by Sumida, Amy
The angel turned, glanced at me, down at the dead man, then back at me again with a quick shocked movement. His eyes widened as he turned away from the body to face me fully. His throat worked convulsively, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he was able to make an attempt at speech.
“You can see me?” He asked.
“Yeah,” I frowned and dropped my invisibility spell, “And evidently you can see me too.”
“Who are you?” His voice was soft and raspy, as if it wasn't used often.
“You first,” I looked over his simple clothes; worn jeans and a Grateful Dead T-shirt with black leather boots polished to a high sheen. He would have fit in at any mall in America, if it weren't for those massive, black, feathered wings sweeping up from his shoulders.
“How can you see me?” The feathers in his wings shivered in agitation. “Are you a god?”
“Yes, I am,” I smiled smugly. I learned a long time ago to always answer that question with a yes, even if it wasn't true but now it seemed that I wouldn't have to lie anymore. “I'm a goddess and a hunter of gods. I was chasing Xi Wangmu. She came running through here and disappeared. Obviously her dirty work is done,” I waved a hand at the corpse, “but then you appeared. So I ask again... who are you? What are you? Are you,” I swallowed nervously, “an angel?”
“How is it that you're a goddess but are unfamiliar with the Host?” He turned his head and the light from the kitchen shifted across his face.
I caught my breath.
Now as I've recently mentioned, I've seen a lot of amazing things. Incredibly sexy men, gods, and assorted shapeshifters included. All of my lions were hand picked by the last Lion Goddess based mainly on their looks and Kirill was her favorite, so I don't think I have to explain to you how beautiful my black lion is. Trevor is a prime piece of werewolf flesh, muscled, tall and darkly handsome with honey colored eyes. Odin has a whole flock of Valkyries who are loyal only to him and those women don't just follow him around because it's their job, they follow him around because it's the best view in Asgard. I've seen and slept with some of the most gorgeous men in the world... in both of the worlds.
None of them prepared me for the sight of this dark angel.
If I dissected his looks in an effort to explain to you why he was so appealing, I would undoubtedly come up with a pile of average man pieces... attractive pieces but still no different from any other good looking male. His nose was just a nose, elegant and strong in shape but nothing unusual. His lips were on the thin side but looked soft and inviting, yet I couldn't say why it was that I wanted to kiss them so badly.
His jaw was firm, angled sharply, as were his cheekbones but these were no better than any chiseled face gracing the silver screen. His hair was so black, it seemed to leech every color out of his surroundings and pull them into those silky strands but still it was just hair, hair that was cut in a short serviceable style that shouldn't have appealed to me at all. I preferred long hair on men... hell, Kirill's hair hung past his ass and I thought it was his sexiest attribute.
Wide shoulders flexed under his mundane shirt but Trevor's shoulders were wider, his arms thicker than those of this angel before me. The angel was by no means skinny though. He had the body of a water polo player, strong, buff, but not overdone. It was very clear that he could throw down with the best of them but I'd seen the best and this wasn't it. So why did I feel like I was witnessing male perfection for the first time in my life?
I drew my gaze back up to his face, trying desperately to swim out of dangerous waters, but I ended up drowning anyway in the twin seas of his eyes. I pulled myself back but just barely, becoming fascinated with another sexy attribute: a beautiful, intricate symbol tattooed on his left cheek. It seemed to glow, swirl, then spark before settling into black again.
He was staring at me, as I was at him, and I had no idea how long we'd been gazing at each other. However long it was, we'd finally both come back to where we started. His eyes were a blue so light, they looked silver and they glittered in the dark. Not just a little shimmer of caught light, I mean the whole surface of his irises seemed to be made of tiny, shimmering particles, which refracted the light in waves. They flashed iridescent colors over his face and across the slick sheen of his hair. Altogether, his eyes were the only truly unusual thing about him, besides the wings of course, but put it all together and he was sublime.
“And how is it that I don't know your name?” He continued as if we hadn't just been ogling each other for the past century, or two minutes, whatever.
“I'm still waiting on yours,” I finally straightened out of my battle stance and I flushed as he gave my body another look.
“I am Azrael,” he took a step toward me, then frowned and cursed in an unknown language under his breath. “And you have just made me forget my duties for the first time in two thousand years.”
He turned back to the body and that's when I noticed the scythe. You would think someone who fought gods all the time would have seen the massive curved blade that was attached to a pole the length of Azrael's body but somehow I'd missed it till right then... when he plunged it through the corpse without making a single cut. He pulled it back and the blade glowed white for a second, the intricate carvings along the blade darkening to black before he swung the scythe in a half circle and it disappeared as if he'd simply tucked the weapon away.
He returned his attention to me, his wings folding down, down, down, till they disappeared as well. His eyes flashed once, then were simply light blue... a creepy, silvery, light blue but still just a color.
“Now you will tell me your name and status please,” he stood before me and I had to seriously concentrate on his words to get past the feelings that his nearness was causing in my limbs. Wow, this was worse than the first time I met Re.
“I'm Vervain,” I swallowed hard. What the hell was my last name? “Lavine,” I chocked out. “I... status?”
“I am Azrael,” he said gently, “my status is Archangel of Death, ruler of Shehaquim, the third Heaven. You are Vervain Lavine, Goddess of?”
“Oh,” I blushed hotter. “I'm sorry, I'm new to this.”
“New?” He frowned again and his scent hit me... vanilla orchids. The Angel of Death smelled like beautiful, delicate flowers. Huh.
“I wasn't born a goddess,” I looked down at my knives, wondering if I should pull them up. “I was human, a witch. I hunted gods to protect my people and then I became one, sort of by accident.”
“You can't become a god by accident,” there was no anger to his voice, only confusion.
“Trust me,” I smiled, “you can. Now I'm the Goddess of Love and Lions.”
“That's quite a combination,” he smiled back.
“Wait a minute,” I was starting to remember how to think. “Archangel of Death, scythe, corpse... you're the guy they fashioned the Grim Reaper after.”
“I'm one of Death's aspects,” he said softly.
“So you're not here because of Xi Wangmu?”
“No, I'm merely doing my job,” he waved a hand toward the body.
“But you're an angel,” I tried to work it all out. “That means you're part of the Christian mythos.”
“Yes,” he was so patient. Most of my men would have been practically shaking me by now. “But I am also part of the Islamic and Sikh traditions. They all stem from the same place, you know.”
“Yes but, uh, he's Chinese,” I pointed at the dead man with an accusing finger.
Azrael laughed. It was so loud, it filled my head, my whole body, but it was more emotion than sound. It didn't hurt with its volume, it simply soaked into me and shared its pure joy with me. I couldn't help but laugh with him, even though I had no idea what he was laughing about. Then he stopped with a sudden shocked silence and stared at me, like I'd done something even more fascinating than changing from human to god.
“I'd forgotten,” he whispered.
“What?”
“What laughing was like,
” he smiled gently, in control again. “It's a lovely feeling, I must remember to read more humorous books when I get home. As far as your observance goes, just because a man is Chinese, doesn't mean he can't believe in Christ.”
“Oh, right,” I laughed a little at myself. “Of course. So he was a Christian.”
“No, he was a Buddhist,” Azrael's face was serious for two seconds before it altered vibrantly and he started to laugh again. “Yes, he was Christian,” he wiped at his tears.
“Did you just make a joke?” I giggled like a girl. “Is the Angel of Death supposed to crack jokes? I hardly think that's appropriate.”
“No,” he laughed again, “and I never do but then there's rarely anyone to tell them to. I don't think I've even spoke this much in years.”
“You don't have any friends?” I felt bad for this gorgeous man who couldn't even have the basic human comfort of sharing laughter with another person.
“I've always been more into study than interaction,” his smile faded. “I thought I interacted enough with the dead and mine is not a position conducive to making friends.”
“No, I guess not,” I finally pulled the little levers that sheathed my claws. “You wanna go grab a cup of coffee?”
“What?”
“Coffee,” I smiled and gestured to the door. “You do drink coffee right? I could actually go for some food too. How about it, feel like changing your opinion on social interaction?”
“I think I'm about to change my views on all interactions,” his eyes flashed once as he took my arm and led me out into the light.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Vervain?”
I looked up to find Kirill towering over our courtyard table with a dark frown. Azrael merely looked curious as he sipped his white chocolate mocha. We'd been sitting there talking for who knows how long about everything and anything. He now knew the whole history of my current quest and my rise to goddesshood, including my ability to take back the power humans had sacrificed to Atlanteans. In return, I knew how much Azrael loved books and learning, how he prized his solitude, how he technically ruled a level of Heaven though he barely did any ruling to speak of, and how enslaved he felt to his job.
“Kirill,” I smiled as my heart sped up, like I'd been caught doing something wrong... which I hadn't of course.
“Vat are you doing?” Kirill continued to glare at me. “Ve're supposed to be looking for someone.”
“I know,” I shook my head a little and began to frown myself. What was wrong with me? “I did find her and we need to talk. Take a seat, baby.”
Kirill's expression became confused as he pulled a chair out between me and the angel, then sat down. Azrael looked him over silently and Kirill gave him the same stoic perusal.
“Kirill, this is Azrael,” I gestured to the angel, “as in, the Archangel of Death, Azrael. Az, this is Kirill, my Ganza, and my boyfriend.”
“A lion?” Azrael looked over at Kirill with more interest.
“An angel?” Kirill stared back.
“The plague has progressed,” I pulled both of their attention back to me. “I met Azrael when he was collecting the first victim's soul. Well, hopefully he was the first. Anyway, I called the police and reported it but I lost Xi Wangmu.”
“You should have called me,” Kirill was back to frowning and so was I.
“Yeah, I should have,” I shook my head again and took a deep breath. “Did you do some sort of juju on me?” I leveled my stare on Azrael.
“Pardon?” He lifted one brow.
“I feel an uncommon attraction to you,” I blurted out. “I think it's dangerously distracting. I'm not one to forget about my Ganza.”
“You allowed zis man to distract you,” Kirill now looked hurt, “so much zat you forget me?”
“Which is not usual for me, right?” I looked at him straight until he smiled grimly, nodded, and turned his stare onto Azrael as well.
“Vat did you do to her?” That's my lion, right to the point.
“Nothing,” Azrael spread his hands harmlessly. “I've barely spoken to another living being in years. I would hardly wish to bespell the first one I get a chance to speak to. What I can say, is that I find you equally appealing and I may venture to hypothesize that there could be outside influences at work here... if it's anything so nefarious at all.”
“If?” Kirill growled. “My Tima doesn't allow men to distract her from courtesy, especially not courtesy to me.”
“I'm merely saying there may be a much more simple explanation,” Azrael smiled gently and everything else faded away for me.
I could hear the pounding of my heart clearly, then there was a rushing sound like the beating of thousands of wings. My butterflies, it was the love magic rising inside me, filling me with the flapping of delicate wings. Part of me recognized how terrible this was, a new lover was the last thing I needed right now, but the larger part of me knew I absolutely did need this man and I wouldn't be satisfied till I had him. It wasn't just the love magic that wanted him, it was the lioness, and she wouldn't be ignored.
“Oh fuck,” I whispered. “I think he's right.”
“Vat is right?” Kirill took my hand and I tore my attention away from Az to focus on him.
“My magic recognizes him,” I couldn't seem to make my voice rise above a whisper. “Maybe this is plain old attraction but now that I'm a love goddess, it goes to a whole new level.”
“No,” Kirill shook his head. “You vould have noticed before. Besides, I've never seen you so taken vith someone, so fast.”
“Is there a reason you would be attracted to Death?” Azrael sipped his coffee serenely as both mine and Kirill's eyes got big and we stared at each other in horror. “Ah, that seems to have struck a chord.”
“She vas taken by Death recently,” Kirill was the first to recover, “kidnapped by Anubis and imprisoned in Duat.”
“But you escaped,” a small wrinkle appeared between Azrael's eyes and I stared at it in fascination.
“Yes,” I swallowed hard, “with help. In fact, it was Jesus who gave me a sip from the Grayel, relieving me of Anubis' mark and making me a goddess, all in one shot.”
“Jesus helped you?” Azrael leaned forward. “I'm impressed, he doesn't give just anyone a drink from that thing.”
“I think Fenrir had some influence,” I smiled.
“Mmm,” Azrael pondered this a moment. “I could see how a request from the Wolf God might make Jesus take notice but what did Anubis do to you to necessitate a sip from the Grayel?”
“I don't really want to go into it,” I looked away as blood rushed into my cheeks and flashes of my time spent with Anubis went through my head. “Basically, he stabbed me and it established a connection with him that allowed him to find and get to me wherever I was. A sip from the Grayel was the only way to cut the link.”
“Linked to Death,” Azrael mused. “It could explain our strange fascination for each other. All aspects of Death share a bond. We're siblings of a sort. The Afterlife is different for each pantheon but Death is the same. You had a bond with Death and it sounds as if he had a strong attraction to you.”
“He said he loved me,” I whispered. “He still says it. I used to think it was a twisted kind of love but I'm not so sure anymore. I think he truly does love me, in his own way.”
“Then, in a sense,” Azrael's eyes found mine, “I have loved you.”
“So you're attracted to me because of magic,” I made a soft hmph. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”
“Tima,” Kirill frowned and took my hand. “Ve've talked about zis. You're loved for who you are, the magic just adds to it.”
“I know, baby,” I smiled at him but I felt Azrael's eyes on us and when I looked over, his gaze was striking and intense.
“How many men do you have, Vervain?” Azrael's gaze darted back and forth between us.
“It's the magic of the Intare,” I sighed. “I have to take multiple lovers to satisfy it. My alpha happens to b
e a werewolf, Fenrir's eldest, and we're having issues right now because of it. Actually, Anubis kind of started this horrible mess. Trevor, my alpha, has gone to stay with his Aunt in Niflheim to avoid the restrictions of our bond.”
“You mean your lover has gone to Hel to escape you,” Azrael sat back in his seat, with a raised brow.
“You could put it like that,” I patted Kirill's hand when I heard his soft growl. “Like I said, it's complicated. His father wants me to go after him. He's afraid Hel won't let him go now that she has him in her territory.”
“She's lonely,” Azrael swallowed hard. “We all are. It is the nature of the office, I imagine. We death deities sacrifice much for our power.” Those light eyes of his sparked once as he looked up.
“So you agree with Fenrir,” my pulse sped up. Part of me was in extreme denial I guess. I kind of hoped Trevor would make it out on his own. “You think she'll keep him?”
“I think it's highly probable.” He steepled his fingers, pressing his lips to their tops. “But I don't agree with Fenrir.”
“You don't?” I looked over at Kirill with surprised hope, before looking back at my, I mean the, angel.
“No,” he leaned forward, once again intent. “I don't think you should go alone into Hel's territory. You'd die there if you did.”
“Oh,” my voice was the barest whisper. The wolf inside me rolled and whimpered. She'd been sleeping a lot, ever since Trevor had gone to his Aunt, a sort of hibernation I guess.
“But I will go with you,” Azrael's firm declaration raised both my and Kirill's heads with a snap.
“Vhy vould you?” Kirill got right to the point.
“I don't know,” he blinked and then his face cleared and settled into an expression I was very familiar with.
“No,” I said as I swallowed against my racing pulse. “Not that I wouldn't love to but no. The possibility of more lovers is what got me into this mess in the first place. I'd get Trevor free, just to lose him again.”
“And if I made it a requirement?” Azrael arched an elegant brow and smiled lusciously.