Categories > Original > Fantasy > One Hell of an Angel
Chapter V, Part ii: Malice
1 reviewThanks to the InterPlanal Treaty, Azrael can't harm angels . . . but what if she's found a bargaining chip?
1Exciting
“Ew. I thought something smelled up here.”
The angel and demon both turned at the sound of Claude’s voice, identical to Grey’s and yet so inexplicably opposite. The dark-eyed angel was in his natural form and was standing behind his brother. He had ghosted up to the rooftop only seconds before, after waking to find Grey gone.
Azrael took in his appearance with analytical, businesslike efficiency – diminished glow, molting wings, ink-black eyes and hair. Her sly smirk returned, but she kept her composure. “Well, if it isn’t your other half,” she chuckled to Grey.
Claude wasn’t as intimidated by the demon as his brother was. “That’s me, hon. Hey, question . . . what happened to your face? You get your head trapped in a sulfur vent of something?”
Azrael laughed, amused by his cavalier attitude. “Aw, c’mon. And I went and got myself all dolled up and pretty, just to come all the way up here.”
Claude wrinkled his nose as he stepped forward to stand by his brother. “Yeah, I can tell. What are you wearing, Eau d’Brimstone?”
“Cute.” Azrael was quickly losing patience with their banter. She turned her attention back to Grey, fangs glistening. “So this is why you got all freaked, huh?” She strode forward towards Claude, smirking. Grey surged forward, spreading his wings protectively, but Claude held him back.
Let her do what she wants, he thought, directing the unspoken sentence to Grey. If we provoke her, it gives her a legit reason to break the treaty.
Grey agreed silently, but Claude could tell from his brother’s peripheral thoughts that he wasn’t happy about civility among demons. Azrael, however, had no intention of being civil.
“So you misbehaved, huh?” she drawled. Again, the reptilian eyes flicked to his black hair and ragged wings. “What’d you do? Misplace some files? Botch a holy invoice?” Her red eyes pierced deeper, unraveling every dark thought, every fear, every vice. It was a dark talent only awarded to those of a demonic mold – angels could read their charges, but they couldn’t simply dip into the mind of anyone they pleased . . . and they certainly couldn’t have VIP access to all their dark secrets. For Azrael, however, it was like mental grocery shopping. “Shag a human or two?”
Claude’s jaw tensed, but he didn’t rise to her bait. But she had him hooked, and she knew it. “Let’s see . . .” She tapped her jaw thoughtfully, a small smile flickering across her blood-red lips. “James Arlesbury . . . what do I know about a James Arlesbury? Died in 1779, am I right?”
“That’s right,” Claude muttered through clenched teeth. Grey let his wings brush across his brother’s face comfortingly, but at this point Claude was inconsolable.
“Died in that little spat . . . jeez, humans have so many wars, it’s hard to keep track . . .”
“The American Revolution,” Claude supplied coldly. Azrael smiled innocently at him.
“That’s it. Married to . . . Mary Jane Crowley, am I right? Oh, how sad – she died in childbirth before she even knew he was dead. Just a month before he died, actually.” Azrael’s smile turned into a full-blown grin, her voice dripping malice. “Did you know I was assigned to all three of them in Purgatory?”
Claude made a strange, strangled noise in the back of his throat, jet-black eyes wide with rage and horror. This time, it was Grey holding him back.
She’s lying, Claude. She’s lying. She’s just trying to get to you, Grey insisted urgently.
No, she’s not. She can’t lie to angels. She can twist the truth, but she can’t say a clear statement that’s obviously untrue, Claude corrected him.
But you’re Fallen, so the Treaty doesn’t – Grey began desperately.
But you can hear her, too, Claude interrupted. She can lie while you’re here.
Azrael, who could hear their silent conversation as well as they themselves could, smirked and continued softly. “Yup. All three . . . mommy, daddy, and the widdle baby. Of course there’s regulations as to how far you can push the torment, but we all bend the rules a little sometimes. You of all people should understand that, Claude.”
“You don’t know me,” Claude hissed. “I swear, Azrael, my brother and I will exorcise your ass straight back to H.E.L.L. headquarters . . .”
“You won’t,” Azrael corrected. “Your brother can. But I don’t think he will. I’m done here, anyway.” She stepped back and raised her arms over her head, arms slightly bent, and began humming a lazy jazz tune to herself as tendrils of darkness snaked up from the ground at her feet. Claude and Grey watched with disgust as she disappeared into an inky black and violet cocoon, her humming still audible. When the shadows dissipated, an enormous black dog stood in her place. Azrael sat down on her haunches, her mouth hanging open in an eerie dog smile. When she spoke, her jaw opened and closed, but the movement didn’t match her words. Her voice was doubled, underlaid with a rough bass tone, as though it wasn’t only her speaking.
I wish I could stay and chat, but I’ve gotta run. Lucifer’s pet demon cocked one pointed ear, her lips still pulled back from blackened gums in a silent, mocking laugh. Remember, kiddies . . . I know where you live. The Black Dog of Lucifer – the artist formerly known as Azrael – turned her tail on them, two-inch-long claws scraping along the concrete of the rooftop as she walked. Flicking one last glance at them, she bounded off the roof, disappearing in a wisp of black smoke that slowly dissipated on the chilly breeze.
Grey sighed in relief, folding his wings close to his body. “Thank the Authority that’s over.”
“There’s no thanks to the Authority here, Grey. What has he done for me, huh?” Claude snapped. Though he didn’t want to admit it, his nerves were still jarred – the memory of Azreal’s taunting voice lingered in his mind, setting his teeth on edge. “She’ll be back,” he added grimly. “You know she’s not going to give up on this. Now that she knows how much it’ll hurt you –”
Grey nodded, his pale, sage-hued eyes tight with worry. “I know, Claude. I know. For now I suppose I’ll just have to try even harder to get a visa . . . that way I can stay here with you as much as possible.”
“But you’ve gotta look after your charge,” Claude protested. “Don’t let your job go to seed for me, Grey.”
“So you’d rather I stay away?” Grey prodded gently. Claude remained silent. “I didn’t think so. Now, let’s get some rest and try to forget about this. Joan is all alone down there.”
In fact, she wasn’t alone . . . Azreal’s exeunt had not carried her as far away as the twins’ had assumed. She bent over Joan, back in her human form, stroking the sleeping girl’s cheek with one long finger. “Oh, what a darling,” the demon purred to herself. “So you’re with the boys, huh? I guess this must be the place . . . it reeks of angel.”
The succubus leaned over, breathing lightly on Joan’s face . . . the artist’s lips parted in a frown, and she twisted away, tangling herself in the sheets draped over the couch. “Shy, huh? Well, well, well . . . we’ll see what I can cook up for you, won’t we, doll?” She suddenly felt a telltale prickle on the back of her neck – the two angels were coming back. Smirking, she quickly leaned down and brushed her lips along the length of the girl’s throat. “Curse No. 5, baby. Try that on for size,” Azreal snickered. Joan started to toss and turn, whimpering slightly in her sleep. Satisfied, the demon vanished again in a wisp of smoke just as Claude and Grey flickered into the adjacent room.
Claude changed back into his human form, pulling his hair out of its customary ponytail and letting his long, glossy hair spill over his shoulders. “Hey, do you hear something?” he murmured.
“I can’t yet. Give me a moment . . .” Grey changed back, as well, gaining the heightened physical senses of a human body. “It sounds like Joan.” His eyes widened. “You don’t think –”
“Damn it!” Claude bolted out into the room where Joan lay on the ratty couch, writhing in silent agony. He grabbed her shoulder and shook her, calling her name. “Joan? Hey, Joan, what’s wrong?”
“Oh!” She woke suddenly, cringing away from his hand. “Nothing. Nothing,” she murmured. She took a few deep breaths, gulping in as much air as she could. “I just – it was a bad dream, that’s all. Just . . . a nightmare.”
The angel and demon both turned at the sound of Claude’s voice, identical to Grey’s and yet so inexplicably opposite. The dark-eyed angel was in his natural form and was standing behind his brother. He had ghosted up to the rooftop only seconds before, after waking to find Grey gone.
Azrael took in his appearance with analytical, businesslike efficiency – diminished glow, molting wings, ink-black eyes and hair. Her sly smirk returned, but she kept her composure. “Well, if it isn’t your other half,” she chuckled to Grey.
Claude wasn’t as intimidated by the demon as his brother was. “That’s me, hon. Hey, question . . . what happened to your face? You get your head trapped in a sulfur vent of something?”
Azrael laughed, amused by his cavalier attitude. “Aw, c’mon. And I went and got myself all dolled up and pretty, just to come all the way up here.”
Claude wrinkled his nose as he stepped forward to stand by his brother. “Yeah, I can tell. What are you wearing, Eau d’Brimstone?”
“Cute.” Azrael was quickly losing patience with their banter. She turned her attention back to Grey, fangs glistening. “So this is why you got all freaked, huh?” She strode forward towards Claude, smirking. Grey surged forward, spreading his wings protectively, but Claude held him back.
Let her do what she wants, he thought, directing the unspoken sentence to Grey. If we provoke her, it gives her a legit reason to break the treaty.
Grey agreed silently, but Claude could tell from his brother’s peripheral thoughts that he wasn’t happy about civility among demons. Azrael, however, had no intention of being civil.
“So you misbehaved, huh?” she drawled. Again, the reptilian eyes flicked to his black hair and ragged wings. “What’d you do? Misplace some files? Botch a holy invoice?” Her red eyes pierced deeper, unraveling every dark thought, every fear, every vice. It was a dark talent only awarded to those of a demonic mold – angels could read their charges, but they couldn’t simply dip into the mind of anyone they pleased . . . and they certainly couldn’t have VIP access to all their dark secrets. For Azrael, however, it was like mental grocery shopping. “Shag a human or two?”
Claude’s jaw tensed, but he didn’t rise to her bait. But she had him hooked, and she knew it. “Let’s see . . .” She tapped her jaw thoughtfully, a small smile flickering across her blood-red lips. “James Arlesbury . . . what do I know about a James Arlesbury? Died in 1779, am I right?”
“That’s right,” Claude muttered through clenched teeth. Grey let his wings brush across his brother’s face comfortingly, but at this point Claude was inconsolable.
“Died in that little spat . . . jeez, humans have so many wars, it’s hard to keep track . . .”
“The American Revolution,” Claude supplied coldly. Azrael smiled innocently at him.
“That’s it. Married to . . . Mary Jane Crowley, am I right? Oh, how sad – she died in childbirth before she even knew he was dead. Just a month before he died, actually.” Azrael’s smile turned into a full-blown grin, her voice dripping malice. “Did you know I was assigned to all three of them in Purgatory?”
Claude made a strange, strangled noise in the back of his throat, jet-black eyes wide with rage and horror. This time, it was Grey holding him back.
She’s lying, Claude. She’s lying. She’s just trying to get to you, Grey insisted urgently.
No, she’s not. She can’t lie to angels. She can twist the truth, but she can’t say a clear statement that’s obviously untrue, Claude corrected him.
But you’re Fallen, so the Treaty doesn’t – Grey began desperately.
But you can hear her, too, Claude interrupted. She can lie while you’re here.
Azrael, who could hear their silent conversation as well as they themselves could, smirked and continued softly. “Yup. All three . . . mommy, daddy, and the widdle baby. Of course there’s regulations as to how far you can push the torment, but we all bend the rules a little sometimes. You of all people should understand that, Claude.”
“You don’t know me,” Claude hissed. “I swear, Azrael, my brother and I will exorcise your ass straight back to H.E.L.L. headquarters . . .”
“You won’t,” Azrael corrected. “Your brother can. But I don’t think he will. I’m done here, anyway.” She stepped back and raised her arms over her head, arms slightly bent, and began humming a lazy jazz tune to herself as tendrils of darkness snaked up from the ground at her feet. Claude and Grey watched with disgust as she disappeared into an inky black and violet cocoon, her humming still audible. When the shadows dissipated, an enormous black dog stood in her place. Azrael sat down on her haunches, her mouth hanging open in an eerie dog smile. When she spoke, her jaw opened and closed, but the movement didn’t match her words. Her voice was doubled, underlaid with a rough bass tone, as though it wasn’t only her speaking.
I wish I could stay and chat, but I’ve gotta run. Lucifer’s pet demon cocked one pointed ear, her lips still pulled back from blackened gums in a silent, mocking laugh. Remember, kiddies . . . I know where you live. The Black Dog of Lucifer – the artist formerly known as Azrael – turned her tail on them, two-inch-long claws scraping along the concrete of the rooftop as she walked. Flicking one last glance at them, she bounded off the roof, disappearing in a wisp of black smoke that slowly dissipated on the chilly breeze.
Grey sighed in relief, folding his wings close to his body. “Thank the Authority that’s over.”
“There’s no thanks to the Authority here, Grey. What has he done for me, huh?” Claude snapped. Though he didn’t want to admit it, his nerves were still jarred – the memory of Azreal’s taunting voice lingered in his mind, setting his teeth on edge. “She’ll be back,” he added grimly. “You know she’s not going to give up on this. Now that she knows how much it’ll hurt you –”
Grey nodded, his pale, sage-hued eyes tight with worry. “I know, Claude. I know. For now I suppose I’ll just have to try even harder to get a visa . . . that way I can stay here with you as much as possible.”
“But you’ve gotta look after your charge,” Claude protested. “Don’t let your job go to seed for me, Grey.”
“So you’d rather I stay away?” Grey prodded gently. Claude remained silent. “I didn’t think so. Now, let’s get some rest and try to forget about this. Joan is all alone down there.”
In fact, she wasn’t alone . . . Azreal’s exeunt had not carried her as far away as the twins’ had assumed. She bent over Joan, back in her human form, stroking the sleeping girl’s cheek with one long finger. “Oh, what a darling,” the demon purred to herself. “So you’re with the boys, huh? I guess this must be the place . . . it reeks of angel.”
The succubus leaned over, breathing lightly on Joan’s face . . . the artist’s lips parted in a frown, and she twisted away, tangling herself in the sheets draped over the couch. “Shy, huh? Well, well, well . . . we’ll see what I can cook up for you, won’t we, doll?” She suddenly felt a telltale prickle on the back of her neck – the two angels were coming back. Smirking, she quickly leaned down and brushed her lips along the length of the girl’s throat. “Curse No. 5, baby. Try that on for size,” Azreal snickered. Joan started to toss and turn, whimpering slightly in her sleep. Satisfied, the demon vanished again in a wisp of smoke just as Claude and Grey flickered into the adjacent room.
Claude changed back into his human form, pulling his hair out of its customary ponytail and letting his long, glossy hair spill over his shoulders. “Hey, do you hear something?” he murmured.
“I can’t yet. Give me a moment . . .” Grey changed back, as well, gaining the heightened physical senses of a human body. “It sounds like Joan.” His eyes widened. “You don’t think –”
“Damn it!” Claude bolted out into the room where Joan lay on the ratty couch, writhing in silent agony. He grabbed her shoulder and shook her, calling her name. “Joan? Hey, Joan, what’s wrong?”
“Oh!” She woke suddenly, cringing away from his hand. “Nothing. Nothing,” she murmured. She took a few deep breaths, gulping in as much air as she could. “I just – it was a bad dream, that’s all. Just . . . a nightmare.”
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