The Of Azrael Novels & Stories

“You’ve been preparing this for years.” “Yes.” “All the meetings. The quiet alliances.” “Yes.” “The rumors.” “Yes.” Her voice drops to almost nothing. “You never cared about just breaking their bond.” “It was useful,” I say. “But it was never the end.” The hum deepens. Lyra swallows hard. “What is Azrael?” I open my eyes. “An adversary to lunar order.” Her face drains of color. “You’re aligning with something that hates the Moon.” “I am aligning with balance.”

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.

“Who are you, and how did you get in here?” Sister Melisa asked coldly. “The answer to your prayers.” The man said, ignoring the question. “I’m Azrael. I wish to observe this, Blake Elon, for the time being before we commence on anything that may attract too much attention to ourselves,” Azrael said, indifferent to the three people in the room. “Like the archangel Azrael, the angel of death.” Father Ding commented, thinking of the biblical text.

I made a face at the memory. Azrael. Almost as old as Heaven, older than the World; the record-keeper for the lives of the departed, he was not an entity I would ever dream of saying "No" to. You might forget who he was, might be swept in by his neat, meticulous, ordered way and his minor vanity of the tailored off-white Armani suit... But he was the Angel of Death, and he could be terrifying when crossed. Oh well. Time to go. I paused, concentrated, shifted... my wings beating downwards, the powerful thrust driving me slantwise through the dream of existence from the clear morning of Memphis to the overcast just-about-lunch of my beloved Wales.

My eyelids try to close with all their might, but I resist and slowly manage to open them, although everything is blurry, I see that I am on the ground, lying. When I close and reopen them, Azael's face appears in front of me, watching me with a frown, with his piercings and his black shirt through which his tattoos peek out and spread across his neck. But when I blink again, there is no sign of him. As if it was part of my imagination.

He blinked and his eyes showered his cheeks. " Give me water, " Ace head snaps towards the voice, Asher stands beside the fridge that he can't reach. He looks towards where Oren was standing. Where did he go? " Why are you crying?" Asher asks and looks at Ace, who was trying to wipe all of his tears. " onions, " Ace says and Asher shrugs and points at the fridge. " I want water, " He says again. Ace gets the bottle out of the fridge and pour a glass for him.

"Suffer? Oh, dear Lisa, you still don’t see the bigger picture. Ace is not just a pawn; he’s the key. His mind, his blood—they hold the secrets to unlocking power you can’t even imagine." Lisa's breath caught in her throat. "What are you talking about?" Evelyn's eyes gleamed with a dangerous light. "The *Sopor Veritas*—it’s not just a plant, Lisa. It’s a doorway. When combined with the right elements, it can unlock the deepest recesses of the human mind, tapping into the power that lies dormant in all of us. Ace is special. He’s always been special, and with him, I can harness that power."

He stepped forward, and the moonlight through the window finally hit him. Azrael was a god carved out of nightmare and desire. He was easily six-foot-five, his body a map of hard muscle and scarred bronze skin. He was buck naked, and he didn't give a damn. His cock was heavy and semi-erect, swaying slightly as he walked toward the edge of my chalk circle. His face was beautiful in a way that hurt to look at—sharp jaw, high cheekbones, and eyes that were nothing but glowing, molten gold. "You're real," I managed to breathe out, my hands clutching my thighs.

“Hey you take that back this instant. I am among the strongest guardians in this place, I maim and I destroy anything that dares lay a finger or thread or…” Aleph stopped talking when he realized that Azaliah was not listening to him anymore. He sighed and went to sit near her, his attention also drawn to the waves in the water. Occasionally, he would look at Azaliah’s face then sigh. He had no idea what to tell her that could make her feel better. She was going to fight Lucifer, and she had to win. Aleph hadn’t even seen him before, half of the angels in heaven in fact had not seen him but they knew that if the older angels couldn’t even say his name without looking over their shoulder, the

Noel sighs. “Yeah. I’m just saying he’s the only one who can muster the healing power.” He says. Altarria has no choice but to admit it. Yes, Azrael was one of them long ago. He was a bright and strong guardian. His power is equal with Altarria. He kept peace at the Judgment Road. No one dared to disturb the road. Altarria always partnered up with him in protecting it.