Blessed Death

by Amy Sumida

  The battle was a flurry of steel and feathers; wings whipping around to angle through the air like organic blades. The ring of steel on steel, the hiss of weapons, and the whistle of wings slicing through the air were the only sounds. There were no taunts thrown or battle cries shouted; just focused violence.

  Azrael had only his scythe to defend himself with, but he had gone full reaper; his flesh becoming transparent enough to display the bones beneath and his eyes filling with a midnight sky as acid tears dripped from the glowing stars within them. His wings were wrapped around him in Death's cowl; deflecting the blows meant for his neck. Every swing of Azrael's scythe did damage that would have been fatal in mortals. In angels, it was crippling.

  In short; Azrael was kicking ass.

  “Principalities,” Samuel hissed. “Those arrogant fuckers!”

  “You've betrayed our people, Azrael,” one of the angels finally spoke. “Now, you must be punished.”

  “Kiss my angelic ass,” Azrael growled.

  I was laughing as I shifted into my weredragon form; a half-dragon body that came equipped with deadly claws and horns, not to mention; resilient scales which covered my entire body. The Horsemen pulled weapons out of thin air, Kirill shifted into his black lion form, Trevor into a werewolf, and Odin became a dragon.

  Odin could shapeshift into anything, but this particular choice took my by surprise. Still, Azrael was in jeopardy, and I didn't have time to ask Odin to explain his new look. I leapt forward with the rest of them; eager to tear apart some angels. But as soon as the angels saw us, they twirled about and took to the sky.

  “This isn't over, Azrael!” They called down to him. “You cannot betray your duties without repercussion. Jehovah has ordained that you shall be punished!”

  “I'm going to give you some repercussions if you come after my husband again!” I shouted as I launched myself into the air.

  The angels flew off without another word.

  I dropped back to the snow-covered ground and strode over to inspect Azrael. He seemed to be unscathed, so I slapped his arm hard enough to make him cringe.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” I shouted at Az. “Kirill didn't mean for you to leave the territory.”

  “I just wanted to clear my head.” Azrael sighed. “I had only just arrived when those assholes surrounded me.”

  “Do you know how they found you so fast?” Trevor asked.

  “Principalities are angels who rule over nations,” Sam said. “The angel of this land must have felt it when Azrael traced in. It's hard to hide from the Principalities if you're on Earth; one of them is bound to rule the land you're standing on.”

  “Let's get home before they call more princes in,” Ira said. “Those were just a few of them.”

  We traced home, and the men shifted back to human, but I remained in my weredragon form. I didn't want to get naked in front of Azrael's friends. Trevor, Kirill, and Odin couldn't have cared less about their nudity, though they did head straight to the elevator after we strode out of the tracing room.

  “Odin,” I called out to stop him.

  Odin turned around.

  “What was with the dragon form?” I asked him.

  “I thought I'd give it a try.” He smirked at me. “You always make it look so fun.”

  “And you made it look good,” I smirked back. “I liked those shimmering, peacock scales.”

  “To match my eyes.” Odin batted his lashes at me before he joined the other naked men in the elevator.

  Then I realized that I needed clothes too... and that the elevator was full of gorgeous, naked men, who also happened to be my husbands. I ran after Odin and got into the elevator with them.

  Unfortunately, I didn't have the time to do anything beyond admire my husbands on the short ride up to the top floor of Pride Palace. Once there, I changed back to human. Then we all dressed quickly and went back downstairs to the dining hall. There was already a heated conversation going on between Azrael and the rest of the Horsemen. Before we reached the hall, though, Toby walked out of the tracing room.

  “Hey,” he said and then paused. “What's going on?”

  “We've had some new issues arise.” I went over to give Toby a kiss. “I'm sorry; I should have called you. We've just been so focused.”

  “What issues?” Toby asked as he looked from me to my grim-faced husbands.

  “Azrael was attacked again,” Odin summed it up quickly.

  “Here?” Toby asked in shock.

  “No,” I growled and sent Az an annoyed look. “On a mountaintop in... where were we?”

  “Switzerland,” Azrael mumbled.

  “Seriously?” I huffed.

  “Have you called the Squad?” Toby asked.

  “No; we just got back,” Trevor said. “Azrael is in the dining hall with his horsemen buddies.”

  “Horsemen buddies?” Toby asked.

  “Azrael is one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse,” I said.

  “He's that Death?” Toby's eyes went wide. “As in; he rides a pale horse?”

  “Yep.” I nodded.

  “I'm suddenly a little intimidated,” Toby muttered.

  “Azrael, you can't just barge into the Seventh Heaven and issue a challenge to the Host!” Ted's shout carried out to us.

  I hurried into the dining hall with the other men. Azrael was pacing alongside the table; arms crossed and expression furious. His wings were out, and his face was flickering into his Grim Reaper guise. Basically, he was about to lose control.

  “Azrael,” I said sternly.

  Az stopped pacing and turned to me.

  “May I speak with you in private?” I waved my hand out of the doorway.

  Azrael blinked in surprise, then nodded, and followed me out of the hall. We went down the corridor a few feet and into one of the side rooms. It was an inner room without windows, but it had a comfy sitting area that was perfect for having a private conversation. But as soon as I shut the door, I gave up on talking and just hugged my husband.

  Azrael's tense body relaxed in my arms, and he shuddered on a sigh. I laid my cheek against his chest and took comfort in his strong heartbeat for a moment before I lifted my face to his. Az kissed me tenderly at first, and then it became savage. His arms tightened, and he lifted me off my feet. I clung to his shoulders as relieved passion rode us. Even though we were alone, his dark wings closed around us, and the scent of orchids and feathers filled my nose. I inhaled deeply and let my love magic rise to flutter through us.

  Azrael shivered as Love seeped into him, and then he eased out of our kiss to set me back on my feet and stare into my eyes. His eyes were glowing—nearly diamonds—as was the angelic script on his cheek, and his lips were softly smiling. He ran a hand through my hair; playing with the sparkling stripe of starlight near my left ear.

  “I'm sorry,” he whispered. “I shouldn't have said those things.”

  “I'm sorry too,” I said. “I know you need Macaria's guidance right now.”

  “But you were right; she shouldn't have brought that goddess here with her,” he admitted. “I hate that she hurt Kirill.”

  “Kirill had the chance to confront a woman who's been haunting him for years,” I pointed out. “It was therapeutic. But you know that he wasn't asking you to leave the territory when he told you to go. Why did you; when you knew the risks?”

  “It simply didn't occur to me that I could be tracked so quickly.” Azrael closed his eyes briefly. “That the Principalities would come after me is both ludicrous and something I should have expected. They govern the world; of course they would be angered by my retirement. But that they would try to punish me—an archangel and the son of Lucifer—is idiotic.”

  “Someone drove them to it,” I said. “They said that Jerry ordained your punishment. So, they must have received a parchment like the Virtues.”

  “But Jerry swore that he'd stop any future attacks.”

  “Could he have missed the Principalities?�
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  Azrael blinked into an expression of revelation. “The Principalities live among the people they guard. If Jerry didn't specifically send word to each of them, then they wouldn't have heard his decree.”

  “Shish kebabs!” I cursed as I grabbed his hand. “Come on; the others need to hear this.”

  We hurried back into the dining hall. Everyone looked up expectantly at our entrance.

  “Whomever is behind this knew that there was a chance the Principalities on Earth hadn't been notified of Jerry's decree,” I declared. “Which also means that they'd have to know about the decree in the first place.”

  My men looked at each other in consideration while the angels—Azrael included—swore violently.

  “It looks as if we're back to the archangel theory,” Odin concluded. “In a way, it's a good thing. It narrows the possibilities.”

  “You know who is technically an angel of death, right?” Ira asked Azrael gently.

  “Don't be an asshole, Ira,” Azrael huffed as he took a seat. “Michael isn't behind this.”

  “Michael is an angel of death?” I asked.

  “He is considered the 'good' Angel of Death while Samael is the 'bad' one,” Ted explained. “Azrael is the purest form; he is simply Death.”

  “Who else is there?” I asked.

  “As far as Death Angels?” Ted lifted a blond brow.

  I nodded.

  Ted looked at the other angels before answering, “Well, it depends on how loosely you want to go with the definition.”

  “Loose,” I said blandly.

  “Okay, so there are the Memitim; they are Jerry's executioners,” Ted said. “Those are the guys who took over after the Grigori were chained.”

  “Doing Jerry's dirty work can make anyone crazy.” Ira grimaced. “We know that better than most.”

  “How many Memitim are there?” Toby asked.

  “Let's just say that there's a lot and leave it at that,” Ira said. “I don't think it's the Memitim, if for no other reason than none of them are powerful enough to have pulled off that parchment trick.”

  “Okay, so who else is there?” I asked. “Who else with power, that is?”

  “There's Abaddon,” Ted said with a wary look at the other angels.

  “Abaddon hasn't shown his face in ages,” Sam said. “He's like a hermit; living on the edge of the Abyss, waiting for his locusts to be released.”

  “Whoa.” I held up my hands. “Explain that; all of it.”

  “After the war in Heaven, when Luke made Hell and went to live there, the humans wrote about the break,” Ira explained. “Things got a bit confusing—the war really threw humans into a tizzy—and one of the myths they created was that of the Abyss. They wanted a place where Jerry could punish Lucifer. So, they came up with the idea of a bottomless pit inside the Earth. Ridiculous really; a bottomless pit could not be contained in a finite item.”

  “Ira,” Ted said with a pointed look.

  “Anyway,” Ira went on, “the humans believed it, and so it was brought into existence.”

  “You're saying that there's a bottomless pit somewhere on Earth?” Trevor asked skeptically.

  “Not bottomless exactly, but it's very deep, and it's full of nasty things,” Ira said.

  “Like locusts,” Sam added with a shiver.

  “Locusts can be destructive, but they're not exactly shiver-worthy,” I huffed. “I'd be far more afraid if you told me the Abyss was full of cockroaches.”

  “These aren't normal locusts,” Azrael explained. “They are the size of horses, with human faces, a carapace so strong it's like armor, lion's teeth, wings, and a scorpion tail that can put a normal human into a coma for five months.”

  “That's some serious vermin,” I whispered.

  “They are monsters; true monsters with no emotions and no will except that which their king gives them,” Azrael said. “They cannot be reasoned with and they do not stop until they finish their master's bidding.”

  “Their master is Abaddon?” I asked.

  The angels nodded.

  “And this Abyss is a prison?” I asked.

  “It's supposed to remain sealed until the Apocalypse; when Jerry will open it and send Abaddon across the world with his plague of locusts,” Thaddeus said.

  “There's a bottomless pit of monsters in the Earth,” I whispered. “That's so messed up.”

  “But it's sealed, and as Sam said, Abaddon is a recluse,” Ira pointed out. “I can't imagine him ever leaving his home, much less leaving it to plot against another angel.”

  “We shouldn't rule him out,” Ted said. “At this point, it could be any archangel of death.”

  “Vhere is pit?” Kirill asked.

  The angels looked at each other and grimaced.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  The entrance to the Abyss, and the location of Abaddon's home, were in Geneva, Ohio; a town on the shores of Lake Erie. It was February—the tail end of Winter—and that meant snow. Lots of it. The weather didn't surprise me; not because it was Winter in Ohio, but because in my experience, Hell was usually cold. I know; technically, it wasn't Hell. Ohio just happened to have a pit of demon locusts in it.

  Thankfully, we didn't go to the pit. Instead, we went to Abaddon's home. And by “we” I meant all of us except for Azrael. He was staying home with Lesya so that we didn't draw any undue angelic attention. The last thing we needed was a repeat of the mountaintop scene on the rim of an abyss.

  Abaddon lived on the outskirts of town; on twenty acres of land currently covered in slushy snow. The pit was out in his fields somewhere; hidden under all that white. I could feel its presence like a buzzing across my skin. It felt sentient; like the Abyss knew we were there. Or perhaps it was the locusts that I was feeling; a focused impetus to be released.

  “Son of a biscuit,” I cursed under my breath. “Does anyone else feel that?”

  “It's waiting,” Ted whispered as he peered around the bleak landscape.

  Skeletal trees clawed at the pale sky with blackened branches, and a whistling wind scraped at our cheeks. Tinge it all red and add some mountains, and it would resemble Luke's Hell. I was certain that, if nothing else, the Devil would declare the ambiance a match.

  “Well, I'm not waiting,” Sam huffed and headed for the front door of a quaint farmhouse.

  The building was freshly painted; white with blue trim. The porch we strode across was in good repair, and the doorbell chimed merrily when Sam pushed the button. The farmhouse seemed to be maintained with pride and had a very welcoming air for a building that had been built beside a swarm of imprisoned, monster locusts.

  After a few minutes, we heard footsteps on a hardwood floor, and a blond man opened the door. He was dressed in simple clothing—a T-shirt and jeans—but his heritage was clear in every beautiful line of his face and curving muscle of his body. This wasn't just an angel; he was an angelic warrior. He reminded me instantly of Michael; with his fair looks and sternly stunning face. But there was a darkness in his eyes that was more like Azrael; something a little sad and lonely. He looked hopeful to find people on his doorstep, but then he recognized the Horsemen.

  “What are three of the Riders doing at my door?” He asked in a deep, suspicious voice. “And you've brought other gods with you.”

  “Abaddon.” Thaddeus nodded respectfully. He started to say more, but I interrupted him.

  The look in Abaddon's eyes had resounded within me, and my love magic was rising in response to it. I knew immediately that this man was worthy of Love; and my magic didn't choose men indiscriminately. I trusted it implicitly; Love have never steered me wrong. And I was going to let it guide me again.

  “I'm Vervain.” I held out my hand to Abaddon. “If you could spare some time; we'd like to ask you a few questions. That's all, Nothing horrible; I promise.”

  Abaddon shook my hand, and his eyes widened as my magic brushed against him in question. He let the love energy in—his lips parting on a sigh
—and it shot straight into his lonely heart. I closed my eyes as Love filled Abaddon and cleared away the hopelessness that had been weighing him down. Living so closely to the Abyss had taken its toll on the angel, and he had lost himself waiting—as the locusts were—for the Apocalypse.

  “That's not a way to live,” I whispered as I opened my eyes. “It's a slow death.”

  “And that is what I am,” he said without resentment. “Frozen Death; waiting for the thaw.”

  “It's time to let that go,” I said. “Just because humans believe that all you are is destruction, it doesn't mean that you must believe it.”

  “She's right, Abaddon,” Ted jumped in. “Remember why we became gods in the first place; to live forever, not to be enslaved by myth.”

  Love returned to me, and Abaddon slowly released my hand.

  “Thank you, Vervain,” he murmured. “That's a gift I will treasure.”

  “You have a good heart,” I noted. “Love wouldn't have chosen you if you didn't. And good hearts are hard to come by; they should be shared, not hidden.”

  “Perhaps.” He gave me a soft smile. “But I don't think you came here to give me love advice.”

  “No,” I agreed. “You know the Horsemen, but these are my husbands; Trevor, Kirill, and Odin, and my boyfriend, Toby. May we come in? It's cold as Hell out here.”

  “Please.” Abaddon waved us into his home and then shut the door on the cold air. “Let's sit in the living room. Would anyone like some coffee?”

  A chorus of “Hell yes” was the response. Abaddon chuckled and went to fetch the coffee. While he was gone, we looked around the room. It was sparsely furnished but every piece was hand-crafted and well-made. The décor was eclectic; not at all what I had expected after seeing the outside of the farmhouse. There were items from all around the globe; set on shelves and hung on the walls. Oddly enough, there were no weapons or anything violent in nature. The place would have felt peaceful, if there hadn't been that pit-presence looming outside.

  Abaddon brought in a tray holding mugs, cream, sugar, and a pot of coffee and set it on a sturdy coffee table. Huh; is that why they call it a coffee table? That never even occurred to me before. Anyway, Abaddon waved us toward the hot drinks and then sat back to wait for us to tell him why we were there.