Disappear: Into Shadow

- CHAPTER FIFTY THREE -

"What!?" Azazel roared. The Watcher had returned to his hellish dungeon looking forward to the coming task. Capturing Azrael would be a significant feather in his proverbial cap. He hated humanity, but they did come up with the odd phrase he enjoyed. Dragging a battered Azrael here would be such a treat. He might finally find a use for Ozah. Frustratingly, his captive had resisted every form of torture to both himself and the souls of his family.

Azazel knew if he caught the ringleader, Ozah would become irrelevant. Breaking the Queen Outcast herself would be a daunting feat, but now he would have so much ammunition. He could start off on Ozah, destroying him horribly in front of her eyes. That would be satisfying, Azazel thought. Better still was what he would do with Azrael's soultoy. Breaking Michael in horrific fashion would ruin her, Azazel was sure of it. Excited for the possibilities of Shade's reckless idea, Azazel had appeared in the doorway of the dungeon.

He couldn't believe what he saw.

Across the dungeon floor, past the dismembered segments of Ozah's still animate family, past the jackals and savage beasts gnawing on the squirming chunks, past the stained Iron Maiden and the wide red puddle below it, past the giggling Haroth and Maroth playing catch with each of Ozah's wife's breasts, Azazel's eyes settled on the pair of empty chains hanging next to the splayed open back of Adolf.

"You fucking idiots!" Azazel screamed. "Where is he?"

Haroth and Maroth stopped their game in mid throw. They stared stupidly at Azazel in the doorway. One of the flying breasts slapped into Maroth's face before it fell to the floor, landing with a meaty plop. The twins looked over at the empty wall where Ozah had been hanging in frustrating defiance.

Azazel asked, "He's escaped?"

"We moved him," Haroth said.

"Somewhere else," Maroth said.

"No shit." Azazel said.

"In the dark place..."

"...and out of our face." The twins replied in their sequential speech.

With a flash Azazel was between Haroth and Maroth. "Why did you move my favourite guest?" His quiet voice asked.

"He broke," Haorth said.

"...and he told us." Maroth added.

"He what?" Azazel roared.

"He told us something you want." Haroth told him

"We want to be there for it." Maroth smiled and with his twin said, "Our fair share of it."

"He broke?!"

"Yes," the twins answered. They told him the secret Ozah had held onto so stubbornly. He didn't know how to get into Raziel's Library, but he did know about the thefts in the Hells. Ozah had given up Sataniel. The First Legion were bringing damned souls to a rendezvous in Hell. Outcasts would arrive to take those souls into their protection and escort them out.

Azazel asked precisely what had broken the Watcher. Haroth leaned over his shoulder and whispered into his ear. Maroth leaned over his other shoulder to finish the whisper.

Simple, plain and yet so horrible, thought Azazel. Creative. "You're kidding me!" He said.

The green flames of his butcher's blade shone on the faces of the twins as he drew it from the gory scabbard. Azazel made two swift downward hacks with the machete. The twins screamed and fell to the floor holding their knees.

Azazel stood over the twins. He had severed their right and left legs respectively just below the joint. Their writhing legs were snatched up by the beasts chasing the segmented parts of Ozah's family.

Azazel asked, "Where's Ozah now?"

"In the pit!" Haroth howled.

"Alone in the dark!" Maroth grimaced.

"Alright you two, get your legs back on. We've got a hunt." Azazel said.

He was furious with the twins, but what could he do? They had found a way to Ozah that he hadn't. Nevermind, Azazel told himself. It wouldn't matter once he got Azrael. After she hung against his wall he'd punish Ozah for breaking too early. There would be a little torture, but mostly he'd straight out destroy the turncoat in the worst ways possible.

Involved in a tug of war with a jackal over his appendage, Haroth asked, "What about Sataniel?"

"The Thieving Legion?" Maroth asked, hopping after the small dog dragging his leg away.

"Forget about them. Asmodeus can handle that. There's bigger game to catch. The Angel of Death herself." Azazel corrected them. "Mercy, Haroth please! Get you leg back from the jackal. We have to hurry. Maroth! They're only illusions, grab your damn leg!" Azazel yelled.

He didn't have time for this. While the twins chased their legs around the dungeon, he summoned a shade. Dispatching to it to the head offices of Morningstar Inc., Asmodeus would unleash his wrath on the thieves. Azazel was sure of it. He was glad to have found something to occupy the Daemonlord. Rather than breathing down his neck, Asmodeus would have his thieves and Azazel would have his prize. For such a fine prize, he knew the Shade would reward him well. If Uriel was to receive Heaven, perhaps he should ask for the world?