Chapter 5
CHAPTER 5
Uriel
I struggle to reconcile the being before me with the Azrael I once knew. The Angel of Death, lounging in my office chair like he’s at a beach resort, sipping tea from a mug that reads “World’s Best Reaper.”
“Azrael,” I manage, my voice hoarse. “What is the meaning of this?”
He grins, spinning lazily in the chair. “Oh, come on, Uri. Lighten up! You’re still so serious. How long has it been? A millennium? Two?”
“Five,” I correct automatically.
“Right, right. Time flies when you’re ferrying souls.” He winks at Ms. Thornton, who looks like she’s two seconds away from either fainting or bolting for the door. “Anyway, let’s get down to business, shall we?”
I straighten my tie, a futile attempt to regain some semblance of control. “You mentioned a prophecy. Hell marching. Explain.”
Azrael sighs, suddenly looking every bit his ancient age despite his youthful appearance. “It’s happening again, Uri. The barriers between realms are weakening. Hell is pushing at the edges, looking for a way in.”
“The earthquakes,” I realize.
“Bingo!” Azrael points finger guns at me. “Just like that little hiccup back in, oh, what was it... 1755? Lisbon? Ring any bells?”
My blood runs cold. The Great Lisbon Earthquake. Over 50,000 dead. I’d always suspected a supernatural cause, but to have it confirmed...
Ms. Thornton finds her voice. “I’m sorry, are you saying that one of the deadliest natural disasters in history was caused by... demons?”
“Smart cookie, this one,” Azrael nods approvingly. “Yes, my dear. And I’m afraid what’s coming makes Lisbon look like a minor tremor.”
I clench my fists, steeling myself. “What must be done?”
Azrael’s expression turns serious for a moment. “That’s where you two come in. There’s a prophecy—an ancient one, older than me even. It speaks of a union between heaven and earth that will seal the breach and prevent Hell’s armies from spilling into this realm.”
My mind races, putting the pieces together. “And you believe Ms. Thornton and I are the ones mentioned in this prophecy?”
“Got it in one!” Azrael beams. “The stick-in-the-mud archangel and the compassionate human. Your union is the key to saving, well, everything .”
“Union?” Ms. Thornton sputters. Then her eyes widen as the rest of Azrael’s words sink in. She whirls to face me, her jaw dropping. “Wait. Archangel? You’re an actual archangel?”
I stiffen, unused to having my true nature exposed so casually. “I am,” I confirm, my voice tight.
Ms. Thornton stumbles back a step, her face a whirlwind of emotions—shock, disbelief, and something that looks suspiciously like grudging awe. “Holy shit,” she breathes. “I’ve been arguing with an archangel. I called an archangel ‘Your Majesty’ sarcastically. Oh god, am I going to hell?”
Azrael chuckles. “Relax, kid. Uri here isn’t going to smite you. In fact, he’s going to be getting very cozy with you, if you catch my drift.”
“What exactly do you mean by ‘union’?” Ms. Thornton asks, her voice higher than usual, still clearly reeling from the revelation of my identity.
Azrael waggles his eyebrows suggestively. “Oh, you know. The usual. Joining of souls, marriage in the eyes of the divine, consummation of?—”
“Absolutely not,” I cut him off, heat rising to my face. “This is preposterous. I am the Archangel of Chastity, Az. I cannot possibly?—”
“Yeah, no offense,” Ms. Thornton interjects, seemingly snapping out of her shock and back to her usual defiant self, “but I’d rather take my chances with the apocalypse. Archangel or not, he’s still a pompous jerk.”
Azrael throws his head back and laughs. “Oh, this is going to be fun! Look, kids, I don’t make the rules. Well, sometimes I do. But not this time. You two are it. The chosen ones. So you’d better start getting along, because you’ve got about... oh, let’s say five days to fall in love and save the world.”
He stands, stretching languidly. “Well, this was nice. I’d better be off. Souls to reap, waves to catch... But fear not. I’ll be checking in periodically. Try not to destroy each other in the meantime, mkay?”
With a wink and a snap of his fingers, Azrael vanishes, leaving behind only the lingering scent of sea breeze and the faint sound of ukulele music.
I turn to Ms. Thornton, seeing my own shock and disbelief mirrored in her wide eyes. For once, we’re in perfect agreement.
“Well,” she says weakly. “ That happened.”
Indeed it did. And may God have mercy on us all.