Azrael Wikipedia Novels & Stories

I was eating toast at my father's kitchen island at 7am, thinking about this, when I decided I was done sitting still. The toast went in the bin. I got dressed. I grabbed my jacket, the one with the rosary still in the pocket, and I left before anyone in the house was awake enough to have opinions about it. --- Here was what I knew. Azrael had operated in New York before Sicily. He'd had contacts here — people who moved in the specific gray area between legitimate business and the kind of business that didn't get discussed at dinner parties. The kind of people who knew things. The kind of people who, if you approached correctly and didn't look like law enforcement, might tell you some of tho

It was so hard to know his feelings. “Is that what Syne told you? That the afterlife was in chaos?” “It’s not true?” Via raised her brow. "C'mon, I thought angels don't lie." “I collect dead people here in this place,” Azrael stood up and we followed him. We got to the part of the cave that was surrounded by water. I was right from what I heard. When Azrael flicked his finger, a door appeared inside the cave and I saw a long line of people. I don’t know how far it is but I’m sure the end I see isn’t the end, it seems like an endless queue.

He brought his fingers together, with the nails pointed out then pressed his nails against his chest. A chest that is nothing but skin and bones now. Not an ounce of meat left on him. His face is sunken in and so is his stomach. He takes a deep breath in and holds it then jumps at the sudden voice as he was getting ready to push his hand into his chest and try to pierce his own heart. "Stop! Don't kill us!" "What? Who's there?" Azrael calls out into the dark. His eyes searching, trying desperately to see who's standing in the dark with him. But as he listens, he hears nothing, no other heartbeat, no one breathing. Did he imagine that voice?

The fear in his eyes turned into anger. That was right, five years ago, the nation of Tianfu announced the official retirement of the legendary God of Death, M*mned, five years ago. It seemed that the Chosen One, Azrael, retired, but in fact, everyone knew that Azrael M*m had died. He had heard that the God of Death M host had offended someone he shouldn't have. He had been surrounded by the world's top killers, and even several world-class snipers had been sent there.

“I’m not a fledgling Sahara. I’ve lived on this earth for thousands of years. I already have everything. You, however, are a greedy bitch who has never satisfied with your lot and look where it has gotten you. Aren’t you tired of being Marael’s lackey?” Sahara’s nostrils flare at Marael’s name. “How do you know about Marael? How are you involved in any of this?” Azazel shrugs and takes a cautious step back, and the revenants continue to moan and growl in hunger. I tighten my hand around him, feeling tension rush through my body, but Azazel keeps his cool and continues to talk. “I’ve always known about Marael and her plan to bring hell on earth. I was sent by the Council to find her. The Coun

The Royal Guards surrounded Azrael, their swords pointed at him but Azrael’s world seemed to narrow on Caius and he couldn’t see anything else. “Y-You a-asshole,” Caius struggled. His face turned pale and I felt his hold on me loosen until I was finally freed. As if that was Azrael's cue, he mercilessly threw Caius on the floor. Looking at Caius gasp for air and hold his neck just to suppress the blood made my chest clench. “Don’t tell me you feel sorry for that asshole,” Azrael whispered. I glared at him. He was being reckless. The two of us might be beheaded because of what he did.

Elira and Theron stood on opposite sides of the vale, forming a ring of star-magic and shadow. Kael held Selene steady, even as her fingers bled silver sparks. She whispered his name, just once. And then—he stepped back. --- The wind howled. The ground shimmered. And from the crack in the vale— He stepped through. Azrael. Still wearing his old silver cloak. Still tall, still too beautiful. But changed. His eyes no longer held cruelty. Only remorse. And a deep, humming sorrow. --- Selene’s voice was barely audible. “You’re late.”

He traveled across Plains and Planets and brought good tidings to its inhabitants oftentimes helping in escorting Souls of the Dead across the Black Death River. As a busy Angel, Azrael led a decent lifestyle, adored by many, feared by some. He was friendly and well-suited to his job and the people he served. But even then, Azrael had a tendency to get carried away with his duties; so he made time to go wandering the Unclaimed Grounds. He would often find time to wander into the Silent Grounds to free his Spirits of their many hidden burdens.

Silver hair pulled back in a neat ponytail. A face that might have been handsome if not for eyes that held all the warmth of winter ice. He stopped about fifty feet from the motel, studying the building with the careful assessment of someone who'd walked into ambushes before. "Aurelia Veythorne," he called out, his voice carrying clearly through the night air. "I am Azrael, Purifier of the Third Circle. I mean you no immediate harm. I simply wish to talk." I exchanged a glance with Zane. He shook his head fractionally. Don't respond.

Azrael walked to the chair opposite mine and sat down before my eyes went down to the novels and magazines scattered on the floor at his feet. “What are you reading?” I asked, and he raised the book. “I was doing a comprehensive study on some psychological disorder.” “Is that what you do all day? Drink, eat, sleep, read, and…” I fidgeted when I thought about the other thing before he scoffed and took off his glasses. “What do you take me for? A troglodyte?” Azrael asked as he put out the cigarette in his mouth. “Then what do you do?” “Things that children shouldn’t know about.”