“I guess being dead isn’t all that bad.” Jonathan, the spirit lying on the couch in Azrael’s office, sat up and scooted to the edge of the seat. He wore the same clothes he’d died in; all souls did until they were ready to make the final transition into the spirit realm. Keeping a bit of their previous existence helped them move through the stages of grief.
“It has its benefits.” Azrael rested his elbows on the arms of his cream-colored leather chair. “No physical pain.”
The spirit let out a dry chuckle. “All my limbs are intact.”
“Indeed they are.”
“And my dick is back to normal too.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” The poor guy had endured a series of unfortunate events that began when he’d attempted to cast his manhood so he could make a silicone copy for his girlfriend to play with while he was away. The cast had gotten stuck, requiring surgery to remove it, and… Azrael cringed, pushing the details from his mind. There was no such thing as TMI in therapy, but damn. He could have done without knowing exactly how the penile extraction had gone. Thinking about it made his own dick want to shrivel.
“You’ve done well with your counseling.”
Jonathan’s clothing flickered. “You’re a good listener.”
“It’s what I was made for.” Yes, as the Angel of Death, Azrael did sever souls from their bodies when it was their time to go, but it wasn’t as dark and menacing as people made it out to be. Well, dark maybe. Most people didn’t want to die, but severing the soul was only a tiny part of Azrael’s job.
His main purpose was to help the deceased transition from life to death and accept their place in the spirit realm. Azrael was a grief counselor for the dead. He also counseled supes living in Purgatory, but that was a side gig…one he’d like to do more often. Wallowing in dead people’s grief could be such a downer. If humans would speak their truth while they were alive, they might not have so many regrets after death.
The spirit inhaled deeply and rose to his feet, his earthly clothes shimmering and then morphing into the standard white of a soul who’d accepted his passing.
“I’m proud of you. You’ll be at peace now.”
Jonathan adjusted his crotch. “So will Little John.”
Azrael stood, and, trying to ignore the question of why any man would call his cock little, he placed his hand on “Big John’s” shoulder, instilling his magic in the soul. Supplying an extra dose of dark angel power wasn’t required for the extraction, but it made the crossing over more pleasant for the spirit.
“Thank you.” Jonathan turned to mist, and the vent in the ceiling activated, sucking him out of the room and taking him to his final destination—paradise in the spirit realm.
Azrael cracked his neck and stretched his wings, the obsidian feathers reaching from wall to wall in his office. He tucked them neatly against his back before he turned toward his desk and sank into the swiveling chair behind his computer.
He clicked the appointment app and sighed as his schedule appeared on the screen. The next six souls sat firmly in the depression stage. True, he was the one who’d moved them through denial, anger, and bargaining. But it took so devil-damn long to guide spirits through the stages these days, with bargaining being the worst. Thanks to the popularity of supernatural fiction, everybody thought they could make a deal for another go on Earth. But Death didn’t give second chances. Not very often, anyway.
The rewards of putting souls at rest were getting fewer and further between by the decade. Of course, it was his own fault he dealt with so many tough cases. He had plenty of dark angels, AKA reapers, working for him, but he saved the most difficult souls for himself.
He either loved a challenge or was a glutton for punishment, but it was time he made a change. He closed his laptop and strode down the hall to Jessie’s office. His friend and personal counselor sat behind a clear crystal desk, typing on her computer. Her dark hair brushed her shoulders, and she wore a silk blouse with a pencil skirt in black, of course; all reapers wore black.
Azrael knocked twice on the open door before crossing the threshold. As he entered, the pale blue walls darkened to midnight, and the furniture morphed from white upholstery to black leather. His tension immediately eased with the transition, which was why the counseling center was designed this way. The magical rooms changed their façade to best suit the patients’ needs.
“Hey, Boss. I’m ready for you.” Jessie smiled and rose to her feet, her three-inch heels clicking on the stone floor as she strode around her desk and sank into an armchair. Fighting a smile, she glanced at the black walls and furniture. “Still into the doom and gloom, I see. We’ve got to work on getting some color into your life.”
Azrael closed the door and sat on the chaise lounge across from her. “Black is all the colors combined. I’ve got plenty.”
“Oh yeah. You’re all rainbows and butterflies.” She crossed her legs, folding her hands in her lap. “How have you been?”
He blew out a hard breath and unclenched his jaw. “The meditations ease the stress, but I…” He ground his teeth again. “I can’t remember the last time I experienced happiness.” And if he stayed on his current path in life, wallowing in his own misery, he’d be useless as a counselor for the dead. He’d already lost patience with the living, spending all his time either with the spirits he counseled or at home with his hellcat.
She nodded. “How long has it been since you’ve had sex?”
He narrowed his eyes. “A while.” Truth be told, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d found another being sexually appealing. Or the last time he’d had fun. “But I have no desire to find love.” He’d been there, done that, gotten the t-shirt and a world of hurt to go with it.
Jessie laughed. “Who said anything about love? There’s a lot to be said for one-night stands. Friends with benefits are good too, but for that, you’d actually have to have friends.”
“I have friends.” His brow slammed down over his eyes, his wings twitching at the accusation—more like the truth—in her words.
“Who? Samael? Ash? Have you seen them socially in the past decade?”
Azrael crossed his arms. A good therapist didn’t tell you what you wanted to hear; they told you what you needed to hear…whether you liked it or not…and Jessie was the best. “So? What do you recommend?”
“You work too hard. Take some time off to enjoy life.”
He scoffed. “Reapers of souls do not take vacations.”
“I didn’t say take a vacay, Az. Tell you what, a group of dark angels is going to DeLux tomorrow night. You should join us.”
“I’d rather not.” Crowds—and people in general—ruffled his feathers these days.
She sighed dramatically and rose to her feet. “Why did you come to me for counseling?”
“Because I can see where I’m headed,” he grumbled. “I know I need help, and you’re the best angel on my team. I trust you.”
“Then trust me. As your therapist, I’m recommending you get out and socialize. As your friend, I’m inviting you to hang out with us at DeLux tomorrow night. Please consider it. It’s time to move on.” She opened the door, ending their session.
Azrael scowled, which earned him a grin and a wink. “I’ll think about it.”
“See you tomorrow,” she called as he paced down the hall toward his office.
Jessie knew how to push every one of his buttons, burrow under his skin, and make him see parts of himself he’d rather keep buried. It was exactly why he’d confided in the insufferable woman. She would tell it like it is, call him out when he needed it. She was the only friend he had left.
And she was right. It was time to move on. If only he could convince his heart to let go.
Azrael cared deeply for all the souls who passed through his office, and he absorbed their emotional pain, taking it inside himself to understand it, to help ease their suffering…to mask his own pain.
He was well past denial and anger, and bargaining… Ha! He’d tried to strike a deal with Lucifer himself on that one, but he’d gotten nowhere. Azrael’s patients weren’t the only ones planted firmly in the depression stage, but that was what he got for falling in love with a mortal. And he just had to be the one to cross her over, which meant losing her twice.
He’d known exactly what he was doing when he took on this heavy workload. Misery loved company, but it was time he put an end to his ninety-year pity party.
He was working too hard. So hard, in fact, that he’d abandoned his friends, conversing only with the dark angels about their jobs. Yes, Jessie was right as usual. He needed to at least try and socialize. He would make an appearance at DeLux tomorrow. Damn her.
After two more sessions with souls who weren’t ready to depart, Azrael closed up shop to head home. He grabbed Severus, his scythe—which he kept secured in a closet behind his desk—and cleared his schedule, assigning the two souls booked for reaping to the new guy, Jared. Azrael was always on call for the VIP and the ornery, but Jared could take on the two scheduled to die tomorrow.
He stepped out of the counseling center and into Purgatory. Once fire and brimstone, The Underworld had gotten a makeover when Lucifer found his soulmate. Now, it looked more like a village, with houses, shops, and cafés lining the streets.
Stretching his wings to their full twelve-foot span, he gave them a flap, lifting himself from the ground. He soared over the town, enjoying the feel of the sultry Underworld wind through his feathers.
Azrael touched down in front of his home, a modest one-bedroom painted black with blacker trim. Tabitha met him at the door, winding around his legs as he entered the foyer before climbing up his pant leg.
“Hello to you too.” He leaned his scythe against the wall and cradled the cat in his arms, stroking her sleek black fur. “Let me put Severus in his place, and then I’ll feed you. How does salmon sound?”
Tabitha meowed her approval and leaped to the floor before darting into the bedroom. Azrael followed and set Severus in the holder by his bed, which was draped in black satin sheets—not because he was a player or a horndog…though he did know a thing or two about burying a bone—but because the color was his favorite and the material felt nice against his skin.
In the kitchen, he popped open a can of cat food and dumped it into Tabitha’s bowl before giving her a scratch beneath the chin and settling onto the sofa to read. But he couldn’t focus on the words. The combination of romance in the story and Jessie’s advice of finding a woman made his head spin. After reading the same paragraph four times, he slammed the book shut and tossed it on the coffee table.
It had been ninety years since Nora passed. He’d done fine on his own for decades. The only woman he needed in his life was the furry little feline slinking into the room. Tabitha leaped into the armchair and licked her front paw.
Azrael patted the cushion next to him and said, “Come here, Tabs.” Not that he expected a cat to come when called, but it was worth a shot. When she ignored him as usual, he rose and joined her on the chair, cradling her against his chest. “All we need is each other, right?”
Tabitha let out an irritated meow and wiggled free before darting beneath the sofa. Typical hellcat.
Azrael sighed, but as he felt himself slipping into a state of dejectedness, he stood. Hell’s bells, I’ve got to get out of the house. The party at DeLux was more than twenty-four hours away. He needed to do something about his current mental state now.
After cracking the kitchen window for Tabitha, he headed out the front door and into the heart of Purgatory. A steaming cup of tarpit black coffee would hit the spot, and he could get in a little practice conversing with the living before tomorrow night. Lucifer knew he needed it.
At four in the afternoon, the only people inside the coffee shop were a demon couple and the barista. The demons sat at a small table in the corner of the room, and their chairs were so close to each other, they might as well have been in each other’s laps. The two men held hands, and one of them said something that made the other’s entire face light up with joy.
Azrael’s chest tightened, a pang of longing making him ache. He used to smile like that a long time ago.
“What can I get for you?” The barista tucked her bright blue hair behind her ear, revealing half a dozen piercings.
“Coffee. Tarpit black.” He glanced at the couple again.
“They’re sweet, aren’t they?” She filled a ceramic mug. “You can tell they’re soulmates. Look how they glow just being near each other.”
Azrael grunted in response. Yes, he could tell.
“They just met last week too. Austin didn’t have his wallet on him, so Zeke paid for his coffee. And the rest is history.” She made heart eyes at the couple, and Azrael scowled.
Soulmates after only a week? Not likely for two immortals. That kind of bond took time to build. He and Nora had dated for a year before she was ready to commit to their relationship. Sure, a year was nothing for an angel, but even then, their connection had been rocky in the beginning. It wasn’t easy to make it work, but it had been well worth the effort until the end.
He paid for his coffee and sat in a chair across the room. So much for conversing with people here. He sipped the piping hot liquid from his mug, eyeing the couple over the rim. He had loved Nora with all his heart, and she loved him. Whether or not they were soulmates, he couldn’t say.
Then again…
If they were, wouldn’t she have chosen the immortality he’d offered and spent forever with him? Instead, she’d accepted her mortal lifespan and her eventual death. Perhaps Azrael was yet to find his soulmate. Perhaps…
He groaned, slamming the mug onto the table and causing coffee to slosh onto the surface.
“Whoopsie.” The barista scurried over with a towel to soak up the mess. “Everything okay?”
“I’m fine. Sorry about the spill.”
“It happens.”
Azrael rose, leaving his mug half-full, and strode out the door. Anger burned in his chest, and the neutral expression he’d forced in the coffee shop pulled into another scowl. As he stomped down the main thoroughfare, more than a few people jumped out of his way.
Lucifer Fucking Morningstar. What the hell had his life become? He needed some fresh air. To get his mind right. To get his life straight.
He tucked his wings against his back, activating his magic to hide them, and headed for the exit. When he stepped from Purgatory into the mortal world, the sun nearly blinded him, and he shielded his eyes as he took in the scene. Cars whizzed past on the busy street, and people milled about, going in and out of shops, laughing and talking.
Companionship. That was what his life was missing, what he had denied himself for decades. He’d had plenty of time to mourn his loss. Then, his isolation had become habit…one it was time he broke.
He strode through the crosswalk and wandered down the sidewalk, contemplating his existence. He hadn’t known what he was missing until he fell in love with Nora. Sure, he’d been with other women before. Even angels had urges that needed to be satisfied. But now that he’d had a taste of love, he couldn’t deny he missed it. Not anymore.
He meandered into Elysian Park and sat on a bench beneath a palm tree. Couples walked hand in hand down the trails, and children chased each other in a game of tag. Kids, he could do without. He had enough responsibility keeping his dark angels in line. But companionship. Someone to spend his days with…
Perhaps he was more open to that than he’d first thought.