By J. Robert King
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Extra info for Angel of Death
Keith started when he was seventeen. He’s been killing in Chicagoland longer than I have. You don’t even have the first dozen or so on your computer. Those first kills were very smooth, artful. You’ve only gotten close now because he’s deteriorated so far. Ah, how adulthood ravages the soul. “I’m Azra,” I say. You stop in the middle of your monologue. ” You take a sip of coffee. “Azra is my name. You keep calling me Sergeant. ” “Azra? What nationality is that? Bulgarian? ” “Hebrew. It’s short for Azrael.
Angels are to love God only. Whenever an angel finds love elsewhere, he is cast out of Heaven and plunges toward Hell. Think of Satan, whose self-love brought eternal damnation. Think of Harut and Marut, who loved a woman and so were tricked into telling her the secret name of God. They too were thrown down. Think of Semjaza and two hundred others angels who made love to humans and spawned the race of Nephilim – giants who terrorized the world in antediluvian times. All fell. But I am not like them.
I don’t think he’s trying not to get caught,” Leland said. “He’s left plenty of evidence at each of the scenes and taken high risk victims in public places. ” “Well,” Elwood said, blushing just slightly along his clean-shaven jaw, “even a dog knows not to shit where it lives. ” Leland blinked, amused. It had been a long time since a man had felt uncomfortable in her presence, desiring to please. She rather liked the feeling. “I think you’re right. We’re dealing with a stray who instinctively trots off into the sticks to do his business.
Angel of Death by J. Robert King