1.4

-4-

            Azrael, who always arrived first to the meetings, lowered himself into the chair that he generally preferred and pondered the conversation that had taken place between Michael and Lord Noliminan. Given that Azrael's task was the transportation of the soul from the mortal body to their next stage—Heaven, Hell or Guf—Azrael was the only entity in all of existence that was truly omnipresent.

            On most occasions, Azrael loathed this gift. The ability to see and hear everything that was happening all at once could sometimes be overwhelming. Not to mention the thoughts that he was privy to that buzzed around in peoples' heads.

Yet on the rare occasion, such as at that moment in time, his ability to listen to a conversation that was meant to be completely private provided him with information and insight which made him readjust his way of thinking toward a particular individual.

            In this case, two individuals.

            He knew that both Lord Noliminan and Michael loved Lord Lucias. And he knew that they both missed him. Yet to watch them dance around their true feelings—on the verge of admitting this to one another but neither one of them wanting to appear weak to the other—gave them both an endearing quality that fundamentally touched Azrael's heart.

            "Are you brooding, brother?" Gabriel asked as he stepped into Loki's library.

            Azrael looked up at him and smiled. Just as Raphael had been made in Lord Noliminan's very image, Gabriel had been formed at birth to look like Lord Lucias. Often times, when Azrael looked upon his brother's face he found that part of him that was able to watch his father become more keenly intense in what his father was doing.

            "No." Azrael said, watching as his brother opened the journal that he always carried and begin shuffling through the pages in preparation of their meeting. "Not brooding, per say. Rather, reflecting."

            "I suppose that it is none of my business upon whom." Gabriel gave him a distracted smile as he closed his small book.

            "Is it ever?"

            His smile broadened as he shook his head, raising his gaze to give Azrael his full attention. "These have been busy days."

            "Too many wars on too many worlds." Azrael agreed. "Loki is running late.”

            Gabriel sighed and nodded. Lately, Loki was always running late. Azrael, who knew that Loki was lately obsessed with the translation of one of Raziel’s Tombs, chose not to share with Gabriel the reasons why.   

            "I saw the strangest thing today." He said, granting Gabriel a smile. Gabriel turned to look at him with a curious, if not guarded, frown.

            "Oh?"

            "The demon, Samyael." Azrael replied. Samyael had been sitting in the Courtyard big as life. His presence there was no secret to anyone. Especially not after Michael had tried to browbeat Aiken into making him leave.   Gabriel, who had once told Azrael that he admired the demon for his courage, smiled. "Sitting with Aiken in the bridging Courtyard. Brave as you please."

            "Really?" Gabriel blinked his surprise.

            "Yes." Azrael replied, amused with Gabriel's response. "It wasn't such of a much. They dined together and then returned to the Hells where the damned and blasted demon belongs."

            Gabriel chuckled at Azrael's glibness toward the treatment of the demons. He had confided in Gabriel long ago that he stood on his father's side of that argument. "Good thing. Next thing, your brown skin might turn black as his wings. Then where would you be?"

            "Cursed like Cannan." Azrael chuckled as he thought to the human grandson of Noah who had been born with skin the same color as his and Mihr's. "And then everyone would accuse me of being Lord Lucias’ son. How should I survive the horrors of that?"

            Gabriel's laughter was swift and filled with good cheer. "Perhaps your perverted father shouldn’t have so glibly stared at Lord Noliminan’s offensive parts prior to coupling with him in their creation of Ishitar."

            Azrael grinned. "I do suppose that the darkest level of all of the Hells is rightfully reserved especially for him."

            "If it isn't, then it should be." Loki's jovial voice boomed through the room. Azrael and Gabriel both stood and gave him the fealty of a bow. As ever he snorted at their supplication and snapped his hand in their direction. Loki, like Lord Lucias, believed in equality for all.  "Sorry I'm late, boys."

            "You beat the Lady, so no compunctions." Gabriel replied as he leaned toward Loki to kiss him on the cheek.

            Knowing that Loki less than appreciated any type of intimacy from other males, Azrael refrained. He knew that Loki only bore such from Gabriel without complaint because he wore Lord Lucias’ face. Given that Loki served Lord Lucias, he was bound to the conflicted emotions of adulation and desire that the binding magic necessarily required.

            "I'd like to beat something on the Lady." Loki grinned, causing Gabriel to blush.

            Azrael only chuckled. "I shouldn't think Lord Countenance would stand for that."

            "You're probably right." Loki winked at him as he extended his hand. Azrael took it and gave it a good, firm shake. Loki was one of those Gods who—though terrified of Azrael—always gave him the courtesy of pretending that he was comfortable in Azrael's presence. "How goes the worlds, Az?"

            "They spin and spin and spin." Azrael replied, still smiling broadly on them. "And yet still I can't manage to rid them of your Gods be damned charges."

            Loki chuckled and shrugged his masculine shoulders. As he did so, he raised his fingers to his face to stroke the sides of his goatee. "If you have a problem with my charges, talk to your father. It wasn't my choice to be saddled with the punishment of the damned."

            "And yet," the Lady Mortium said as she slipped quietly into the room, "you take such joy in making them your playthings."

            Loki, laughing, turned to her and gave her a gentlemanly bow. "Too right you are, Lady. Too right you are."

            "How is Lucias?" She asked, her green eyes averted. Azrael, who knew that she and Lord Lucias had been lovers before he had been exiled, was pleased that she would ask.

            "Devastated." Loki sighed, mockingly slapping his chest. "The exile he can bear. Not seeing your pretty face has driven him quite mad."

            She snorted coquettishly as she took Gabriel into her soft embrace. Gabriel's eyes gleamed with warmth as she did so and his mind raced with thoughts of unrequited desire. Azrael allowed himself to find a moment bit of sympathy that his brother would never be allowed to pursue the lovely Lady given that Lord Noliminan expected his Quorum to remain chaste. "Gabriel, dear, you look so very handsome today."

            "Thank you, my Lady." He grinned, his cheeks flushing. "As you look lovely every day."

            "You flatter me." She replied, giving him a falsely flirting smile. Azrael didn't admonish her for it. There were few that she could show her feminine side to who would never take advantage of her. She knew that she was safe with Gabriel’s advances and so she reveled in his obvious desire for her. He loathed that her peace should come at his brother's expense. Yet he had learned, watching the worlds spin as they do, that one person's happiness often comes with the cost of another person's dreams.

            She turned her pretty eyes in Azrael's direction. Azrael, who was harder than his brother, was helpless not to melt beneath them. Yet, unlike Gabriel, he could hear the thoughts buzzing through her mind. She had no desire for Azrael. Rather, like every other soul that he had ever in the full of his life met, she was terrified of him.

            He took no offense.

            Rather, he reached for her delicately made hand and brought it to his lips. He closed his eyes as he kissed her soft skin, breathing in the scent of fresh berries. He always had coveted her scent. "My Lady."

            "My Lord." She replied, pulling her hand as fast away from him as she could without appearing to be rude.

            Again, he took no offense.

            They all took their seats then. Azrael found himself paying attention to other things than what Gabriel, Loki and Mortium had to share. He had been there when what their reports spoke about had taken place and part of him was listening to them anyway.

            He found his father and he smiled. He was coupling with his new companion, a true blood benandanti who was fair beyond telling. Azrael had the distinct impression as he watched them in their passion that his father had just planted within her a child.

            He also found himself watching a clan of bronzies. They were a mortal race with gold hair, skin and eyes. It had long been rumored that they had been begot by Zadkiel's seed given they had his coloring.            Though Azrael would never tell, they had been.  But Zadkiel’s straying had not been at his own hand or by his own design and so he hadn’t been punished for his indiscretion.  Lord Noliminan had ordered Zadkiel to pair with a grove of nymphs for the full purpose of crating this particular people.

            His brother’s children or not, Azrael didn't care much for the bronzies. They were a cruel race. They had no powers of their own, per say. Yet they were experts at imprisoning others. They found great prophet in enslaving creatures of new or dying breeds and putting them on display. They would accept payment from others for any manner of ill treatment to their prisoners. The worst part of which was that there were plenty of souls willing to pay for their privilege.

            Thinking of Zadkiel, Azrael allowed his attention to stray toward his brother, who was sitting across a castles board from Ishitar, purposely losing the game, conversing about Ishitar’s day.  Of the entire Quorum it would be Zadkiel who would find the most pain in letting Ishitar go. Ishitar had lived with Zadkiel from the cradle. He was the first—and only—piece of evidence that Lord Noliminan loved Zadkiel despite his disobedience and subsequent punishment.

            Not meaning to, Azrael sighed.       

            "Az?" Loki cleared his throat.

            Azrael, who had heard every word of the conversation at hand, turned to Loki and smiled. "I'm as tired of the constant warring upon all of the inhabited worlds as you are. But I cannot give you counsel regarding how to end it."

            "There has to be something that we can do." Mortium sighed.

            Azrael shook his head. The answer was Ishitar. But he wasn't nearly ready for the tasks that he had been born to. "Not yet."

            "Not yet." Loki snarked. "I love how informatively helpful you are during these meetings, Az. Next thing I know, I'll be curious as to what I might want for dinner. Could you help me out with a solution to that?"

            Azrael, who could help with that, grinned. "If I'm not mistaken, you desire to ask Lord Aiken to supper so that he might cook you that stew you so like." Loki darting his eyes away, chuckled. "And then you'll ponder whether or not you should ask him what's in it. But, really, you don't want to know. Because you know, as does everyone, that the mischief fairies have the oddest of tastes when it comes to their meat. And you ken that well enough to not broach the subject as it might cause you not to be able to—in future—enjoy your supper."

            Loki laughed and shook his head. "Point taken. You were paying attention."

            "I always do, my Lord." He replied, trying to repress his smile. "Even when I'm far, far away."

            Loki closed his eyes very briefly and nodded. Azrael didn't miss the pity running through his thoughts. Nor did he miss the disdain in his brother's thoughts. Or the fear in Lady Mortium's.

            "This war will rage for some time." He muttered, wishing that he hadn't brought his magic to the attention of the closest group of souls that he would ever be able to pretend considered him to be a friend. "There is a solution. But it's still brewing."

            Loki cleared his throat. Azrael heard the burning thought in his mind and found himself shocked at the brazenness of the open question. For once, he was being addressed, rather than delving into Loki's private thoughts. It's Ishitar that's going to solve this. Isn't it?

            Azrael, frowning, gave Loki one nod of his head, turning his gaze away as though with disinterest. For those not privy to Loki and Azrael's conversation, the nod could have meant anything.

            As, Azrael knew, it did.

            Gabriel and Mortium were running in two different directions with what that nod might have meant. And neither of their thoughts brokered a question. Rather it was fear for Loki that Azrael might be displeased.

            As if I'm ever displeased. Or if, when I am, the person that I am displeased with knows it.

            "I must end this palaver." Azrael said, suddenly uncomfortable. In all of his life, no one had ever addressed him directly in mind speak. That it should be Loki, whom he respected, that had first dared, frightened him beyond all telling. "I trust that if you need my counsel regarding future plans that we might discuss them at our next meeting."

            "Azrael, I—"

            Azrael shook his head against Loki’s apology and forced himself to smile. "Good night, my Lord." He said, granting Loki a bow. "Peace be unto you."

            Loki, his brow furrowed, nodded. "To you as well, Azrael."