“Keep it down in there!”

A sharp jab to Azazel’s gut sent him sprawling onto the stone floor.

He blinked thrice and saw that he was no longer in that black void, but in a cold cell with steel bars. A demon who resembled a boar walking upright stood outside his cell, a spear in his cloven hand. The demon snorted at Azazel, then stomped away, grumbling to himself in the demon tongue.

Was it day or night? There were no windows down in the dungeon, so it was impossible to tell. Only a few candles lit those clammy cells.

Looking down at his own chest, Azazel recalled that the demons had taken away his armor and given him only sackcloth to wear.

Azazel saw a skeleton chained to the wall in the opposite cell across the hall. He forced a nervous chuckle and said, “Well, it seems you’re the only company I have for the time being.”

“It seems so.”

Azazel’s skin ran cold, and he glanced back and forth to find the source of the voice. The skeleton leaned back its skull and turned its face right at him.

Its bony jaw snapped up and down as it spoke again. “Sorry to startle you. I forget sometimes just how misleading my appearance can be.”

“Ah… quite all right…” Azazel gave an uncomfortable smile. “Really, it’s my fault. It didn’t occur to me you might be undead and… not just… you know…”

“Dead?” said the skeleton.

“Well… yes.”

A sound somewhat like a laugh echoed from the skeleton’s cell. “I’m Jasper.”

“Ozz.”

“Charmed,” said Jasper. “I’d kiss your hand, but I’m a little chained up at the moment. Also, I don’t have lips.”

Azazel chuckled. “You speak surprisingly well for a man with neither lips nor tongue.” He leaned in a little closer, then waved his hand back and forth.

“Yes,” said Jasper, “I can see you, even though I have no eyes. All part of the enchantment which made me this way.”

Azazel lowered his hand. “I see… did a necromancer do this, then?”

“No, I’m a priest of Rakos,” said Jasper. “One of the great perks of serving the goddess of death; sometimes she lets you cheat a little and hold onto something resembling life a little longer. I’ve been like this for years, long before the demons locked me up.” Jasper pulled against his bonds. “Though, right now it seems like a curse. I’m trapped in here, and won’t die of starvation, age, or thirst.” Jasper raised one of his bony feet, which was missing a few toes. “Even if rats take away every one of my bones, I’ll go on existing, unless someone destroys the phylactery which holds my soul.”

Azazel furrowed his brow in sympathy. “So, you could be here forever?”

“As far as I know, I already have been here forever,” said Jasper. “How long has it been since the demons took the castle?”

“A few weeks, I think,” said Azazel.

The undead priest’s skull fell back against the brick wall behind him. “Oh, gods! Only a few weeks? Then forever is going to be a long time!”

Azazel opened his mouth to speak, ready to tell his undead prison mate his plan for escape. But after a glance toward the door to the dungeons, he shut his mouth again, lest the guard eavesdrop.

If Jasper had lost track of time so easily, Azazel had no way of knowing just how long he’d been out since his captors threw him down here.

Wait! The coin!

Azazel had swallowed a seleni coin before he approached the castle. Judging by the throbbing pain in the angel’s gut, he could only assume it was still in there, and that meant a full day had not yet passed.

The angel smiled at the priest of Rakos and tried his best to convey with the look in his eye that he had a plan. “Never give up hope, Father Jasper. The gods have a plan for—”

As if in response to his faithful words, a distant blast rattled the ceiling. Dust and broken bits of mortar fell from above, and rats squeaked as they scurried into their hiding holes.

The siege has begun? No… the coin is still inside my body… it’s too soon!

Several more blasts followed, each one causing the bricks to tremble in terror. Azazel watched as a few of those stone blocks above him shifted and started to slide down. Then came the pops of musket fire.

The dungeon door flew open, and two wolf-headed demons rushed down the stairs with swords in their hands. Shortly behind them followed the boar demon from before, who scurried up to Azazel’s cell with a key made from carved bone.

“Hey!” Jasper protested. “That’s my toe!”

“You will cooperate with us, wick!” shouted one of the wolf-headed demons. “Or we’ll cut off your wings.” The demon flourished his saber.

Azazel stood still as the boar opened his cell and clapped both his wrists in manacles. The angel averted his eyes from his captors’ as they pushed him along, up the stairs. After a few winding corridors, the four of them emerged in the castle square. Pouring rain and a gray fog greeted Azazel and pasted his clothes to his skin.

All around him he heard the clangs and clashes of steel upon steel, followed by the shouts and screams of the battle.

His eyes adjusted to the light, and a stream of crimson flashed past him. Azazel had breathed in at just the wrong time, and a strange copper taste fell on his tongue, just before something warm sprinkled his face.

Smoke rose from where the front gate used to be, and Azazel saw soldiers in steel armor battling the demons.

A flash of lightning.

And a roll of distant thunder.

A golden gleam caught his eye.

Sir Ulric wielded Azazel’s sword in one hand, and his own in the other as he cut through the demons in his path. Arrows protruded from plates in the old knight’s armor, but he fought as if they had always been part of his body.

A dark blur skipped from one demon to another. Neji gleefully raced across the battlefield with ease, striking out her unfortunate prey.

Another cannon blast, and Azazel threw himself onto the ground. The detonation sent bits of dirt and scarlet flying. Amidst all the carnage, Azazel spotted a carriage covered in black iron plates, pulled by two war horses. From the small windows, arcs of lightning leapt out and struck the surrounding demons.

Smoke filled the air as both sides exchanged musket fire with one another.

Thump!

Thump!

Thump!

The troll stomped into the castle square, and all scattered out from under the beast’s feet. The monster roared at the heavens, then began its bloody assault. Human soldiers scattered as the troll’s blades cut through their ranks like a scythe through wheat fields. Archers loosed arrows at the monster, and musketeers focused their volleys. But the arrows broke against the troll’s armor, and bullets smashed against its thick hide. Those few times that a bullet did make a small cut on the monster’s flesh, the wound healed within seconds.

From within the hair of the troll’s back, Lord Raum shouted down at Azazel’s captors. “Slit his throat!”

One of the wolf-headed demons yanked on Azazel’s hair and raised his blade to his neck. Azazel closed his eyes and braced himself for the end.

But a war cry brought him back to reality, and he opened his eyes once more. Sir Ulric charged in and ran Azazel’s captor through.

The other wolf-headed demon and the boar lunged at Sir Ulric.

The old knight parried their attacks and pushed back to keep them on the defensive.

Azazel saw his opportunity to escape and spread his wings. With two great flaps, he was in the air.

But the troll reached up, seized Azazel by his legs, and wrenched him back down to the red-stained soil. Azazel hit the ground with a loud crack, and pain shot through his body.

The troll released Azazel’s legs and wrapped its fingers around his chest, the angel’s wings squeezed between the monster’s fingers. As Azazel flailed and struggled, the troll lifted him high for all to see.

“I’ll crush him!” Lord Raum shrieked from the troll’s back. “I’ll grind his bones to dust! Squeeze his insides--” Azazel could not hear the rest of the threat, for the sounds of musket fire and carnage covered the demon’s words.

Liita, mistress of magic, I need a miracle! I beg you! prayed Azazel. He squirmed in the troll’s grasp until he could place a hand over his gut. There he could feel the coin still moving inside his body. Please, accept this payment!

The lump in Azazel’s stomach softened.

Azazel shrieked in agony as a feeling like a dozen tiny razor blades worked its way up through his esophagus. His bloody tongue lolled out of his mouth, and silver dust flew forth from the back of his throat and into the gray skies above him. The goddess would grant him his miracle, but she would have her due.

The angel slipped through the troll’s fingers and fell.

But his body did not hit the ground.

For a moment, he fell through even the dirt and rock beneath him, but his body floated back upward, until he hovered just above the land.

Thank you!

Azazel closed his eyes, and white flames surrounded him.

The troll recoiled and let out a horrified bellow.

“You idiot!” Lord Raum screamed. “How could you let him go! Kill him! Split him in two!”

One of the troll’s blades rounded on Azazel.

And passed through him without a wound, as if the angel were not even there.

Two more demons rushed Azazel and slashed at him with their blades. The weapons slipped through him as easily as through the air itself, and the angel suffered no harm.

Azazel’s wings swung out at the demons and passed through them. The white fire caught their fur and clothing ablaze. They shrieked and thrashed on the ground.

“He’s intangible!” Lord Raum shouted. “Stay back!”

Azazel flew at the troll. The great beast whirled out at him to defend itself. Azazel passed through both the sword and the troll himself.

In an instant, the troll’s body burst into flames, and it windmilled about, roaring in pain.

Lord Raum leapt from the creature’s back and landed softly on his feet. “Sygin take you, angel!”

In mid-air, Azazel changed directions and launched himself at the imp.

The tiny demon raised his hands and blood streamed from the corners of his eyes.

Azazel knew instantly what it meant: the imp was using blood magic, to which he’d be vulnerable even in his current state.

Freezing mist burned Azazel’s skin, and shards of ice cut his flesh. Worst of all, his wings seized up. With a loud thud, he hit the ground. The flames around his body dissipated, and he tasted dirt and copper.

Azazel tried to force himself onto his feet, but agony rattled his bones and slammed him onto the ground once more.

Lord Raum foamed at the mouth, and more blood poured from both of his eyes. “That was a cunning trick you pulled, wick! But here’s where you BURN OUT!”

Azazel felt some invisible hand flip him over on his back. Two more yanked hard on his wings, arms, and legs.

Lord Raum cackled. “No more tricks! No gods to save you! This is where you die!”

Out of the corner of his eye, Azazel saw Sir Ulric, his white beard stained red with blood. The old knight charged at the imp, his sword raised to strike Lord Raum down.

But the tiny demon flicked his wrist at Sir Ulric, and his knees twisted and snapped.

The old knight collapsed on the ground in a heap. He gritted his teeth in pain, let go of Azazel’s sword, and pulled himself along with his free hand.

One wolf-headed demon stepped on the old knight’s wrist, pinning his hand to the ground. Another came up behind Sir Ulric and seized him by the hair.

Azazel struggled against the magical hold Lord Raum had on him. “No! Sir Ulric!” The angel and the old knight locked eyes, and the look on Ulric’s face broke Azazel’s heart. Shame. In what was sure to be his final moment, Sir Ulric apologized for his failure.

The demon lifted Sir Ulric’s long beard and brought his blade to his neck. A crimson stream sprayed from the old knight’s throat as the demon sliced him open.

Lord Raum giggled and danced. “Sygin hates heroes today! Ha ha!”

Arcs of lightning struck the two demons who’d slain Sir Ulric.

Azazel looked up to see the armored carriage approach.

Lord Raum sneered at the interloper. “You coward! Hiding in your box!” He snapped his fingers at the two horses pulling the carriage. Both of their heads twisted, and a loud pop resounded as their necks broke.

Blood streamed from the imp’s mouth, and the tiny demon staggered and stumbled.

For just a moment, Azazel felt the weight holding him down lift.

Lord Raum reached into his pocket and produced a vial with an orange liquid inside. Just as the imp’s shaking fingers reached the cork, Azazel jerked to his feet and seized the imp’s throat in both hands.

The demon flailed in Azazel’s tightening grip.

One of the imp’s hands found Azazel’s elbow, and agony shot through the angel’s bones again.

Azazel fell to his knees but held fast to the demon’s throat. His whole body shook violently as throbbing waves shot through every nerve.

Blood flowed from the demon’s eyes, nose, ears, and mouth.

Azazel released one hand from the imp’s throat, still holding it tightly in the other. His free hand formed into a trembling fist. The imp squirmed, his little feet kicking in the air while his face turned purple. Azazel bashed the imp’s face with his fist, the impact breaking his nose in half.

The angel brought his fist down again, this time into the demon’s temple.

Crack!

Crack!

Crack!

Azazel beat Lord Raum’s face until it was purple and scarlet. The imp finally fell flaccid. Azazel cast Lord Raum’s limp corpse aside and tore the sack cloth shirt from his own body. The angel took his sword from Sir Ulric’s lifeless hand and rose to his feet. Steam rose from his bare torso.

A mighty roar escaped Azazel’s throat, and he took off into the air with the golden blade in hand, the battle raging on below him.

He chose his target, closed his wings, and plunged to the earth again. His blade pierced the enemy in his path, and Azazel spread his flight feathers to slow his fall just before the ground.

When the demon fell, Azazel took his musket, then flew off into the air again. From above, Azazel aimed the weapon at one of the many demons below and pulled the trigger.

. . .

Within the hour, the human army had re-taken the castle with Azazel’s help.

Every demon who’d infested the Brooks’ home now lay dead.

When the battle was, at last, over, Azazel landed in the castle square. His chest heaved with every breath, and he hobbled along, his stomach churning with nausea and pain. On the ground, he spotted the orange vial Lord Raum had tried to drink. He popped the cork and gulped down the contents, and the soreness in his joints faded away. The gashes on his flesh closed, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

Lord Raum’s body lay on the ground, broken face embedded in the dirt. Azazel sneered at the imp and kicked his head as hard as he could. When his bare toes whacked the little demon’s hard skull they cracked. Azazel yelped and hopped on his one uninjured foot, holding his injured toe in his hands. “Oh, gods!”

The door to the iron-clad carriage opened. Azazel stood straight with his shoulders back, doing his best to ignore the new pain in his big toe. Out of the carriage stepped old woman Zale, along with a beautiful young lady with wine-colored hair, ivory skin, and jade eyes. She held in her hand a wand with a ruby on the point, and wore a dress made of steel plates.

She drew a seleni coin from her pocket and aimed her wand at a group of wounded soldiers on the battlefield. Silver dust slipped through her fingers, and the soldiers’ wounds closed.

Azazel beamed at her and drew closer. The young lady tilted her head back, and kept her lips closed in a stern expression. Azazel held out his hand to her, and she slipped her slender fingers into his palm. He kissed the back of her hand and said, “Lady Calimei, I presume?”