Immolation Ex: The Knower (COMPLETED)

Chapter XV

Dustyn and his companions transported into a ramshackle neighborhood practically devoid of humanity. The street was so quiet he could hear the thumping of a bass drum reverberating from inside an old, narrow wood home several houses away. The dull sound of a chugging low E string following along in perfect rhythm with the beat grew in clarity as the odd collection of ethereal beings approached the front door. Suddenly, the music stopped and the door flung open startling the group. No one stood in the doorway.

"Come on in, guys!" a voice from far inside commanded.

Michael shot Azazel a look of concern.

"It is fine, brother, you will find no danger in there. Gadreel is not your typical Watcher, he doesn't hold any grudges against anyone, Archangel or human." Azazel rolled his eyes. "He took up Hinduism...well, actually, he started it, although he called it Sanatana Dharma, which means, eternal religion."

Carter and Danny looked at each other in surprise, then back at Azazel.

"So, the creator of Hinduism is a heavy metal guitarist?" Danny asked. "...and he is supposed to teach us how to fight?"

"Yes, he is a walking paradox," replied the Watcher, indicating for the group to enter the house. "Do not let his predilection for peace and calm mislead you."

"Peace and calm with heavy metal? Is that right?" Carter asked with a perplexed look on his face.

Azazel did not reply, choosing instead to simply stare Carter down.

The former sniper sniffed and walked away. "Good talk..."

Dustyn and Angel were the first through the door, both itching to meet this mythical being. What they found inside, however, was something less impressive; a scrawny, rather tall character that resembled Geddy Lee from the band Rush, yet nowhere as foreboding as Azazel.

"What's up, you guys?" the Watcher asked, setting his pointy, red guitar into a stand. Feedback from the instrument began whining through the loud amplifier and the fallen Archangel turned to switch it off. "Sorry, was practicing for a gig in Toledo this weekend."

"Where's your band?" Angel asked, noticing the lack of any other musicians. "We heard someone playing drums."

"Oh, I sent them home." Gadreel said, nonchalantly.

"You let your slaves go home?" Danny asked.

"Oh, they're not my slaves, they're my buds and no offense to brother Azazel, here, but I have always liked hanging out with my humans. In fact, my bassist, Jebediah, has been with me since I found him hiding out in that Amish barn back in 1922. That guy is freaking fantastic on four strings."

Dustyn snickered. "Where did you find your drummer, in a monastery?"

"Actually..." Gadreel laughed, then waved off the comment. "Nah, Kitty was a nurse. I found her cowering in a supply closet in 1983. She wasn't ready to go and hid from the Grigori. Luckily, she played drums in her high school band, which was awesome, and the others, well, I just taught the rest of the group how to play from scratch. Kinda like U2, you know? It wasn't like they had anything better to do."

"Or, had a choice once you converted them," Azazel added.

"True that, bro, but it's not like that, honestly," Gadreel said, snatching up a heavy metal magazine from where it rested on a scratched coffee table littered with beer cans and cigarette butts.

"So, when they are not with you, what are they doing?" Carter asked, admiring the shiny drum set sitting in the corner of the room.

"Hell, I don't know and don't really care, either, as long as they show up for the gigs," Gadreel replied, plopping down on a patchwork quilt-covered couch with the magazine in his fingers. Thumbing through the pages as if searching for something, the eighties-era furnishing creaked as he reclined back on its surface. He paused and then held the colorful book up, tapping on a picture.  "Check it, we made the top five heaviest bands. Cool, huh?"