Demon Azrael Novels & Stories

He lowered his hand and had my eyes follow his hand before I was left staring at his purple eyes before he approached me and I got defensive. “Who are you and how do you know that name?” I asked as the stranger paused. The scent emitting from his body was not human and the energy that surrounded were thicker and stronger than even warlocks but it was more controlled. “I go by many names that are not in English but I you can call me Azreal. I am one of the demons who was born the day Eve took a bite from the apple.” He said as I folded my arms. “How do I know you are telling the truth?” I asked as he stretched his hand.

I begged “What's— what's going on?” Mel sobbed. “Oh, sweetheart are you still oblivious to what's going on around you? Well, let's put Mel here in the know, don't you all agree?” He grinned, “Mel your friend isn't crazy, demons are real and unfortunately for you... I am one of them,” he added. “Yeah, but you were an angel, a well respectable one, what happened Azrael?” Stefan asked. “I got a better deal,” he grinned.

It wasn’t a matter of opinion, he simply was a beautiful man—or creature. “Why are you showing yourself to us?” Darren positioned himself more in front of me as he challenged Azrael. However, if he was who he said he was, this would mean he was powerful. Some call him an angel, while others say he’s a demon, and then you have those who say he’s a god. In any case, everyone knew he was strong and responsible for guiding souls. “You’re the one who interrupted me. I’m here to collect a soul, and you’re here to take the person. Quite the dilemma.”

White foam exploded upward like frantic applause. Then I laughed. It started small—a huff, a snort—then burst out sharp and borderline hysterical, echoing off the rocks. Azrael. The demon who’d spent centuries treating lust like a casual buffet—no strings, no feelings, just mutual feeding—had screamed that he loved me less than twenty-four hours ago. Voice raw, wings flared, looking like the confession had been ripped out of him against his will.

"So why did you call me...son? Do you want to get a sister, perchance? From the black-haired one?" I shook my head, but Martha didn't let me answer, interrupting me. "Don't play games with the child, ye demon." "If he summoned me, he's not a child anymore, he's a necromancer," the demon's logic made sense. "You may call me Argadon, boy." "I'm Alex. Alexander Leonard Radenor. "Radenor... Is it a country in this world?" "Yes," I said. "Shouldn't you know this?"

“Why else would an angel with a permanent stick up his ass risk everything to help them steal those souls?” “That’s preposterous,” Azriel said with a splutter. “But you didn’t say no.” The Demon King closed the distance between himself and the angel. Shit. Hades had probably already guessed we knew about Azriel’s secret tryst with his assistant. I stepped backward toward the elevator. Some of the demons around me stumbled to their hands and knees, groaning as they awoke from the sleeping draught. I kept on my tiptoes, hoping to muffle the sound of my footsteps.

I rolled my eyes, lowering my gaze to look back at my wrist as I reached to grab my now full mug, feeling also a little offended even though I still had no idea what was that stupid mark. “You don’t have to stare at it like that, though.” My eyes suddenly snapped up to his once I've felt him quickly grab my shoulders, turning me aside to face him. “Do you even understand the gravity of this situation?” He practically yelled in my face, sounding extremely alarmed, his tone dripping with seriousness. “Huh?” My eyebrows shot up, obviously taken aback by his sudden outburst. “Blake, Azrael is one of the Horsemen,” He kept ranting as I simply stared up at him, clueless.

Despite the light emanating from the Pentacle, the air was icy cold. Then the ground seemed to crack wider open like a glass and pouring through the shards came a horde of dark shapes, humanoid but twisted, gnarled and faceless, howling out a soundless scream that punctured the ears of the witch. It did not seem to affect Aosoth though. She cackled and her beetle-like eyes grew bright with a manic light as she raised her hands higher and the demons poured forth. Icy wind burned the witch as more humanoid demons came through the band of light within the Pentacle. The air stank of sulphur and ashes.

“I don’t have time for this! I’m guessing now I’m here time is moving again?” “Ah, yes, but you can’t return to the Terran Realm.” “What the hell are you saying, I must!” “You’re a ninth level demon lord now, it is forbidden by the agreeance in the peace treaty of the Angels and the Demon King that no entity over the level of six or under the level of two may enter any other realm.” “I’m not a Demon Lord, I’m a fucking vampire, I belong in the Terran Realm!” Ruben let the terrified Goblin go and raked a hand through his hair. “Show me how to create a portal! I must return to save Bastetia!”

Break the rules and we kill you, why sugarcoat it? Before Hexton can get another word out, one of the competitors steps forward, frantically unzipping the back of her bodysuit and pulling her headpiece off revealing her face to a shocked crowd. She’s new to The Tournament and goes by the codename Azrael, named after the Angel of Death because that is exactly what she is. She prefers to give people painless deaths, allowing them to just go peacefully in their sleep. I feel perhaps Hexton invited her this year just to shake things up. The fact she gives people such painless deaths indicates an amount of compassion many of us don’t possess, which doesn’t make her suited for this type of thing a