Liam Book Of Azrael Novels & Stories

She has, by every material measure available to her, been perfectly safe since the moment she was born. She wakes screaming every third night anyway. After a long moment, she reaches for the journal. The false panel is in the third drawer of the writing desk, requiring pressure at a specific angle she found by accident at age eleven. The journal itself is bound in dark violet leather, sealed with a mana-lock keyed only to her, its pages filled from front to back in her own precise handwriting — small, controlled, without the slope that most people develop when writing quickly or emotionally. She does not allow herself to write emotionally.

said Elize with a simultaneous look at Dark and Lucian. "Ah, Vanessa, he's the Archangel, Chief of the guardian angels, Barachiel." said Lucian. Elize's eyes broadened, she didn't believe it. She wasn't sure what to say. "Ahm, pleased to meet you, sir," said Elize. Barachiel smiled and turned to Lucian. "I'm planning to go up, chief. Why are you here?" Lucian asked. "I want to extend a personal greeting to you. And get to know Vanessa too," said Barachiel.

Theresa was old enough to have experience, but looked young enough to please Salem’s eyes—two key requirements for a housekeeper in his home. “Where is Salem now?” I asked. A good feeding would soothe my nerves. “He’s not at home, my lady. I couldn’t tell you.” Grumbling, I headed to Salem’s library. Perhaps he had a book I could entertain myself with. Once there, I found a book lying open on a desk. It was titled Mythic Bloodlines: Lost & Fabled Lilitu. Curious, I studied an illustration on the open page. It depicted a trio of strange-looking women, just like the ones Salem had been painting all this time. The accompanying text stated:

She knows it is impossible to erase nor to kill a man or woman using her own hands, after all, the human species is on the same level of importance as theirs, both are beloved by the creator. The day went on with Azrael telling her words and the meaning of it as she lays down on his bed and him reading a red thick book, the dictionary. He can use his phone or laptop but he prefers to read something that is tangible, for him, it means that he can always come back to it without having it changed or lost. It was a weird preference he had, considering he was behind one of the genius inventions of the year, an application that altered the world of commerce.

He looked at me, his eyes dancing with unspoken thoughts, signalling that he had something to say. "What is it?" I asked Liam, sensing the urgency in his expression. He glanced at his father before speaking up. "We need to help them," Liam said, and Sylvester's smile vanished, replaced by a serious expression. "Help who? The Maguires?" I questioned, seeking clarification, and Liam nodded in response. "Mike committed familicide, a grave crime that even the royal family wouldn't dare commit. Their lives are essentially forfeit," I stated, grasping the severity of the situation, and Liam confirmed my understanding with a nod.

He retorted back, repeating my question in a mocking way. "Drake." Ethan called him in a warning tone before he averted his eyes on me. "Speak now, Cielle. What happened to that event?" I heave a deep sigh and shake my head at him, "I don't know." "People died back there, and our name is being blamed for it! If it gets to the authorities, we'll be doomed!" Drake hissed at me and my eyes sharpened while looking back at him. "How could you let this happen to a project that you're handling?"

“The Book of Kings.” Azazel nods, “At first, we weren’t sure what we’d find. Because not only is it in Latin, but the scriptures are quite involved.” He scrolls through the book and opens it to a specific page. “Then we saw this, Pestifer Mundi, the destroyer of worlds. At first, it discusses the plagues, but as we continued to read, we found information about Lana.”

“You don’t know Sariyah like I do.” That shuts him up. Because I do. I know how close Ember lives to the edge of becoming something terrible. I know how much she hates the world for letting men be taken and cities rot and gods lie. Most importantly, I know how easily Sariyah’s lies could feel like permission. The torches flicker the shadows along the far wall move. I spin just as heat rolls through the cell dry, ancient, and wrong. Azrael steps out of nothing wings I have never seen are half-manifested. His expression is calm, too calm. Every instinct I have goes nuclear.

He laughed continuously as he sold more bottles, nothing would make a demon feel more powerful than stepping over an Angel and Liam, when drunk with emotions, made that an easy thing. Liam had accepted his fate, that he would never be able to rise to the pinnacle of power which he once held. Liam Reid, the lost Arch Angel, defeated and humiliated and now laid wasted as the only Angel in this bar full of demons. He slid away slowly into sleep, the laughter, chants and hoots of the demons registered in his brain as the last noise he heard but before he totally passed out, he saw her yet again, he saw her lips part open and he saw her breathe in through those lips and her eyes shot open as his

I couldn't possibly wrap my head around how badly Azrael must have wronged anyone to incur such wrath. Azrael was a good person. No matter what anyone says. He's an asshole sometimes, but an asshole with a big heart. A bit overbearing and annoying? Yes, but that was it. “You're thinking really hard there, buddy,” his voice penetrated my thoughts. “What are you thinking about?” “Nothing much. Just wondering what you must have done to the woman you claimed to love that would make her place such a curse on you.” His face fell, sadness clouded his eyes and his whole body went rigid.