I, Azazel, am fallen. I am not evil. Look for me sitting beside you at the bar. I have pale blond hair and blue eyes. Something about me hints at mystery.
In Genesis 6:2, you read, “the sons of God saw that the daughters of man were attractive. And they took as their wives any they chose.” In the Book of Enoch, part of the Apocrypha, those sons of God ask the prophet to intervene for them with God because they are imprisoned awaiting judgement.
Enoch wasn’t a very good lawyer. I was buried in the desert sands at Dudeal. Semyaza, the other leader of The Watchers, was hung upside down among the stars until judgement.
We of the Ninth Choir were larger than life. We were big men, and big men make big mistakes, becoming legends. The shortest of my Order, I stood six-feet-six when Man was a bare five feet tall. Religious writings would have it that the Grigori alone amongst angels were endowed with male organs. The Book of Enoch and many writings were discredited at the Council of Laodicea because Enoch told our story and the Church fathers didn’t wish to explain how, if angels are androgynous, the Sons of God mated with the Daughters of Man. At the risk of offending the ladies, whom I love to a fault, the celestial host is universally male—with all the necessary equipment.
Love wasn’t our only crime. I brought to earth the secret art of strengthening metal to make implements of war. Being the peaceful bunch they are, Man made war upon each other and brought about destruction.
The Grigori, called The Watchers, are legendary. Amazarak taught dividing of the roots and sorcery. Armers bequeathed the solution of sorcery. Barkayal instructed the observers of the stars. I gave the Eves the fabrication of mirrors, the workmanship of bracelets and ornaments, and the beautification of paint.
I’m featured in The Night Before Doomsday, a novella available from Amazon for only 99 cents.
