Azazel stood in Felix's Clothing Emporium. A tape measurer was wrapped around his chest as he got fitted for winter wear for his travels to the Enchanted City.
It was imperative that he locate Blumbledore. Judging from Emma's use of magic, he should be able to do more than just cast a simple fire spell. If anyone could teach him magic, a wise old wizard would be the one to do so.
"What color do you want your cape?" Felix inquired.
"Black."
"Interesting," Felix murmured.
"The inside silk?"
"Red."
I sound like a damn vampire.
"Give me a day to complete the work," he snapped his fingers, summoning his slave, er, friend.
"Oliver, you will work," Felix sternly purred. "And you will work hard."
There was a little too much emphasis on the last word.
Oliver took the measurements from Felix. The cat boy quickly ran to the back room with the measurements, tucking his tail between his legs.
Felix bowed. He then picked up an old leather whip from behind the counter. He positioned a black leather mask over his face before joining his friend in the back room.
Azazel could hear the cracking of the whip. He shook his head and walked outside. He wasn't sure he wanted to question Felix's unconventional methods or what exactly was going on in the back.
There was a scream ringing out from the shop. It may have had a lustful undertone.
He wondered if he really needed a cape that badly. If it meant poor Oliver would suffer, maybe he could go without it. Then he remembered Emma's words about potentially freezing to death on the way to Azuche if they weren't properly prepared.
Azazel wasn't looking forward to dying a second time. He somehow still had his virginity to lose, even with Emma throwing herself at him.
Azazel pondered that thought. He wondered if he was secretly avoiding a situation that would result in that happening. He had no real reason to be apprehensive, but she could end up turning on him. He never knew—she could decide to cast a spell to banish his soul beyond the rift.
She's not a devious social climber. I really shouldn't be worried. Plus, I have absolutely no social status on Terra. Are there even spells to banish souls? Are there rifts? There has to be a rift. Lucifer mentioned a rift. Can a half-demon use soul-banishing or rift magic?
His inner monologue was always convoluted.
Azazel watched as Michael went into the Hell Scholar building. It was wild to see an angel willing to enter such a satanic sanctuary.
What is he even still doing here?
Azazel followed Michael inside. He saw the archangel seated in a chair, his magnificent wings curled around his body. In his hands, he held the Charms of Our Lord and Savior, Lucifer manuscript. He was reciting the words out loud.
"Lucifer has blessed you with his divine message: On the eighth advent of the reincarnated devotion, a fiery rain will scorch the realm. From beyond the rift, souls shall collide, taking upon eternal damnation, as a demonic God begins his rule upon the very rift itself."
…?
Is this really what Lucifer told Luke?
Azazel burst out laughing. The so-called gospel of Lucifer seemed like a giant word salad.
The document must have been crafted by an aging politician to make it seem they actually knew what they were talking about.
Michael cleared his throat and slowly blinked. He looked at Azazel, then back to the manuscript.
"The King and Father, returning to his rightful glory, blesses thee on the ninth advent, with the wisdom of the rightful Queen and Mother, as they come together, unifying as one."
Michael tossed the manuscript to the floor in a fit of unholy rage. "Lucifer is on something. It definitely isn't holy. The only rightful words are those of Yahweh."
Michael seemed offended to be indulging in such drivel.
"At least it's entertaining," Azazel mused, leaning against the door frame with his arms folded against his chest. "I could see how the document could be a tad embellished."
"A tad?" Michael scoffed.
"A tad."
Azazel didn't think it was any more far-fetched than a lot of things he had read in the past. Plus, Lucifer was, in fact, real, and those were his words.
Michael stood from his seat. He looked at the manuscript he had thrown on the floor. For a moment, he thought of stomping on it or possibly setting it on fire, but as an archangel, it wouldn't be a very angel-like thing to do. Before he could take action, the Hell Scholar ran from his room in the back, hurriedly collecting the satantic gospel from the floor.
"The sacred document!" Luke cried out, clutching the document to his chest. "How dare you defile the words of Lucifer?"
Michael rolled his eyes. As if Lucifer's words could ever be taken seriously. "You really believe the nonsense he told you?"
"His words are the only truth of the world," Luke stated as he tucked the manuscript in a glass display case, so the entire world could view the not-so-wise text. "To deny otherwise would be a sin."
"This entire village is a sin," Michael retorted, flipping his wing out.
The angelic, white wing crashed against the case, causing it to tip over. With a large crash, the glass shattered into countless pieces on the floor. Luke let out a blood-curdling scream. "LUCIFER'S TEACHINGS!"
Luke extended his arm forward, digging the manuscript out of the shards of glass. He pricked his finger, causing blood to trickle down the floor. He didn't notice his finger was bleeding until he looked at the document, seeing bloody fingerprints across the front. His eyes opened wide. He had defiled the very document he had spent such a long time working on.
"THE HOLY WORDS!" He screamed.
"Wouldn't that make it even more believable?" Azazel asked, her eyes focused on the blood now imprinted on the front.
Luke paused, thinking about it for a moment.
"You know, that's right. My blood, a sacred sacrifice, brings out a certain charm to this document."
He seemed rather proud of the new blood smears across the manuscript.
"It was a blood offering." Luke nodded. "It was for my savior, Lucifer. Lucifer, I gave you my blood, my flesh, and my soul."
That was going a bit overboard.
Michael remained silent. A tear fell from his eye as he heard the two speak about the document. He couldn't believe Luke actually thought the words of Lucifer were some kind of gospel to follow. Instead of sticking around, he sighed and left the building.
Hopefully, he'll just return to heaven, or wherever he came from. I still don't know what he's doing here.
Rose had heard the crash of the glass display case. She came up front, broom in hand, and began to sweep away the shards of glass.
"What in the world happened?"
Luke looked to his assistant. "Michael broke the case. The holy words are fine, though."
Azazel turned from the door frame, heading back outside. He raised his brow when he noticed Michael and Lucifer crossing paths. Michael's angelic wings hit Lucifer, which annoyed the Lord of Hell.
Lucifer turned around and shoved Michael by the shoulder. The archangel stumbled backwards a few steps, then scoffed at Lucifer.
"How dare you shove your brother?"
Lucifer smirked and placed his hands on his hips. "Watch where you're flapping those wings, Mikey. You almost knocked my horns off."
Michael scoffed again. He seemed to love scoffing. "As if your horns could get any more crooked, Lucifer."
"Hey now, these horns are a symbol of my devilish charm," Lucifer stated. "Don't be jealous, feather-face."
"Why must you always resort to petty insults, Lucifer? Can't we have a civil conversation for once?" Michael asked while flipping his hair.
The two were bickering with one another for some time. It went on and on, even as the sun set.
Azazel didn't stick around for it, though.
His mind was on the trek they would be starting. Azuche was supposedly a cold land, nestled on a hillside far in the coldest mountain on Terra. At any point, a blizzard was liable to begin. It meant they would be unable to go there by wagon and would have to travel by foot.
Azazel headed for Granny's cottage. He figured it was a good time to approach Emma.
It was time. Time to get what he wanted.
I've been waiting for this moment...
He stood outside Emma's door. After clearing his throat, he slipped into the room.
Emma was fast asleep in her bed. Azazel looked at the small-framed woman and noticed she was fast asleep, probably drooling on her pillow.
Azazel smirked and approached the bed. He slipped under the covers on the opposite side.
Maybe I should take off my clothes...
Azazel quietly took off his jacket, then began to fumble with the buttons. His hand started shaking as he thought about actually feeling her naked body against his.
As he finally got to the last button and slid off his shirt, he heard Emma talking in her sleep. She rolled over, now facing in his direction.
Azazel stared at her face, his red eyes focusing on her. A small smile began to form on his lips, his inner human overtaking the demonic thoughts.
His hand softly brushed through the stands of her pitch-black hair. She looks absolutely adorable when asleep.
He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. She kept mumbling in her sleep. They were random words such as "George" and "Chicken." It made him imagine a strange dream of George curb-stomping a chicken.
Azazel softly laughed while imagining those thoughts. Perhaps George would collect feathers for an additional pillow.
Emma rested her arm around his now-bare chest, her eyes still closed. Then he heard the words.
"I love you, Azzy."
His heart beats fast. A flush appeared across his cheeks.
Did she really just say that?
There was no way he was going to attempt any mischief now. Instead, he allowed her to cuddle against him all night as she slept.