Free Echoes of the Past (Demon Squad) by Tim Marquitz Page B

think I’ll be the only one who enjoys your long, drawn out crawl into oblivion.” The next bullet tore into his leg.
    Azrael shrunk back and curled into a ball on his side. His breaths spewed in pained gasps. He trembled as he attempted to salve his injuries. I’d come here ready to kill him, if I had to, but as satisfying as it would be to put a bullet in his eye, I knew it wasn’t a good idea. Azrael knew something about my family, and I’d be damned if I didn’t try my hardest to get it out of him before I sent him on his way.
    “How about now? Do you have something to tell me yet, or do I put another hole in you?” I kicked him over onto his back so we were face to face. His lips quivered and his eyes were moist. “You and I both know these little flesh wounds aren’t gonna kill you, so we can keep going. I cleared my schedule so I’ve got as much time as it takes.” I thumped my foot against his hurt leg. He winced and pulled away. “Tell me about the relationship between Lucifer and my mother.”
    Azrael growled at me through clenched teeth. “Do you want to hear more about her rape? How the smell of her sex filled the air, wet from the grunting violation she loved so much. Is that what you’re looking for?”
    I squeezed a round off into his elbow.
    Azrael hissed and pulled his arm against his ribs. Pained eyes glared up at me, but he sneered, his defiance intact. “Or would you rather hear about how she was cut into pieces while still alive, hacked apart limb by limb, the blade slicing into her pale fle —“
    I shot his other foot, following it up with a bullet to his damaged shin.
    Azrael flopped in agony, spewing curses and spittle into the clouds.
    “I have to tell you, buddy, you’re starting to piss me off.”
    His body was wracked with twitches, but he managed to pull himself into a seated position. Blood spilled from his wounds and lent color to the misty haze beneath him. He stared at me without speaking. Stubborn was winning out. It was time to shift gears.
    “There’s only two more rounds in the gun.” I waved my .45 before him. “However, I brought along a bunch of extra clips. When I run out of those, I’ve got a few creative ideas on how we can continue our little game, and I promise I won’t disappoint you.” I reached into my pocket and pulled out the vial of Lucifer’s blood. Azrael’s gaze darted to it. “You know what this is, I’m sure. You can sense it, even muted as you are. Just a couple of drops and you’ll be healed up and ready to start all over. You don’t even have to cooperate. All I have to do is rub it in one of your wounds to get the full effect.”
    He sat silent another moment, staring at me, until I lifted my gun again. He flinched and raised a dripping, crimson hand. “Enough, demon.” Azrael sucked in a ragged breath. “You’ve made your point. I’ll tell you what you want to know, but only after you’ve done something for me.”
    Now we were getting somewhere. Everything in the supernatural world came at a price: a bargain, a trade, the promise of favors. That we’d reached the negotiating stage was a good sign. There was a real chance I’d find out what I wanted to know. I really didn’t plan on giving Azrael anything in trade for the information I sought, but it didn’t hurt to let him think I was willing to deal.
    I lowered my gun to my side and smiled. “You looking for an all-expense paid trip to Tahiti or a professional makeover to clear up that papery skin thing you’ve got going on?”
    He spit of thick glob of blood into the clouds. “I want only one thing from you, Triggaltheron: kill me.”
    I hadn’t expected that. I figured he’d want a way out of Limbo, or that he’d ask me to take out Raguel so his powers would revert back, but he definitely caught me off guard by asking me to off him. “As much as I would love to, that kind of screws up the whole you telling me stuff angle I was going for. Even with a necromancer for