Chapter One
Inside the confines of his boss’s office, demonsswirled in the air all around Razr.The screaming, tortured soulsbeggedfor mercy or shouted obscenities and threats.
Razr tapped the ring on his right index finger against histhigh asAzagoth, an ancient being also known as theGrim Reaper, sent tiny bursts of power at each one, making them screech inagony.
Azagothwas playing with them,toying with them the way a cat would a mouse.His plush office, deep inside theunderworld realm known asSheoul-gra, had turned intoa grim playground of pain.
Pain was something Razr could deal with.Subservience wasnot, and after hundreds of years spent as an elite battle angel, beingsentenced to serveAzagothwas humiliating as shit.But it was Razr’s own fault, and ultimately, he was lucky.After all, he’d beenkicked out of Heaven, but he hadn’t lost his wings.
No, his angelic wings and their fate would be determined bywhether or nothe could repair the damage he’d done acentury ago.
So, yeah.Hanging out withAzagothand his band of freaky minions wasn’t exactly a great gig, but it could beworse.Still, as he stood across fromAzagoth, wholooked especially Grim Reaper-y in a black hooded robe, his green eyes glowingfrom the shadows, Razr didn’t see how it could be worse at thisparticular moment.
Azagothflicked his hand indismissal, and a wave ofgriminionsswarmedinto the room like ants, their own miniature black robes dragging on the floor,their faces hidden by cowls.They gathered the demon souls and scurried away,disappearing into a tunnel in the wall to whatever hellhole they belonged in.WhenAzagothturned his attention to Razr, the chillthat settled on Razr’s skin quickly penetrated all the way to his bones.
“I want to know why you wear a damned burlap sack andflip-flops every damned day.You have access to anything you want, but the onlytimes you aren’t dressed like a medieval monk are when you leaveSheoul-gra.”Azagothcocked hishead and intensified his focus, leaving Razr feeling like a germ under amicroscope.“Is the clothing part of your punishment?”
Razr started.He’d been living inSheoul-graand working inAzagoth’semploy for over a year now,and this was the first time his boss had asked him anything that wasn’twork-related.
“Yes,” Razr said, but it was a simple answer to a complexissue.
“Your situation is unique.You aren’t fallen, but you aren’ta Heavenly angel, either.You aren’t even Unfallen,”Azagothsaid, referring to the in-between state of an angel who had lost hiswingsbut who hadn’t enteredSheoul,the demon realm, to complete his fall from grace.He glided over to the wet barand splashed rum into two glasses.“Heaven created a new designation of angeljust for you.”
“Yeah,” Razr drawled.“Ain’tI special.”Except he wasn’t.There was another who had shared his status, hisformer lover Darlah, presumed dead after failing to return from a mission.
A mission that was now Razr’s alone.
Azagothhanded him one of theglasses, and Razr struggled to hide his surprise.And suspicion.The other malerarely acknowledged his existence, let alone treated him like an equal.“Forsome reason, youarespecial.”
This was really getting weird.Azagothhad never shown any interest in him, but honestly, Razr was shocked that theguy didn’t know more about Razr’s story.He’d figured Heaven would have givenAzagoththe full scoop, but apparently not.
“What I can’t figure out,”Azagothcontinued, “is why you haven’t managed to take care of your business and getback into Heaven.”
Unable to remain still under this bizarre scrutiny, Razrswirled the rum around in his glass.“It’s not like you give me a lot of freetime.”
“Soit’s my fault?”Azagoth’svoice was smooth as velvet and just dark enoughto raise the hair on Razr’s head.
One didn’t just accuse the Grim Reaper of stalling shit.Notif they liked wearing their skin.
“Not at all,” Razr replied carefully, because his skin waspretty usefulright where it was.“It’s just that I havelimited resources inSheoul-gra.I need more time inthe human and demon realms.”
Instead, he was stuck trainingAzagoth’sarmy ofMemitimand the Unfallen refugees who hadtaken sanctuary here.Although, in truth, if Razrhadto work forAzagoth, schooling angels on battle tactics wasn’t thesuckiest thing he could do.It was a challenge he enjoyed, given that angelswere notoriously hard to get to work together, and his specialty was teamwork.
He’d just rather be training angels in Heaven than in Hell.
The door to the office opened, andZhubaal,Azagoth’sright-hand man and Razr’s direct superior,escorted a broad-shouldered male who smelled of sunshine inside.The angel, abig bastard in a plain brown hooded robe who went by the code name of Jim Bob,strode pastAzagothand stopped in front of Razr,which was odd, considering the angel tended to keep conversation limited toAzagoth.
Which probably meant he wasn’t being straight with hisfellow angels about his business here.Razr had never met the guy in Heaven, sohe had no idea of Jim Bob’s real name or what his game was, but if Razr wasever reinstated as a full angel, he’d have to do someinvestigating.
“What happened to your head?”
Razr jammed his fingers through his short, dark hair.“What,you liked the bald look better?”
“Yes.Also, this is foryou.”Heheld out a thick gold business card embossed with silver letters that spelledout “The Wardens.”
“What is it?”
“It’s where you’ll find what you’re looking for.”
