SF Ep7 - Story Part II - Truth

by ~desdemonhu

Part Five - Truth

Azriel perched on the roof of Ephraim’s building, watching the shimmery gauze of the magic barrier that shielded the apartment complex from prying eyes. Ephraim’s shield. Sak’roa was a powerful force indeed. What would the young human do with that power if he knew what he was?
Azriel sighed. He was supposed to be looking for Sabrael, but that meant reliving the past and he didn’t know if he could. The fallen angel snorted at himself. He had to, to find out what was happening to him, so he was going to do it and he would just need to stop being such a baby about it. What was past was past. Azriel stepped to the edge of the building, pulling in a lungful of the rich, heavy air. It was a good thing seeking miracles only required the air element, because he had no Fire left. He pulled from his memory, sticky threads of sensation, the smell of Sabrael’s current vessel, the feel of its fingers scraping along his skin. It was not a hard thing for an angel to recall, there was no fading of memory, just the ages stretching out behind them, a trailing parade of failures and successes.  As Azriel let out the breath, he released the memory as well, and they both seeped back into the fabric of the world. He waited for the response. It came with the next breeze, a whisper, because the Virtue was so well hidden, but it came back all the same. Azriel’s guess had been right; Sabrael was in Starfield.
Azriel needed Earth. He left the roof of the building to reach street level, but hesitated at the door leading out of the apartment complex. He would need to leave the shield, and if Pharzuph was looking for him, she would find him. She had already found him outside of the shield once, she could easily do it again. But Sabrael would never come to him and Azriel needed to understand what Leliel and Beleth had seen, before it consumed him.
The fallen angel sucked in another breath and pushed the doors open, stepping outside in the dim light. He tried to ignore the tremor in his hands as he squatted in the grass, apologizing to the collective spirit of the plant before ripping out handfuls, stuffing them in his mouth. People passing on the sidewalk tried hard to ignore him, which was going to be convenient when the miracle was complete. After several mouthfuls of soil and plant, Azriel stood, brushing off his hands. He walked to the alleyway alongside the building and drew in another breath. He imagined the location the seeking miracle had given him, and then folded his current location into that space.
He was in the lobby of a hotel. A little off from where he wanted to be; Sabrael probably had some wards against teleporting miracles. That was fine, none of the Angel rank were opposed to doing things the human way. After he took several moments to collect himself from the drain of the miracle, Azriel rode the elevator up to the penthouse suite. There were two guards outside of the door and they immediately tensed at Azriel’s unexpected entrance. The fallen angel drew in another breath to prepare a suggestion miracle.
“I’m here to see my brother. He’s been expecting me.” There was a brief pause, which Azriel attributed to his rustiness with that particular miracle, then both the guards relaxed, and one even gave him a very nice smile.
“Long time no see, Azzy. I’ll let you in.”
Azriel smiled at the man. “It’s nice to see you too, Liu. How’s your sister?”
The man nodded, “She’s doing just fine. Thanks for asking.” He removed a key card from his jacket pocket and slid it through the reader. He opened the door for Azriel. “In you go.” Azriel stepped inside and the door shut behind him.
Sabrael put down the book he was reading, dark eyes singularly focused on the intruder. He looked the same as the last time Azriel had seen him; a tall, gangly male vessel with bleached blonde hair in a mohawk.
“I thought you were opposed to influencing human minds, fallen.” Azriel resisted the urge to cringe at the sharp way Sabrael referred to his new rank.
“Was there a more unobtrusive route to you available?” He asked as he walked over to the couch. Sabrael did not stand to greet him; just looked up at him, his expression unreadable.
Azriel waited through the long pause before Sabrael decided to respond, “So, what do you want?”
The fallen angel steadied himself with a breath, “What did you do to me?”
Sabrael laced his fingers together, resting them on his legs. An eyebrow went up. “Please explain.”
Azriel frowned. Sabrael knew very well what he was talking about, and still he wanted to play this game? Why? Fine. If he had to spell it out for him, he would. There would be no doubt about what they were discussing, no way for Sabrael to mislead him. “A little under a year and a half ago, when I was still being held by Pharzuph, you risked detection by both me and her, just so you could…” Azriel swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. Maybe this was what Sabrael was hoping for, for Azriel to be too scared, too ashamed to even talk about it. He wouldn’t give him the satisfaction, “…violate me. Why?”
The pause that followed was cut short by a snort. “Please, don’t feel so self-important. Didn’t it occur to you that you were just a way in to do something else?”
Azriel nodded. “It did. But then I remembered that it felt like a thousand things were screaming in my head shortly after that.”
Sabrael  simply sighed. “Pharzuph probably-”
Azriel decided to cut that particular lie short, “No. I realized that it wasn’t her when it happened to me again recently.” Alone it wasn’t enough information for Azriel to deduce that it had been something Sabrael had done to him, but he was hoping Sabrael wouldn’t realize that. He would never get Leliel in trouble by admitting the Virtue had gone behind the back of another of his rank, and with the help of a demon, no less. “What did you do to me?”
Sabrael leaned against the couch, throwing an arm over the back. “I think you misunderstand, fallen. I don’t have to tell you anything.”
Even before he’d fallen, Sabrael had been of a much higher rank, but was the high and mighty tone really necessary? Azriel just wanted the answer to one simple question; was it such a celestial secret to know what had been done to him? “Oh no, I understand you rarely have to answer to anyone, Sabrael, but you won’t get rid of me until you answer my question.”
The virtue snorted again. “I could shoot you right now and have my guards dispose of your body.”
“Then you’ll have to explain to them why I’m not dead when I come back.”
Sabrael flicked his hand at him. “Fine. I’ll just take care of you myself.”
Azriel sat down on the couch. He knew he didn’t have permission, but it didn’t matter, he needed to make Sabrael understand that this once, he would not back down from a superior. His voice lowered when he spoke again, “At one point, Mishu cut off all my limbs and placed me in a small metal box, so that when my limbs started to grow back, the bones splintered against the metal over and over again. When she finally took me out of the box, she made me beg her to cut off the misshapen lumps so that I could regrow them properly. And that isn’t the worst thing she’s ever done to me.” He resisted the urge to touch his right shoulder.
Sabrael paled, his mouth opening slightly. But soon he shut it, and his eyes darkened, the impassive mask returning. “What? Is that supposed to make me feel guilty for leaving you there?”
Azriel sighed. Of course he’d missed the point completely. “Oh no. My point was that you will have to work a lot harder than that to make me leave you alone before my question is answered.”
Sabrael’s expression changed. His body actually relaxed a little, and his eyes turned curious. “You’ve changed, Azriel.”
The fallen angel blinked. He had never been on speaking terms with the Virtue, why would Sabrael think he was so familiar with Azriel’s personality? “How would you know?”
“You were my project.”
Azriel’s jaw dropped. “W-what?”
“My project was the Abaddon Virus.”
Azriel shook his head slightly. “But Abaddon isn’t real. The Abyss is just a human myth.”
Sabrael smiled then, but the feeling behind it was vicious. “Abaddon isn’t real, yet.”
Azriel’s heart squeezed, even though he didn’t know the meaning of the words he heard. “A virus…you…gave me the virus?”
Sabrael shrugged. “Half of the virus. God created you with my design for the catalyst. But the virus wouldn’t grow in Heaven, so we put you on earth and I gave you the material component.”
The chill ran through Azriel, dragging all the warmth from his body. His gaze fell to the ground and his mouth filled with cotton. “But…I chose…”
The virtue offered a small laugh. “You chose nothing. We put you in a situation where we knew you would fall. It was to avoid detection.” His tone was so smug, he thought he was so clever.  Azriel couldn’t look at him.
“You…made me…fall…”
Sabrael switched to the material version of Celestial to punctuate the truth of the statement, “God willed it.”
“Pharzuph …”
“That was your own stupid fault. Did you really think, when she came to you, she actually remembered you saved her vessel 26 years ago? Please, that’s just ridiculous.”
Azriel was empty; Sabrael had hollowed him out with what had always been the truth. “Oh.”
The virtue was smiling, crossing his legs as he casually leaned against the back of the leather couch. “Now I’ve answered your question, will you go?”
Azriel’s eyes stung as he tried to face Sabrael again. “What does the virus-”
Sabrael cut him off, his tone admonishing. “I can’t tell you that.”
“But-”
“I only told you as much because the virus will take over soon. Do not ask me to betray the Father.”
The gate to the Abyss was in his body, why didn’t he have the right to know what it was? It wasn’t fair! Azriel’s hands tightened into fists. But the Father had willed it. Had made him an incubator for a virus, he was nothing more than that, God didn’t need him to understand what he was. In fact, he didn’t want him to understand. And the Father was everything. If he was not meant to know...the words came haultingly, as if uttered from far way, “I would never ask you to do that. Thank you Sabrael. Goodbye.” Azriel stood, a wooden doll making his way to the door.
“Goodbye, Azriel.” The virtue offered. The farewell was so final. The virus would take over soon and Azriel would be gone.
Azriel walked out of the room, stepped into the elevator and shifted to the roof of Ephraim’s building. He stared up at the twilight, regarding the pale moon. Azriel was not an angel. Azriel wasn’t even a fallen angel. He was an incubator. The virus would overtake him, wiping out all that he was for this other thing, for the Abyss. Azriel was not an angel, because Azriel was made to be temporary, he was not made to be real. God did not love Azriel, because God wanted Abaddon instead.
            Azriel doubled over, screaming. Tears ran down his face, hooked under his chin, and dropped to the blacktop.
            Angels were not meant to disappear! HE didn’t want to disappear! He wanted to go home, but he would never go back, he was never meant to go back. He was going to be Unmade, and he’d done nothing wrong. He’d tried his hardest to be a good angel, to be deserving of the Father’s love. And it was all for nothing.
            Azriel crumpled to the ground, a wadded up piece of paper.


End Episode Seven.