The Djinn Trials: Azazel

by Jack Thanatos

  “Yes?” Azazel answered.

  “You see that car you are strolling past at this exact moment?”

  A brand new black BMW X6 with black rims greeted Azazel. He was stunned, but not by the car. It was Lucifer’s uncanny ability to know exactly where he was.

  “I see it,” Azazel said as he glanced around in an attempt to narrow down Lucifer’s position. No luck.

  “It’s yours to use today. The keys are in it, and don’t worry about it being hot because it’s not. Just think of it as a possible prize if you survive the trials of today. It’s in your name, just look at the title and insurance in the console.”

  Azazel analyzed the documents and sure enough, both were in his name. “Unbelievable,” Azazel muttered under his breath. It was a vast improvement over the junk Camaro.

  “I see you are impressed. Now, head to your destination,” Lucifer commanded.

  Azazel depressed the ignition button, and cautiously drove to 5th Avenue, the street behind the YMCA, after familiarizing himself with the newer technology and ease of navigation. As the destination neared, Azazel prepared for another call. He sat in the car, unable to kill the headlights because of the daylight running mechanism BMW had placed in it. Even with the car in park, they continued to burn, and Azazel thought of this as a curse.

  The call came. “Follow him,” Lucifer directed.

  “Who?” Azazel asked to a silent, dead line.

  A garage door opened, and a Cadillac CTS slowly crept out. Azazel couldn’t make out a face in the car due to the window tinting, darkness outside, and the fog, so he just did as told. The car took a left onto Kennedy Drive, and followed the speed limits, as well as all of the rules of the road. A peculiar detail was noticed on the license plates—there was only four numbers and read as the last four of his social security number. Azazel couldn’t comprehend the fluke.

  “No coincidences today,” Azazel told himself. “There has to be a reason.”

  The driver noticed Azazel tailing him and sped off quickly. The phone rang and upon answering, Lucifer commanded, “Take him out!”

  “How?” Azazel asked.

  “There’s a gun in the center console. Don’t lose him.” Lucifer hung up.

  Azazel prayed, merely as an act of desperation. “God, please give me the strength to get through today. I know I haven’t talked with you in years, but please help me.”

  Azazel reached in the center console and pulled out a SIG Pro. His eyes widened and almost forgot he was driving for a moment, swerving but recovering quickly. He never had good practice with a gun, especially pistols. His adrenaline level rose, blood pumping.

  After the shock of the first victim momentarily disappeared from his mind, Azazel finally focused on the task at hand. He punched the gas and closed in on the Cadillac as it turned down the side streets. Azazel recognized the area and crept closer and closer until nearly touching bumpers. Reaching speeds of 60 MPH, there was little the other driver could do with so many cars parked curbside. Azazel maintained just enough distance to prevent damaging his car, keeping that little detail in mind. He rolled down the window and popped off a couple of rounds from the surprisingly muffled gun. He knocked out the driver side mirror, but no real damage. The other driver panicked and pushed the accelerator harder.

  Azazel knew what was coming, so he slowed while unleashing a few more rounds towards the disappearing car, hitting a tail light. In the distance, Azazel heard the squeal of tires followed by a cruel crash of the Cadillac into a barricade. It had been totaled by a guard rail next to a light post which was on the opposite end of a T-intersection. The driver must’ve forgotten about it in his panicked state.

  As he rolled up, Azazel saw the strangely familiar guy crawling out of the wreckage. Barely visible beyond the fog, Azazel’s headlights gleamed into the man’s eyes.

  Phone buzzed. “Eliminate him. Grab the package and deliver it to the police department, downtown.” Once again, Lucifer didn’t give Azazel a chance to ask questions.

  Azazel exited the car and walked towards the dazed man, recognizing him immediately. It was a coworker who had ratted him out at his last job. Azazel’s head spun with amazement and shock, and didn’t hesitate. One shot in each leg ensured this guy, Ralph Furfur, couldn’t run away. Azazel had so much abhorrence for the man who rode his ass every day, possibly kindling the drinking problem that eventually occurred.

  Azazel smirked ecstatically pleased with this turn of events. “How are you doing, Ralph?”.

  “Fuck you, Tommy!”

  “Looks like you’re pretty fucked already. How did you get involved in this?”

  “In what, you fuckin’ asshole? You probably set all of this up.” Ralph held the bullet wounds, squirming back and forth in agony.

  “No, I didn’t, if you really must know, but I am glad to have this opportunity since our little falling out.” Azazel looked down at his gun and smiled. “Now, I need some straight answers or you are dead, understand?”

  The man focused. “Yes.”

  “Good, now, why did you stay on my case for so long?” Azazel asked as calmly as possible. “You had no good reason for that.”

  “Because you were a fuck up.” Ralph took deep breaths in between sentences, trying to subdue the pain. “You didn’t care for the company like I did.”

  “I did everything that was asked of me. It was only a job.”

  “Yeah, and that mindset led to problems down the line. Pride is what you needed. You just mindlessly machined and performed like shit.”

  “You know that’s a fucking lie. I knew how to do my job, and I did it well.”

  “Oh yeah, well do you remember two years ago when the roller bar that you made seized up and Boris tried to free it?”

  “Boris shouldn’t have done that. You know that wasn’t my fault. They even investigated it and he never turned off the machine. He didn’t bother with the troubleshooting procedures.”

  “How about the gear box a month before you were canned? Are you going to blame that on everyone else too?”

  “The gear box cracked. How was I supposed to stop that? You’re only pissed because I dated your ex-wife, who in turn became my ex-wife.”

  Ralph remained quiet.

  Azazel immediately had an epiphany. He realized what created the hostility between the two of them, even though the fact had always been there. Azazel couldn’t believe he never thought about what just came from his mouth, and it was the hardest truth he had to accept. He was the reason Lori and Ralph had separated. Suddenly, Azazel no longer had animosity for Ralph. Azazel pitied him in the state he was in, and wished the circumstances were different.

  “I’m sorry. I never realized,” Azazel said to Ralph.

  “You asshole, you might as well kill me, you took everything else,” Ralph antagonized.

  “Seriously, I didn’t even consider it. I can’t believe that’s why we had problems.”

  “Look, fuck you and your wife and your kids. Fuck you all.”

  “Why would you say that?” Azazel shook his head and closed his eyes, thinking back to his time at the factory and recollecting Ralph’s attitude, not just towards him, but towards all the workers. He was a dick, but was he worth killing?

  “I said that because you’re a fucking loser who’ll never do anything with yourself. You’ll die alone, probably in an alcoholic binge, and you know that.”

  “I’m changing that today.”

  Ralph chuckled, “You? Change? Ha! Fat chance, assbag. You’re fucking drunk right now. I can hear it in your voice.”

  “You know what? You’re a bully.”

  “Yet you’re the one with the gun. Does that make you a big bad man? Does that make you feel strong? Do you think that changes anything between us? You’re still the apathetic drunk bitch you always were. I don’t know what kind of spark was lit under your ass, but it won’t last.”

  “I’m sorry.” Azazel had enough shit talking. His eyes welled up for the third time today
as he closed them with the gun pointed. Procrastinating would’ve just made the decision of killing more difficult, and he knew from the Convenient Store there was little chance of Ralph escaping this moment.

  “Wait!” Ralph screamed as a SIG round unloaded into his chest.

  Azazel was in agony again. He wished for anyone else to be in this predicament instead of him. More questions about who Lucifer was and more questions about how he knew all the details of Azazel’s past so well. The alcoholic fuzz vacated momentarily, and Azazel could feel his hands aching from trying to lift his ex-wife’s body over the railing of the bridge. He thought about how hard it was to pull the body up, and now he was finding it difficult to hold onto this gun. It was becoming heavier by the moment.

  Azazel walked over to the car and grabbed the unknown package, a small box large enough to hold a hardback book. Azazel drove calmly over to the Cain Police Station, located a block north of the downtown courthouse.

  Another call. “Place a mask over your face and park around the corner, away from the cameras’ view.”

  Azazel looked around in the car and found a black ski mask and smiled, still amazed at the foresight being used. “What’s in the package?”

  “Things about Ralph that you don’t need to know about. I hope you wore gloves when handling that package.”

  “No. I didn’t.” Azazel couldn’t believe his stupidity.

  “Ok, grab the pair in the back, and pull the wrapping off. Leave the box sealed. Make sure none of your blood is transferred to the secondary wrapping.” Lucifer hung up.

  Azazel smiled again. What side was Lucifer on? Who was he working for? Azazel did as Lucifer commanded, removing the paper covering over the package as if it were a present. He cautiously crept around the corner of the police station, watching for any cops who might be walking out at any given time. Once he felt confident enough, he ran up to the front stairs and dropped the package off, hustling back to the car as quickly as possible. The task was done and Azazel drove away as calmly as possible, hoping no one saw his car as he left the scene.

  It was 1:35, and Azazel knew he had some time to relax, almost too much time to think about what happened this hour. Too much down time is a curse. Too much time to think about Lori and Ralph.

  2 A.M.: Sinai City Bank

  A sobering-up-induced headache occurred, so Azazel popped a few Tylenol pills, although it would provide little relief. The slightest bit of nausea kicked in, acting as a reminder of why he usually continued drinking until passing out.

  The ringtone was an unfamiliar one. “Bang Pow Boom” from the Insane Clown Posse sent images of an explosion through his thoughts.

  “Azazel, I want you to go to the Station Street Bridge,” Lucifer directed.

  Azazel sarcastically replied, “Anything else, a pizza perhaps?”

  “As a matter of fact, yes. Leave a pepperoni and anchovy pizza at the corner of Armor Road and Cardinal Drive.”

  Azazel was instantly annoyed. “I was just playing!”

  “Me too. Perform my first task, and if you don’t have any problems, you’ll find a necessary item afterwards.” Azazel felt a slight relief, even with the irritation of constantly being commanded.

  Armor and Cardinal, Azazel placed that in his memory, hoping it might be useful for later. He also programmed it to read as the banner for his phone, hoping it might help an investigator in case he didn’t make it through the day.

  Azazel drove to Station Street Bridge, which crossed the Cain River, and left the BMW in a parking lot down the street. He stood at the bridge and waited, watching the river pass by, soothed by the mist rising as if the flowing water was steaming up. It allowed taking his mind off the wicked agenda momentarily. Azazel wondered what the deal was with bridges, two so far in the tasks. He tried not to ponder much because too many outcomes were possible. Could be anything.

  The phone buzzed and Azazel answered, “Hello.”

  “If your phone runs low, there are two charged batteries in the car,” Lucifer mentioned.

  Insight. Lucifer had everything planned in advance. “Thanks, I guess.”

  “I just don’t want any excuses for not taking my calls. Now go underneath the bridge and grab the duffel. Use the motorcycle at the other side of the bridge and drive to Sinai City Bank. Leave the bag at the front doors, and then leave quickly.”

  “Is a bomb in there?”

  “Don’t ask questions.”

  Sinai City Bank, located just a few blocks away, was Azazel’s financial institution where he’d built a modest rainy day fund. One day it disappeared, and the manager didn’t provide any information on who performed the withdrawal. The money was transferred into an unknown account through their website, and Azazel was ignorant of online banking. He hadn’t used the internet in ages. Lucifer used his information to create the account online without his knowledge.

  After grabbing the bag from under the bridge, Azazel found a red and black Ducati Monster 821 waiting for him. It had been ten long years since his last time riding a motorcycle, but familiarity came back quickly. He slowly navigated through the thick fog, passing a patrol car on the way over to the bank. It sent shivers up his spine when he saw that it was a police vehicle, but it maintained its path in the opposite direction.

  Very few vehicles took to the roads at this late-night hour, which made Azazel all the more nervous. Police typically patrolled with high suspicion of anyone due to the fact that it was closing time for bars. If stopped, Azazel would most definitely fail a breathalyzer test. He had to refocus and do what was asked of him.

  It was a tense but brief cruise to the bank, especially knowing a bomb was strapped to his bike. Who’s to say it wouldn’t blow up on the way? Lucifer wouldn’t do that because nobody would be available to boss around anymore. Azazel was comforted slightly by that thought, so he dwelled on it. Lucifer would protect Azazel if anything were to possibly happen.

  The roads were still very slick, and the bike wasn’t the best mode of transportation, although the tires gripped the road better than expected. Azazel revved the engine slowly, and braked easily, taking care to not slide. One block away, he readjusted the duffel so it’d be easier to toss when driving by.

  The task was simple, drop the bag off and go. No one was outside, no one was driving around, and no lights were lit in the bank. Simple. Azazel was hesitating because of what was going to take place. What happens if there isn’t a bomb in the bag? He wanted to look inside so badly, but what if the device explodes when the bag is opened?

  At about 15 MPH, Azazel rode onto the sidewalk and placed the package in front of the revolving door. “Drive away,” he told himself, “drive away.” Nerves started getting to him as he cruised three blocks away. Four blocks and no explosion. Lucifer must’ve given quite a bit of time for error.

  The phone buzzed. “Find your way to the Zadkiel Clock Tower. It’s unlocked for your viewing pleasure.” Lucifer hung up.

  The clock tower was one of the few buildings within the city outside of downtown that reached above the tree canopy. Lucifer gave Azazel front row seats to the destructive event, and if it wasn’t for knowing that he was destroying a building, he’d probably enjoy the view.

  The Zadkiel Medical Center was a sprawling mental facility campus with many buildings and roads of its own. Azazel parked relatively near, finding the clock tower open as promised. He ran up the stairs, finding the viewing window and two minutes later, the spectacular explosion occurred. Azazel’s eyes were glued to the terrifyingly large detonation as it raised three stories. Azazel wondered what was in the bag, was it C-4 or dynamite? It had to be something stronger. He never saw that sort of power come from a duffel bag worth of explosives, even in the movies.

  The amazing fireball’s shockwave shot through the city, setting off car alarms and shattering windows. Azazel felt the slight pressure change from nearly a mile away. He couldn’t take his eyes off the bank which didn’t show signs of fatigue, although all of the window
s were obliterated on the detonation side.

  Azazel once again felt surreal. The entire night was a dream, one he was unable to wake up from. He was amazed he the structure could be seen through the foggy night sky. Being a few stories above ground level really helped as the sight-limiting cloud was nearly non-existent four floors up. An aura surrounded the building from the brilliant brightness of the flames due to the fog, but Azazel was nevertheless amazed.

  A minute later on the other side of town, opposite to where his bank was but still in view, another blast rocked a four story building. From the Zadkiel Clock Tower, he had a perfect view of both shows. Azazel realized the secondary explosion occurred near the second branch of his financial institution. The surreal feeling calmed Azazel enough for the headache that developed from sobering to disappear.

  Fire and police sirens made a symphony with the ambulances singing in the night air. Lucifer had brought chaos upon Cain City, and Azazel was calmer and more lucid then he had been in years. He almost thanked Lucifer in his mind for this moment of clarity amongst the destruction. It was priceless, although he wished he was sober before this whole incident began.

  3 A.M.: Frank Asmodeus

  “Ain’t No Rest for the Wicked” from Cage the Elephant played as the 3 A.M. ringtone. Azazel let the song play for a few seconds because it was one of his recent favorite songs. Finally, he answered.

  “Did you enjoy the show, Azazel?”

  “You know, I really don’t know what to say. I always wanted something like that to happen in front of my eyes,” Azazel said, serenely.

  “Good, it appears that you are in a better mood than earlier. I want you to enjoy today, if you can. Many things are going to occur, good and bad, whether you want to do them or not. Today will be a day not soon forgotten by many.”