“In case you haven’t noticed,” I gestured to the clouds, “Gabriel’s pissing match has extended way beyond the boundaries of Heaven. He’s made it my concern by bringing it to Earth. If he wanted to keep it private, he shouldn’t have whipped it out in public.”
Azrael stared at me, his gaze frigid-an amazing feat considering the fire in his eyes. “Destiny has been set in motion. You cannot bring it to heel.” He floated closer, his hands held out before him. “I have no desire to harm you, Triggaltheron, but I will do what I must, though it would pain me to betray your father’s trust.”
My world turned red. “First off, don’t call me by that name. Secondly, don’t you ever fucking mention my father again!” Unbidden, my energies came to the front, my hands glistening with power.
Azrael stood his ground, a cadaverous smile crossing his pale lips. “There is so much you don’t know about him. Your history is a revisionist’s myth.”
“I know he died at my hands for what he did to my mother, his soul forever condemned. That’s all I need to know.”
He chuckled. “You prove my point, little demon. That’s but a sentence in the tome of your father’s life, though you cannot see it, blinded as you are by the lies you’ve so eagerly swallowed. You know nothing.” He floated a step closer, the flames in his eyes flaring up. “Mind my words and turn your back on Heaven so you may live. Then, when your heart has shed its woeful burden, come to me and I will tell you of your father’s truth.”
“You can shove that truth up your ass.” While I knew I was pushing my luck, I didn’t care. He couldn’t hurt me any worse than he already had.
The sperm donor who fathered me was dead. I’d stared into his hollow eyes as I carved him apart, piece by bloody piece. His life, his history, his everything, was erased in a frenzied bloodbath, and then cast to the pyre. The look of terror on his dying face was the only memory of him I kept; there wasn’t room in my heart for any more.
Azrael bowed his head and drifted back, his hands once more clasped at his waist. “You choose to remain blind and deny who you really are. Such a pity. Your ignorance will cost you your life one day, or perhaps worse.” He grinned feral. “Our paths shall cross again, Triggaltheron. I pray it is under better circumstances.”
The last word his, he took his leave. Dark billowing clouds welled up from the maelstrom beneath his feet, their blackness enveloping him. In but a moment, his figure was obscured, the obsidian shifting to gray, then to nothing. He was gone.
My head in a fog, I left the alley to find Scarlett and Katon where I’d left them. They still stared at the storm as though I’d never left. While its bright clouds were fading, its fury spent, theirs still boiled on the surface, peppering my senses with rampant bee stings.
Unlike the first storm that erased four city blocks as though they never existed, there’d been too much here to completely wipe away in the short time the storm had raged. What had once been a panoramic view of steel and glass was gone, the clearing sky flooding in to take its place.
Whittled away, all of the top floors were missing, some of the lower sections having crumbled underneath. Many of the mid-floors still stood, no doubt filled with people too terrified to even go near the windows, let alone come outside now that the storm had ceased.
Where the streets had been, a murky lake had begun to form, disintegrated water pipes spewing their loads unchecked. Several geysers erupted like volcanoes from where there’d been fire hydrants just minutes before. Water flowed into the exposed sewers, filling the air with the rancid stench of downtown’s collective ass. Fortunately, it appeared as though the power to the area had been severed at some point, otherwise we’d have been looking at the world’s largest-and most horribly fragrant-hot tub.
Scarlett looked terrible. Her face was pale and stained with red blotches of disgust. Her hands, clutching to Katon, were bone white and trembling. They stood out like spotlights against the enforcer’s blackened leather arm. She looked as though she’d fall over if he weren’t there to support her.
He didn’t look much better. His jaw was clenched so tight I thought he was Glenn Danzig. The vein at his temple throbbed a blast beat, speed records broken in its wake. He clung to Scarlett, staring at the destruction through the tiny slits of his eyes, feeding off her discomfort. Torn between duties, they stood rigid, likely waiting for a sign as to what to do. Though my stomach still sang with bile and my heart hung so low it was in my boots, I wasn’t so conflicted.
Most of the people still inside the remaining buildings would be fine, sheltered as they were from the storm. As for those in the ones that collapsed, well…let’s just say we hadn’t come equipped to deal with them. I’d left my mop and bucket at home.
A realist, I knew our time would be better spent hunting down the key pieces, but I also knew that wasn’t gonna happen.
“Why don’t you two take care of the survivors while I track down Adam’s grave?”
Scarlett turned to me, her face a wash of surprise and uncertainty. Questions loomed in her big green eyes.
There wasn’t any point in lying about my reasoning. “Look, you’re too caught up in all of this to be any use to me.” I motioned to the ruin of downtown. “Do your good deed and get it out of your system, so when I come back, you’re ready to focus on what we need to do to stop all of this.”
Her look turned to a glare at my honesty, but she knew what I was getting at; her effort would be a Band-Aid on a severed limb-useless. Despite that, she couldn’t help herself. It was in her nature and nothing was gonna convince her otherwise.
A sliver of a smile graced her lips and she nodded. Then with Katon in tow, she ran off toward the nearest building that hadn’t yet come down. Once they were gone, I let out a big sigh.
The continued search for Eden’s key was gonna put us at odds with Azrael, and that was a sobering thought. Even with the power Baalth had gifted me, plus Katon and Scarlett at my side, we didn’t stand a chance if the Angel of Death chose to step in.
While the threat of abject failure and horrible death were par for the course in my life, it didn’t stop my asshole from puckering up in brown-eyed fear. Once more I was sticking my neck out and risking slaughter in order to save the day and keep from being killed.
Irony is a motherfucker sometimes.
Chapter Ten
My whirlwind day a case study in the effects of sleep deprivation, I stopped off to grab a stout cup of coffee on my way to meet the one person who might know where Adam had been buried: Longinus, the Anti-Christ, newly resurrected thanks in part to yours truly.
A quick phone call put me in touch with his daughter, Karra, my first true love. It was an awkward call, the sound of her voice triggering all sorts of sloppy memories, but I muddled through it without having to change my jeans.
She arranged for me to meet her father at my house, which made things easier. With the backroom gate, he could pop in without drawing the attention of my neighbors.
After McConnell pulled his Three Little Pigs routine and blew my house down, they kept a wary eye on me. Even with Michael Li smoothing things over, his mental adjustments made with a light touch, there’d been enough weird crap in the area to make them suspicious. The storms would only make things worse.
Despite DRAC’s best effort to keep things under wraps, news of the annihilation had hit the networks. Appearing worldwide, the storms left havoc and death in their wake-and a whole butt-load of questions no normal human could reliably answer. Though, to give the networks credit, they were doing their best to bullshit their way through it.