Azrael and the Prince of Hell

The scraps and ashes in her black and leather clothing set forth a tale of a recent adventure. Azrael was always proud of them. Every scar, every wound, and every single drop of blood tells another story. It’s nice to have actually witnessed a world change over the course of billion years. It’s tiring, but it’s congenial.

Azrael landed in one of the oldest residential buildings in the city of Bucharest agilely on her feet. She closed her voluminous black wings that are identical to the color of her hair and walked towards the railings of the rooftop to have a peek at the place.

Azrael knew to herself she isn’t a follower, but it does not mean that she is not a believer. She doesn’t follow the rules, she makes them and if necessary she breaks them, and she is doing it exactly now without a pinch of regret in her narcissistic heart. She reminds herself, that she may sometimes be shallow but she has a reason. A raging one.

The sound of noisy clamors in the market below the building startled her out of her reverie. She felt the sudden impatient eagerness for the hunt. Sweeping out her thoughts, she started to run to the door. Knowing that her clothes don’t fit the place and is somehow disfiguring and flashy, Azrael started to take some of its pieces off.

While running down the stairs, she gets rid of her gauntlet gloves and shoulder pads. She pulled down the silver armband from her arm to her wrist and detaches the metal straps on her chest and stomach as she removed her corset while throwing it all in her way.

Azrael decided to jump from the spiral stairs to land on the ground floor where a cold old woman widen her eyes when she pop up. Azrael handed her the wool cloth on her shoulders.

The woman said something in Romanian, as Azrael realizes she said thank you, she smiles and went to the exit while grabbing a jacket from a drying rack. She forms a big and marvelous smile on her lips before stepping out into the bustle of the marketplace.

While pacing down the streets of Piața Obor, Azrael started to think deeply. How will she ever start her search for someone she wasn’t sure what looks like? She let her mind fly while glancing over the stalls when she felt eyes around her.

The hard pavement was filthy, the buildings crowding too close together, but the sun was bright and beautiful – and the streets were full of monsters. Monsters, they bleed as red as men do when you kill them.

Azrael stops when someone stridden past her and tries to cut her arm. She saw the sleeves of her stolen jacket get torn, and even though she wasn’t wounded she felt the sting of the metal on her skin. She looks around and saw someone watching her closely from a window and another from a newspaper booth, “Shit!” she cursed loudly and started to run.

Right on her cue, the Eidolon Demons disguised as a person, jump out to follow her. Demons are fast, but Angels are faster. Thing is, Demons are also reckless, while Angels are more careful. Only if she was familiar with the place, she thought. Azrael leaps through the mazelike streets of stalls of vegetables, fruits, spices, and clothing cautiously not to damage their livelihood and to have any casualties.

One of her brothers probably finds out she went straight to the human world and asks their companions to send her home. It was bullshit, Azrael said to herself, “Excuse me! Oops, I’m sorry.” Azrael said while sliding to a corner of a group of women haggling for a price of meat.

When she finally found a small alley where no people are assembled around and she can freely fly and disappear, a group of Demons appeared and were all ready to jump at her. She took a deep breath before pulling out a knife from her belt, “Alright, screw it.” she uttered while slashing the knife at the Demons round-up around her.

With every cut of the knife, the Eidolons started going back to powder of ashes before disappearing. They don’t die, they simply went back to the dimension they belong. But regular Demons bleed thin blood like green poison, and some bleed silver or black. She remembers seeing a Demon that bled acid the color of sapphires.

Azrael outnumbered them quickly, and before she knew it, a bunch of people are behind her. She wasn’t sure if she’ll face them or run away from them, but she chooses the latter. The other end of the alley opens to a bigger street, a rotunda where vehicles were passing.

Azrael felt like a fool running away with cars on her side, unable to move because of the heavy traffic. The people inside their cars were sure amazed by how fast and agile she is. Azrael recalls a poem from the Silver City that describes Angels.

Swift as the wind

Strong as the earth

Silent as the forest

Invisible as water

Azrael readied herself when she saw an approaching motorcycle, she quickly grabbed and pulled it away from the driver and drove back to the direction where it came from. She felt some creature jump on her back, she immediately pulled another knife from her ankle and throw it at a Demon trying to crawl behind her. She knew that the small chase can cause hysteria in the people around.

When she saw policemen coming on her way, she drifted back from the motorcycle and leap onto an underground highway. To her surprise, Demons were already waiting for her. She grimaced, and all of a sudden she felt she was on the hard pavement after someone jump on her back to pin her on the ground, “Azrael!?” the person said in full surprise.

Azrael groaned and frowned at the same time, when the person took off her hood, Azrael was appalled. The first thing she saw was her face dead white as paper, “Namaah?” she cried in a stunned voice.