Chapter 40: Hunting Moriarty, part 1

Azazel didn't like this island. It was always raining, when it wasn't, it was gloomy and humid. The rare days when there was sunlight, it was too hot by far. Still, he walked towards the location that the woman, Lisa Sully, had given him after he had charmed her.

It was an apartment complex. A high end one. In London, which was ironic because if this Moriarty really wanted to hide, he wouldn't have chosen such an obvious place for himself.

Azazel charmed the doorman to let him in, and then took the elevator to the last floor. It was one huge apartment, the entire floor. He felt annoyed that the donkey had delusions of grandeur, but then again, most of these monkeys did.

He went to the front door, and forced it open. The place was tidy, but he couldn't sense anyone inside. Walking around, he found the study. There was an open laptop on top of the desk, and he went to see if it was turned on.

"Nice try," the text said. A simple note, on a sticky note on the screen. Azazel took the note, and then felt the residue energy of the man who had written it. Grinning, he was in a location in Budapest after a blink of the eye.

What he found was a second-hand shop, and he could feel that the trace was linked to a pair of gloves. Azazel blinked, but bought the gloves.

Putting them on, he got another trace. He was in Prague next. Before a hotel, and he walked in. Again, the angel charmed the doorman, and he walked in without a fuss.

Going to the second floor, he opened the door from which he could smell the stench of a demon. The demon's eyes widen, when he saw him. Azazel smirked, and warded the place against teleportation.

"A renegade?" Azazel asked, and the demon blinked at him. 

"Lord Azazel?" The demon squeaked. Azazel hated weakness above all else. He rounded on the ant.

"Where is Moriarty?" The fallen angel had the demon by the neck in a flash, promising further pain.

"The Sherlock Homes character?" The demon managed to rasp. Azazel blinked. The demon really didn't know who that might be. "I am here on a mission, my lord. Not a renegade at all."

Azazel dropped the demon, and then leveled him with a hard stare.

"Have you felt someone bar me come by your room? A demon perhaps, or something else?" Azazel asked, and the demon became thoughtful. Rubbing his abused neck, he began to speak.

"Yes, a couple of hours ago, there was a presence. Just as I was about to answer the door, it went away. Left a note behind, but I didn't think it was for me," the demon then patted his breast pocket, and took out an orange piece of paper. He handed it over to Azazel.

"I can play all eternity," the note said, and Azazel snarled. If he kept going after these notes, which were probably written with gloves, then he was not going to go anywhere. He stormed off from the room.

The note was still clutched in his hands. Now, Azazel was certain that they were dealing with a renegade demon. Angels couldn't teleport, and they were too much of a goody-two-shoes, to do something like lead a kidnapping ring. Azazel was unable to stomach doing something like that, no matter how many times he told himself that he belonged in Hell.

There was one last trick up his sleeve, that he could try. He returned to the London apartment, and then began to rummage through the clothes in the wardrobe. They were all in plastic bags, and stacked neatly. No use for him.

Then, he went in search for a clothing hamper. The only thing he found was a sock on the floor of the bathroom, a monstrosity with a jacuzzi in it. He grimaced at the orange sock, with its frog patterns.

Sniffing it, he found the stench of demon coming off it. Moriarty must have left it by accident. Azazel was going to make sure the demon paid for that.

The fallen angel materialized some chalk and began to draw a circle. He placed the sock in the middle, and then began to chant. Nothing happened, and then, just as he was about to quit, there was black smoke in the middle of the circle.

"My, if it is not lord Azazel. I feel honored to be playing with such a high-end angel," the voice was mocking, but Azazel's eyes were wide. How had the demon resisted the summoning? This was no simple invocation ritual, after all.

"Who are you, really?" Azazel asked, and the voice chuckled.

"Moriarty, who else? Didn't that cherub tell you? Must be hard, to be a nanny for such an adventurous child. I sure as Hell wouldn't have had the patience for it," the voice said, and Azazel narrowed his eyes.

"You will not harm a single hair on Tagas's head," he commanded, but got another chuckle in response.

"I wish I had an angel, for one moment of love," the demon began to sing, and Azazel had enough.

"Are you listening to me? My baby brother is off limits," Azazel snapped. He was trying to find the demon through the smoke, but he was not successful.

"Trying to track me now, are you? Lord Azazel, I can't be so easily caught," the voice said, and the smoke disappeared. Azazel cursed, and ran a hand through his hair.

Still, now he knew a couple of things. Moriarty was a demon. A demon who knew about Tagas. Wanted Tagas for his own perverse amusement. Azazel didn't have time. He went back to searching the apartment for clues. Going back to the laptop, he started it up.

There was a password, but Azazel cracked it. Too easily, if someone had asked him. It was almost like Moriarty wanted to be found. Azazel then saw that the desktop had only one folder. It was named work. With great apprehension, Azazel clicked on it.