Celts, Mongols, Huns, Spartans, Nazis; I could go on and on because humanity simply doesn’t stop – and although I didn’t know it then, that break would soon come and knock me off of my feet. Funny thing, it’s never how you imagine it or would like it to be.

  “You know, Michael, each one of these candles represents a human soul and with each one that I put out I’m ending a life.” I stopped walking and looked down at the row of candles on the wooden sill before me, and as I located the one I was looking for, a dim recollection of how unnerving the notion of death had once been nudged at me. I shrugged off the feeling and smothered the light without the least bit of hesitation. “There goes another, just like that,” I said, and snapped my fingers in a gesture that showed the simplicity of what I had done. “All sorts of people: pedophile priests, corrupt kings, beggars, alcoholics, drug dealers, thieves, murderers, prostitutes… you name it, I got it. This one, for example,” I said, and
pointed to the candle that I had just extinguished, “was a heartless tyrant. Can you imagine that? Causing the murder and death of thousands and then being offered a chance at redemption? Not today, I’m too dangerous. It’s just safer for everyone for me to come here and take care of business with the tip of my finger.”

  I glanced at Michael, but Michael looked on without comment or expression. He knew me too well, and although I knew he wanted to talk and counsel me, he was not going to engage in any sort of discussion with me; not now. Instead, he was going to patiently listen and wait the storm out as I paced around my stone-walled cage and vented until I had nothing left. Then, he would do what he usually does; try and make me see. But I had other plans. I wanted a discussion, a confrontation, and I was going to get it. I lifted my index finger and for a moment held it deliberately over a burning flame. Then, slowly, I brought it down on the wick of the candle and snuffed it out. “Oops,” I gasped, and looked at Michael with alarm.

  The significance of what had just happened made Michael jump from the doorframe in horror. He stared at me in disbelief, eyes and mouth open wide in shock at the thought of an innocent life having mistakenly been taken, and so carelessly. I chuckled and half smiled to myself; it was a mean thing to do, but now I had him.

  “Sorry, bad joke. Her time was up,” I said with a look of abandon, and walked to the end of the row and faced Michael. “So, Michael, commander of the army of God, the patron saint of chivalry, the one who will make the earth tremble and show man what it is to fear God. What is it that I’ve done this time? What do you want from me?”

  Michael quickly regained his composure and took advantage of my momentarily resigned demeanor. He placed his hand on my shoulder and said, “That may be so, and yet, it’s not me who is the bearer of the choice for eternal life or damnation.” There was a pause, as he stopped to look at me. “Azrail, I’m worried about you and what you do.”

  I didn’t reply immediately but managed a grin, and although I had heard this before, many times, I still appreciated my brother’s concern. These conversations, however, tended towards discussions and misunderstandings. “Don’t worry yourself, I’m fine,” I said calmly with a smile. “As for you,” I added with a grin, “I can personally guarantee that there are no plans for taking your life… yet.” I finished with a wide smile. It was a good joke and it felt good to talk freely and without concern for a change. I looked at Michael, hoping to see a smirk or a laugh, but Michael was Michael, and when he had something on his mind, nothing could distract him or change his mood. Not even a good joke.

  “You know that’s not what I meant,” Michael retorted, probably a bit harsher than he intended. Then, in a milder, almost remorseful tone, he said, “You’ve changed through the centuries. The Azrail I see today is far from the archangel he set out to be. And though you cannot see it, the arrogance and contempt that you show for human life will someday be the weapons Lucifer will use to destroy you.” Michael stopped briefly and looked around the room at the thousands of candles. “You play with Man’s soul as if it’s all a joke.”

  I knew what Michael said was true, but knowing and accepting are not complementary, and it was exactly what I resented and hated about myself. Through the ages, I had become more and more like Lucifer and viewed Man with cynicism. But be that as it may, I would never admit it and words alone could never heal the scars. I took a step back, forcing Michael’s hand off my shoulder. “It’s not a joke. I have yet to see a single Man smile when they see me coming,” I said icily. “In the end, I get the job done and do what I have to do; my way!” The last two words were said harshly through gritted teeth with no sign of resignation. “And yes, I always do my best to thwart Lucifer in any way that I can, but there are just some souls that do not deserve a second chance. He can take those and keep them company.”

  Michael looked at me, and although he was always honest and to the point – most of the time brutally so – the change that I noticed in him was quite subtle, almost indiscernible. Your eyes never fail to give you away, and I was now looking into a pair that were gentler and more understanding. “Azrail, your courage and strength have always been remarkable and an example for us, but you have become blind to yourself. Please, listen to what I’m saying.” Michael took a step forward, his hands held out in a gesture of truce. “You cannot disobey Father and not suffer the consequences. Letting your emotions or personal agenda interfere with your duties is not permissible. Every soul deserves deliverance; you know that!”

  No shit! Of course I knew that, it was the basis of my existence. And who the hell could defy Father and get away with it, anyway? Wasn’t Lucifer the ultimate example? But for him to say it was irritating and simply added to my feelings of self-pity; the world’s lack of understanding of what I had already endured and what was yet to come. My response was a statement of defiance. It was instinctive and driven by a primal need for self-preservation. “And what do you know about what I do? Are you mad? I do what I have to do to shield the little sanity or empathy that I still have! Now, how I do it is my business and neither you nor anyone else has a say in it,” I shouted. “As I recall, while you and Gabriel cowered from Mother Earth and even tried to stop me, I dove in head first – literally, and almost burned to cinders in the process, but never gave up, and lo and behold managed to bring what Father had asked for.” I paused, but before Michael could answer, continued in a derisive tone, “You see, Michael, I have power and that’s something you can never understand. So don’t lecture me about what’s right and wrong, because while you sit around waiting to save or defend humanity, I’m knee deep in human shit. Now, leave me be!”

  “Azrail, please listen,” pleaded Michael, “because of your arrogance Father will test you and that’s all that Lucifer wants. You know he will pounce on the opportunity to destroy you, don’t give him the satisfaction.”

  It’s damning how we can look back at specific moments in time and see how wrong we were. This was one of those defining moments. But I was bitter and frustrated and believed myself superior to Lucifer, and if at that instant I resented being the keeper of man’s soul, it was nothing when compared to the ingrown enmity that had established itself between myself and Lucifer. “Let him come,” I said. The conversation was over; I turned and walked away.

  TEN

  Time has no essence or meaning for me, so it doesn’t heal anything. Different than for Man, everything is always present; all of creation and its history. Nothing ever fades. So, each encounter with Lucifer only helped escalate the infected and festering wound that was our contemptuous relationship. But what happened next, the sheer dimension of it, destroyed the small illusion of hope that I still had for Man, and made me believe that Father himself had given up. At least, that’s how I saw it; but I was wrong. If Man chose to cave into his selfish desires and willingly accept what Lucifer had to offer, then he had to be punished, but not discarded. I couldn’t see that, because for me it was no longer about Man’s soul and redemption. The only thing I saw, the only reason behind any effort that I exerted in saving Man, was my rivalry with Lucifer and the chore at hand was a great blow to my efforts.

  The ancient city of Hebron – named after Abraham, was clearly visible from where we – Michael, Gabriel and I, stood on the mountain side to its west, with the twin cities of Sodom and Gomorrah hidden behind the hills to the south. It was a rocky hillside, studded with young and old olive trees, and the aroma of desert migwort was pleasant. I heard a caw and looked over to my right to find my loyal companion perched on a knotty and withered olive branch. Its twisted and gnarled trunk was old, almost as old as life, and I wondered how much longer it would still be there. Would righteousness ever completely cease to exist? I thought of my mission and grinned wryly. It was time to find out. I looked down at the small plain of Mamre below and pointed to a man sitting under a tent pitched under the shade of a grove of oak trees beside a stream. Michael and Gabriel nodded and we started down the path, the heat on our backs mer
ciless despite the cool midafternoon breeze.

  Abraham was sitting on a simple chair by his tent door and resting his bare feet on the beautifully ornate rug that was placed there for him. His sandals were on the ground beside the rug, and as was tradition, he had already washed his hands and feet in preparation for supper. He took a sip from a glass of sugar and vinegar sherbet and slowly savored it before swallowing. The day had been long and arduous, but as he sat there and looked at the sheep grazing in the field in front of him, his heart was filled with satisfaction. Little did he know about the message that we were about to bring him. That’s the beauty of not knowing, or the lover not seeing.

  The sun was setting when we reached the fields below the mountain and made it difficult for Abraham to look in our direction without having to squint. All that he could make out was the silhouette of three men walking down the path toward his camp. But that didn’t impede his correct judgment of us. The lack of horses or any baggage made it obvious that we were not travelers, and that we were there to meet him. It was not the customary time of the day for receiving company, but nevertheless, Abraham did not mind the idea of pleasant companionship and news from Hebron. He turned his head to the tent looking for his wife, Sarah, but she was not there. To his surprise, when he looked back we were standing in front of him. Abraham jumped to his feet and momentarily looked dumfounded, but then immediately kneeled and bowed his head.