The Third Throne: Angel of Death

by Tabitha Barret

  Johann tried to pry Lucas’ hands from his neck, but the world grew dark and blurry. The last thing Johann saw was a peaceful smile on Lucas’ face.

  “Tsk, tsk. It looks like he’s dead,” Alazar leaned against a headstone and watched the reality of Lucas’ actions fill his eyes.

  Lucas looked down at his friend. He saw his knees on Johann’s chest. How had this happened? How had he ended up on top of his friend? He looked at his hands and saw blood. There was no way he’d done this. The last thing he remembered was trying to get past the stranger in the street. He was trying to get back to the inn, how had he ended up here, in a cemetery?

  Lucas felt odd, disconnected. He was sweating and out of breath. He looked down at Johann’s face, which was ruined by lacerations that had begun to swell. Blood was smeared into his dark hair. His nose was bent at a disconcerting angle. Who had done this?

  “What a waste of life. I can’t believe you killed him. After all the years of friendship, the camaraderie you shared, you snapped and killed him. How could you? What kind of person could kill a friend with his bare hands? It’s an outrage. When they find you, they’ll hang you. This is old country; they don’t take kindly to murderers. I bet they’ll bring back burning at the stake just for you. They’ll hunt you down and make you suffer for what you’ve done,” Alazar whispered. He watched Lucas trying to put the missing pieces of the last few minutes together.

  “I don’t understand,” Lucas muttered. He looked around frantically for another explanation.

  Alazar looked up and saw the first flakes of snow falling from the sky. They landed on Johann’s body. He knelt and examined Johann’s face, moving it left and right. “There’s not much to understand; he’s dead and you’ll be next,” he held out his hand to let some flakes fall into his palm, and then wiped the blood on the frozen grass. “Too bad, he wasn’t really that bad-looking. Well, definitely a closed casket,” Alazar sighed and rose to his feet.

  “No, I couldn’t have killed him. I don’t remember doing it,” Lucas stammered as he stumbled backward into a monument. He looked around, praying that no one saw him standing over Johann.

  “That’s what all the good liars say. Only the truly insane actually lay claim to their kills. The jury won’t buy it, though. After all, you are covered in his blood and, other stuff. You don’t stand a chance,” Alazar waved to Lucas’ stained clothes.

  Lucas was shocked to see the spattered stains on his suit.

  “Oh come on, think about you. You remember doing this. You’re just in denial,” Alazar tipped his head to the sky to eat a few snowflakes.

  Lucas shook his head. There was no possible way that he was responsible. He backed away, but stopped when he heard a scream. He looked around, but didn’t see anyone other the stranger. It occurred to him that it was Johann’s voice screaming and pleading with him to stop his brutal attack. Suddenly he remembered everything; chasing Johann, punching him, and finally choking him. He had done this.

  Lucas couldn’t believe the intensity of the feelings coursing through him, anger, jealousy, and frustration. He had never once considered hurting the people who had taken advantage of him. Johann was his friend. He saw their relationship as a competition, but he never thought about killing him. He always saw life as a challenge, a hurdle to overcome. He looked up at Alazar and realized that the feelings were not really his. The bastard must have somehow influenced him. He recalled the sounds of birds and images of a wildflower field just before he woke up and saw that he was standing over his dead friend. The man must have played a trick on him or drugged him. Either way, he didn’t kill his friend because he wanted to, but because he had been influenced by the stranger with the bizarre blue eyes.

  “Ah, now you remember. It was an awesome fight, by the way. Good for you for standing up for yourself,” Alazar clapped and cheered.

  “No. I was always happy for him. I was upset when he intentionally screwed me over, but I got over it. It’s true, he didn’t always do the right thing, and I didn’t always think it was fair, but I never wanted to be him, nor did I want to attack him. I may have been upset with Johann, but certainly not enough to kill him. I’m not a murderer,” Lucas backed away, remembering the details of the night.

  Alazar smiled. The kid was finally getting with the program. “That’s right, Lucas. You weren’t a murderer. All I had to do was push a few buttons and help you make the choice. You were destined for Heaven, but now they’ll never let you in. I took control of your memories and showed you only the parts that I want you to see. Had I shown you everything, you would have never killed anyone,” Alazar watched the anger build on Lucas’ face.

  “Why did you do this? Why did you make me kill my friend?” Lucas yelled. He may not have wanted to kill before, but he was going to kill Alazar for what he had done.

  “Mortals are such a pathetic lot. You all turned your backs on God so he created me to punish you. I’m supposed to tell you that the end is coming, but guess what? The person who is supposed to bring about the end; never showed up, which means you’re left with me. I’m sorry to say that you are going to spend the rest of your life in prison. No one is going to believe that you were influenced to kill by a mysterious stranger. If I were you, I’d run. Run far, far way. Oh, wait! There’s nowhere to run to, is there? Your parents are dead. Your sister would turn you in before she ever harbored a known murderer. You have no girlfriend. I somehow don’t think the woman at the bar would take you in now. You’re not good-looking enough for her to ignore the blood you’re covered in. Nope. There’s nowhere to run to and no one who will help you. Your sad little life just got that much sadder. You’ll lose your crappy apartment, your crappy furniture, and your crappy car. You’ll have nothing. Not even your life,” Alazar droned on in a melodious voice.

  “No, they have to believe me. I didn’t do it. I just have to get away, clear my head,” Lucas shook his head, hoping to erase the nightmare from his vision. He stumbled away from his friend, who was lying motionless; his eyes open, staring blankly at the sky.

  “Do you want to keep running for the rest of your life, always looking over your shoulder, jumping every time you hear a siren? That’s no way to live, but there is one way. You could save everyone a whole lot of trouble, and end things yourself, on your own terms. It’s simple really. The simplest answer is usually the best. There’s no second-guessing, no more watching everyone get ahead while you fall behind, and no more working your fingers to the bone. It will be so easy. You won’t even know what happened. It’s not like you haven’t considered it before,” Alazar’s voice was hypnotic as Lucas looked into his bright eyes.

  “It would be easy,” Lucas unconsciously nodded in agreement.

  Looking at Alazar, a chill ran through Lucas as a barrage of images assaulted his mind. He remembered the bullies kicking him in the gut on the playground. He felt them punch him in the face and leave him bleeding in the streets, while they laughed and took his lunch. He saw his girlfriend packing her things while a man in an expensive car waited for her outside. Pieces of his past blurred together, culminating in feelings that he’d never dwelled on before; isolation, disappointment, and melancholy. He saw Johann standing in front of their boss, happily accepting the “Salesman of the Month” plaque and the substantial bonus. Depression flooded him when he thought about being a loser for the rest of his life. Even the pretty girl from the bar walking into the bathroom with Johann, whisked through his brain. He felt completely alone. Johann had always reaped the benefits of this world, while he had to struggle to survive.

  Lucas could see his failed life laid out before him. The collectors would be coming after him again since he couldn’t pay his bills. His boss thought he was useless and was on the verge of firing him. He had nothing that wasn’t leased or borrowed. He was standing precariously at the edge and not much could pull him back. Now, he was responsible for his friend’s death. Alazar was right. They would lynch him. They would put him in jail for the rest of his
life or they would hang him. Neither option sounded like something he wanted to do. No, Alazar was right. The answer was simple. There was nowhere to go, no one to turn to. He needed to be a man and deal with things on his own terms. That was the best solution. He would do it himself rather than wait to see what this town would do to him. He knew what he needed to do. He had considered it many times before, but never had the guts to go through with it, until now.

  “That’s right. You know what to do. It will be easy. Just like falling,” Alazar fanned his arms out to his sides and looked up to the sky.

  “Yes, just like falling. Thank you, Alazar, for making things so simple,” Lucas walked over to the wrought iron fence that separated the cemetery from the road. He climbed up the highest headstone that he could find. He balanced himself, closed his eyes, and took a breath. He spread his arms wide and jumped. He felt the wind soar past him just before the pain tore through him and he was met with a dark red glow.

  Alazar watched the falling snow form a halo around Johann’s body. At least they would see each other again soon. Johann was a drug dealer, unbeknownst to Lucas, which was where his money actually came from and how he made his business deals. Hell, it was the reason he got all the hot women. Alazar was happy to know that one more low-life drug dealer was gone from the world. He considered it a public service.

  Lucas, however, had proven to be a challenge, but he had won. While Lucas had briefly flirted with the idea of suicide, he would have never done it. All he needed was a good enough reason. He needed to be backed into a corner. Though he had led a good life, the temptation of taking his jealousy out on his friend was too much to withstand. Sure, there was enough misery in his life to work with, but connecting the pieces had been the key to his demise. One more Godless loser was gone from the world. He hadn’t been worthy to enter Heaven anyway.

  Alazar slowly walked in Lucas’ footsteps across the lightly snow-covered ground as he made his way over to the fence. He hopped the fence and landed spryly on the other side of Lucas’ body. The idiot had a metal spike through his neck. He shook his head at the man.

  “Send my regards to Lucifer,” he breathed a sigh of relief when the numbness receded and a small sensation of warmth overcame him. While it wasn’t joy, it wasn’t pain either. Some days he had trouble telling the difference between the two. He watched the blood drip down the fence and pool on the ground. There was a time when he would have felt whole and happy for a job well done, but it was harder and harder to feel anything anymore. What was the point of being the Angel of Death if you couldn’t really enjoy it? He’d destroyed countless leaders, including some of the most notorious. Those were the good old days. He never thought some of them would do it, but he had won. He wished he could feel half of that right now. Sadly, he was still numb and cold. He gazed at the snow as it intensified. He wondered if they would find the bodies before the snow covered them completely.

  Oh well, not my department. I just tempt them to commit murder or suicide. I don’t clean up the mess, he sighed.

  Alazar pulled his cloak around him and slowly walked back to the castle. The snow would keep any other stragglers inside for the night, so there was little point in searching for anyone else. The locals knew of his reputation, even if they don’t know exactly what he was, and were careful to lock their doors at sundown and hide beneath their covers until morning. It would take a fire to get them out of their homes at night, though he doubted they would leave even for that. If it were between dying in a fire or facing his form of death, they would probably choose the fire. At least they had a chance at Heaven that way.

  Alazar strolled up the road toward the castle. The snow increased and was nearly blinded him, but he didn’t need to see where he was going. Having lived in the castle for the last two years, he could find his way blindfolded. He was greeted by the soul at the edge of the property. She always hid her face when he approached. She wanted to get to Heaven, not Hell. Poor kid. She had missed her ride and was now stuck for eternity. While Alazar could technically send souls where they were supposed to go, it wasn’t his job, nor was he inclined to help anyone. He knew if he sent one home, then he would have to send them all home. He would never have a moment’s peace. The lost souls would come from miles away and nag him to send them to the other side.

  No way, not starting that, he thought.

  Besides, that was one sure way of Lucifer, or worse, Anjali, finding him. He wasn’t sure if the Destroyer was still alive, but he wasn’t about to find out.

  Alazar quietly walked through the castle. The caretaker had long since left for the day. He descended the stairs to the lower dungeon and down into his home away from home. He picked up his latest issue of Gossip Weekly, longing for the days when he tempted famous people and political leaders. He hadn’t needed to hide then. Now he was reduced to out-of-towners and drunken locals who had lost track of the time. His life was pathetic, but at least it was his. He didn’t need to be told what to do. He lived his own life, on his terms. He lay down in his bed and stared at the stone ceiling, reflecting on the evening’s events. He drifted off trying to remember what it felt like to feel, something, anything.

  ∞

  “I will break Mark’s other wing for informing the Council of my interrogation of the Rusalka! What business is it of his?” Lucifer bellowed. He strode into the Throne Room, fuming. He would kill the one responsible for tattling to Mark.

  Mark had returned to inform Lucifer that the Council was furious over the treatment of the prisoner of war, Skylis, since it was decreed that she was not to be tortured or harmed in any way while imprisoned in Hell. Anjali had been right about Mark snitching to the Council. It was a shame that she couldn’t trust him.

  The water nymph had been taken into custody after a massive search led by the Celestial Warriors. The Council had tried her, found her guilty, and sentenced her to life in the Hall of Shadows, the final destination for the non-mortal enemies of Heaven, unless they were lucky enough to be put to death. They lived out their existences rotting away, typically plotting the demise of Lucifer, God, and the world.

  Skylis had killed seven Rogue and Forgotten Angels, which wasn’t technically a crime since Heaven was actively hunting the Rogues, and the Forgotten were on their own, but she had also killed three Heavenly Angels and numerous mortals, all of whom had stupidly gotten too close to the siren. Normally, Lucifer and the Fallen were allowed to do as they pleased to the convicted prisoners of Heaven, regardless of who they were. This Rusalka seemed to be the exception.

  Lucifer had obviously ignored the unprecedented ruling and put her through the usual prisoner debriefing that consisted of a sound thrashing and tortures specific to the creature in custody, to make sure that all their crimes had been brought to light and that they were indeed guilty. Over the years, there had been cases of mistaken identity or a quick trial that had failed to uncover all the crimes of the prisoner. On more than one occasion, Lucifer’s methods had saved the lives of his brothers and sisters, and more importantly, Father. Lucifer was nothing if not thorough when it came to his domain.

  Hades followed alongside Lucifer, headed to his throne. “The Council was clear about the proper handling of the Rusalka. You chose to overrule them. What did you expect would happen?” Hades said snidely.

  “I want to know how Mark found out, not that it should matter since it’s within my right to punish them as I see fit. Not hurt a prisoner, it’s preposterous. What am I supposed to do, offer them milk and cookies and tuck them in at bedtime? If they are sentenced to life in the Hall of Shadows, then what does the Council care about their treatment?” Lucifer pulled at his long dark hair and paced while his servants gave him space to move.

  Anjali stood in front of the dais and steadied herself. She was the reason that Mark knew. It had been an accident, but she had to tell Lucifer that she was to blame. If she didn’t, he would start a witch-hunt to find the one responsible and make them bleed.

  “My lord, I’m the
one who told Mark, though…,” Anjali was unable to finish her sentence as a hand clamped down on her throat, effectively cutting off her explanation. Before she could recover, she found herself hurtling through the air and crashing into the hard marble floor. She finally skidded to a halt when she smashed into the stone wall.

  Pain flooded her senses and she tried to get her bearings. She shook off the dizziness and worked through the buzzing in her ears. It took her a moment to realize that the sound wasn’t her ears buzzing, but Lucifer swearing and yelling in multiple languages, all of which she could unfortunately understand. She gingerly moved her body and paused when she found the worst of her injuries, a cracked wrist, which overshadowed the pain of the gash on the back of her head from the impact against the wall.

  It occurred to her that her barely-there slave girl outfit was hiding even less of her private areas than usual. The slit in her long skirt had shifted to the left and bared her hip, revealing her panties. Her right shoulder was exposed and her breast was dangerously close to losing its hold on her deep V neckline. She did her best to reposition her dress and maintain some false sense of modesty.

  She carefully rose to her knees and looked up to see Lucifer pacing wildly while Malcolm, Azazel, Radek, Dorian, Vincent, Jared, and Hades gawked at her, apparently too stunned to move.

  The most disconcerting of all of them was Hades. She had expected him to laugh, or at the very least, take a picture. Instead, he seemed annoyed, though he was trying to hide it beneath his typical snarky expression. Oddly enough, the Fallen and the servants, who were males, were not enticed by her wardrobe malfunction, but seemed confused or upset by her treatment and injuries. Radek was desperately trying to figure out if he should help her or remain in his spot in front of the dais.

  Hades cleared his throat and waited for Lucifer to whip his head around to glare at Hades. “My lord, if I may,” Hades motioned to Lady Black with his chin.