Page 62 of Demons & Damnation

Chapter 26

Azazel lost himself to his thoughts for the remainder of the night. When Balthazar left him, he wandered over to the pond at the bottom of the garden, staring at the green stagnant water for hours, lost to his mind.

By the time he snapped out of it enough to head inside, he felt nothing but completely depleted of all energy. All he wanted was to shut his eyes and sleep, to feel nothing, to think nothing, just sleep all the pain away.

When he fell into bed just after midnight, Azazel soon found himself somewhere much worse than in reality.

Memories as clear as yesterday flooded his mind, images of Cassia flashed by, the clinking of swords battling, the metallic smell of blood lingering in the air, the dusty, cobbled streets being stained red, a tsunami of emotions and a lifetime of unspoken words.

The raw anguish he kept bottled up minute after minute, that weighed him down day after day, that had burned a hole in his soul for two thousand years released itself into his subconscious, poisoning his sweet relief of sleep.

Azazel tossed and turned, his body sweating as his mind took control, coating him in the bitter, empty feeling of helplessness that he so hated, that reminded him that humans are just as monstrous as the creatures born of Hell.

As images of Cassia faded away, they were replaced with pictures of Kyla, her striking blue eyes piercing something deep down in his very core. Knowing what he did of Kyla’s story stirred emotions in him he’d buried long ago. Sensing her pain matched his, Azazel knew he couldn’t let her fall into the downward spiral of where this dangerous mix of emotions would take her.

Fluttering his eyes open, Azazel stared straight up at the ceiling as realisation sunk into his reality. He had willingly slid down his path, grasped it with both hands and wrapped his arms around it as he found something to sink all of his wrath into. Kyla, however, didn’t deserve to take the route he had taken. She was better than that.

With his heart pounding and the bed sheets sticking to his body, Azazel realised that if she was to him what he feared she was, he would need to save her. And maybe in saving her, he would save himself.

“I have warmed the shower for you,” Mildred said.

Azazel startled and sat bolt upright to see the old maid stood to his left, next to the bed.

Glass of water in one hand and a navy-blue flannel in the other, she offered him a warm smile. “Go and clean yourself whilst I sort your bed.”

Stepping into the steamed-up bathroom, Azazel tore off his clothes and jumped under the boiling water, letting it scald his skin. He stared at the water swirling down the plug hole, watching the dirt and grime flow away, taking all of his hatred and negativity with it.

Scrubbed raw, feeling refreshed and full of energy, Azazel turned the shower off and grabbed a fluffy white bath sheet from the heated towel rail. As he set his feet down on the marble tiles outside of the shower cubicle, in the blink of an eye he found himself flat on his back, looking up at the bright white ceiling, a yellow spotlight glaring straight into his vision.

His head had cracked the floor, splintering the expensive tile into a spider web pattern underneath him. Just as he wondered if he’d created a puddle of water he hadn’t seen, a second rush of powerful, fizzing energy engulfed him, stealing all the breath from his body, making him realise how he ended up on his ass in the first place.

Every nerve ending tingled in his body and goosebumps popped up all over his skin sending his demonic senses into overdrive. He sat upright and placed his hand on the floor, palm down, spreading his fingers as widely as possible. He closed his eyes and imagined his fingers digging into the earth, desperate to find remnants of energy residue to see what had knocked him over.

But no residue was in sight.

This energy pulsed with life, warning of the power still running within it. Bright blue electric lines fizzled and crackled with raw power. He imagined himself looking down on the scene from metres above, albeit with one incredibly long arm still buried in the ground. The lightning bolt shaped lines spread as far as the eye could see, rooted into the depths of the earth and intricately woven like a spider’s web.

He didn’t need to touch that energy to know this was nothing but one hell of a witch. The fact their energy spread as far as any horizon meant whoever it was had to have access to higher magic. The energy stretched for miles but not a flicker of weakness could be seen anywhere in the power. That meant whoever it was could only be an elemental witch.

Azazel muttered a curse word and scrabbled to his feet. Now he and Balthazar had a problem. A real fucking problem.

Balthazar, Azazel yelled in his mind, frantically searching for his brother’s mind in the darkness of the psychic world. You there?

I felt it too. What is going on?

We’ve got a big problem. Get here now.

I’m downstairs, Azazel.

---