When the mass of blackness ran out, Azrael spun and flung his palms at Asmodeus, who was looking triumphant. Flame engulfed the Demon. Suddenly Azrael’s hands were held behind him and a knife was at his throat.
“You know this knife. You remember it,” whispered Asmodeus. “You remember when I pulled it from your almost-dead hands and I used it against your friends. I still have it, only with a few modifications.”
Asmodeus pressed the knife harder against Azrael’s throat. He moved it upwards, to Azrael’s face and cut the skin. Cold spread through the Angel, electricity seemed to coarse through his muscles. Asmodeus stepped back and disappeared in a mist of shadow.
Azrael dragged himself to the bed and hauled himself up. He summoned the last bits of his magic and waved his hand over Elizabeth’s dead body, making her look like a stab victim. He looked around the room, with difficulty. He moved his hand through the air all around him. A smashed vase and a broken table appeared on the floor. Spilt water and blood began to seep into the carpet.
With the last few drops of magic, he made his golden scars look like black tattoos; something he could only do in a time of dire need. He knew someone would find him and call an ambulance. Then he’d be taken to hospital, where doctors would heal him as best they could.
Azrael let himself fall to the floor, where he passed out almost instantly.
Chelsea paced around her room, waiting impatiently for a phone call from Nathan. There was a knock at the door. Chloe, her older sister, opened the door
“You okay, Chels?” she asked.
“Yeah, fine,” Chelsea responded worriedly.
“No you’re not. You’ve been up here for almost an hour.”
She stopped pacing. Thoughts raced through her mind. Nathan had been gone for nearly an hour. What was happening? Was he OK? Of course he’s okay. He’ll be sat with Beth, that’s it. They’re both fine, she thought.
“Chelsea?” said Chloe.
“I’m only two years older than you. You can tell me if something’s wrong. You know that.” She shut the door and stepped further into the room. “Right, I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s wrong.”
“It’s Nathan,” said Chelsea.
“He’s not cheating, is he?”
“No, he wouldn’t do that. We haven’t even...”
“Is that because of you or him?” asked Chloe.
“He’s still getting over a previous relationship,” Chelsea lied.
“So he’s on the rebound?”
“You’re lying to me. He’s not still getting over a previous girlfriend is he?”
“No,” Chelsea admitted.
“He’s not cheating, he’s not on rebound, so what’s wrong?”
“We had a bit of an argument. I’m waiting for him to call me.”
Suddenly the phone rang. Chelsea dashed to get it.
“Nathan?” she said hopefully.
“My name’s John Connick. You’re friends with a girl called Elizabeth Benton?”
She filled with dread. “Yes...”
“I’m afraid to say she’s passed away.”