scythe in one hand, the handle a deep dark wood, so dark as to be black. That was where the similarities ended, however. The blade of the scythe was neither shiny, nor silver; though it did look wicked sharp.
No, the blade was a flat black, as if it’d been powder coated, only the sharpened edges gleamed silver under the harsh fluorescent lighting. Along the curve of the blade, letters were etched, though I didn’t have a clue what they said, and the script they were etched in? It looked like something straight out of a JRR Tolkien fantasy movie remake.
It was a stark difference to the writing across his face, which looked much more… I don’t know, runic? His skin, his face and hands, were nearly as black as his robes, and those face-letters? Yeah, that was silver too, even though it appeared to, legit, be a tattoo – something inked under his skin. His eyes were silvery too, like Tab’s gray, only a few shades lighter, and they looked upon me gently, with something akin to pity, but not. He gave my shoulder another squeeze, then let go, reaching out a hand to Charles Mortimer Rawson’s dead body in front of us, and crooking his fingers. The dead man sat up, out of his body and opened his mouth to smart off but the floor opened up and flame licked at his boots and drew the man’s soul down almost faster than I could blink.
I opened my mouth, closed it, looked Death straight in the eye, and said the only thing I could think of in the moment, “I don’t mean to be rude…”
“Azrael,” he supplied.
“Right, I don’t mean to be rude, Azrael, but I really need to get down there.”
He blinked, surprised, as if that were the last thing he expected me to say.
“Interesting,” he murmured, “I would have a word with Haziel. When the door opens, step out. I shall be but a moment behind you.”
I shuddered and gave Azrael a half-smile, which he returned. “It is too late for me to unsay what I have just said, but know that you are safe from me a while yet, Adelaide.”
I made a slight face, “Addy, please. Only my mother and Tab call me ‘Adelaide.’”
Azrael cocked his head to the side and swept me with another look. “Tabbris?”
“Yeah, they… uh,” I cleared my throat, which was suddenly tight, “They kind of took him down there, and there’s two really good reasons why that’s a really bad place to be aside from ‘it’s Tab, and he doesn’t deserve to be in Hell.’”
The door opened, and I slipped out. Azrael, as good as his word, was right behind me. The gallery of onlookers was clearing out, and we went to stand with Haziel. We three were silent, so as not to give Haziel away, and we followed him when the coast was clear for us to do so – all the way out to his Mercedes. Haziel handed me my pack and I shouldered it, and looked expectantly for one of the two Angels to give me a clue as to what the new plan was.
“It has been a pleasure, Addy,” Haziel stated, and he took my hand to shake, I pulled him into a hug.
“Thank you for feeding me and putting me up for the night,” I said, “And for helping me get in touch with the right people.”
“I wish you luck, Child.”
“Thanks.”
We stepped apart, and Haziel looked to Azrael. They had a short exchange in a language that was like music to the ear and brought tears to my eyes.
“I shall, my friend,” Death promised the Angel of Monsters, and Haziel got into his Mercedes and backed out. I sniffed and looked up at Azrael.
“Now what?” I asked.
“Now, you explain to me what has happened.”
“Fair enough.” I opened my mouth to tell him, but one long-fingered hand appeared out of his robes, held gracefully, palm towards me to stop me in my tracks.
“You must eat,” he intoned, and I nodded. I was starving, and we’d sort of missed lunch and after what Haziel had said to me about the importance of eating while Iaoel was on board, I was all for it.
Death held out his hand to me, and I took it, and as we