The Best Devilish Mistake {Dmc Fanfiction}

Part 22

Part 22

All this while, I had been unconscious through my journey in flying between Earth and the Heavenly Plains. This time, however, Azazel brings me –or my soul –flying straight from my body upwards, and both of us travel together through the skies, clouds to an increasingly whiter plane. Soon we engulfed by the world of white, and yet Azazel continued flapping his wings. Slowly, figures became observable, and I realized –with a jolt, that they were all angels.

Some of them looked like they were sparring, training. Others looked like they were lazing around, or chatting amongst one another. They were all wearing the same pristinely white robe, pleasantly ignoring a random soul flying past them with her angel of death bringing her along. The same could not be said for me, as I stared at them, trying to get a good look at each of their faces before Azazel whizzed us past.

“I never saw other angels other than you before. Is this what you guys do when you’re not busy… ‘Transporting souls’?” I questioned Azazel silently, and my no-nonsense angel spared me a quick look before his eyes focused on the general direction of his destination again.

“Different angels are equipped with different Tasks. They are Warrior Guardians, those who will protect our home should the demons choose to attack.” He briefed, but there was a certain tightness in his face where I saw his fleeting expression.

I looked around, and realized a few angels had turned their heads over to watch us whiz by –with a certain expression of sadness and regret in their eyes. Angels weren’t supposed to look sad, but they did. At first I thought it had something to do with me, but it slowly became apparent that their eye contact was towards my angel, my guide.

I realized –too –that my special angel Azazel was also the only black winged one around here.

Dying must have made me just that inch cleverer, because it suddenly clicked inside.

“You used to be one of them?” My sudden question made Azazel slow down considerably, but he didn’t stop, continuing to fly by with a firm hand on mine.

“Before I fell, yes. I am lucky to be even given a Task, much less such an important one.” He said, finally showing a little more expression than the strict, stern angel I’d always been used to.

“Why did you fall? What happened?” Curiosity may have killed the cat, but I figured since I was already technically dead, what else could it do to me?

He was silent for very long, but he slowed down considerably –though there weren’t any angels around anymore. We were back on another level of plain whiteness.

“I was the angel of Death. I was a Guardian, both over you and over the Heavenly Plains. But when I realized you had been cursed by Mundus –still a fetus inside Eva –I left my post –where I was supposed to stay, guarding the Heavenly Plains –to demand audience with my Lord. In punishment for leaving my Task, I fell. Eva, knowing what I had done to save you, begged for forgiveness in my stead. My Lord saw light in my desperate actions and gave me forgiveness, but no one can erase the mark done to my wings.” There was sadness in his voice, but there was more than sadness in me.

The knowledge of how much people had sacrificed to make sure I had survived, the knowledge of how many people who had been involved with me even before I was born –both supernatural, and in my world –pained me. I was the lovechild between Sparda and Eva, but I had to be saved by my own angel, who in turn fell because of me. An abandoned baby, I was taken in by my adoptive parents, and now, at the ripe age of 21-and-a-half, I was back in this whacked up world.

“I’m sorry, Azazel.” I said in a small voice, wishing there was just something that I could do for him. He had given up so much for me, and despite all that he had done to me (which includes pushing me into the world, leaving me to flounder) he had done so much for my service that I didn’t even know how to express my gratitude.