The dimensions of the box were roughly the size of a human head and Azazel’s mind was flushed with imagery, making him slightly queasy. He brought the container outside and gently placed it in the passenger seat, strapping the seatbelt around it as if it was a baby.
The file mentioned Beth’s residence at 490 North Meadows Road, which was in the center of a suburban nightmare of rounded roads that led into a nearly impossible to navigate maze of two story homes that all resembled each other. Colors varied slightly from beige to dark beige to slightly bluish beige. Azazel only knew of this area because of an uncle that lived there years ago who used to cookout and always invited the entire extended family.
After five minutes of trying to figure out which street was the correct entry point, Azazel located the residence and the phone rang. “Hand the box over and wait to see her reaction. It should be a good one.” Click.
“I feel sick,” Azazel said to himself.
He walked up to the front door and hoped that no one else was home. He knocked and a few seconds later, Beth answered, wearing a floral dress and low heels. She was a cousin of Lori’s.
“Well, look who it is. I haven’t seen you in, what has it been, ten years or so? Wow, what a strange surprise. You know, your name came up in conversation the other day. I don’t remember what about, though. I think it was about Lori and one of those PTA meetings that she attended with that crazy skirt. You remember the one, don’t you? I think it was a P.T.A. meeting. Ha! Anyway, what brings you around?” Beth was known to be a bit of a chatterbox.
“Hey Beth, I’ve been tasked with bringing this over. I’m not sure what’s in it, so it’ll be a surprise for both of us.”
“Oh wow! A Surprise? Who did it come from? No wait, don’t tell me. Let me try guessing by what’s inside. Oooo, I can’t wait! How exciting.”
Azazel handed the package over and closed his eyes as she placed it on the table. “You know, Lori and I haven’t talked much since your divorce and I just want you to know that I feel really bad for the way things turned out but…”
She uncovered the mystery and screamed at the top of her lungs. Azazel ran over and found not a head, but a bundle of cash and two notes. One was for Azazel and one was for Beth.
“Oh, thank god,” Azazel said under his breath.
The note to Azazel read:
The $25,000 in here is something you owed to Beth’s daughter, Amber. It was what would have gone into the college fund had she not been murdered by that waste of flesh and bones, Jerome Mills. You may ask what her note said or leave it alone. That’s up to you. Now, give her a hug and leave at any time.
Azazel looked up and completely forgot Beth was Amber’s mom. Azazel only dealt with Amber’s dad, Mark, who was one of the few people in the family that’d do anything for Azazel. It was unfortunate that Mark died not long after Amber’s death due to complications with diabetes brought on by heavy drinking as he mourned his daughter. Azazel walked over and opened his arms to Beth and she gratefully accepted. Upon release, Beth willfully handed the note over to Azazel along with a picture.
“Thank you, you have no idea how grateful I am for this. You just have no clue. Thank you and the angel that answered my prayers.”
Azazel looked down at the note and the picture. The image showed Jerome’s face as he was tied up in the chair. Azazel was stunned that the photo was taken just before Azazel arrived, so the group of thugs must’ve delivered it to Lucifer. He then read the note that read:
Dear Beth,
You’ve wanted justice for your daughter’s murder and the man standing next to you hand-delivered that justice to the killer. Worry yourself not of the possibility of innocence. Jerome Mills was guilty of her murder as well as a plethora of other despicable lifestyle habits. This $25,000 would’ve gone to your daughter for her tuition into college. Thomas made a promise to Amber that if she was accepted it into college, he’d help her in any way he could. He was devastated by her death.
Tears rolled down Beth’s eyes. “I never knew you told her that.”
Azazel was still staring at the paper. “I didn’t think the promise mattered after she died.”
He looked up and Beth hugged him tightly. “I don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into today. I heard about them finding Lori hanging from the bridge and your car was found nearby. I just want you to know that you’ve done good here. I must confess, Lori confided to me a few days ago about what she had done, and I’m glad to see you alive.”
“What do you mean?”
“I suppose holding onto a secret like this doesn’t matter anymore now that she’s in the great beyond, but she was seeking a hit man.”
“She what?” Azazel was appalled.
“You have no idea what I used to do, do you?”
“Don’t tell me, you were an assassin?” Azazel laughed.
“No, nothing remotely close.” Beth laughed alongside him. “You know I was an accountant, right. I once helped audit the books of someone associated with the Diabolos Clan.”
“Diabolos Clan?”
“Oh, please tell me you’ve heard of them. Well, if not, they weren’t well known, so I’m not surprised you didn’t know. Anyway, that family was well under the radar, long running. I don’t even know why I was chosen to help out, but I was honored. What I figured was that they pulled strings, kinda like the Free Masons. Direct contact with them was very limited.”
“Interesting.” The gears in Azazel’s head were turning.
“He paid me good and I fudged the numbers for him. That’s as simple as it was.”
“So you told Lori and she figured you were connected?”
“Yeah, stupid, I know. She never explained why she despised you, other than your obsessive drinking and lethargy.”
“I’m not sure either, and I doubt I’ll get the answer. All I know is that someone’s fixing all my problems and telling me how to fix other situations. This may be the last time you see me, so I’m happy to have been a positive impact for you.”
Azazel and Beth spoke a little longer about the family and he realized this was the longest conversation with anyone in a long time. It felt strange to connect with an obscure relative, especially under such circumstances, but it was a pleasure. Years had passed since Lori talked with him in such a manner. The typical interaction included her anger towards the drinking and his lack of support. Azazel even remembered her muttering under her breath multiple times about wishing he was dead. He just never expected her to actually try sourcing out an assassin.
After a cup of coffee and a great conversation, Azazel left Beth to return to his own assassin duties.
4 P.M.: Charles Gouch
Feeling uplifted after his conversation with Beth, Azazel had a newfound energy and was eager to continue. He really believed he was doing positive work today, a sense of accomplishment not experienced in years. With eight hours left for completion, he almost wished the day was longer, but there were surely going to be surprises waiting for him around every new task.
Within the Kushiel subterranean tunnel, Azazel searched through the packages, and picked one at random. Charles Gouch was an employee at the Andromalius Pawn Shop, 347 West Court Street, a building that was no more than two blocks from where Azazel’s ex-wife had been hung. He cringed at the idea of going into a pawn shop, knowing whoever was inside would most likely be prepared for robberies.
The phone rang. “Hey Azazel, have you picked a destination?”
“Yeah, I’m going after Gouch.” He emphasized the name to sound funny.
“You just like that name, don’t you?” Lucifer laughed at the way Azazel said it. “Well, my friend, you may want to don that ballistic vest this time.”
“Yeah, I figured as much, but I’m looking through the package and the connection isn’t appearing. Why is he important to me? I mean, I recognize him vaguely, but looking at all these papers, there just seems to be nothing that’d require my wrath.”
“Now you’re soun
ding like an Angel of Death. Well, just ask him about the coins.”
“You’re not talking about…”
“Yup, those.” Click.
Azazel thought back to when he collected rare coins. He had a particular fondness towards ancient Europe, leaning towards gold pieces such as the Daric, Tremissis and Aureaus. They weren’t easy to find, but he took pride in each discovery. He once had a total of thirty-two coins, all individually acquired through his travels. Although quite upset when they were stolen, he wasn’t angry. After all, he stole them from other connoisseurs.
Azazel was slightly nervous about returning to downtown Cain after leaving behind his overturned Camaro. Upon arriving, he parked around the side of the shop. His white Jaguar would be an easy car to pinpoint, and although he loved driving it and showing it off, daytime was his enemy. He walked into the pawnbroker, pretended to look around, then asked the full-bearded man in full camouflage and Confederate hat, “Have you seen Gouch?”
“Oh, you mean Charlie? Na, he’s not in right now. He’ll be back later.”
“All right, thanks.”
Azazel walked out and pulled the phone out of his pocket. “Call, mother fucker,” he said to himself as if telling Lucifer. Azazel was momentarily lost without knowing where to go. Then it dawned on him to remember the old ways. He didn’t need Lucifer pointing where to go. A little backyard research was all that was needed.
Just as he was about to leave, he turned and saw Gouch at the front counter gazing back at him. A mild stare-off occurred until Azazel casually walked in. He didn’t want to give away his true intentions until he was within close range.
“Can I help you, sir?”
“Hey bud, I have a quick question for you. I was looking for something and you were the person that someone recommended I ask.”
Gouch loosened up, thinking Azazel was nothing more than a typical customer. “What can I do you for?”
“I was looking for something quite valuable. See, I’m a bullion buff and I’ve been searching for a particular set of coins that just happen to be missing from my stash. I’ve been looking everywhere, and yet, I hadn’t stumbled upon them until I heard today that they were in none other than Cain. Boy, was I surprised.”
“And may I ask, who told you about these coins?” Gouch’s forehead was perspiring.
“I highly doubt you’d appreciate the name as much as I think you should.”
Gouch started rubbing his neck and acting fidgety. “Please, I don’t want any trouble.”
“Let me guess, you know who I’m talking about.”
“I knew this day was coming as soon as I heard that scrambled voice long ago. He called himself Lucifer.”
“Exactly how long ago did you get this call?”
“One year ago, to this day,” Gouch replied.
“And what did he say?”
“He told me to return the property that was stolen. A man would come in to salvage the items, and it would be in my best interest to not put up a fight.”
“So, we’re not going to have a fight then?”
“No, no, no, here, I’ll get you your coins.”
Azazel was relieved as his pulse was pounding and he could feel his own brow slightly dripping sweat. He waited at the front counter for a moment, then felt the phone buzz. “Duck”, it read.
“Shit.”
Azazel dropped to the ground as a shotgun blast just barely missed.
“I suppose this isn’t going to be a peaceful transaction then, huh?”
“Fuck you and that devil mother fucker! Think you can just stroll in and steal my shit?”
“In all honesty, that was my shit first.”
“Yeah, and where’d you get it?”
“I stole it.”
They both laughed at the ludicrous situation. Azazel wasn’t the type of guy to just waste ammo, so he peeked around the corner of the shelf, looking for any indication of where Gouch was preparing to attack. Then Azazel felt the cold metal of another gun on the back of his neck.
“Get up,” the other guy commanded. “And drop the gun.”
Azazel felt like a dog backed into a corner. The man held the weapon with authority, and directed Azazel to the front counter. Just then, a very strange ringtone came from the phone, something very folksy, and Azazel didn’t recognize it. One line repeated three times, “You better duck down…”
Azazel knew better than to ignore such specific advice, so he dropped to the ground like a brick. He glanced over to see the hick just as the glass display window exploded from the street side of the store, followed by his chest opening up. Blood splattered like he had swallowed a grenade. The counter and back wall were sprayed with redneck body matter. He looked down and uttered “Ouch” then dropped the shotgun. After analyzing the enormous orifice, he fell to the ground.
“I give up! I give up!” Gouch yelled, “Holy shit, what the fuck was that?”
“Honestly, I’m not sure what Lucifer used, but you really shouldn’t have fucked around. This could have been a lot smoother.”
“Fucking hell…” Gouch shook his head and threw the shotgun on the counter away from the cone-shaped crimson splatter. “You weren’t fucking joking, shit!”
“Yeah, and my day ain’t over yet. Oh yeah, and I’m taking your shot gun and some more shells. Do you mind?”
“No, not at all.” Gouch was pleasantly charitable as he retrieved the collection of ancient coins. “Here you go. Anything else for you, sir?”
“I think that’s good, thanks.”
Gouch nodded, then looked over at his colleague. As Azazel walked out of the Andromalius Pawn Shop, he heard Gouch say to himself, “How the hell do I clean this shit up?” Then, just before he turned the corner, “So, is Lucifer really real?”
“From what I’ve been going through today, I’d say yes.”
The sirens sounded, indicating it was time for Azazel to return to his Batcave.
5 P.M.: Andrea Nilla
The image of the chest exploding kept repeating in Azazel’s head, like a looping tape. He needed to cleanse his thoughts, and that’d require another stab at the target pouch. Seven envelopes left, and he picked the first one, Andrea Nilla. She was a much younger distant cousin to Azazel and they interacted exclusively at weddings and funerals, but nothing more. One of those people that say “we should do this more often, you know, not just when someone dies.” That memory of a long-ago conversation made Azazel laugh, considering today’s itinerary.
The phone rang on-time as usual. “So, who’s next?”
Azazel lifted his head from the file. “Ummm, Andrea I guess.”
“You don’t sound so sure.”
“This file says she works in a church.”
“Yeah, and I know you visited one in years. Were you afraid you’d burn as soon as you walked through the doors?”
“I figured that’s what’d happen with you.”
“As a matter of fact, I do get a burning sensation a little when strolling through the House of God. It’s my reaction to hypocrisy. Anyway, you’d probably like to know she’s on the list.”
“She’s not stealing from the collection plate, is she?”
“No, nothing of the kind. Just ask her about 922.”
Azazel paused for a moment expecting more than a single number. “922, what?”
“That’s it. She’ll know.” Click.
922 didn’t ring a single bell in Azazel’s head, but he knew it had some sort of significance, as many of Lucifer’s cryptic clues had. Was it an address? A combination? Or maybe a door key code? Forsaking considering the possibilities, Azazel headed towards The Suriel Church which was located on the northern side of Cain and south of Abel, a few miles into the countryside. It wasn’t as long a drive from Kushiel as many of the previous destinations had been. Upon arrival, Azazel decided reasoned with himself not to bring a weapon with, even if things unexpectedly got hostile. He deposited the MP7 into the glove compartment and casually strolled inside
the nearly empty hall.
Azazel sat in one of the rear pews, hoping Andrea wouldn’t be long, but after five minutes, anxiety built. Azazel saw a pastor up front tending to his duties so he walked up and quietly asked, “Excuse me father, have you seen Andrea around here?”
“May I query as to who’s asking?”
“Tom. Tom Mormo.”
“Certainly, give me a moment.”
The pastor walked into the back and Azazel inspected the stained glass, analyzing the intricate details, but not paying much attention to the meaning behind the figures and angelic beings depicted. A moment later, a young woman walked out, dressed conservatively. He recognized her instantly.
“Hello, Tom. I haven’t seen you in years.” She gave him a hug.
“Nice to see you, Andrea.”
“So, what brings you this way?”
“Well, I’ve been kind of busy today. One of my tasks brought me to you.”
Andrea smiled. “What can I do to be of assistance to you? Would you like me to bring you the word of God?” She was lightly teasing.
“Quite the contrary, really. What do you know about 922?”
Andrea stopped smiling. “922?” She thought for a moment as her demeanor drastically changed. It was clear she recalled the significance of that number. “922. So today is that day, huh?”
“I suppose you understand what sort of day I’ve been having.”
“Let’s just put it this way. One year ago today, a call came through and the voice sounded digital, you know. It mentioned something about a day of retribution for someone I knew. It said to me that I’d have to be the keeper of that number and what it belongs to.”
“Do you have any idea who it might be?”
“Not a clue, but what this voice knew about my early teens had me scared. I was petrified of the fact that someone recalled events no one should have known.”
“Look, I’m not going to pry into what those things are, but know that today has been an awakening for me. I’ve been complacent for so long, and although what’s coming next is a mystery, I’m happy to correct things from my past that I was angry and ashamed of.”
The Djinn Trials: Azazel Page 9