War of the Magi: Azrael's Wrath (Book 2) Read Online Free Page A

his sword and went to the fountain.
    He found Raziel, the crystalline Angel of Life, standing on the surface of the water with his six great wings folded gently around himself like a flower not quite ready to bloom. The angel held a small dark lump in his hand.
    “Good morning,” Zerai said. “Sleep well?”
    “Better than last night,” Raziel answered.
    It had started as a joke years ago, and long after the joke had gotten stale it became something else, a part of the rapport between the being of light and the man of clay who lived side by side in the green city.
    If he could sleep, what would he dream about? Heavenly spheres? Mustard seeds?
    What sort of bed would an angel lie on?
    Zerai smiled.
    The angel looked up. “A smile? At this hour of the morning? Please share.”
    “It’s nothing. I was just thinking how sometimes it’s uncomfortable when Ven and I are in bed together, trying to sort out where to put the bottom arm, you know, under you or under her, or over the pillow. And I was just wondering how hard it would be to sort out where to put the bottom three wings.”
    “Plus the arm.” Raziel winked.
    “Right.” Zerai glanced up at the angel’s hand. “What’s that?”
    “A dead moth. I found it in the orange tree a moment ago. Beautiful thing.” Raziel gazed down into his palm.
    The falconer said nothing. A moment later, the dead moth fluttered its wings and flew away, and the angel smiled serenely after it.
    “Don’t worry about the djinn,” Raziel said softly. “They don’t mean us any harm. I don’t know the djinn well, but I do know their nature. I saw their beginning, born of smokeless fire. They are wise and honorable, but they are also passionate people, and their passions can be very, well, grandiose.”
    “Unlike the petty passions of us filthy humans.” Zerai squinted down a grassy lane at a young boy sleeping in a flower bed.
    The angel shook his head. “Humans live brief lives. It’s only natural for those lives to be filled with brief cares. That is not to say that your hearts are any smaller or colder than those of the djinn. Only that while humans look out at the world, the djinn look up to the stars.”
    Zerai sighed. “You and your riddles.”
    “I like my riddles.”
    “I like riddles when they’re funny. Do you know any funny riddles?”
    “One or two.”
    “Try me.”
    “Very well. When is a… Visitors.”
    Zerai looked sharply around and saw the three strangers emerging from the shadows of a narrow street not far from the fountain. Two women and a man, all wearing dark robes of flowing silk with small bags and packs over their shoulders. There was something vague and indistinct about the shape of their bodies as they strode through the shadows, but they came steadily into focus as they approached the fountain until Zerai could see every thread of their elaborately embroidered clothing.
    The djinn wore bloody crimson and dark amber from head to toe, punctuated by tight black leather around their waists and wrists and feet. Only their faces could be seen, revealing three beautiful youths with unblemished skin and strangely bright eyes. None of them smiled, and none of them glanced about at their surroundings. They strode swiftly with dire purpose, and Zerai quickly looked about them for weapons. He saw none.
    He forced himself to take his hand away from his sword.
    The three djinn strode past him without a word and went to stand before the fountain and its divine keeper. They bowed low for a long moment, and then rose up again.
    “I am Samira Nerash,” announced one of the djinn women. “I am a Tevadim of Odashena, sent to answer the summons of Holy Raziel.”
    Zerai raised a curious eyebrow.
    A Tevadim? Why would they send a magi sculptor to deal with this Daraji woman? Why not send another Sophirim to handle it? Or two? Or ten?
    “Welcome, Samira Nerash,” the angel said. “Thank you for coming so quickly. Who are your companions?”
    “My sister,