Demon: Supernatural Bad Boys (Azazel and Zoe)

Why is it always complicated?

Chapter 2: Why is it always complicated?

Azazel- Months later

              I blink my eyes and roll to my back when the abrupt flash of sunlight hits my face. “What the bloody hell!” I say, rising from my bed with a growl. Mathias is standing over me with a confident smirk as he holds a large Styrofoam cup in front of my face. “Rise and shine demon. We have work to do.” I give him a deadly scowl and take the cup out of his hand with a killing glare. “Someone better be dying for you to have woken me up this bloody early, you git.”

              Mathias rolls his eyes and aims his mobile screen at my face. “It’s ten in the morning, Azazel. Now get your ass up, or I’m going to have to resort to drastic measures.” Taking a deep breath, I throw my covers off and stumble up from the bed. “You could have given me a warning that you were coming here, you tosser.” I scratch my naked chest as I rumble out grumpily. Mathias rolls his eyes and tosses me a black T-shirt from the dresser. “I did. I called you several times. Look at your phone if you don’t believe me. So when you didn’t answer my seventh call, I decided to come over.”

              Placing my coffee cup on my nightstand, I lick my dry lips and toss the shirt onto the bed before I reach over my dresser and look at my phone. Seven missed calls. I guess he did call. I had stayed up all night working at my bar because one of my bartenders, Charlie, had an emergency. Saturdays are a busy night for the Garden of Eden, and I was already short-staffed. I went to bed at around five in the morning. Adjusting the band of my black sweatpants, I head towards the restroom. “Give me a few seconds, mate.” He snorts and gives me a commiserating salute. “You have five minutes.”

              I don’t respond to his order as I walk away. He can wait as bloody long as I want him to. It doesn’t take me long to shower and brush my teeth even though I take my time. It’s good for Mathias to learn that he can’t order me about. I take great pleasure in doing things that will annoy him so he can see that I’m not his lapdog. Mathias is sitting down on the living room couch by the time I step out of the shower. “Are you done?” He asks with an impatient lilt. I gesture to my nearly naked form. “Does it look like I am mate? Just let me slide into my knickers, and we’ll chat.”

              Once I’m dressed, I settle on the couch across from him and drink my coffee. “What is this about, Mathias?” He sits forward and lays a few files on my coffee table. “I think I know who has been helping Marael hide.”

              I lean forward and run my gaze over the papers. They look like mobile phone bills—nothing out of the ordinary to me. Mathias lets out an impatient breath and points his index finger across a few telephone numbers. “We found these bills in Taylor’s computer files. We did some research on the numbers and cross-referenced them with the days the girls were taken. On all the days they were taken, he made a phone call to one specific number. The number belongs to Sahara Dawson.” He stops dramatically as if I should know what he's blathering about. Taking a deep breath, I shrug my shoulders in confusion. “What makes you think this Sahara Dawson is Marael’s co-conspirator?”

              Mathias gives me a shrewd grin. “I remember the name from when Marael and I were together. Sahara was a good friend of Marael’s. According to my research, she was an ancient leader of another coven until one day her coven died ‘under mysterious circumstances,' and she disappeared soon after that. I’m pretty sure that she’s the one who gave Marael the Lazarus Tears and told her about the Potestatem Vitae Mortem.”

              Taking another seat, I rest my cup on the table and lay a finger over the bill. “If you already figured this out—What do you need me for?” He takes a deep breath and leans back with a serious frown. “I asked Isaiah to do a little bit of research on Sahara. The woman is very business savvy. She owns several restaurants, a bar, and a nightclub. She’s married to a rich doctor. All of her businesses have the appropriate paperwork, and she files taxes every year.” I frown in consternation. “Then, it’s not her.”

              Mathias shakes his head. “I don’t know. Even though physically, she is very young, it’s possible that she might have found a way to make herself look younger. The hair and eyes match her description. She has wild red hair and amethyst eyes. Another piece of the puzzle is that she’s renting an apartment to the girl Fallon’s protecting, Bree.”

I’m sure that my eyebrows are past my hairline by now. “What are the odds of that mate?” He snorts. “Very slim, Azazel. That’s why I need you to keep an eye on Sahara.” I scoff at his comment. “You want me to hang around and stalk her. Sorry, I’m not the ‘sit around and wait for things to happen’ type of bloke. I’m a warrior, not a lapdog who waits for his master to come home.” Mathias’ face hardens as he leans forward and slams an angry fist over the table. “That’s bullshit, Azazel. You said you’d serve the Council. Are you taking back your oath?”

              Exhaling angrily, I clench my teeth. Mathias is right. When Mikhail was acquitted by the council for not killing the high school boy, and Lukan was found guilty in his stead— I promised to help the council any way I could. I figured it was a good way to protect my friends. “You know that I am not going back on my bloody oath Mathias. What do you want me to do?” He reaches for the folder underneath the bills and slides it towards me. “Sahara owns a gladiator club downtown that is supposed to be designed to look like the Colosseum. However, her money comes from a fighting arena that she runs in the club. According to sources, a woman resembling Marael has been seen around the club. It’s likely that Marael might be living there or having a few meetings with Sahara. Sahara was a very powerful witch in her coven. She might be helping her find other possible candidates for the ritual. And now that Fallon has taken the girl back, it might be possible that Marael will try for her again. My sources say that Sahara is looking for a new fighter in her ring. Apparently, her prizefighter was in an accident after getting stupidly drunk a few days ago. Unfortunately, he broke his back, and there’s no chance of recovery. I want you to be her new fighter.”

              I remain in thought for a few moments. “What?” Mathias looks ahead with a thoughtful frown. “Let’s be honest, Azazel. You and I both know that you’re older than you feign to be. Mikhail and Nevaeh might think you’re only a few hundred years old, but I know better. I’m not sure why you don’t tell anyone, but I’m sure that you have your reasons. I know that you were a gladiator once upon a time. This is right up your alley. And it should be exciting enough to keep your interest. Just call me as soon as you see her. It’s possible that the siphon is near her too. Creighton deciphered a few more things in the book, and Amara’s been working on her visions. According to the book, Marael needs to consistently go back to her siphon. That means that the siphon has to be in one central place for her to keep recharging. Amara says that in her visions, the girl is not aware of her power or that Marael is stealing it. She hasn’t seen the girl, but she’s gotten glimpses of the girl’s turmoil. She thinks the girl is close by too. We just don’t know who she is. It might be possible that it’s the surviving victim’s sister, but we’re not sure.”

              “Very well, then. That should give me long enough to get my manager to care for the club until I get back. When do you want me to begin?” I ask, rising from my seat. Mathias signals me to the door. “I want you to leave as soon as possible. Take the files and read them thoroughly before you get there. I took the liberty of renting you a place nearby. I’ll send a council member to bring you a few things you might need and some weapons. I already sent someone ahead to set up surveillance equipment in her club for you. Good luck.” He says, extending his hand out to me. I shake his hand and rise with him. “I’ll contact you as soon as I get there.”

              Once Mathias leaves, I reach for my phone and make a call. Mikhail answers after the second ring. “Hey, bro. What’s up?” He says in his American slang. “Nothing much, mate. I have to go out of town, and I need a boon.” His breath hitches. “What’s going on?” Taking my now empty coffee cup from the table, I toss it into the rubbish can and carefully reply. “It’s Council business. Listen, can you keep an eye on my flat?” He sighs in relief. “Yeah, sure, man. What do you want me to tell Nevaeh?” My heart stutters at her name.

              Ever since I met Nevaeh, I’ve felt a sense of loss. For a while, I thought that I was in love with her. It wasn’t until later that I realized that I just really care about her. It’s something about the way she treats me. Every woman that I’ve met treats me like a God. Nevaeh has always treated me like a man. She and Mikhail are completely in love, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I know that they are meant to be, and I’m at peace with the fact that she and I were not. However, a small part of me envies Mikhail’s fortune at finding his mate so soon. I’ve lived on this earth for Millennia’s, and I’ve yet to find the other part of my soul.

              Sometimes Nevaeh will notice my helplessness and give me words of encouragement. But she doesn’t understand how hopeless it is to wait for so long. I think it was after the second century that I gave up hope and settled for the little bit of comfort that I could find. I was a Gladiator, and my eye was drawn to a slave girl. She was later given as a gift to me for all of my victories. I cared for her and made sure that no one hurt her while she was alive, but I wasn't in love with her. After that, I enjoyed many other women. At some point, it became an exercise in taking care of a need. Just like when I’m hungry, I eat—when I want s*x, I find a willing woman. It became nearly mechanical over the last centuries. To be honest, I haven’t had s*x in several decades. The closest that I’ve come to s*x was when Nevaeh and I did the marking. And even then, it still felt hollow.

              Mikhail’s voice snaps me back to the present. “Azazel? Are you there?” I rub my temple and respond. “Yes, yes, I am. Tell Nevaeh that I’ll be alright. No reason for her to blather. I know that you’ll miss my charming smile. But you have my mobile if you feel the need to gossip.” He chuckles at my humorous comment. “Yeah, I’ll make sure I do that. Watch your six, brother.” He says and hangs up. Emotion clogs my throat. Mikhail’s father was my best mate many years ago. Now Mikhail and I are best mates. He knows that I’d do anything for him. And I know that he would have my back.

              One of Mathias’ Council enforcers shows up a few minutes later with several large bags. One of the bags has a bevy of weapons, including a sacred sword. I have to roll my eyes at Mathias’ controlling nature. He acts as if I'm a new demon who needs his handheld. My sacred sword is more than likely older than his.

              I decided to take my best car for this assignment—a 1969 silver Plymouth Road Runner. I’m a big fan of muscle cars. I’ve even gotten into the underground racing circuit. Kell and Mikhail will sometimes drive for me. Alex was pissed off with me when he first found out. But sometimes he’ll race for me. I've even gifted Mikhail and Kell one of my cars as a gift. Mikhail now owns my Hellcat and Kell, a beautiful Barracuda that I bought the year it was made. At first, they were in disbelief that I’d give away such expensive collectible vehicles without asking anything in return. What they don’t realize is that after living for so long, material things hold very little value to me. As a matter of fact, I'm happier knowing that the vehicles are being used and loved by my closest friends. 

              It takes me very little time to get to my temporary home. The house is not atrocious. It’s a small bi-level with dark mahogany floors and a large living space. The whole place is painted in neutral beige and gray colors and modestly furnished with contemporary furniture. There’s a large patio area surrounded by tall bushes for privacy and a tranquil mid-sized pool in the yard. There are also two large bedrooms up the metal stairs with their own modern én suite baths.

              Making my way back up to the bedroom, I run through all of the information Mathias gave me. I spend most of the day prepping and reading the information to make sure everything is in order. After several hours, I take a deep breath and push the papers aside. My eyes roam around the room, noting the large king-sized bed I'm resting on a large cherry wood dresser. The walls are painted Robin's egg blue with large landscapes of the Los Angeles skylight over the bed, and a few others spread around the room. Reaching for my bag over the navy blue bedspread, I lean my head back and close my eyes. The sounds of the night reverberate from the open window, and the sheer curtains shift from the light breeze coming through the cracks.

              Taking my mobile out of my pocket, I text Mathias and let him know that I’m here. He responds back with a curt, “good luck.” Once everything is done, I head back to my car and make my way to the club. I have a fight tonight. Mathias set it up so that I can show Sahara my skills as soon as I got there. He had a friend who chatted me up to Sahara's fight manager. Of course, the man is not blowing smoke up his arse; I am an exemplary fighter. I won’t pretend that the thought of a good spar does not excite me, though. I live for a good fight.

              In case I didn’t mention it before, I’m a demon. I was born a demon and lost my parents when I was a very young boy, which was actually a blessing considering who they were. I learned very early to make my way in the world. I fought in many wars and traveled every continent. I don’t think there is anything I haven’t seen. Being part of the Supernatural world opens your eyes to many things.

              Demons were created after the fall of Lucifer. Unlike some angels, we were not made in heaven. A few of us are the progeny of the six demon lords who served as lieutenants for Lucifer. The rest of the demons are just products of evil souls that Lucifer enslaved. Only the progeny of a demon lord has real power. That is until each Lord rebelled against Lucifer. That’s the bad part of being evil─ everyone wants to rule. Each demon lord wanted to be the master of hell, and Lucifer disagreed. One day he sent his most trusted enforcers to annihilate each Lord, including my father. My mother was a minor demoness of no real power. However, she was sentenced to die with my father for plotting against Lucifer. I was thirteen years old at the time. The only reason I was spared was that Lucifer found me useful in his wars. I was the son of Barabbas, the demon lord of war.

              Before my father died, he made sure he trained me in all war tactics and strategies. Too bad it didn’t work out for him in the end. Not that I cared. My father was a very evil man who treated his horse better than he did his son. When Lucifer asked me to become one of his general—I accepted. It was a better alternative to being executed. I fought and planned many wars as his right-hand man until the day I realized that he was going to have me assassinated. I was getting too strong, you see. And Lucifer knew that if destroying him would give me freedom, I’d do it. Lucifer knew that I was powerful enough to end his rule. But I didn’t want to be king of hell. All I wanted was to be free of my hellish existence, and there was only one way to do it.

One day I slipped into Lucifer's chamber and held a sacred sword to his throat until we could come to an agreement. I wanted my freedom in exchange for his life. I made sure that I emphasized the fact that I had no designs on his throne and that all I wanted was to live my own life.

              He was so angry that I thought he’d call his men and end me. However, he must have seen the value of keeping me alive because he granted me safe passage. I left hell that very night and never looked back. I’m sure he still keeps tabs on me. I just hope that after so many centuries, he has realized that I meant what I said about not wanting his throne.

              I wandered aimlessly once I left hell. I had never been without a plan. I was no longer a soldier, which was a very difficult adjustment. And after a lot of wondering, I went back to what I knew— Fighting. I fought a few human wars, was a Knight for the British crown and joined the Spartan warriors as a gladiator. That’s when I met Mikhail’s father, Samael. Oh, the havoc we caused.

              I was a knight in the queen’s court. I even sailed to the colonies with the first settlers of Jamestown. When my loneliness overwhelmed me, I fought with the rebels against the British Army and eventually settled peacefully in New England until the California gold rush happened.

              I’ve seen history play out over and over. One thing I discovered is that there will always be a war. I was world-weary and ready to do something else. That’s when I settled in Arcata and became a tavern owner. I had to “die” and come back as a grandson several times. But I always came back to Arcata. It was my haven. The tavern turned into a speakeasy during Prohibition, then a restaurant for many years until it became what it is today, The Garden of Eden nightclub. That’s also when Samael left me to go into hiding with his mate. I missed him so much.

              The club and my friendships with Mikhail, Nevaeh, and the others are the only things that keep me tethered to this world, and I’ll do anything to defend them.