A warrior angel addicted to love – #FallenAngels #FantasyRomance #Armageddon @LNightingale

 

By Linda Nightingale (Guest Blogger)

Azazel means "God strengthens". In the Dead Sea Scrolls the name Azazel occurs in The Book of Giants, an apocryphal Jewish book expanding a narrative in the Hebrew Bible, which was discovered at Qumran. The text's creation dates to before the 2nd century BCE.

In Enoch I, he is one of the chiefs of the 200 fallen angels. Azazel taught men to fashion swords and shields and women the finery and art of beautifying the eyelids. (So girls next time we buy Cover Girl, we can thank Azazel!)

In the Zohar, the rider on the serpent is "evil Azazel." Here he is said to be the chief of the bene elohim (lower angels, "men-spirits"). Irenacus calls Azazel that "mighty but powerful angel." (A Dictionary of Angels by Gustav Davidson, © 2005, The Joy of Satan Ministries).

The story of Azazel's and his angels' imprisonment within the Earth is the basis for the legend of demons confined by King Solomon in a magic bronze vessel. This legend is told in a 17th Century grimoire called The Lesser Key of Solomon. Generally, he is considered a fallen angel and, as such, using his characters and seal can be invoked in magic.

Zodiac Sign: Capricorn/Aquarius

Tarot Card: Ace of Swords

Planet: Saturn

Candle Color: Blue, Black

Metal: Lead

Element of Air

Symbols: The Eagle and the Scorpion

Number: 20

Before this becomes too deep and, therefore, boring, let me change the subject to my new release Yesterday's Angel from Raven Tale Publishing, released October 4, 2023. Azazel is the narrator in first person, but, though he might be fallen in this book he is not evil. It is set in current day Las Vegas. Azazel goes out on the town but is soon reminded of how much he has lost.

Blurb

I am, and always have been, addicted to love. ~ Azazel

Azazel is a warrior angel, the leader of the Grigori when they fall from Grace for marrying mortal women. Their other sin is revealing the secrets of Heaven. Azazel gives the women the arts for seduction—mirrors, paints, perfumes. He gives men the weapons of war.

Fast forward to the current day. Azazel lives in Las Vegas, but he’s bored and seeking a Purpose. He finds Ninian—badly in need of his talent with beauty. She’s a sad, faded woman working double shifts in a diner. He determines to polish this diamond in the rough. Azazel never fails. His problems begin when he falls in love with his lovely (but married) project…and Gabriel’s Trumpet announces the Second War in Heaven.

Buy Link: https://www.amazon.com/Yesterdays-Angel-Linda-Nightingale-ebook/dp/B0CKJ4T8NK/

 

Excerpt

“You made me feel like a princess, made me feel pretty for a while. You’re a special man, you know, but it’s time for Cinderella to pick up her broom.”

I shook my head. “You are beautiful, and I intend to show you how special you are.”

Lips trembling, she planted her hands on my chest and pushed. “Goodbye, Azzi.”

I backed away. “Never goodbye. You work for me, remember? In the morning, I’ll pick you up at eight sharp-ish."

Laughing, she paced my retreat. “Sharpish? Does that mean you’ll be late? You talk funny, eh?”

“You talk funny, eh?” I halted, and she put her hands on my shoulders.

Her mouth brushed mine in a sweet kiss spiced with the magnetic attraction between us—and I lost control. I bent, cradled her face in my hands, and brought my mouth down on hers, as I’d wanted to do since that night in the diner. Her lips parted, resistance melting. She buried her hands in my hair, her tongue meeting my thrusts. Ninian trembled against me. Through the cheap perfume, I smelled her arousal, and desire flamed hotter.

“No.” She shoved at my chest. “No.” Breathing hard, she said, “I can’t do this. I can’t resist you, and I can’t do this.”

She wheeled, disappearing into the apartment. The lock clicked. On the street, voices rose in an argument. Drunks doing what drunks do.

“It has begun, My Fair Lady.” I blew a kiss at the closed door, skipped down the stairs, and burst into the afternoon sunshine.

Red lights blinking, a school bus spilled children onto the sidewalk. Their laughter blended with the song of a lone bird. Before Man was ousted from the Garden, Eden had owned birdsong and innocent laughter. Leaning against a chipped stucco archway, I studied the kids disembarking from the bus. Three of them—two boys and a girl—weren’t laughing. They clung close to each other. Their clothes were clean but showed signs of wear. None of them had a cell phone glued to an ear.

A boy of thirteen strode across the street, dodging a car. A girl of twelve and a lad of ten followed. Her children looked as wary and downtrodden as Ninian had this morning. Losing your home robbed one of more than a place to live. How well I knew. The older boy glanced at me, whisked by, and bounded up the stairs. Edward Clyde bore a strong resemblance to his father, big-boned and stocky with a rather prominent jaw and curly dark brown hair. The girl and the younger boy looked like their mother though Amy Elizabeth had dirty blonde hair. Our eyes met. She gripped her younger brother’s arm and hauled him to a stop. Daniel James looked up from rummaging in his book bag. He had his mother’s grace, her beauty, and her coal black hair. My heart caught. For a couple of seconds, he stared at me before his gaze fled to his sister.

He swallowed hard, shaking Amy’s arm. “There’s an…an angel in the doorway.”

“You’re nuts.” She shot me a wary look, seizing her brother’s hand in a protective gesture.

Hello Daniel. I spoke in his thoughts, and his stunning eyes widened.

As his sister propelled him past me, he murmured, “Hello, angel.”

Amy elbowed him and frowned at me over her shoulder. “Mom told us not to talk to strangers.”

“I wasn’t talking to him.” Daniel adjusted the strap on his book bag. “He was talking to me. He knew my name.”

“You’re too weird. The stranger didn’t say a word.” The girl cuffed him on the arm.

“I’m not a stranger,” I muttered, watching Ninian’s children hurdle up the stairs. “I’m the man who should have been your father.”

The full realization of what I’d said struck me, and I turned to stone. If I’d sired her children, they would all be male, and it would be a tragedy of grand proportions.

About the Author

After 14 years in Texas, Linda returned home to her roots. She is a multi-published author, writing compelling stories across the subgenres of romance. For many years, she bred, trained, and showed Andalusian horses. So, she’s seen a lot of this country from the windshield of a truck towing a horse trailer. She has won several writing awards, including the Georgia Romance Writers’ Magnolia Award for Excellence and the SARA Merritt. She retired from a career as a legal assistant at MD Anderson Cancer Center to write full time.

She has two wonderful sons—both of whom are ex-pats, living in England. She has been blessed with five amazing grandchildren.

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