Smoke and Mirrors : Royal Angels I

Death and Wikipedia

~Xavier~

Pain is good.

Pain means you're still alive.

At least that's what I kept telling myself.

Fun fact : most Immortals hadn't seen death all up in their business, but I had. Death didn't bring you a bunch of roses, buy you a beer and carry you off to a hunky dory afterlife.

Death hit you over the head, dragging away your pathetic soul kicking and screaming, while everyone you loved watched you leave this dust mote of a planet.

At least that's what happened to my mom.

Yet being the dumbäss I was, it never hit me once that it could happen to me.

Until today.

For all I knew, Death was probably sipping a dry martini on a beach somewhere going, "Well, this is what you get for being a cocky bästard. Tick tock, motherfücker."

"Pardon me, but Azrael would never be so uncouth."

The voice in my head was familiar and instantly I was reminded of the last time I'd met this guy.

He was older than time itself and had a fetish for breaking my bones.

Israfel.

I opened my eyes, trying not to scream. My body felt like a truck had run over it, and I could barely breathe without hurting something. Everything around me was reduced to rubble and ashes from the bomb's explosion.

Everything, except Victoria's body floating overhead.

Her eyes were rolled back, and she was barely breathing. That son of a bîtch Archangel was possessing her this time, breaking her wounded body further.

I knew for a fact death would've been an upgrade to that.

"I could always just ask Azrael to come and get you both, Xavier." The Archangel said. "Death is my brother, after all."

Let her go, Israfel. I thought, knowing he could hear me.

"Oh, but I can't do that." He said, casually. "How else would I talk to you, Prince Grigori?"

Take a nice, long look at me. I thought. Do let me know if I look like I give a fück so I can try and change that.

Victoria's body twisted.

"Disrespectful child." He tsked, and I heard a bone break. "If I were you, I'd shut up and listen."

I turned my head away, welcoming the pain. If I kept watching him play with her like a rag doll, I'd lose my mind.

"I owe you for setting me free." The Archangel said, with a hint of annoyance. "And I hate debts. So I traded your soul back from Azrael. With great difficulty, I must add."

I would've laughed if I could. So technically, I had died.

Azrael was the Archangel of death, after all.