Echoes of the Past (Demon Squad) (9 page)

Fortunately, I knew where I was going and had a trick for finding my way back. I slipped one of the DA slayer bullets out of one of the extra cartridges and dropped it at the portal. Since the bullet was made out of the essence of an angel
and
a demon, it gave off a tiny flicker of their combined power. It wouldn’t be a lighthouse, but it would provide me with a distinct enough distinct signal for me to catch my bearings should I get turned around. Better still, someone would have to be almost looking for a ping that small to notice it, so I didn’t have to worry about coming back to a horde of trapped creatures trying to use me to get out of Limbo.

Bullet in place, I headed off, keeping count of the steps I took.
Raguel
had set the meet close to an area that lined up with
Azrael’s
dump point in Limbo, so it wasn’t long before I arrived. I expected to have to hunt him down a bit, figuring he would have wandered off, but I was surprised to see him hunched over and sitting at the location I’d been given, to the exact step.

He looked up as soon as the clouds parted between us. “Come to gloat, have you?” His voice was quiet, soft, carrying none of its usual forcefulness.

I pulled another bullet out and dropped it into the clouds, just in case. “I only came to talk.” I didn’t see the point in kicking him when he was down…not yet, at least. There was nothing to lose by playing nice. I had time for Plan B. C through Z were all the same.

Azrael stood. He wore the same black robes as he had the last time I’d seen him, but now they hung loosely across his emaciated frame. Pale, his skin stretched taut across his sharp features, he still looked like death warmed over, but there was none of the intimidation that had been such an integral part of his being. He looked like an old man, counting the minutes until the end came.

Bereft of his powers, which
Raguel
had inherited, Azrael looked so…normal. There were none of the obsidian clouds that whirled about his feet or any of the fire in his gaze. He stood on the cloudy surface of Limbo and his eyes were a murky brown. I let my senses loose and felt the barest hint of his essence, little more than a pittance to keep him among the living. The cold wash of the tomb had been replaced by a numb emptiness of a disconnected soul. He had truly been forsaken. He was nothing more than skin and bones with an immortal spirit.

“I’ve nothing to tell you, Triggaltheron.” Azrael shook his head. “You were given the opportunity for answers, but you chose to stand against me. Leave me to my banishment.” He dismissed me with a casual wave. “At least I know I won’t suffer alone.” The angel laughed, the sound lacking his trademark graveyard grumble. It had more than enough stubbornness to make up for it.

I walked over and stood right before him, meeting his cold gaze. Without any hesitation, I yanked my gun out and shot him in the foot. So much for plan A.

Azrael shrieked and fell backward, crashing to the ground to clutch at his wound. The clouds swirled and I brushed them aside as I closed the distance between us. He looked at me with fury in his eyes, and I shot him in the hand.

Once more,
Azrael’s
shout echoed through Limbo, my ears ringing in its wake. He scrambled toward the cover of the smoke, but I stalked him, staying right on his heels. Before he could get further than a few yards, I stepped down on his injured foot and pinned it to the ground. He growled and clutched at my ankle with his good hand, trying to pry himself loose. I set the barrel of my gun to his thigh.

“I’m all for suffering, but just so you know, I fully intend to make sure you do the lion’s share of it.” Again, I pulled the trigger.

Azrael crumpled into a heap. I took a step back but stayed close. It seemed pretty obvious I’d gotten my point across, but you never know with
supernaturals
. They don’t think like normal people. You can never be sure of what they’ll do. Logic and reason are a foreign concept to them.

Azrael lay there for a minute, whimpered little breaths spewing from his mouth, but he didn’t move. After another minute, his voice rose in his throat and his gasped complaints turned into a phlegmy chuckle.

“No matter how much you deny it, Triggaltheron, you are just like your father.” He rolled onto his back and glared up at me, the flicker of a grin at his lips.

“What a coincidence. That’s exactly who I came to talk to you about.” I moved a step closer. “I guess we’re having a conversation after all.”

His laughter ended, but I could still see the stolid defiance in his eyes. “Do you truly think you’ll find the answers you seek by torturing me? It would bring me great satisfaction to die knowing I’ve told you nothing of the puzzle that vexes you.”

“It sounds to me like you and I are contemplating the same end game.” I moved closer, lifted my gun and pointed it at his shin. “Sadly, I think I’ll be the only one who enjoys your long, drawn out crawl into oblivion.” The next bullet tore into his leg.

Azrael shrunk back and curled into a ball on his side. His breaths spewed in pained gasps. He trembled as he attempted to salve his injuries. I’d come here ready to kill him, if I had to, but as satisfying as it would be to put a bullet in his eye, I knew it wasn’t a good idea. Azrael knew something about my family, and I’d be damned if I didn’t try my hardest to get it out of him before I sent him on his way.

“How about now? Do you have something to tell me yet, or do I put another hole in you?” I kicked him over onto his back so we were face to face. His lips quivered and his eyes were moist. “You and I both know these little flesh wounds aren’t gonna kill you, so we can keep going. I cleared my schedule so I’ve got as much time as it takes.” I thumped my foot against his hurt leg. He winced and pulled away. “Tell me about the relationship between Lucifer and my mother.”

Azrael growled at me through clenched teeth. “Do you want to hear more about her rape? How the smell of her sex filled the air, wet from the grunting violation she loved so much. Is that what you’re looking for?”

I squeezed a round off into his elbow.

Azrael hissed and pulled his arm against his ribs. Pained eyes glared up at me, but he sneered, his defiance intact. “Or would you rather hear about how she was cut into pieces while still alive, hacked apart limb by limb, the blade slicing into her pale
fle
—“

I shot his other foot, following it up with a bullet to his damaged shin.

Azrael flopped in agony, spewing curses and spittle into the clouds.

“I have to tell you, buddy, you’re starting to piss me off.”

His body was wracked with twitches, but he managed to pull himself into a seated position. Blood spilled from his wounds and lent color to the misty haze beneath him. He stared at me without speaking. Stubborn was winning out. It was time to shift gears.

“There’s only two more rounds in the gun.” I waved my .45 before him. “However, I brought along a bunch of extra clips. When I run out of those, I’ve got a few creative ideas on how we can continue our little game, and I promise I won’t disappoint you.” I reached into my pocket and pulled out the vial of Lucifer’s blood.
Azrael’s
gaze darted to it. “You know what this is, I’m sure. You can sense it, even muted as you are. Just a couple of drops and you’ll be healed up and ready to start all over. You don’t even have to cooperate. All I have to do is rub it in one of your wounds to get the full effect.”

He sat silent another moment, staring at me, until I lifted my gun again. He flinched and raised a dripping, crimson hand. “Enough, demon.” Azrael sucked in a ragged breath. “You’ve made your point. I’ll tell you what you want to know, but only after you’ve done something for me.”

Now we were getting somewhere. Everything in the supernatural world came at a price: a bargain, a trade, the promise of favors. That we’d reached the negotiating stage was a good sign. There was a real chance I’d find out what I wanted to know. I really didn’t plan on giving Azrael anything in trade for the information I sought, but it didn’t hurt to let him think I was willing to deal.

I lowered my gun to my side and smiled. “You looking for an all-expense paid trip to Tahiti or a professional makeover to clear up that papery skin thing you’ve got going on?”

He spit of thick glob of blood into the clouds. “I want only one thing from you, Triggaltheron: kill me.”

I hadn’t expected that. I figured he’d want a way out of Limbo, or that he’d ask me to take out
Raguel
so his powers would revert back, but he definitely caught me off guard by asking me to off him. “As much as I would love to, that kind of screws up the whole you telling me stuff angle I was going for. Even with a necromancer for a girlfriend, I wouldn’t be able to get you talking after I turn out your lights.”

He grinned. “Not true, Triggaltheron.” He pulled himself to his feet, struggling to stand on his wounded limbs. I didn’t bother to help. “Though
Raguel
has dominion over my magic, the part of my essence that holds the truth of what I know is still here.” He tapped his temple and then his heart. “Were you to slay me, you would inherit my spirit and all the wisdom and memories it contains.”

“You’re talking about a soul transfer?” Though I’d only experienced a few of them in my time, it was common knowledge a demon inherited the power of another supernatural that he killed, but I’d never known it to pass along memories. I haven’t had it happen. It sounded like Azrael was playing me for a fool. “I’m calling bullshit. I’ve had my share of soul transfers, and never have I inherited more than the magic of those I’ve killed.”

“You have never killed anyone like me.” His grin spread, his pale cheeks stretched in its wake. “I am no average angel whose power can be so easily separated from him as
Raguel
presumes. While he might steal my magic and keep me imprisoned in my flesh, he cannot take the essence of who and what I am while I still live. Let
Raguel
gloat upon his hollow trophy, but I offer you the true spirit of Azrael, the Angel of Death.” He drew closer, limping, doing his best to puff his bony chest out. “You have only to kill me, Triggaltheron. Free me from this eternal prison of nothingness and all you wish to know will be yours, and so much more.”

Azrael stopped right before me, meeting my eyes with the rigid brown of his own. I stared at him for a moment, unsure of what to do. Would killing him truly give me access to the answers I was looking for? Did it really matter? He had no intention of talking to me no matter how much I tortured him. I could be at it for days. As fun as that sounds, I’d likely never learn anything, so what was the point? He wanted to die. I wanted to kill him.

Done deal.

I nodded and pressed my gun under his chin. He smiled. I pulled the trigger.

The shot ripped through his head and exited the top of his skull. Blood and brains exploded in a volcano of chunky gray and red. Azrael crumpled as the last of his life rained down over his body. He was dead before he hit the ground, the swirling haze burying him in a cloudy grave.

I stood there a moment, feeling nothing, and then the soul transfer hit. It wasn’t much of one. I felt a vague warmth bubble in my belly and a slight tingle across my skin, but that was it. Normally orgasmic, filling your veins with a methamphetamine rush mixed with ecstasy, this one felt more like I’d accidentally rubbed up against a dusty TV screen. A little bit of a static tickle and it was done.

Certain that Azrael had tricked me, I dug down deep to look for his essence. To my surprise, I found it easily. It was unlike anything I’d ever experienced. The closest thing I had to compare it to was when Baalth had me swallow a portion of his powers, the process leaving them inside me until I called upon the magic and made it my own. Thinking I had to do the same with this, I pushed against
Azrael’s
essence with my senses and willed it to surrender to me.

Nothing happened.

I could feel it in me, pick out the subtle flicker of Azrael, the scent of the tomb, but there were no memories I could find. The essence felt as though it were sealed against me, keeping me from prying inside. Something stopped me from cracking the shell of it and absorbing
Azrael’s
history.

Disappointment welled up, and I growled at my stupidity. I’d let Azrael trick me into killing him. He’d told me the truth, but not all of it. I should have known better. There’d be no answers from him or the tiny remnant I’d acquired through the soul transfer. He’d gotten what he wanted, and I’d gotten nothing more out of it than the pleasure of putting a bullet into his head.

It’d have to do.

Chapter Ten

Azrael a bust, I was running out of people who might know something about Lucifer’s relationship with my mother. They’d apparently had a baby together, at some point, but the letters weren’t dated so there was no telling if my mother was pregnant when she was killed, or if I had a brother or sister somewhere out in the world I didn’t know about. Both were a horrible thought.

I could probably use the summoning stone
Hasstor
gave me and call on Dip and Shit to take a message to Lucifer, but that didn’t seem productive. He managed to keep their fling a secret from me for five hundred years without a slip, so it didn’t seem likely he’d suddenly divulge anything. He kept it to himself for a reason, whatever
that
was. No, I wouldn’t be getting answers from Lucifer, so I had to settle for the next best thing: Baalth.