Immortal Alliance (IMMORTAL ALLIANCE SERIES Book 1)

by A. Catherine

  If she is a Nephilim, proper training could help her hold her own long enough for help to arrive if necessary.

  I fisted the metal, smoke furling from my fists and floating away. I punched and saw Gabriel’s face.

  I hit it again, Lillith’s face.

  Punch—Daevas being held by the throat.

  Hit—Lucifer’s cold and cruel smile. The metal began to bend.

  Slam—Seere bleeding on the floor.

  Pop—bodies burning.

  Crack—Heather’s eyes.

  Crash—My eyes, engulfed in flames.

  My breath came out in short puffs. When I lowered my hands, the steel was bent inwards, cracked in some places. I shook my hands, some of the knuckles and fingers were broken.

  But quickly the pain was replaced by intense heat, as my power wrapped around the fractures and fused them back together.

  I took in a long inhale, holding it for a few seconds before releasing it slowly. Again. One more time.

  Then a tap, a vibration from my extended tether. I followed it—Heather was still asleep, but she was stirring, much like the first time I watched over her. Another nightmare.

  I immediately made my way towards her room, not bothering to change or take the tape off my fingers.

  I entered her room and knelt beside the bed. Her face was crinkled and upset—twitching profoundly. I sure hope this isn’t another internal attack. I gripped her wrist, closed my eyes, and reached into her mind. Entering her subconscious to soothe her back to a restful sleep.

  TWENTY

  Azrael

  EVEN IN IMMORTALITY, TIME FLIES.

  A million years can feel like a blink to someone who’s been around for all creation. Azrael has been alive since the earth was in its infancy.

  The core churning in endless heat while the damp soil crust settled and gave birth to great mountains and lakes. While the seas raged unbothered, and beasts made history through blood and breath.

  Mortals lived then, early on. They were unlike the mortals of modern day. Designed differently. As they had to be. The youthful earth was then a much harsher environment, and among them the primordials roamed without restraint.

  Primordials weren’t gifted with the same intelligence and evolution as the mortals were. In comparison, they were savage and wild.

  They were envious of the mortal’s superior intelligence and insulted by them. So slaughter was their response. Cruel, brutal slaughter of an entire species. Using their archaic natures to reap mortal-kind until nothing remained. Feasting on their flesh, draining their blood, and breaking their bones down to dust.

  The almighty and the seven living archangels were forced to step in.

  That was billions of years ago. They marked the major event in time as Kaṇṇīr. The Tear. following Paṭukolai, The Great Slaughter in which the primordials and the battles between angels and monsters led to the extinction of the mortals in existence at the time.

  The world was broken. So it was remade with beauty and opportunity.

  The mortals that now dwell here were made anew as well. The almighty giving them a fresh start, and a fresh design. Made for a renewed and purified world.

  Azrael was one of the eldest three archangels, and she lived through the primordial existence, through their butchering, their removal and assisted in cleansing the Earth of their stain.

  Unlike her elder brothers Lucifer and Michael, Azrael was impassive, solid. She was the angel of death, her judgement determined whether souls passed to paradise or to eternal anguish.

  She was order. She was justice. She was patience.

  A Guardian angel was dead.

  Reapers and other angel divisions began going missing. And for a little while it was a mystery. But Gabriel, who was investigating the unfolding events alongside demons, had reported back.

  Primordials have returned. Released from the confinements they sealed them in long ago.

  Azrael had her hands full. Her Reapers and Thrones now working double time and in pairs to gather souls, but it didn’t stop some of the souls from slipping through. Now forced to wander Purgatory until they can return for them.

  With the primordials showing up all over the planet, it was impossible to keep up. So much so, that Azrael had to get back in the field to help. Doing her best to impede the casualties.

  She was in Djibouti now, staring out at the sinking ships in the Gulf of Aden. The ships weren’t suffering from structural failures. No, they were being dragged down by a primordial called a Scylla.

  A primordial creature with the upper body of a rotting woman, sharp teeth, a torso of hound heads and dragon-like serpent appendages.

  Nasty, brutal and one of the worst water-bound primordials in existence.

  The Scylla was extremely hard to trap the first time Azrael faced it, and it was much harder to kill.

  A few Reapers had appeared with Azrael on the shoreline.

  “It’s already taken down five ships, and the others are too far out to escape unnoticed.” A Reaper named Polly informed.

  Some of them had flown just above the wreckage to gather any information they could on what they needed to face.

  “And their Guardians?” Azrael asked.

  Color drained from Polly’s face.

  “Those that are still alive are holding it off, for now. Those who end up in the water don’t come out.” She swallowed.

  Azrael and the others dipped their heads in silence.

  They weren’t feeling them die, not the way they did when the first Guardian—Mason, died. Now, they just go missing, but one could only assume that they were dying. That’s what made them hesitate. Unlike mortals—primordials were aware of angel existence, could see them, and could hurt them.

  And if the Guardians were being killed, then the Reapers could be killed too. Azrael wouldn’t be taking the risks of her Reapers if she could help it.

  They could see from the shore as the many serpent heads ripped through the metal and wood of the ships like they were made of paper, pulling out bleeding forms impaled by their fangs.

  The Reapers standing around Azrael cringed, visibly struggling with this manner of death.

  All of them hadn’t been around during the primordial occupation, they had no idea how to handle them. Unable to help the Guardians or to properly grab the mortals troubled souls brought them pain they had never experienced. What were they if they couldn’t complete the tasks they were made for?

  “What do we do?” Jared, another young Reaper asked Azrael.

  Azrael didn’t tear her eyes away from the carnage before them.

  She wasn’t sure if she could answer the question. Even during Paṭukolai, they resisted killing the primordials, even while they slaughtered millions of humans, the angels couldn’t bring themselves to participate in killing unless absolutely necessary.

  But if they were free, and they were once again unleashing havoc upon the humans, what choice would they have? But killing it would not be easy. It would have to be Azrael.

  “I’ll go in and draw the Scylla’s attention, do your best to get as many of the survivors out as you can. But don’t get in the way, let’s try to avoid more casualties,” Azrael instructed.

  She unfurled her wings, stretching them out—letting the air ruffle the black feathers. She hasn’t flown with them in a while, she’ll be out of practice.

  Polly took a step towards her. “Let us help you, we can take it down together.”

  The other Reapers nodded, their own, smaller wings extending. Reapers weren’t frequent fliers, but they had been trained to use them when necessary.

  “Do as your archangel says.” Uriel landed ten feet behind them, tucking in her owl-like wings slightly, but keeping them visible and ready.

  They all turned towards her as she walked towards them. Her long copper hair tied back into a tight bun and her black and brown combat leathers in place of her usual attire. Her icy azure eyes locked on Azrael’s black pair.

  “Figur
ed you might want help,” she said, a deadly smirk forming on her face as she surveyed the Scylla thrashing in the water. “I’ve missed this beast.”

  Azrael looked her younger sister up and down. The two of them didn’t usually battle together. And Azrael would be lying to herself if she didn’t prefer the company of Uriel’s twin Jophiel.

  Both of them are equally temperamental, but Uriel had a cruelty streak that was second only to Lucifer.

  “How’d you find us?”

  Uriel shrugged, crouching down to view the water from a different angle, using her enhanced eyesight to survey the tangled mess ahead in a clearer view.

  “I went to the Gates to meet you, they told me you were here.”

  “You remember how to kill a Scylla?” Azrael asked.

  She hovered her hands over her arms, as they moved down scaled armor coated the flesh. Azrael’s legs coated in the same armor and an ethereal blade appeared attached to her hip.

  Uriel raised an eyebrow. “We’re killing it this time?”

  “I don’t think imprisonment is an option anymore.” Was Azrael’s only reply as she soared into the air with one large beat of her wings.

  Uriel followed closely behind.

  They neared the large fishing boat that the Scylla was currently ripping to shreds. Three Guardians were fending off the serpent heads as they lunged on them, snapping their sharp jaws towards any part of their body to drag them into the water.

  When dodging one of the heads a Guardian ducked out of the way only to receive a bite in the shoulder from a hound head. The Guardian cried out as blood gushed out of the wound. He flung his blade back until it sliced into the hound head.

  The Scylla screamed, the decaying female form rearing upwards to attack the Guardian with her fingernails.

  Another Guardian blocked her, her blade straining against the force of the Scylla as it threw more of its body weight into the blow. The Guardian behind her clutched his shoulder, blood pouring from the wound onto the wet deck.

  The female Guardian was panting, her muscles straining as the Scylla leaned further. The smell of rotting human flesh on its fangs.

  The third Guardian’s blade looked as though it were weighing heavily in his hands as he continued slashing and cutting at the Scylla’s serpent heads. When he took one side glance at his struggling fellows, it cost him.

  A serpent head lunged in and bit down on his leg. As he cringed against the pain, turning to slash its head, it dragged until he lost his footing. The head kept dragging right until the edge of the boat, and then he was pulled under the water. The Guardian thrashed but was already feeling the blood loss from the bite mixed with his exhaustion.

  He wouldn’t make it.

  Azrael lunged into the water, extending a hand towards him. He reached back and clasped her arm. Azrael sent a blast of lashing light downwards to the serpent head that still held the Guardian by the leg, the force severing its head from the body.

  Azrael pulled upwards until they both jolted out of the water. Her wings not missing a beat got them back in the air. She threw the Guardian with one arm outward into the sky like a sack of grain. Polly, the reaper, not far behind her caught him mid-air, supporting his weak body with an arm around his waist and his arm around her shoulder.

  Azrael didn’t wait to see if he made it, she just flew straight to the boat where Uriel had landed between the Scylla and the other two Guardians. The one still bleeding badly.

  She unsheathed the two long-swords from behind her back, eyeing the Scylla’s rotting face with a roguish grin on her face.

  “Been a long time, old friend,” Uriel chirped.

  All the Scylla’s limbs and heads focused on Uriel, the only sign that it too recognized an old foe.

  “Still just as ugly, I see.”

  The Scylla let out a guttural screech. The hound heads moved towards Uriel first to rip her limbs from her body. But Uriel was stronger than average angels.

  She swung and dove with smooth grace, despite the slippery deck under her feet. Every attack from the Scylla missed, and occasionally resulted in a loss of a hound head or two.

  While Uriel fought it off Azrael landed, approaching the two Guardians who watched, their eyes laden with shock and horror.

  Azrael assessed the male Guardian’s injured shoulder.

  “Can you fly?” she asked. The Guardian pressed into the wound further, attempting to stand but winced and dropped again.

  “I don’t think so,” he said.

  Azrael turned to the female Guardian, her black hair clung to her head and there were a few tears in her clothing, but no obvious injuries.

  “You?” Azrael nodded to her.

  She nodded. “I can fly, but I don’t think I’m strong enough to carry him.” She made eye contact with him, and sorrow filled her eyes. “I’m too weak to winnow,” she conceded.

  A screech sounded behind them, when Azrael looked she saw Uriel swinging her swords at incredible speeds, lashing open the Scylla from every angle. Azrael may not need to help her. Before she could decide to carry the Guardian herself Jared dropped behind them with a soft thud.

  He nodded to Azrael, reaching down to assist the male Guardian to his feet.

  “I’ll get them out.” The Guardian groaned against the pain, but stood, the female Guardian went to his other side to help support his weight, her wings extended.

  Jared looked about ready to fly when Azrael ordered, “Fly until you can winnow, then come back for the other survivors.”

  Jared stiffened. He sighed, lifting his remorseful eyes to hers.

  “There are no more survivors.” And then he and the Guardian flapped their wings, lifting the injured Guardian with them.

  They flew up until they were well out of reach from the Scylla before Jared winnowed them out in a brief flash of light.

  Azrael turned to the Scylla, who was bleeding sticky violet blood, but still fighting. Uriel hadn’t killed it yet.

  Azrael flew up to join her, “Taking your time?” she asked, frustration coating her tongue.

  Uriel grinned wickedly and took another long slash cutting off the head of a hound.

  “Just enjoying my last tussle with a Scylla.” Uriel sang.

  But this wasn’t supposed to be enjoyable. Even the death of a primordial beast should be abhorrent.

  Death was a regular part of Azrael’s existence, but never death through enjoyment. Angels didn’t enjoy killing with their own hands, at least they shouldn’t enjoy it. Another reason why Uriel was one of Azrael’s least favorite archangels.

  Azrael extended her angel blade and began tracing the symbol for death in Enochian on it, her eternal light pulsing it to life. To plunge the blade into the Scylla’s heart would permanently end its life, its death would be sealed by the sigil.

  She flew higher above the Scylla, Uriel keeping its heads and forms busy. She back turned and plunged down like a bullet through the tangled limbs with the blade out, twisting around any obstacles in her path until the sharp end of the blade found its mark.

  The Scylla and all its heads and limbs stilled following the blow. Azrael saw the sigil burn brighter for only a moment and then it disappeared altogether. She withdrew it from the Scylla’s heart and backed away. Uriel halted her assault as well.

  The open wound in its chest was the first thing to blacken and dissolve, spreading outward until the entire body of the Scylla succumbed, turning to black ash and floating away in the wind or dissolving into the sea.

  Mere moments, and Azrael and Uriel were the only beings remaining in the air. The ship below rocked but stayed afloat. Uriel chuckled and slid her swords behind her back.

  “Well then. I haven’t had that much fun in a while.”

  But all Azrael could think of was the death that now leeched from this encounter, and likely from others around the world.

  “Your compassion is overwhelming, Uriel.” her reply dry, monotone.

  Uriel shrugged, “Shall we carry on with our
meeting?”

  Azrael surveyed the area, seeing the debris left behind by other mangled ships and the mess that they now needed to rectify. Starting with collecting as many of the souls that fell as possible, and then moving on to alter the minds of witnesses. A mythical monster wouldn’t peg well in the mortal world, so a new explanation would be needed.

  “First we need to clean up,” Azrael stated.