Prince Of Lust: Chapter 18

My chest ached. Bria was somewhere between planes, in the far corners of existence that I could not reach. If I could simply step into the void and allow it to swallow me whole for the rest of time to be with her, I would have done it the moment I’d realized she was gone. But that wasn’t possible for me.

I waited until Ipos was gone before addressing Sitri.

“What do we do?”

“I don’t know,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t think there is anything we can do. She is where she was created to be. You know that.”

“This can’t be it. She can’t be gone.”

“I’m sorry.” He strained for the words, and I knew he was fighting his own feelings but was too enraged to acknowledge them.

“I can’t be here.” I let the anger fill my lungs. “I can’t look at you or be on this plane without her.”

“Ezequiel.” There was a request to think in his tone, but I needed to escape the gaping wound between my ribs.

Without saying another word, I left.

I stepped into the void and out too quickly to the large, round double doors of Azazel’s home in Aleppo, Syria. He wouldn’t be able to bring Bria back, but there was no one else for me to run to.

He answered after my third knock, wearing a peacock-blue silk robe edged with gold and bronze. There was no look of surprise on his face. As always, he played his role as leader of the Lost Sons well. He reveled in the lore that had surrounded him in multiple human religions and in the tales of our sins. We’d come to this plane to breed a new race and become gods of our own, but where the rest of us took our punishments and moved on, Azazel seemed to be in a constant state of waiting for his time to rise to greatness. That included being dressed in his gaudiest, most lavish clothing at all times.

“Ezequiel, what pain has come upon you?” he said, seeing my heart in shambles.

“I’ve lost someone,” I answered, leaving out my request to be stricken down and put out of my misery.

“It sounds like you need someone to help you find them?”

It wasn’t Azazel who said this, but someone all too familiar.

Azazel stepped aside for one of our Fallen brothers to come to the door.

“Eligos?”

“Watcher,” he greeted me. “I know who you seek, and as luck would have it, one of the Angels of Death owes me a favor.”

His brown eyes sparkled, and I knew I would be paying greatly, but I didn’t hesitate.

“I’ll give you anything.”

“Yes. You will.”