“Who are you?” Derick knew that Anjali hadn’t trusted Cassie, but she never said that she knew her.
“The name is Maraquette,” Cassie smirked as she flipped her hair over her shoulder.
Derick watched her hair change from brown to bright red before his eyes. Her electric blue pantsuit shimmered and she was suddenly wearing a bright yellow backless sundress. Derick held himself steady until large black wings unfolded from her back and stretched to either wall.
He stepped back and grabbed the doorknob. He was halfway out the door before he ran into someone standing in his path. It was Pete.
“Pete, run, get out of here. It’s not safe,” Derick yelled, trying to push Pete toward the stairs.
“Why should I run? You’re the one she wants,” Pete smirked, blocking Derick’s escape.
Derick’s mind was blank. Pete? Pete knew what was happening? His entire world crashed. He was officially alone.
Pete pushed Derick back into the room and closed the door behind him.
“Thank you, Peter. I’ve waited a long time for this moment. You should be honored to be a part of this, Derick,” Maraquette approached Derick, put her hand on his shoulder and all three of them disappeared from the inn.
∞
Alazar paced around the barn, tempted to kick a few of the cows that were backed into a corner, quietly staring at him. He was so angry that he could slaughter the town. It was inevitable that Anjali would inform the Council that he was a Rogue. If they believed he was a Rogue, then what was the point in trying to be good anymore? If he was going to die, then he might as well go out in a blaze of glory. He could take out the entire town and feel warm and complete in his final moments before Michael showed up demanding his surrender, while swinging a sword at his neck.
His high from yesterday was a distant memory. He had been stupid to believe that his life was about to change for the better. The lure of his Master had made him stupid. How could he ever believe that he could join with her? At the first test of loyalty, she had condemned him to death. Now he was hiding in a filthy barn waiting for his “frenemy” to return from her “errand”. He was completely screwed. Michael would come for them both. Even if he left Maraquette to deal with their sword-wielding brother, he would still spend the rest of eternity in hiding. That’s assuming that he could hide from Michael for the rest of eternity.
He knew his back was against the wall, and he had no one to turn to. When he thought about finding the other Predznak, he remembered the looks on their faces when he told them he was leaving them to fend for themselves. Any one of them would turn him over to the Council out of spite. It was possible to seek out other Rogues or Forgotten, but he doubted that they would help him. He would have a giant target painted on his back and be more of a danger to them. No, he was alone.
He heard the straw crackling behind him and ignored Maraquette’s annoying cackle. He had no idea what she was planning, but the faster he either killed her or left her, the safer he would be.
He nearly had a stroke when he heard two sets of footsteps behind him. Fear spiked inside of him. Maraquette wouldn’t think twice about selling him up the river to save her own neck. Son of a bitch, she had brought Michael right to him.
Alazar spun on his heel, determined to strike first, when he stopped dead in his tracks. Maraquette was pushing a mortal toward the barn wall. He watched with curiosity while she tied the boy’s arms above his head with rope, Hall of Torment style. He flinched when he saw the mortal strung up by his wrists. He’d been strung up like that too many times in his long life.
“What are you doing?” Alazar strode up to the insane redhead. He ignored the mortal who was strangely complacent.
“Oh nothing, just getting even with the Destroyer,” Maraquette sang as she pulled on the ropes to make sure that her prisoner was secure.
Alazar’s head was about to explode. He had no idea how this boy fit into her plans, but it didn’t bode well.
“I don’t know what you’re up to, but playing with the Destroyer will not go well for either of us. We need to run or attack the Destroyer head on. I already had my ass handed to me last night, so I vote for running, until we can form a saner plan,” Alazar contemplated a hasty exit.
“I already have a plan, Alazar, I told you that. You helped keep Anjali in town and I thank you for that, but this is phase three. When she arrives, I’m going to make her watch as I torture and kill her lover, and then I’m going to kill her. Once Lucifer finds out that the Destroyer is dead, he will finally get over his silly obsession with her, and he and I can be together again,” Maraquette smiled. She skipped past Alazar to the barn door.
“Umm, there’s a major flaw in your plan. Lucifer isn’t going to turn to you once he finds out that you killed his lover,” Alazar turned to keep her in view. “And what the hell was phase two? You lost me there.”
“Oh, Lucifer won’t think that I killed Anjali, he’ll think that you did it. No one, except for you, knows that I’ve gone rogue, and soon you’ll be dead. Don’t you see? It’s perfect!” Maraquette chuckled.
He suddenly understood phase two. She had duped the fucking Angel of Death into believing that she was helping him. What a knob.
Alazar summoned his dagger and appeared in front of Maraquette, ready to take her head, but she was gone before he could strike.
He felt the pain in his chest a second after he heard the mortal shouting for him to “watch out”.
The last thing he heard before he blacked out was Maraquette whispering in his ear. “Once the Council sees your dagger next to Anjali’s decapitated head, they will never believe your innocence. Lucifer and Gabriel will fight each other to kill you. Gabriel’s sorrow over the loss of his daughter will be so great that it will weaken the strength of the Council. I will console a grieving Lucifer and persuade him to lash out against the Council. It won’t take much convincing. He has plotted against them before. He and I will be together again and Father will weep for the loss of his precious Council, while Heaven falls down around him. Thank you for your help, dear brother. I couldn’t have done it without you.”
∞
The city was drowning under a deluge of water as the storm battered the city. Balthazar huddled into his brown leather duster to avoid being soaked through. He did his best to keep the water from rolling off his short hair into his collar. While he was used to the rain, it was getting harder and harder to stave off the cold. His fingers were practically numb, which posed a serious threat to his ability to handle his weapons. As the Angel of Vengeance, he needed every weapon in his arsenal located just below is duster.
He hurried along the dark street and turned the corner that would lead him to his protégé. Looking around the empty alleyway, he ducked into the warehouse, careful not to be seen.
He unbuttoned his duster so that his only friends in the world were easily accessible. He wouldn’t need the knives that lined the in inside of the coat, but the guns holstered underneath it would definitely be needed.
He slowly walked through the line of cars that were housed in the building. The car thieves would be pissed if he scratched or dented any of them, if they survived the night. He looked around the sprawling lot of cars, amazed that the criminals had amassed so many vehicles and nice ones too. He counted at least six Porsches. He might need to “borrow” one of them on his way out.
Voices in the distance made him perk up. He quickly, though quietly, moved through the last row of cars and followed the sounds of grunts and thuds to a doorway at the back of the warehouse.
“I’ve waited a long time for this, Tony. Any last words?” a young man was pointing a gun at an arrogant man who had his arms crossed, while another man was gurgling and convulsing on the ground.
“You got the wrong guy,” Tony shrugged, unfazed by the gun pointed at him.
“I’m sure that lie helps you sleep at night. I know it was you. Marko named you just before I put a bullet in his head. You killed my wife. Your men
might have taken her, but you’re the one who pulled the trigger. She’s dead because of you!” the young man screamed.
“Maybe, maybe not, I’ve killed a lot of people. I don’t remember her, but I can tell you this, I’m sure she begged for her life before she died,” Tony chuckled darkly.
Balthazar carefully looked around the room and pulled out his Beretta M9. He put his back against the interior wall of the chop shop and watched his protégé confront the last of his victims.
The young man pulled a picture out of his pants pocket and showed it to Tony.
“Remember her now?” he growled, shoving the photo in Tony’s face.
Tony glanced quickly at the photo and shrugged. “Bitches all look the same to me,” he snickered.
The young man threw his knee into Tony’s stomach and watched him slump to the ground.
“Her name was Katie and was sweet and kind and beautiful. You left her in a sewer to die, you miserable piece of shit,” he kicked Tony in the chest just to hear him yell.
“Finish this, Marshal,” Balthazar called out. He knew Marshal was going to take his time hurting Tony, which was fine with him, but Tony’s men were still lurking around the place.
“Not until he suffers, just like you taught me,” Marshal replied coldly to Balthazar. He kicked Tony in the thigh and watched Tony roll around in pain.
Balthazar had to give the boy credit. When he’d found him, Marshal was a heartbroken mess, grieving the loss of his wife, and was more than willing to let the police find her murderer. He had tempted the boy to seek vengeance for his wife’s death. It was harder than he expected, until he explained how Katie had died. She had been a passenger in a car that had been carjacked. The thieves took her, along with the car. They had stripped the car and shot Katie in the chest. All it took was for Marshal to learn that Katie was still alive, barely, when they dumped her body, and left her to die alone. Marshal had begged Balthazar to train him to track down the men responsible and make them suffer. Thankfully, the ring of car thieves was large and provided plenty of people to seek vengeance upon, since Marshal wasn’t sure who had pulled the trigger or dumped the body. In total, 39 car thieves, their families, and their known associates were in the morgue or the hospital after an exhaustive three year search. Tony was about to be victim number 40.
“Fine. I remember her,” Tony gasped after another foot landed against his kidney.
Marshal leaned over Tony.
“Tell me what happened,” Marshal growled.
Tony motioned for Marshal to come closer so that he could explain.
Balthazar saw a shadow out of the corner of his eye. He saw the gun before he saw the man. Balthazar fired two warning shots to his right and ran forward to duck behind a partially disassembled Dodge. He spun and shot the man in the right shoulder and left kneecap as he inched his way past the workbenches. It would incapacitate him long enough for Marshal to finish his interrogation.
Quickly scanning the room, Balthazar determined that they were alone, for the moment.
“Let’s move things along,” he shouted to Marshal.
Marshal ignored the sounds of gunfire around him, intent on hearing everything that the lowlife in front of him had to say. He was finally going to find out what happened to his beloved wife.
“Tell me,” Marshal was fixated on Tony’s contorted face.
Tony coughed when he tried to get air into his lungs. He tried again and lifted his head toward Marshal.
“I remember…nothing,” Tony drew out the word.
A shot echoed through the room. Balthazar raced over to Marshal.
Marshal rolled backward and slumped onto the ground. His hands covered his stomach. He seemed confused by the blood that welled up in his hands.
Balthazar pointed his gun at Tony and put two bullets in him before Tony could raise his gun to Balthazar’s height.
Balthazar turned and knelt next to Marshal. He saw the fear and pain in his eyes. Balthazar shook his head. “You forgot to search him for a weapon. It was a stupid mistake, but you were too eager to play with him. I told you to secure him before you make him talk, unless you’re under siege. I took the liberty of finishing him off for you,” Balthazar holstered his gun and leaned against a workbench.
Marshal relaxed a bit, happy to know that his wife’s murderer was dead.
“Tell me Marshal, was it worth it?” Balthazar asked, tilting his head.
“He’s dead now. I’m happy,” Marshal sighed.
“Really? You are lying on the cold hard concrete bleeding out because you wanted to kill the man who killed your wife. Problem is, you don’t know for sure if it was really him, and here’s the real kicker. You have wasted the last three years of your life chasing down faceless men and tearing through them in a pursuit of what? Justice? You stopped living the second you started killing them. You took one life after another, most of whom were innocent of murder. Sure, some of them stole a few cars here and there, but weren’t evil enough to murder a woman. The top-level men certainly deserved what they got for ordering the hits and killing innocent people, but none of them actually pulled the trigger on your wife. Instead of putting this tragedy behind you and moving on, you decided to turn yourself into a cold-blooded killer. The police have been on your trail for months, trying to put you behind bars. Guess that won’t be necessary anymore. I’m betting you only have about five more minutes before things get very warm for you.
“Here’s the biggest secret you’ll ever learn, Marshal; God doesn’t like murderers or vigilantes. He doesn’t like killing for any reason. He hates it. In fact, He created a person to do His dirty work so that He can have a clear conscience. Sadly, she’s nowhere to be found, so I stepped in to help turn you into a killing machine. You failed to realize during your killing spree that no amount of blood or death would bring Katie back, nor would it secure your place in Heaven next to her. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you are destined for Hell and you will never see her again. So tell me now, Marshal, was it worth it?” Balthazar gazed into the eyes of the man he’d trained and guided toward the path of evil.
Marshal’s eyes teared up. Balthazar was right. None of this had brought Katie back to him. Each kill had chipped away a piece of his soul until there was nothing left. He knew long ago that he was destined for Hell, but hadn’t cared at the time. Vengeance was the only thing he cared about in the end.
As his body lost sensation, he realized what a waste his pursuit had been. He thought that he would feel happy or satisfied that Katie’s killer was dead, but instead he felt numb.
Balthazar saw the exact moment when Marshal’s pathetic existence flashed before his eyes and his misguided life had been judged. He was Hell-bound and no longer his concern. He was just one more dead mortal who had strayed from the path of the righteous, with Balthazar’s help.
The light faded from Marshal’s eyes, putting another notch on the belt of the Angel of Vengeance. While his body count of temptees wasn’t as high as the other Predznak, he had a much higher rate of collateral damage; almost as high as Aeries.
Balthazar took one last look at Marshal, grateful he would never see the loser again.
With one less temptee to worry about, he needed to find someone new, but first he needed to check on his other protégés.
He quickly disappeared and reappeared in Seattle, Washington. He walked along the quiet street and crunched across the stray leaves scattered on the pavement. One by one, they crumbled beneath his boots, just like those hunted by vengeance, and those whom he tempted to dole it out.
He stopped in front of a small house in the city. From the outside, it looked like any other run-down house in any other bad neighborhood, but this one was certainly different. This house held his best pupil to date. While the boy had failed to kill any mortals, he had carved out a name for himself with the creatures that most mortals feared or told themselves didn’t exist. It was only a matter of time before he tempted the boy to kill a mortal and his crusa
de would be at an end.
Seeing the light fade from Tony’s eyes made him think of Alazar. He wondered if his brother would have approved of the death, though he doubted it. Alazar hated guns. Aeries had taught him how to use weapons and how to fight, but it was Alazar who had taught him all the different ways to kill someone. Alazar would have shredded Tony and made a spectacle of it. He would have made Tony jump off the roof onto a bed of nails. Most likely, he would have shoved him into one of the stolen cars and tossed him into a car crusher. Death was unnecessarily showy.
He wondered how Alazar planned to kill their Master and when. He had given Alazar plenty of time to complete his mission. Despite being a patient angel, he was growing irritated with Alazar’s delays. He knew that the job fell to him if Alazar failed. Perhaps it was time to intervene and make sure that vengeance against his Master was finally complete.
Balthazar paused when he walked up the dilapidated staircase. He thought about his useless Master and smiled. She wouldn’t dare to confront him first. He had his ace in the hole.
∞
Michael, Major Demyan, Commander Nathanael, and twenty of his best warriors appeared in front of the Romanian castle. The sun was starting to dip below the horizon, giving the mist hanging in the air an eerie quality. The feel of death hung in the air and greeted the warriors. It was a feeling they all knew well and were accustomed to.
Michael motioned for his teams to break off and surround the castle. Nathanael had provided valuable information on the infrastructure and had suggested a number of hiding places for the Angel of Death. Though he doubted that Alazar was still present, Michael was hopeful to find a clue as to where Alazar would be. He no longer knew his brother well enough to anticipate his moves. If Nathanael hadn’t arrived to tell them of Alazar’s last known whereabouts, he would have started looking for him in Hawaii or on some beach. He remembered how much Alazar loved the ocean and enjoyed watching the sun rise above the water. Those days were long gone if Alazar had taken to hiding in a drab and frigid castle.
The Third Throne: Angel of Death Page 44
