Azrael drew his sword. He didn’t look human, much less friendly.

“Some of us are tired of waiting for the Old Man to get off his ass, Blake. We decided to speed things up. Maybe slip a working summons to an overeager, horny, hotshot sorcerer. Drop a hint to a sadsack vamp that a suicidal Greek god was serving gyros in Chicago. Maybe even going as far as making sure some sucker had the The Apocalypse on his Blackberry.”

“I’ve had that for years.”

“Good plans take time. I’m sick of this shithole, Blakey. We want a reboot. Maybe I’ll be a god next time. I’d settle for being a rock, just for a change.”

“Oz, I thought we were friends…”

“I’m an archangel, Blake. We don’t have friends.”

Simon said, “I hate to interrupt, but he’s turning into a balrog.”

Blake pushed the Five Sword Banishing Pentacle into Simon’s hand and shoved him.

“Run, do whatever you can. I’ll hold off this backstabbing fuck.”

“You better hurry, boy,” said the Angel Of Death. “This isn’t going to take me very long.”