At The Gates

Chapter Nine

Rachelle plopped us into a downtown alley near the edge of the storm, just as the thick white clouds began to form. Purple flashes of lightning crackled to life overhead as the roiling mass washed over the sky like torrential waves. In just seconds, they filled the horizon with light, the ashen snow drifting down, the air still.

Scarlett winced and bit her lip as the storm’s spiritual decay washed over us. She stood strong this time. Michael stumbled and nearly fell as his psychic sensibilities fell under siege. Katon steadied him.

“Take this and go back with Rachelle,” I told Mike as I handed him Eve’s bone. I quickly explained what I wanted Rachelle to do with it, then shoved him toward the portal.

Grateful, with only a hint of guilt on his pained face, he leapt inside the glowing tear. Rachelle sealed the portal behind him, her eyes downcast as she disappeared. The muffled crack of preternatural thunder drew my attention back to the storm.

I’d hoped we’d be able to rescue people before things got too bad, but the fall had already become a blizzard, downtown a whitewash of murderous snow. We moved out onto the street, a morbid magnetism drawing us closer to the edge. The acrid scent of decay, a lifetime of rot compressed into a single moment, burned my lungs and settled bitter on my tongue.

Though it was Saturday, the traffic downtown was only slightly less than it would have been during the hectic week. People milled about in the kill-zone, looking up in awe at the falling snow, a rarity in the desert climate. Their amused smiles and cheerful banter turned to terror as the first of the flakes settled over them. Screams erupted as death gnawed at their flesh. Panic set in.

Though I knew there was nothing I could do, my conscience screamed at me to act. Unable to go to them, I called them to me. It was little more than nothing, but it was all I had to offer.

“Come this way. Hurry!” My voice cracked with the force of my words as I waved them on.

Katon and Scarlett joined in as those nearest the edge bolted in our direction. Those in vehicles whose metal roofs sheltered them just long enough, made it out, the smell of burning rubber mixing with the harsh air. Those just a little further back were caught in the chaos. Cars slammed into one another as the fall ate its way inside. Many scrambled free only to meet their fate under the wheels of their fellow victims or at the hands of the relentless storm, no mercy shown by either.

The people on foot had it the worst. Instinct driving them to cover, they huddled in doorways and under flimsy awnings. They clutched to their wounds as they stared wide-eyed toward the sky. Death delayed but a moment, those who couldn’t make it inside fell beneath the white ash, their screams seared from their mouths as their bodies disintegrated into ash.

The few who made it out of the storm, after the snow had struck, were no better than those who’d fallen beneath it. Scored, blackened rot festering in bloodless wounds, they lay screaming in the streets, agony in their every movement as they were eaten away. Shock settled in for many, thankfully numbing their last few moments.

We helped all we could, pulling them free in a pitiful attempt, but death would not be denied.

Above us, the buildings that towered over downtown were gnawed away. Floor by floor they disappeared under the drift of white, dust and smoke heralding their destruction. As the snow built up, the buildings came down faster, their supports collapsing beneath them. To a background of purple flashes, they fell from the horizon, dust and debris adding to the chaos and death in the streets.

My stomach a mass of churning acid, I turned away and stumbled back into the alley, eyes on the ground. I couldn’t watch it any more. Gasping for clean air, I made my way toward the back of the alley when my senses suddenly lit fire. I whipped my gun out and looked up to see a black mass gathering before me.

My heart stuttered a beat, and then slowed as the darkness coalesced, its form becoming humanoid. As the figure took shape, adrenaline sparked a wildfire and my heart thundered back to life.

Before me hovered Azrael-the Angel of Death, better known as the Grim Reaper.

Unlike the rest of the archangels, Azrael lurked behind the scenes, out of sight. Save for rare exceptions, were you to see him, he would be the last person you ever saw. He was the death of the party.

Dressed in the stereotypical flowing black robes, he floated a foot above the ground, a swirling abyss of obsidian roiling beneath his feet. His pale hands were crossed before him and he stared at me through crimson eyes, literal flames flickering in the deep sockets. His face was gaunt, skeletal features pressed tight against paper thin flesh.

“Greetings, Triggaltheron,” his voice drifted to me, the smell of the morgue.

Stunned he knew who I was, I didn’t immediately realize he’d used my given name. “Here for the show?”

He glanced up at the storm a moment, then back to me, his narrow lips set in a grim line. “Though it does make for a pleasant view, I’m here to pass on a warning. Leave the affairs of The Kingdom to the denizens of Heaven. End your search for Cain’s key and do not join the war. It is not your concern.”

“In case you haven’t noticed,” I gestured to the clouds, “Gabriel’s pissing match has extended way beyond the boundaries of Heaven. He’s made it my concern by bringing it to Earth. If he wanted to keep it private, he shouldn’t have whipped it out in public.”

Azrael stared at me, his gaze frigid-an amazing feat considering the fire in his eyes. “Destiny has been set in motion. You cannot bring it to heel.” He floated closer, his hands held out before him. “I have no desire to harm you, Triggaltheron, but I will do what I must, though it would pain me to betray your father’s trust.”

My world turned red. “First off, don’t call me by that name. Secondly, don’t you ever fucking mention my father again!” Unbidden, my energies came to the front, my hands glistening with power.

Azrael stood his ground, a cadaverous smile crossing his pale lips. “There is so much you don’t know about him. Your history is a revisionist’s myth.”

“I know he died at my hands for what he did to my mother, his soul forever condemned. That’s all I need to know.”

He chuckled. “You prove my point, little demon. That’s but a sentence in the tome of your father’s life, though you cannot see it, blinded as you are by the lies you’ve so eagerly swallowed. You know nothing.” He floated a step closer, the flames in his eyes flaring up. “Mind my words and turn your back on Heaven so you may live. Then, when your heart has shed its woeful burden, come to me and I will tell you of your father’s truth.”

“You can shove that truth up your ass.” While I knew I was pushing my luck, I didn’t care. He couldn’t hurt me any worse than he already had.

The sperm donor who fathered me was dead. I’d stared into his hollow eyes as I carved him apart, piece by bloody piece. His life, his history, his everything, was erased in a frenzied bloodbath, and then cast to the pyre. The look of terror on his dying face was the only memory of him I kept; there wasn’t room in my heart for any more.

Azrael bowed his head and drifted back, his hands once more clasped at his waist. “You choose to remain blind and deny who you really are. Such a pity. Your ignorance will cost you your life one day, or perhaps worse.” He grinned feral. “Our paths shall cross again, Triggaltheron. I pray it is under better circumstances.”

The last word his, he took his leave. Dark billowing clouds welled up from the maelstrom beneath his feet, their blackness enveloping him. In but a moment, his figure was obscured, the obsidian shifting to gray, then to nothing. He was gone.

My head in a fog, I left the alley to find Scarlett and Katon where I’d left them. They still stared at the storm as though I’d never left. While its bright clouds were fading, its fury spent, theirs still boiled on the surface, peppering my senses with rampant bee stings.

Unlike the first storm that erased four city blocks as though they never existed, there’d been too much here to completely wipe away in the short time the storm had raged. What had once been a panoramic view of steel and glass was gone, the clearing sky flooding in to take its place.

Whittled away, all of the top floors were missing, some of the lower sections having crumbled underneath. Many of the mid-floors still stood, no doubt filled with people too terrified to even go near the windows, let alone come outside now that the storm had ceased.

Where the streets had been, a murky lake had begun to form, disintegrated water pipes spewing their loads unchecked. Several geysers erupted like volcanoes from where there’d been fire hydrants just minutes before. Water flowed into the exposed sewers, filling the air with the rancid stench of downtown’s collective ass. Fortunately, it appeared as though the power to the area had been severed at some point, otherwise we’d have been looking at the world’s largest-and most horribly fragrant-hot tub.

Scarlett looked terrible. Her face was pale and stained with red blotches of disgust. Her hands, clutching to Katon, were bone white and trembling. They stood out like spotlights against the enforcer’s blackened leather arm. She looked as though she’d fall over if he weren’t there to support her.

He didn’t look much better. His jaw was clenched so tight I thought he was Glenn Danzig. The vein at his temple throbbed a blast beat, speed records broken in its wake. He clung to Scarlett, staring at the destruction through the tiny slits of his eyes, feeding off her discomfort. Torn between duties, they stood rigid, likely waiting for a sign as to what to do. Though my stomach still sang with bile and my heart hung so low it was in my boots, I wasn’t so conflicted.

Most of the people still inside the remaining buildings would be fine, sheltered as they were from the storm. As for those in the ones that collapsed, well…let’s just say we hadn’t come equipped to deal with them. I’d left my mop and bucket at home.

A realist, I knew our time would be better spent hunting down the key pieces, but I also knew that wasn’t gonna happen.

“Why don’t you two take care of the survivors while I track down Adam’s grave?”

Scarlett turned to me, her face a wash of surprise and uncertainty. Questions loomed in her big green eyes.

There wasn’t any point in lying about my reasoning. “Look, you’re too caught up in all of this to be any use to me.” I motioned to the ruin of downtown. “Do your good deed and get it out of your system, so when I come back, you’re ready to focus on what we need to do to stop all of this.”

Her look turned to a glare at my honesty, but she knew what I was getting at; her effort would be a Band-Aid on a severed limb-useless. Despite that, she couldn’t help herself. It was in her nature and nothing was gonna convince her otherwise.

A sliver of a smile graced her lips and she nodded. Then with Katon in tow, she ran off toward the nearest building that hadn’t yet come down. Once they were gone, I let out a big sigh.

The continued search for Eden’s key was gonna put us at odds with Azrael, and that was a sobering thought. Even with the power Baalth had gifted me, plus Katon and Scarlett at my side, we didn’t stand a chance if the Angel of Death chose to step in.

While the threat of abject failure and horrible death were par for the course in my life, it didn’t stop my asshole from puckering up in brown-eyed fear. Once more I was sticking my neck out and risking slaughter in order to save the day and keep from being killed.

Irony is a motherfucker sometimes.