The Book of Azrael (Gods & Monsters 1)
The Book of Azrael: Chapter 11

SHE HAS BEEN UNCONSCIOUS FOR AT LEAST A DAY. Maybe she is dead and hasn’t disintegrated yet?’

Vincent sighed from where he was leaning against the large bathroom sink. ‘Don’t the old ones disintegrate? It’s been so long since we have seen any Ig’Morruthens, I have forgotten.’

I said nothing as I wiped the remaining eraser sheddings off the notebook Logan had given me. I moved my hand to the side, continuing to sketch.

‘Keep your head still,’ Logan said as he turned my head to the side once more. I narrowed my eyes at him. ‘Hey, I’m trying to salvage what I can since half of it got burned off,’ he said, holding his hands up in surrender. I did not say anything else as he continued to fix what he could. He ran the loud mechanical clippers over the back of my neck, leaving it bare.

‘She is not dead. She will regenerate any damage she may have suffered.’ I knew she was alive because I could still feel her power if I concentrated. It made me sick to my stomach even from several floors above her, but I did not tell the others that. There was no need, and we had more pressing matters at hand.

‘Regeneration. I can’t believe it. And you said she could control darkness? The shapeshifting makes sense. I didn’t even recognize that she looked like any other mortal until it was too late,’ Neverra said. She sat on the edge of the sink, close to Logan. He stopped clipping my hair for a second and eyed Neverra. She had healed from her snapped neck, but Logan had not let her out of his sight. It wasn’t surprising. They had been inseparable since Rashearim.

‘Yes,’ I said as Logan’s grip on my chin forced my head in another direction, and he returned to what was starting to feel like a form of torture. ‘Her powers are peculiar, to say the least. The only legends I remember are those of the Four Kings of Yejedin. They were created by the Primordials and could take the form of beast or man. But they have long since been deceased. The only way they could still exist is if a breeding pair survived and escaped the fall. It is a mystery, and I want answers, so we will interrogate her and document the information for future use.’

‘I forgot you used to scribe for the bestiary.’ Vincent’s voice cut through the thickening silence. I looked up, pain filling my head as a memory flashed across my subconscious. I closed my eyes, my fingers tightening on the edges of the pages. It was only for a moment, and when I opened them, I was no longer on Onuna. I had been transported to a time when my mother was still alive, and I was far too young to worry about battles or fanged beasts of legend.

I sat cross-legged on the stone floor as my madre hummed to herself, contentedly pruning the flowers. The garden made her happy, and I think that’s why Father continued to add to her collection. I would glance up now and then to make sure she had not wandered too far, and when she did, I followed. The many rows and variety of plants she had here created a small labyrinth.

Several celestials greeted us as we wandered further into the garden. Guards stood at the entrances and bowed whenever we passed. I did not think I would ever tire of that. After a brisk walk, she stopped and started picking once more. I sat on the edge of a nearby fountain and swung my legs back and forth.

‘Madre, why do I need to know this again?’

I dropped the small stylus, the onyx ink covering the side of my hand. I lifted it, rubbing it against my garbs which earned me an eye roll from my mother.

She rose from her kneeled position and plucked a few more flowers, placing them inside the thick woven basket she held. ‘Because, Samkiel, I want you to have skills other than just fighting.’

‘Yes, but I like fighting. This,’ I held up the paper and showed her, ‘I am no good at.’

Her smile grew as she stepped closer, the gold and white trim of her dress dragging across the ground. She never wore a crown like Father, only a thin gold band that held her hair back from her face. I had asked for one similar to hers or Father’s, but they always told me it was not time yet. ‘It only takes practice, little one.’

I huffed, crossing my legs under me and continuing with my learning. I knew there was no use in arguing. We would sit and stay here as long as she wanted. I did not mind. It was not as if I had any friends on Rashearim. I was the only child born in recent memory and the only child with a god and celestial as a parent. Everyone else had been created, made from the light that now ran through my blood. My mother said I’d been conceived in love, which made the other gods envious.

‘Can I ask you a question, Madre?’ I did not look up, continuing to sketch.

‘I fear you would ask, anyway.’ She laughed. ‘But, yes, go ahead.’

‘Do you not go to battle anymore because of me? I heard Father talking the other day.’

‘Samkiel, what did I say about eavesdropping?’

‘I was merely walking past and heard him.’ I glanced up as she eyed me, one eyebrow raised. ‘He said you were sick because of me, and that is why you do not fight anymore.’ The wind picked up as she strode over, making the colorful shrubbery around us dance. She stopped and knelt next to me, curving her long dress around her knees. She reached out and rubbed her hand over my head once before lifting my chin to look me in the eyes. Sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ Findɴovel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

‘I fear sometimes your father speaks too much, but I will not lie to you. I do not feel like I used to, but in no way is that your fault. Your father cares and is just worried, is all. Besides, I would give up fighting and battles to spend a thousand days with you.’

She kissed my nose, and I smiled. ‘Now, tell me, what have you drawn today?’

I lifted the paper and turned it toward her. ‘Monsters. This one Father showed me the other day when he returned.’ She took in the massive creature I’d drawn. I had mimicked the shades and patterns as best I could. Her brows rose once more, but she smiled before saying, ‘Ah, another conversation I will need to have with your father.’

I turned it back toward me and squinted at my drawing. It was not the response I had hoped for. ‘Do you not like it, Madre?’

Her hand went under her chin as she eyed me. ‘Why do you call it a monster, little one?’

I opened my mouth, then stopped. Could she not see it? ‘Because that is what it is?’ I turned it back to her and pointed at the shapes I had crafted. ‘See the teeth and claws?’

‘I see it.’ She reached inside the woven basket, pulling out a single flower. It was yellow with black dots lining the petals. ‘And what do you think of this?’

I shrugged. ‘It is a flower.’

‘Yes, but do you think it’s pretty?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you know a single petal can be toxic? It can even make a god sick if enough of it is consumed. So even this could be a monster. It does not need teeth, claws, or any other scary feature to be deadly.’

I watched as she slowly spun the flower by the stem, the sun dancing off the colorful petals. It was pretty, but it looked harmless.

‘So it can hurt someone? Kill?’

She nodded before placing it back into her basket. ‘In the right hands, yes, but give it a good home, a little care, and it can heal, too.’ She wiped her hands on her dress and stood in one graceful motion, smiling down at me. ‘So, you see, looks can be deceiving.’

The sound of approaching footsteps had us both turning. Guards flanked my father, the clang of their armor as they walked a discordant note in the peace of the garden.

‘Adelphia, what are you teaching my son in a garden made for you?’ My mother’s smile turned luminescent at the sound of my father’s booming voice.

‘Your son? I presume I also had a hand in this?’

The guards stopped short as my father reached my mother and swept her up in his arms to spin her around.

‘You reek of the battlefield and sweat,’ my mother playfully complained. She laughed as he ignored her, placing kisses on her lips, cheeks, and forehead before setting her on her feet and turning toward me.

‘There’s my little warrior.’ He picked me up, slinging me onto his hip and pressing a kiss to my cheek. A small giggle escaped me before I wiped it off with the back of my hand.

‘And what is this?’ He set me down and picked up my drawing. ‘Samkiel, I am impressed. You draw beasts as a scribe would.’

‘Yes,’ my mother said as she reached into her basket, taking the same flower out once more. ‘We were talking about monsters and how looks can be deceiving.’

‘Ah, yes, but a monster is still a monster, no matter how pretty it is.’

The look they exchanged made it seem as if they had a conversation I could not hear. It lasted only a second before the smile returned to my father’s face and my mother’s lips curved.

She reached out and gently placed her hand on my cheek. ‘Come, now. Let’s go home. It’s time for dinner.’ She turned, and Father fell into step beside her as I hurried to keep up.

Logan turned off the clippers, snapping me back to reality. He stepped back, allowing me to see my reflection. It took me a second to clear my thoughts. Memories of her always hurt, and I was glad they were few and far between.

‘What do you think? I mean, it looks better than the charred remains that were there before.’

‘It’s not terrible.’ I caught Vincent’s grimace in the mirror and watched as Logan turned to glare at him.

For once, my appearance did not bring me immense revulsion. I did not resemble either of my parents now. The mass of waves that resembled my mother’s chestnut hair was gone, as was the thick beard that so often reminded me of my father. It was new, a change I dreadfully needed.

I touched my cheek, rubbing my hand over the soft stubble that shadowed my jaw. I ran my fingers through the hair atop my head. The contrast to my old self was alarming but necessary. My neck and head felt lighter, and the cut was more in style with the mortals of this world.

‘I know it’s different and probably not as perfect as a professional, but—‘ Logan reached out, brushing away the small pieces of hair that had fallen on my shirt.

‘No, you look fantastic, Liam. I’d never pictured you with short hair, but it looks great,’ Neverra said. ‘We definitely would have had way more problems on Rashearim if you had done his hair back then, babe.’

Neverra’s comment made Logan laugh. Soon, Vincent joined in, and they were all making jokes about our past. Memories of days long past danced through my mind, before a title, before a crown, before the fall. I wanted that again, to go back to how we used to be. They had not changed much, but I had. I watched them and knew some part of me was long gone. It had been so long since I’d felt a twinge of humor or joy. I wanted to laugh and remember how much beauty life could hold. I just wanted to feel.

‘It will do.’ My words were harsh and loud. Everyone fell silent again as I stood, nearly toppling my chair. I just wanted to leave. The bathroom felt too small, and I grabbed the cloth Logan had used as a drape and ripped it off. ‘We have an interrogation to perform. I need all the information we have on her and those she came with.’

They nodded, and the energy in the room shifted again. It was familiar but not comforting. It was how the room felt every time my father entered.

‘Are you positive there were others?’ Logan asked, placing the clippers down and folding his arms.

‘Yes. I heard it, and so did she. It was a whistle that was a summons. I should have paid more attention. Maybe I would have felt them sooner.’

‘It’s not your fault,’ Neverra said. ‘We all—’

‘Yes, it is. Everything is. It is my reign. Any death is on my hands, and any form of destruction is a sign of failure. I should be better prepared. I am not, but that is not your concern. What I need from you, I have already asked.’

Neverra nodded once. Logan and Vincent both lowered their gazes, and all three stood up straight, their humor from earlier gone.

‘Yes, my liege,’ they said in unison before filing out of the bathroom.

I grabbed the notepad and handed it to Neverra as she passed. ‘Add this to the bestiary. I added the details of the attack, what form she took, and the abilities I observed. I need it updated, and once we find out about her colleagues, I will have that too.’

Neverra’s gaze dropped to the sketch. ‘She is pretty for a fire –wielding death bitch that tried to kill us all.’

‘Remember, Ig’Morruthens are smart, calculated, and above all, monsters. A monster is still a monster, no matter what pretty shell it wears.’

She nodded and left. Those words rang in my head. Had I become my father so completely? I gazed at my reflection in the large bathroom mirror. I stared as the image of my father, armor and all, flickered before me. No matter the shell I wore, I would still be Samkiel.

I was the reason he was dead and Rashearim had fallen.

I was the World Ender.

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