Abaddon brought in a tray holding mugs, cream, sugar, and a pot of coffee and set it on a sturdy coffee table. Huh; is that why they call it a coffee table? That never even occurred to me before. Anyway, Abaddon waved us toward the hot drinks and then sat back to wait for us to tell him why we were there.
“Azrael retired; have you heard?” I asked Abaddon casually.
Abaddon looked surprised, and I knew then that he was innocent.
“No,” Abaddon said. “Can he do that?”
“Az tested our theory first; that souls would continue on to their afterlives on their own,” I explained. “When it was proven that they do move on without his assistance, he decided to retire. Azrael's been a reaper for a long time, and he was tired.”
“Good for him,” Abaddon said wistfully.
“We're going to retire as well,” Ted added as he stared at Abaddon in consideration. “It's not like there's ever going to be an Apocalypse, so maybe 'retire' is the wrong word for it.”
“What?” Abaddon gaped at Ted. “What do you mean?”
“As if Jerry will ever end the world,” Sam huffed. “As if the other pantheons would allow it. Come on, Abaddon; you must have realized by now that this is all a sham. We world-enders are basically useless.”
“We are?” Abaddon asked as he blinked rapidly. He scratched his chin and then said, “Perhaps we are.”
“We're done doing Jerry's dirty work just because we don't have a 'real' job,” Sam went on. “Screw him, and screw these fucked up myths. We're over it.”
“Done,” Abaddon whispered. “You can just say you're done and be done.”
“Abaddon,” Ira leaned forward to look the angel in the eye. “You can as well.”
“Is that why you've come here?” Abaddon narrowed his eyes on Ira. “To get me to validate Azrael's retirement by joining you?”
“No.” Ira looked uncomfortable. “We came for another reason. This is just...”
“A bonus,” I finished for Ira. “I'm sorry; I started this conversation by sharing my magic with you, when I should have explained our presence first. It's just that you don't seem happy here, and you reminded me of Azrael. Az wasn't happy either, and I encouraged him to change his life. He's an immortal, and yet he was living as a human; bound to his job as if he needed it to survive. You have eternity before you, Abaddon; don't squander it on waiting for the Abyss to be opened.”
“Oh, I'm not waiting on that,” he said.
“You're not?” Ira asked. “Isn't Jerry supposed to send a key to unlock the pit?”
“I have the key,” Abaddon said with a shrug. “Jerry didn't want to run the risk of losing it, so he just gave it to me.”
“So, you have to open the Abyss,” I whispered. “Jerry palmed off that too.”
Abaddon sighed. “Yes, and it's a burden that's been weighing upon my heart and mind for centuries. I hope the Apocalypse never comes because I'm not sure I could release those things upon the Earth.”
“But you can command them,” Sam pointed out. “You'll control what they do.”
“And that's even worse,” he growled. “I'd have to command them to attack every human without Jerry's blessing upon them. That's some evil shit right there. Most humans believe their religion is the right one; that all the others are wrong. They all have some myth about an afterlife that's reserved for the true believers—and that's fine. But our people had to take it further; they had to make sure that the other religions suffered.”
“I never thought about it like that,” Ted said as he looked at the other Riders. “Holy Holly Morningstar! If this thing ever happened, we'd have to attack other gods' followers.”
“And what do you think those gods will do when we attack their people?” Abaddon asked.
“So many of us have been forgotten,” Odin murmured. “Those who have followers left will defend them viciously; if for no other reason than to keep their supply of energy alive.”
“It will be worse than the war in Heaven.” Abaddon nodded.
“Then do your part to make sure that it never happens,” I said. “Walk away, Abaddon. No one even has to know. Just ward this place and leave it. Take that damn key and melt it down.”
“I can't believe that I've never considered leaving,” Abaddon whispered in revelation. “Just walk away; how beautiful it is in its simplicity.”
“There's one thing you should know before you take that step,” Odin said, “and it's also the reason we came here today. Someone is sending angels after Azrael because he retired. If you choose that route, they may target you as well.”
“Someone is doing what?” Abaddon looked horrified. “But that could start another war.”
“That doesn't seem to concern them,” Ted said. “Jerry says it's not him, but someone has used Jerry's authority to order the Virtues and the Principalities to attack Azrael.”
“You thought it might be me,” Abaddon whispered with a smile. Then he laughed outright. “I haven't even seen another angel in over a century. Hell, you're the first visitors I've had all month. Last time, it was the Seventh Day Adventists. That was so ironic that I laughed for fifteen minutes straight. But this; this is even better.”
“I'm glad that we haven't offended you,” I said. “But don't let this affect your decision; if you want to leave, do it. You need to honor the magic that has been given to you—the sacrifices made—and live well.”
“I like that; honor the magic.” Abaddon nodded. “And I like you... Godhunter. You are remarkably pro-god for a witch who made a name for herself by killing my kind.”
