*****
Eve waited on the shore until the sun had set. She could sense how far away Azrael was. She knew he could sense her, too. She knew he would come straight to her.
Let him come, she thought.
Finally, once the sun was down and the bright stars had come out, Eve sensed movement in the trees nearby. She set her eyes on the spot and stared, waiting. She was calm. Her heartbeat was even and her breathing was normal. She stood calmly, waiting, hands clasped gently together at her waist. Everything was quiet, as though the volume of the world had been turned down. The only thing that moved was Eve’s long vibrant red hair as the breeze gently brushed against her locks. A few minutes passed. Then Azrael appeared directly where she was looking.
He loomed out of the darkness like an ethereal beast from an ancient horror story. His hood was still hiding his face and, as he reached out to push a tree branch out of the way, Eve could see his hand stretch out from beneath his sleeve. A skeletal terror, tiny bits of flesh still clinging to the bone, burned like ash and rotting away. Azrael saw her standing in front of him and Eve could feel him grin. He emerged from the tree line and stood still on the black sand, watching her. Both were silent, staring the other down.
“You took your time,” Eve said, almost pleasantly. “I was getting bored.”
“Why should I rush?” Azrael replied. “Are you in a hurry to die, little girl?”
Eve shook her head sadly. “Your threats mean nothing to me, Azrael. We both know you can’t kill me.”
“Perhaps. But it will be fun finding out for sure.”
“Why are you doing this, Azrael?” Eve asked. “Why? I used to look up to you, we all did. What happened?”
Azrael was silent, but began to pace to his left, still watching Eve from under his hood.
“I know it’s Peyton you need,” Eve continued. “I know who she is, even if Darius doesn’t. And I know what taking her soul will do. Don’t you care? Don’t you care what will happen if you do this?”
“No,” Azrael replied flatly. “I don’t care. Not anymore. I’ve cared for far too long.”
“So now you’re willing to destroy us all?” Eve fired back.
“I don’t have to,” Azrael said quietly. “Not all. Join me, Eve. We’re not as different as you think. You once refused to bow to commands, as I have now chosen to do. You knew what you wanted to do and you did it without the permission of Heaven. You knew what needed to be done and you knew no one would support you. So you just did it yourself. This is all I am doing now. I know what is needed, what humanity needs desperately. They all cry and moan about their freedom, but that is not what humanity truly wants or needs. What they need is peace. Safety. They wage more wars every day, killing others in the thousands. With me as their new god, with me as their savior, I can bring an end to the wars. Bring an end to the suffering. If only they serve me, they will exchange their abused freedom for protection. Protection from each other. Others in Heaven will join me, you know they will, once they see my power, once they see the future that I envision. Join me.”
Eve narrowed her eyes at Azrael, shaking her head, her fiery red hair flowing gently with the movement. “You’re a fool if you think I would join you, Azrael. I would never go against my father again. You say we are the same? That I too disobeyed Heaven for my own purposes? You are wrong. I was young and stupid and only thought I knew better. My actions nearly destroyed humanity. I will never disobey my father again.”
Azrael glared at Eve from under his hood. “Fine. If you will not stand with me, you will fall before me. You will lie in the pit of destruction, along with your beloved mortals.”
As he spoke, he held his open hand straight out from his side. Then he quickly closed his fist, but something appeared in his hand in an instant. It was as tall as he was and made of steel, with intricate patterns carved into the length of it, the base thumping loudly against the ground as it appeared. There was a loud sound of metal scraping against metal, like a knife being sharpened on a flint, and a long blade was suddenly at the top of the steel staff, as long as a man’s arm. Azrael stood completely still, holding his scythe and watching Eve closely.
Eve only rolled her eyes. “A little cliched, isn’t it?”
“I’m a traditionalist.”
“Well, I like surprises, myself,” Eve replied.
Suddenly, from all sides, long vines whipped through the air and wrapped themselves around Azrael’s limbs. They roped around his wrists, his ankles, tied his legs together, wrapped around his neck, any part they could get a hold of, and lifted him up into the air. Azrael seemed momentarily surprised, but then he clenched his scythe tightly and extended his wings. They flashed out in a blur and cut right through the vines, freeing him from their hold. He fell to the ground and landed on his feet, then lunged at Eve, whirling his scythe around like a battle-axe, ready to implant it into her skull.
Eve was already prepared for his attack. She threw both hands forward and something materialized in her grasp, one in each clenched fist. In each hand appeared a handle, wrapped in leather and colored red. From the handles, at amazing speed, a rope began to uncoil, whizzing through the air towards Azrael, until they finally reached their maximum length and cracked loudly at Azrael’s feet. Eve now had a long whip in each hand and started cracking them at Azrael, trying to catch him unprepared. Azrael dodged and weaved, avoiding the blows from the whips that made high-pitched whizzing sounds as they sped through the air, threatening to cut Azrael in half. As the whips sped through the air and Azrael dodged and blocked with his scythe as Eve tried to split him open or choke him, the whips began to glow. They burned bright orange and left a trail of light in their wake. As she drew back her swing, the whips suddenly burst into flame and Eve was whirling long tendrils of flames through the air, the fire whooshing as they were whipped above the Angels’ heads like fiery halos. Eve danced and spun, whirling the flaming whips this way and that, keeping Azrael at bay, preventing him from advancing, moving with all the grace and poise of an accomplished ballerina.
Eve swung a whip-lash down at Azrael’s face, which he blocked using the staff of his scythe. The whip swung around and tightened on the staff, then Azrael yanked and pulled the whip from Eve’s hand, but she had already swung the other whip and the tip caught one of the exposed bones on Azrael’s wing, slicing it clean off.
Azrael screamed in pain as the bone fell to the ground and the cracked and broken stump where it once was smoldered and smoked. In his rage, Azrael dove toward Eve, swinging his blade like a war hammer, but his swing swished harmlessly through the air as Eve, in the blink of an eye, spread her own wings and launched herself into the air. Before Azrael could recover his balance, he felt the coil of the rope wrap around his throat, then he was lifted up into the air, dragged in Eve’s wake. She flew up and up and up, the wind rushing through her hair and her wings pumping hard, flying faster and faster. The ground all but vanished far below as she carried Azrael high into the sky, the coil of her whip wrapped tightly around his throat as he kicked his legs and tried to free himself. Suddenly, Eve came to a halt in midair, but Azrael, pushed on by his momentum, rose up to meet her. As he came level with her, Eve planted a powerful kick square into his chest, sending him tumbling and rolling through the air. Azrael spread his decaying wings and halted his tumbling progression, facing Eve with renewed fury from under the hood of his cloak. Eve was already flying at him, the coil of her flaming whip trailing behind. She twirled in the air and sent another crack of the whip towards Azrael, but this time he reached forward and grabbed the burning whip in his skeletal hand, just inches before it sliced into him. He held the whip firmly, seemingly indifferent to the burning fire in his hand, glaring at Eve from under his hood. Eve tried to pull the whip back, but Azrael held tight. Then he yanked on the whip as hard as he could.
Eve, caught off guard, tumbled towards him. By the time she was able to right herself, she saw the butt of the scythe slamming into her face. Sh
e felt Azrael’s strong hands latch onto her and then they were suddenly both falling. No, not falling, they were moving too fast to simply be falling. Azrael was flying them both towards the ground, as fast as he could, flapping his wings steadily to urge on their speedy descent. Eve realized he meant to crush her into the dirt. Eve struggled to break free of his hold, but he was too strong, his grip like an iron vice. At the very last second, Azrael pushed away from her, but then planted his feet on her chest to push her down with one last kick, soaring away as Eve plummeted down. She crashed into the ground with such force, the trees of the Garden all shook and dirt swirled around in the air. Eve vanished within the cloud of dust that arose, unable to see anything but dirt particles spinning around her as she lied on her back, her body hurting, but still watching for Azrael.
Stunned, Eve moved slowly. She rose to her feet, her wings flapping slightly and incoherently, like a bird that had just flown into a closed window. She looked around for Azrael, vaguely aware of the fact that she had lost her whip. She couldn’t see through the dirt that still spun around her. She turned left, then right, knowing he was somewhere nearby, but unable to find him. Her eyes scanned her surroundings, searching, but he was staying out of sight.
Until he suddenly flew at her from out of the dust, his decayed wings spread wide, looking like a demonic bat. He slammed into her and tackled her through the air. They flew a few feet together, before Azrael slammed Eve into a nearby tree with such force, the tree split up the middle, a great opening like a fork of lightning stretching up the tall trunk. Before Eve could regain her footing, she saw Azrael swing his scythe forward, directly into her stomach.
The blade pierced through her flesh, so far it pinned her to the tree. She gasped from not only the pain, but also the suddenness of it. She held onto the staff of the scythe, attempting to pull it out, but Azrael held it firm. Eve could see her blood pooling around the wound and staining her white dress, could feel it trickling from her mouth. Azrael leaned in close, grinning in victory from beneath his hood.
“Oh, how I wish I could kill you,” he whispered. “You have no idea. You were always His favorite. His little girl. The daughter of the Almighty. If anyone else had done what you did, they would have been imprisoned for all eternity.”
Eve coughed and more blood spilled out of her mouth. “He would… never… do that… My father… forgives… all.” Eve was struggling to speak, but she managed to look directly into Azrael’s eyes, speaking as clearly as she could, so that he might understand. “My father forgives… everyone… Even you.”
Azrael glared at Eve, his blank face hidden in darkness. With a sharp tug, he pulled the blade free of Eve’s body, watching her gasp from the movement and fresh bout of pain, then stepped backwards as she slowly slid down the tree and sat on the ground, resting her back against its broken trunk, her wings lying flat and useless around her. Azrael stared down at her with disdain. While his blade couldn’t kill her, it would at least immobilize her for a time. Long enough for him to catch up with Darius and Peyton.
Without another word, Azrael turned and walked away, leaving Eve to her pain. And her pity.