Zack Angels Of Death Novels & Stories

before he left. "You," I whispered not being able to look at his face. He was covered in blood which I'm sure wasn't his. "This is my job, Andrea. I have to do this," he said taking a few steps towards me. "This isn't the Theo I know," I whispered backing up, "This is a whole entire spawn of Satan." And I was right. With blood dripping from his clothes he looked the part too. He chuckled darkly and for some reason I wasn't scared. "That's where you're wrong," he whispered. My back hit the wall as backed away from him. He leaned closer and whispered, "I am the devil himself."

“Odd.” “Were you the man I saw at the gravesite? Are you some sort of Angel of death?” Jasmine asked, boldly. “Excuse me?” Jake asked, hearing her and not the Angel. The Angel’s eyes glanced over at Jake, and back to Jasmine, who looked at him determinedly. “You really want to know the answer to that?” He asked, again the voice was triumphant and should’ve shattered Jasmine’s core. “Yes. Who are you? And what do you want?” She asked, stubbornly needing answers.

“You know what I hate the most? Humans with foul mouths.” Human? Did he just call me a human? What the hell was happening? How the fuck did I wake up in the middle of the streets? Without any injury. Vehicles were passing through me like… like I was invisible. Then there's this guy. He just suddenly appeared out of nowhere and introduced himself as a death angel. My fucking death angel. I don’t even know what a death angel is! “A death angel. Angels who are assigned to collect souls and bring them to after life. And what is after life? It's either heaven or hell,” he answered me.

The original peace treaty still lay in the position it had millenniums beforehand, untouched by visitors. Dusty pages flipped silently. Words flew threw his mind at inhuman speed. He had been reading about the unwritten rule of pureblood angels. These angels were to only be royalty, however it came with a deadly price. Many of these newborns were ticking time bombs of anguish and destruction, having the power to level entire cities. Some never made it past infancy. This caused a very large shortage in heirs to the throne, with only one child surviving every millennium.

After brother Luci ignited a rebel and was banished from heaven, the greater one only, enjoy the full affection of the supreme one. Another area was for we the angels to sit, it was made up of golden chairs and another part was where the glorious singers are, this aspect consist of beautiful ladies with feathers too who use their voice in glorifying the supreme one,they always classify themselves as angel but i don’t count them as one of us, this faction was formed when brother Luci was banished. And the last segment, well I don’t know what it’s for, because nobody stays there, only the supreme one knows what he plans to do with it.

In the deepest pit of the celestial pandemonium, Dulmore. There, Ichabod and all his wild angels exists. Some of his angels, he would send to Earth's realm to steal, to kill and to put into chaos, the humans and all their seeds. Just for fun. They would always come back and give account of their works to Ichabod their grande master, who sits on his blazing throne always. Each successful work on Earth's realm fetches them a new rank and pack in a hierarchical order.

The room was abuzz with conversations and laughter, but underneath the veneer of glamor, darkness lurked, ready to pounce. The moment of truth approached, and Jared, Ian, and Scott executed their part of the plan flawlessly. Creating a diversion that captured the attention of security and attendees alike, they drew the focus away from the senator. In the shadows, SAKI and the others capitalized on the distraction, inching closer to their target with utmost caution. The atmosphere was electric, charged with anticipation and trepidation. The Seven-Eyed Dragon Mafia clan was a well-oiled machine, synchronized in their movements, driven by a singular purpose, DEATH.

Ethan pushed through the heavy oak door of Dirty Angels just as the afternoon light bled into dusk outside. The bar smelled like it always did this time of day, stale beer, lemon cleaner, and the faint metallic tang of anticipation for the night ahead. Neon signs flickered to life above the bottles: one red “OPEN” that buzzed like a trapped insect, another green “HANDS OFF” that always made him smirk. He was still half-hard from the morning, the memory of Sofia and Camila's mouths lingering like smoke in his veins.