The Peacock Angel: Rise of the Decarchs
Page 8
CHAPTER 4
1994 AD
Rural Louisiana
The incubi were frightened. Azazel could smell their fear. He relished the taste.
They did not know who had called them to this place. The voice of Azazel had been unfamiliar and demanding, yet impossible to resist. Very few beings could have willed all of them here at the same time, but he did, and with little effort. He was powerful.
Power was the only thing they respected.
They huddled together silently and kicked the earth around beneath them like chickens scratching for food. Azazel continued looking for something. He walked slowly through the far corner of the little cemetery with his head down and his back to the incubi. They would not disturb him. They would not risk angering him.
Azazel found his prize within moments. He turned and beckoned them to come.
Thirteen in number, the tallest of them stood just a bit over three feet-not much taller than a toddler. These creatures, however, could never be mistaken for children.
Their flesh was grotesque, misshapen, and mottled. Short, atrophied arms hung uselessly from their shoulders, but their bodies remained compact and powerful. Each leg ended in a clawed heel and three clawed toes. These claws were strong and hook shaped, and the middle toe protruded beyond the other two.
Much like the talons of a predator.
Atop the squatty neck of each creature sat a porcine head—black eyes, an elongated snout, few teeth, and no chin.
They were hideous. Abominations. But useful.
He beckoned again from the far corner of the cemetery.
Come little ones . . . come and let me show you.
His treasure lay in the stone coffin before him.
. . . tonight you will taste the flesh of an Angel.
As one, his minions slid the concrete lid off the sarcophagus. Its contents made clearly visible by the brilliant moon. Azazel peered into the great box. It was strange staring at his brother again after so much time.
Armaros . . . it has been too long.
As commanded, the minions jumped into the coffin and began an assault with their savage claws. They ripped, flayed, and maimed the flesh beneath them.
Have you missed me brother?
The little ones squealed with delight as they continued their butchery. The sounds of meat tearing filled the cemetery.
Now you will experience some of my pain.