Tim Marquitz - Echoes of the Past

I pulled another bullet out and dropped it into the clouds, just in case. “I only came to talk.” I didn’t see the point in kicking him when he was down…not yet, at least. There was nothing to lose by playing nice. I had time for Plan B. C through Z were all the same.

Azrael stood. He wore the same black robes as he had the last time I’d seen him, but now they hung loosely across his emaciated frame. Pale, his skin stretched taut across his sharp features, he still looked like death warmed over, but there was none of the intimidation that had been such an integral part of his being. He looked like an old man, counting the minutes until the end came.

Bereft of his powers, which Raguel had inherited, Azrael looked so…normal. There were none of the obsidian clouds that whirled about his feet or any of the fire in his gaze. He stood on the cloudy surface of Limbo and his eyes were a murky brown. I let my senses loose and felt the barest hint of his essence, little more than a pittance to keep him among the living. The cold wash of the tomb had been replaced by a numb emptiness of a disconnected soul. He had truly been forsaken. He was nothing more than skin and bones with an immortal spirit.

“I’ve nothing to tell you, Triggaltheron.” Azrael shook his head. “You were given the opportunity for answers, but you chose to stand against me. Leave me to my banishment.” He dismissed me with a casual wave. “At least I know I won’t suffer alone.” The angel laughed, the sound lacking his trademark graveyard grumble. It had more than enough stubbornness to make up for it.

I walked over and stood right before him, meeting his cold gaze. Without any hesitation, I yanked my gun out and shot him in the foot. So much for plan A.

Azrael shrieked and fell backward, crashing to the ground to clutch at his wound. The clouds swirled and I brushed them aside as I closed the distance between us. He looked at me with fury in his eyes, and I shot him in the hand.

Once more, Azrael’s shout echoed through Limbo, my ears ringing in its wake. He scrambled toward the cover of the smoke, but I stalked him, staying right on his heels. Before he could get further than a few yards, I stepped down on his injured foot and pinned it to the ground. He growled and clutched at my ankle with his good hand, trying to pry himself loose. I set the barrel of my gun to his thigh.

“I’m all for suffering, but just so you know, I fully intend to make sure you do the lion’s share of it.” Again, I pulled the trigger.

Azrael crumpled into a heap. I took a step back but stayed close. It seemed pretty obvious I’d gotten my point across, but you never know with supernaturals. They don’t think like normal people. You can never be sure of what they’ll do. Logic and reason are a foreign concept to them.

Azrael lay there for a minute, whimpered little breaths spewing from his mouth, but he didn’t move. After another minute, his voice rose in his throat and his gasped complaints turned into a phlegmy chuckle.

“No matter how much you deny it, Triggaltheron, you are just like your father.” He rolled onto his back and glared up at me, the flicker of a grin at his lips.

“What a coincidence. That’s exactly who I came to talk to you about.” I moved a step closer. “I guess we’re having a conversation after all.”

His laughter ended, but I could still see the stolid defiance in his eyes. “Do you truly think you’ll find the answers you seek by torturing me? It would bring me great satisfaction to die knowing I’ve told you nothing of the puzzle that vexes you.”

“It sounds to me like you and I are contemplating the same end game.” I moved closer, lifted my gun and pointed it at his shin. “Sadly, I think I’ll be the only one who enjoys your long, drawn out crawl into oblivion.” The next bullet tore into his leg.

Azrael shrunk back and curled into a ball on his side. His breaths spewed in pained gasps. He trembled as he attempted to salve his injuries. I’d come here ready to kill him, if I had to, but as satisfying as it would be to put a bullet in his eye, I knew it wasn’t a good idea. Azrael knew something about my family, and I’d be damned if I didn’t try my hardest to get it out of him before I sent him on his way.

“How about now? Do you have something to tell me yet, or do I put another hole in you?” I kicked him over onto his back so we were face to face. His lips quivered and his eyes were moist. “You and I both know these little flesh wounds aren’t gonna kill you, so we can keep going. I cleared my schedule so I’ve got as much time as it takes.” I thumped my foot against his hurt leg. He winced and pulled away. “Tell me about the relationship between Lucifer and my mother.”

Azrael growled at me through clenched teeth. “Do you want to hear more about her rape? How the smell of her sex filled the air, wet from the grunting violation she loved so much. Is that what you’re looking for?”

I squeezed a round off into his elbow.

Azrael hissed and pulled his arm against his ribs. Pained eyes glared up at me, but he sneered, his defiance intact. “Or would you rather hear about how she was cut into pieces while still alive, hacked apart limb by limb, the blade slicing into her pale fle-“

I shot his other foot, following it up with a bullet to his damaged shin.

Azrael flopped in agony, spewing curses and spittle into the clouds.

“I have to tell you, buddy, you’re starting to piss me off.”

His body was wracked with twitches, but he managed to pull himself into a seated position. Blood spilled from his wounds and lent color to the misty haze beneath him. He stared at me without speaking. Stubborn was winning out. It was time to shift gears.

“There’s only two more rounds in the gun.” I waved my. 45 before him. “However, I brought along a bunch of extra clips. When I run out of those, I’ve got a few creative ideas on how we can continue our little game, and I promise I won’t disappoint you.” I reached into my pocket and pulled out the vial of Lucifer’s blood. Azrael’s gaze darted to it. “You know what this is, I’m sure. You can sense it, even muted as you are. Just a couple of drops and you’ll be healed up and ready to start all over. You don’t even have to cooperate. All I have to do is rub it in one of your wounds to get the full effect.”

He sat silent another moment, staring at me, until I lifted my gun again. He flinched and raised a dripping, crimson hand. “Enough, demon.” Azrael sucked in a ragged breath. “You’ve made your point. I’ll tell you what you want to know, but only after you’ve done something for me.”

Now we were getting somewhere. Everything in the supernatural world came at a price: a bargain, a trade, the promise of favors. That we’d reached the negotiating stage was a good sign. There was a real chance I’d find out what I wanted to know. I really didn’t plan on giving Azrael anything in trade for the information I sought, but it didn’t hurt to let him think I was willing to deal.

I lowered my gun to my side and smiled. “You looking for an all-expense paid trip to Tahiti or a professional makeover to clear up that papery skin thing you’ve got going on?”

He spit of thick glob of blood into the clouds. “I want only one thing from you, Triggaltheron: kill me.”

I hadn’t expected that. I figured he’d want a way out of Limbo, or that he’d ask me to take out Raguel so his powers would revert back, but he definitely caught me off guard by asking me to off him. “As much as I would love to, that kind of screws up the whole you telling me stuff angle I was going for. Even with a necromancer for a girlfriend, I wouldn’t be able to get you talking after I turn out your lights.”