Book 2: Prologue
The eleven remaining archangels were not happy. A month prior, one of their number had decided to assassinate Bael-Sharoth, a Baron of hell. Worse yet, he had failed. Gabriel was listed as missing, presumed dead. Meanwhile Bael was still alive and well in the human world, presumed smug.
Gabriel wasn't around to defend his actions, so the council’s decision was unanimous. Any and all responsibility for what had happened, or might happen later as a result of his actions, was laid at Gabriel's feet (which were also missing).
That, of course, left another tricky problem to resolve. The Baron had applied for a job, and nobody was quite sure what to make of that. If Bael’s desire to defect was genuine, his departure would weaken hell significantly.
“It has to be some kind of trick,” said Raphael, looking around the table for support, “He's a notorious trickster, and a manipulator. Bael is trying to destroy us from the inside.”
Azrael raised an eyebrow at his brother's words. “That's a bit melodramatic, isn't it? He's only a demon. Are you afraid of a little demon from the pit?”
“I don't know about you lot, but I'm fucking terrified,” said Uriel, his lack of decorum earning him nasty looks from the other archangels, “Bael corrupted and dispatched Gabriel in a single battle. Just talking to him felt like falling.”
“See!” Raphael pointed at Uriel. “He agrees with me. We have to do something about the Baron before it's too late.”
“That's easier said than done,” Michael said, barely able to disguise the disgust in his voice, “Someone decided to approve his application. Technically, he’s protected.”
“So that means we can't-” Raphael mimed stabbing someone with a spear.
“Unfortunately, no.” Michael shook his head. “It’s against the rules. We had a mandatory training about it last week.”The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
“Well, then it's a stupid rule,” Raphael replied, “Angels should be able to kill demons, no matter where they work.”
Azrael rolled his eyes. “If you two are done being idiots, I'd like to propose a solution. One that won't end in us losing another archangel.”
Uriel crossed his arms. “I can't fucking wait to hear this.”
“The solution is simple,” explained Azrael, “I say that we simply sit back, and do nothing. If he becomes a problem later, we can deal with him then. But in the meantime, we assign him some useless job and hope that he never shows up.”
All eyes turned to look at the empty chair where Gabriel used to sit. Over the millennia Gabriel had gone from a general to a glorified seat warmer, his power eroding further with each passing century.
“Surely you can't be suggesting that we put a demon in charge of the army,” Raphael said, looking around at his fellow archangels, “That's insane.”
“Is it?” asked Azrael, “If his application has been approved we have to give him a job within the next sixty days, those are the rules. Of course, if one of you wants him in your department instead, feel free to speak up.”
A collective shudder went through the archangels. None of them wanted to see what kind of mischief Bael could get up to with unfettered access to heaven’s bureaucracy. But if they decided together as a committee, none of them could be blamed if things went wrong.
Uriel shrugged. “I don't love the idea, but I also don't hate it.”
The other angels muttered in agreement (which of course they would deny if things ended badly). After a quick voting session it was decided that Bael Sharoth, Baron of hell and lord of torment, would take the vacant position of General.
Azrael smiled to himself as the meeting concluded. Putting Bael in charge of anything more important than the coffee cart was a recipe for disaster. The others all knew it. But they had still allowed Azrael to guide them towards a dumb decision, secure in the knowledge that they would take no blame for what came next. (Which just went to show that there was nothing stupider on heaven or earth than a committee. Except, perhaps, certain forms of plankton. Or people who rev their engines at stop lights.)
The Archangel shook his head as he walked back to his office. It had almost been too easy. Now all he had to do was sit back, and watch the fireworks.