Azrael Supernatural Novels & Stories

"Azrael... His name is Azrael," "Azrael?" Maze walks in front of me and observes my face with wide, curious eyes. "So he is an angel then?" I stare at her. "How do you know that?!" Maze shrugs. "Everyone knows Azrael is the angel of death, which is kinda suiting because everyone knows what will happen if you fall in love with an angel," Anxiety washes over me. "That's why I'm trying to forget about the guy," Maze grins in her cheerful way. "Azrael is known for being a player; my mother talked about him the other day, complaining she is losing workers to the parasite. He lives in a castle down south, and apparently, he is hiring maids,"

Both of them are now looking like they were about to pounce and slit each other's throats. Selene feels his slight stubble as she runs her fingers past his jaw to his neck. "Do you think I have time to play with you?" Azrael asks coldly. He was ready to tear her throat, it's just that he need to know how did she manage to suddenly appear in his territory.

a grim reaper reported. "What did you say? Did you say, Zanea?" his eyes widened in fear as he looked at the grim reaper. The man bent down his knees and frowned, "Yes, archangel. His name was written in the list," he responded and his heart sank to realized that Zanea was the one who killed the Vampire.

Hard. The First One staggered back, shock flashing across his face for the first time. Impossible. I barely had time to breathe before the others moved. All five of them stepped forward now, their smiles gone, their eyes blazing with fury. Azriel shifted back to human form, blood covering his body, and ran toward me without hesitation. “Paige!” he shouted. I turned just as another wave of dark magic surged toward me. The ground shook violently. The sky darkened. I realised with terrifying clarity… This was no longer just a battle.

I pushed the door open and we both stepped in finding Azrael on the floor, growling in pain, his claws digging into his skin as he clawed at his chest. There's blood everywhere. The floor, his face, his body. My heart sank to my stomach. Caspian approached the raging beast, cautiously but deliberately He's half-shited—no, he's switching from human to half-beast to human again. This is not good. “Check the drawer in his closet, you'll find the sacred chains!” Caspian barked. “Get it!” Azrael had gone from growling to full-on roaring now. I quickly moved in search of the chains as I could overhear Caspian trying to handle them.

It made Lisa feel good because it meant that her efforts were not going to waste. Lisa was a grim reaper or angel of death or a shinigami, every culture had a different name for beings like her. She was responsible for guiding discorporate souls, helping them accept death so they could move on to the other side. Whenever someone died in her district she would get an assignment or a prerogative as it was called in the business. Zadkiel was an archangel and her boss; he oversaw her work and that of 25 other reapers that worked in his province.

But somewhere beneath the earth, beneath reality itself something moved. Waking. Rising. Answering. My breath caught painfully in my throat. No. The word barely escaped me. Beside me, Azrael was already back on his feet, blood dripping from the cut at his temple as his eyes scanned the shadows. His body radiated lethal focus, every muscle tense and prepared for another attack. That wasn’t alone, he said. I swallowed hard, forcing myself to stay steady while the pressure inside my chest intensified. No, I whispered. That was a signal.

Lila followed the ritual exactly — black candles, fresh blood from her palm, the ancient words spoken at midnight under a blood moon. The air grew thick and hot. The candles flared unnaturally high. Then the shadows in the room coalesced into something massive. He stepped out of the darkness like he owned it. Azrael was beautiful in the most terrifying way. Towering over seven feet tall, with obsidian skin that seemed to drink in light, glowing crimson eyes, and a muscular body carved from pure sin. Horns curved back from his head, and massive black wings were folded behind him. His presence filled the room with raw, ancient power.

Instead, I force a smile. "Careful, Dean Withers. You almost sound afraid of a dead family." His expression darkens. "Afraid?" He scoffs. "No. I reserve fear for things that are still breathing." My smile falls as he steps closer. "The Celestial Dragons are gone. Your parents are dead. Your sister is dead. And you, Miss Thalorien, are nothing more than the last loose thread of a failed rebellion." Every word steals more air from the room. "You know nothing," I whisper.