Azrael

Prelude
No one seemed particularly moved by the infant’s wails; the platform was cold, dirty and people were still shaking off the damp from the torrent outside. It was just another in a string of annoyances for the Monday morning commuters and vocalising at this time was just beyond many. Meanwhile the child was engaged in a Herculean struggle with its own blankets and the ragged looking man holding him. As if he was indeed strangling two serpents within the folds of his woollen cocoon, the man could only hold on to the squirming bundle, eyebrows furrowed in concentration and a nervous twitch to his tight lips as the child made another dash for freedom.
The man cast a wan smile over his fellow travellers. The woman on the bench opposite returned it with a nod of understanding. She was plump, from the over indulgence only a mother can know, a countenance that suggested once a striking, gamine sort of beauty that had morphed over the years as the problems of the young became her own. She continued to smile adoringly at the little bundle of cloths where the odd pink extremity could be seen from time to time.
The man’s eyes then stuck on a peculiar sight. The Gentleman stood a little over 6 foot 4; it was not however his height that caught the glance of the many passers-by. It seemed impossible that The Gentleman could be standing up at all, his great height was supported by an emaciated frame horrifically on show, covered as he was in a tight white shirt and equally fitted grey waistcoat, his charcoal trousers clung to his legs like plastic bags wrapped around lampposts in a gust of wind. A huge gold timepiece hung from his collar and his whole body was rigid and taut from the neck down as if the watch’s relentless tugging was trying to take him earthward. The most bizarre of all on this strange Gentleman was his head, the only part of his body that seemed in proportion with his loftiness it gave him the appearance of a child’s lollipop. His physiognomy was of piece with his skeletal frame: the tiny pinpricks of dark blue light that constituted his eyes burrowed out of a face that looked as if it didn’t see the need for them; eyes, nose and mouth were all covered with bushy eyebrows, a comb moustache and a tangled mass of bush that covered the rest of his face, all a deep black, flecked with grey around the contours of his jaw. This gave him a second mouth that seemed like a maw of greyish light stretching from ear to ear.
As the man watched, The Gentleman gave a shudder and his hand instantly jerked to his golden watch; on contact The Gentleman became very still. Then with a loping gait that reminded the man of a water boatman, The Gentleman began to cross towards the wailing infant and the man. The man braced himself for the inevitable gruff stripping down he assumed he would receive from this odd looking Gentleman, always the same with this type, never had kids of their own so couldn’t stand anyone with them. In the meantime The Gentleman had nearly reached the man and child and drawn from behind his back a large black umbrella that ended in a foot long metal spike as was normally seen on these large umbrellas, but as the man looked closer he realised with dawning worry this one had been filed down into a thin blade. As the man looked up in shock there was a quiet snick and suddenly the child was silent as the blade was withdrawn and a small dark spot steadily grew in the folds of cloth. Before he had time to utter a word the blade was drawn sharply across his throat and The Gentleman turned and ran down the platform. As it happens he kept running straight into the 8:36 to Padstow. As the man slid slowly off the bench his eyes glassily looking upwards the plump mother began to scream, in fact she didn’t stop screaming until the police arrived 20 minutes later. “Didn’t you see his eyes, burning red? God didn’t you see his eyes..?”

Chapter 1
Azrael looked up at the small screen in front of him, a tiny red dot flashed in the bottom corner. Green symbols were scrolling back and forth across the screen at a phenomenal rate so that only a practised eye could discern any pertinent information. “Damn.” Azrael sighed as he stood up and looked around.
His office was on the 2nd floor of the 62 floors that made up the Principality Co building. All around, other junior Principalities were sitting at their desks typing onto their translucent pads and occasionally glancing up at their screen. Every once in a while one co-worker would stand up, shimmer then disappear. Nobody looked remotely startled by these occasional disappearances, and only furtive glances were thrown when somebody returned always with the same joyous look in their eyes that was quickly replaced by the same robotic visage of boredom worn by all the occupants of their cubicles.
“Damn.” Azrael repeated. He was wearing the standard uniform of an Earth- assigned junior Principality, a motley collection of greys and whites jumbled together in trouser, shirt and a crumbled jacket that Azrael refused look after, his own small rebellion in his own pathetic way he reminded himself.
He readied himself for the jump, placing his hands on either side of his temples, most of his colleagues relentlessly mocked his habitual use of what they saw as his self-effacing ways but Azrael took a small comfort from them, just another idiosyncrasy he had developed since the birth of all creation, he didn’t have time for all this fiery swords and brimstone nonsense, but perhaps that’s why he was still a junior Principality. He shook these thoughts from his mind and turned to the task in hand.
A brief tingling then the literal disintegration of his being as it descended to the lower planes. He could feel nothing but euphoria as he travelled; an effect he knew had been installed by The Almighty to repay his host for the harrowing task he left them with. As his being reformed onto the fourth plane he looked around, as usual the normal denizens could not see him, a side effect of being somewhere you were not supposed to be.
He instantly saw his charges in the distance, a wide eyed man carrying a bundle of what looked like rags, though Azrael knew this was just an effect of the higher fourth plane on the poor human’s materials. Transcending was an odd business and tended to have funny side effects. As Azrael ambled towards the man, he took a translucent comb from his jacket and slicked back his jet black hair to the sides of his head. It was a nervous habit born of a numbing trade. Azrael had covered most of the distance before the man turned his head and looked straight at him, he had no idea how he appeared to beings of the lower planes but from their reactions Azrael imagined it was pretty awe inspiring. It was a shame beings of a similar plane only saw him for what he was, a humanoid of average height with a medium build, straight edged nose and appallingly weak jaw. It was his eyes where Azrael caught the attention of his peers, azure blue with no pupils to speak of; the constant lauding of The Almighty, as one lowly angel had once said, was less demanding than staring into the depths of his eyes. Ringed with a fine band of gold that flashed dangerously, or so he thought, when the mood took him.
The man clutching the bundle of rags bit his lip, he groped for the bench he assumed was still behind him as he sat down but even though it was, technically he wasn’t. He fell hard. Quickly sitting up he reached for the tumbling rags and sat cradling them, mumbling incoherencies to himself. Azrael’s regal walk quickly demoted itself into a stately amble, which in turn fell to a slouching plod. He, unlike the other higher beings, could never bring himself to act the dignified ambassador of The Almighty he was supposed to be. He couldn’t help regarding the whole business as a bore, though he kept such “base” thoughts in the deep reaches of his mind, lest one day his concentration slipped and brought it to the fore.
Azrael was brought to the matter at hand by the “feeling” of the man on the ground groping at his leg. Although the lower denizens of the universe couldn’t physically grab hold of Azrael, a sort of wrongness was the only explanation for this feeling as there alien matter met.
“Please, I don’t understand,” the man seemed to have come back to his senses and was grovelling at Azrael’s feet, “what is this place? Where am I?”
Well nearly back to his senses was his only thought.
“Look I’m sorry, truly I am, please just put down that bundle and come with me; everything will be ok let’s make it easier on us both.”
“What do you mean bundle? That’s my child!” Azrael winced; as the man looked down to find, of course, the rags were no longer squirming.
Instantly fear was replaced by fury, the apathetic, pathetic mess of before was suddenly ramrod straight spittle flying as he screamed at the terrifying apparition before him.
“What have you done with my son? I swear to God if you’ve taken him...”
Thunk!! The man’s hand which a moment before had been cradling an empty blanket, balled into fists and struck Azrael straight in the face. Well, this is what the man assumed he would hear, of course the harsh reality or unreality of it, Azrael thought to himself, was very different as his fist sailed through Azrael's intangible form. To be fair to the man there was a noise, but it was unfortunately his face careering into the floor as his momentum overbalanced him and left him to crumple on the floor. The irony of the man’s blasphemy was not lost on Azrael as he wearily looked down upon the crestfallen man; as if God could or would do anything for this wretch.

“Please, let’s stop this.” Azrael sighed wearily, “You and your child are dead! The reason your dead kid is absent is someone else looks after minors, sorry that’s just the way it is.”
The man just gawped up at him, Azrael winced, doubtless could have handled that better, he thought to himself.
Azrael stopped and stared, ignoring his piteous whines.
“How did you get that wound”, he slowly asked backing away.
“What? Why do you care?” the man replied incredulously, “How can you ask me that, I’m dead you… you...wait… what are you doing?”
This last was stuttered out with wild-eyed fear, as Azrael whipped out his standard issue EX-10000 and pointed it right between his eyes. The man physically balked, then slowly realisation dawned across his face; his whole countenance lightened up into a malicious grin as he stood up suddenly with ramrod back and shoulders set square.
Azrael sighed as the man roared in paroxysms of anger and charged him, cackling madly.
“How can you kill me, I’m already dead!”
The man’s howls of glee subsided into confused yelps, as his rage dissipated, and he spun around standing on the spot Azrael had just occupied, a dumb look on his haggard features. He heard a quiet chuckle behind him, that quickly transformed into a snarl of fury as Azrael cracked the man in the small of the back with the butt of his pistol, making the man fall to the ground with a cry.
“Fool, this isn’t some game I’m playing here, you'd better wise up slick”, the human slang rolled readily off his tongue, causing a small smirk to rise at the corners of his mouth. The man just stared dumbly at him; Azrael breathed slowly as he let the rage seep out of his body.
“Good now we have all that sorted, I’ll ask you once again; how did you get that wound in your neck?”
As the man slowly repeated the unusual circumstances of his death, Azrael's face turned ashen and his gun dropped to his side. He ran his hand through his suddenly damp hair as sweat ran in rivulets down his neck, as the man reached the feeling of the blade entering his ribs Azrael cut him short with an abrupt hand.
He took on a thoughtful mien as he stroked his stubble, he spoke slowly and quietly, though he didn’t mumble; enunciating every word he began to stride purposefully in front of the man.
“They’re getting bolder; this is the third case in as many cycles.” First that idiot Trieste who didn’t even call it in until the next day, the moron. Then Consummate Daniel who’d definitely earned his given moniker, so Azrael knew he could trust that particular information.
Finally this. “I’m going to have to talk to Jonah... hellfire!”
Azrael sighed in resignation and held up his flat palm facing out towards the man, who looked up in mild confusion.
“Now, if you could please just place your palm flat against mine for a small duration I’d be eternally grateful” Azrael smiled at the irony of the statement. The man acquiesced with only a slight shrug of the shoulders.
His eyebrows rose slightly as he began to shimmer and suddenly he was gone. Azrael looked around him with a sense of unease, then he simply shook his head and he too was gone.
Nothing moved in the fourth plane for a few minutes until quite suddenly a shimmer appeared in the midst of which a rapidly expanding blackness manifested and a tall lithe figure stepped out cautiously, sniffed the air and seemingly satisfied fully leapt out of the hole to land on all fours. Quickly standing upright, the figure surveyed the faint wispy trails left by the departing angel and man, it frowned to itself, not that this could be distinguished from the creature’s features so alien to behold.
Eventually, seemingly satisfied nothing else would occur, it rapidly turned and was gone through the hole, which quickly collapsed as fast as it had appeared, behind it.