The Love of Azazel

Chapter 1

The Kingdom of Hell
Azazel's POV

"Azazel, what should I get Micah for his birthday?"

I looked up, watching as the king of Hell turned to me with desperate eyes. "A birthday gift." I replied sarcastically before returning to my work.

Lucifer scowled, crossing his arms. "I meant, what should the birthday gift be?"

Sighing, I shut the file in my hand, placing a hand on my hip. "Sire, he'll love whatever you get him, so long as it's not dead, undead, or on fire."

"There goes that idea..." Lucifer muttered, turning away.

Shaking my head, I tossed the file to him. "In other news, I need you to actually do something today. There's going to be a trial."

Lucifer scowled, looking at the file quizically. "A trial? For what?"

"An undecided soul. The angel representing Heaven will be here next week, and I doubt you'd be ready if I didn't tell you today."

An annoyed look passed over Lucifer's face, and I didn't blame him. Undecided souls are unjudgeable at the gates; the reaper, Grim, is unsure of whether they deserve to go to Heaven, or end up in Hell.

It doesn't happen often, but when it does it forces us to meet with an angel representative - since God doesn't ever leave Heaven - and argue over who gets the soul. It's annoying because, almost always, the angel believes they should have the soul since 'all of God's children should end up in Heaven with him.' Plus, the angels are always snobs that judge Hell. "Is this how you treat your souls?!"

"How can any of you demons stand it here?!"

"Why is it so dirty?!"

"Good Lord, what are they doing to that poor soul?!"

Honestly, they don't seem to understand the concept of eternal damnation and punishment. These people are the murderers, thieves, pedophiles, stalkers, rapers, and liars of the world. The baddest of the bad. Anything that happens to them is because of what they did while they were alive. It's their fault they're here.

With demons, though, it's a different story. We aren't necessarily bad, but we still didn't deserve Heaven. We were given a choice; serve Satan, or be beaten by him. Our souls weren't as tainted as those who are damned, which is why we were given a choice. Naturally, we chose the more appealing route.

Stalking off, I left Lucifer with the file. I walked down the hall, nodding a greeting to the demons I passed. The dark sky loomed over me in the window, alerting me to the time. The ever lasting screams of the dead rang in my ears, their punishments being thoroughly carried out.

Turning, I arrived at the door to my room, entering and shutting the door behind me. My room wasn't much, just a four wall, ceiling and floor bedroom. The walls and ceiling were a bright red, and the floor a dark black.

A gray desk and chair were pushed into the corner, a closet next to it. A large window at the other end of the room let in light, gray curtains hanging on either side of it. A large gray lounge chair sat in the corner diagonal the desk, right by the window.

My bed sat tucked into the corner next to the desk, in front of the chair. Though we don't have need of sleep, some demons, like myself, do choose to have a bed to lay on after a day of work. Lucifer doesn't sleep either, but he still likes to lay with Micah while the young boy rests. It amazed me to see how he had changed from a dark, unrelenting ruler of Hell to a small kitten, in love with a human.

Collapsing in the lounge chair, I watched the window, the city of demons below me and the pits of torture to the left. My mind was elsewhere, though, and the scenery mattered little. Only one thought kept replaying in my mind. What would it be like to fall in love?