HELLSPAWN HUNTER

Chapter 10

# HELLSPAWN HUNTER

## Chapter 10: Sins of the Father

The abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city looked like every other derelict building in the industrial district—broken windows, rusted metal siding, and weeds growing through cracks in the concrete. But this one held secrets that had been buried for twenty years.

Kael stood in the doorway, his enhanced vision picking out details in the darkness that would have been invisible to human eyes. Overturned filing cabinets, scattered papers, and in the center of the room, a desk that had been deliberately preserved, as if someone had been expecting visitors.

"This is where your father conducted his investigation," Raphael said, materializing from the shadows with that unnerving angel grace. "He rented this space under a false name, used it as a base of operations when he was tracking Azrael."

*The scent of old blood,* Vex'thul observed. *And something else. Fear. Lots of fear.*

"Someone died here," Kael said.

"Several someones. Your father wasn't the only one investigating the angel sightings. There were others—hunters, government agents, even a few academics who'd stumbled onto something they shouldn't have."

Kael moved deeper into the warehouse, his footsteps echoing in the empty space. The desk was covered with photographs, newspaper clippings, and handwritten notes in his father's distinctive scrawl. Even after all these years, seeing that familiar handwriting made his chest tighten.

"Why bring me here?" he asked. "We should be preparing for the assault."

"Because you need to understand what you're up against," Raphael replied. "Your father discovered something about Azrael, something that got him killed. If you're going to face a Seraphim, you need to know his weakness."

*Every angel has a weakness,* Vex'thul mused. *Even the Seraphim. The question is whether it's something we can exploit.*

Kael picked up one of the photographs—a blurry image of a man in a business suit standing outside what looked like a government building. The man was tall and lean, with dark hair and an unremarkable face. He could have been anyone.

"Azrael," Raphael confirmed. "Or rather, the human identity he's been using. Dr. Marcus Webb, senior advisor to the Hunter Council's Strategic Planning Committee."

"He's been hiding in plain sight."

"For twenty years. Slowly influencing Council policy, pushing for more aggressive action against supernatural beings, all while pretending to be their most trusted human ally."

*Brilliant strategy. Control the hunters, and you control the war.*

Kael continued examining the papers, noting his father's meticulous documentation. Financial records, meeting schedules, travel itineraries—Thomas Draven had been building a comprehensive profile of his target.

"He knew," Kael said. "Dad knew that Webb was Azrael."

"He suspected. But he needed proof. Something that would convince the Council that they were being manipulated by the very thing they'd sworn to destroy."

*Your father was a good hunter. Thorough. Patient.*

"Not patient enough," Kael muttered.

He found a leather journal wedged under a stack of files, its pages yellowed with age. His father's handwriting filled every page, detailing encounters with supernatural beings, theories about angelic intervention, and growing suspicions about the Council's true agenda.

*March 15th,* he read. *Witnessed Webb at the Riverside incident. Cleanup team arrived before any official response. How did he know to be there?*

*April 3rd. Webb's financial records show payments to mercenary groups known for supernatural hunting. Following the money.*

*April 20th. Found evidence of weapons purchases. Ancient artifacts, pre-Christian era. Someone is arming Webb with relics from the first war.*

*May 1st. Webb isn't human. Confronted him at the Council meeting. He didn't deny it. Said I was 'too close to the truth.' Threatened Kael.*

The journal shook in Kael's hands. "He threatened me?"

"Azrael knew that killing your father would draw attention," Raphael explained. "So he made it personal. Told Thomas that if he continued investigating, you would be next."

*Your father chose to continue anyway. He put the mission above his own son's safety.*

"He was trying to protect everyone," Kael said, though he wasn't sure if he was defending his father or trying to convince himself.

*Keep reading.*

*May 15th. Webb's true identity confirmed. He's one of the Seraphim, the angel of death. But he's not here to herald the end times. He's here to cause them.*

*May 20th. Discovered Project Cleansing. Webb plans to use the Council's resources to eliminate all supernatural beings, then move on to humans who've been 'corrupted' by supernatural contact. Estimated casualties: 80% of the world's population.*

*May 25th. Webb knows I'm onto him. Enhanced soldiers are watching the house. Have to move carefully. Can't let them find this evidence.*

*May 30th. Final entry. Webb offered me a deal. Stop investigating, and he'll leave Kael alone. Keep digging, and my son dies with me. There's no choice. I have to stop him.*

The journal ended there, but Kael found one more item tucked between the pages—a photograph of himself at age seven, taken at a school play. On the back, in his father's handwriting: *For Kael. I'm sorry I couldn't be the father you deserved. But I hope someday you'll understand why I had to make this choice.*

*He chose the world over his son,* Vex'thul said quietly. *And then he chose his son over himself.*

"What do you mean?"

*Look at the dates. The final entry was May 30th. Your father died on June 1st. What happened in those two days?*

Kael found his answer in a manila folder labeled "INSURANCE POLICY." Inside were copies of every document his father had gathered, along with a letter addressed to him.

*Kael,* it began. *If you're reading this, then Azrael has won, and I'm dead. But that doesn't mean the fight is over. You have something I never had—the power to face him on equal terms. The demon blood in your veins isn't a curse. It's a weapon. Use it.*

*Azrael's weakness is his pride. He believes he's acting in service of a higher purpose, that genocide is justified if it serves the greater good. This absolute certainty is what makes him dangerous, but it's also what makes him vulnerable. He can't conceive of being wrong.*

*The weapon you need is in the safety deposit box at First National Bank. Box 2847. The key is taped under the desk drawer. But be careful—the weapon is as dangerous to you as it is to him.*

*I love you, son. I'm proud of who you've become. And I'm sorry for the burden I'm placing on your shoulders.*

*Your father, Thomas*

*P.S. Trust the angel. He's not like the others.*

"The weapon," Kael said. "What is it?"

"I don't know," Raphael admitted. "But if your father thought it could hurt a Seraphim, it's probably something from the first war. Something that was supposed to be destroyed."

*The first war between Heaven and Hell. When angels and demons fought for control of creation itself.*

"Why would my father have access to something like that?"

"Because he wasn't just a hunter," Raphael said. "He was a descendant of the Nephilim—the offspring of angels and humans. It's in your blood, Kael. That's why you can host a demon without being destroyed by it."

*Part angel, part human, part demon. No wonder the wards can't identify you.*

"I'm a walking contradiction."

"You're an impossibility," Raphael corrected. "Which is exactly what we need to defeat another impossibility."

*The safety deposit box. We need to get there before the assault begins.*

"The bank is in the financial district," Kael said. "How do we get there without being seen?"

"We don't hide," Raphael said. "We walk in the front door. Azrael is expecting us to skulk around in the shadows. Let's surprise him."

*I like this angel. He thinks like a demon.*

Twenty minutes later, they were standing in the pristine lobby of First National Bank, trying to look like they belonged there. Kael wore a suit he'd borrowed from the Underground's supply of disguises, while Raphael had somehow managed to make himself look like a typical businessman.

"Box 2847," Kael told the security guard. "I have the key."

The guard looked at him suspiciously. "You're awfully young to have a safety deposit box."

"It's an inheritance," Kael said. "From my father."

*Technically true.*

The guard led them to the vault, a sterile room lined with numbered boxes. 2847 was near the bottom, smaller than Kael had expected. The key turned easily, and the box slid out with a soft metallic whisper.

Inside was a single item wrapped in black cloth. When Kael unwrapped it, he found himself looking at a knife unlike anything he'd ever seen. The blade was made of some kind of metal that seemed to absorb light, and the handle was carved with symbols that hurt to look at directly.

"Oh," Raphael said softly. "Oh, that's not good."

"What is it?"

"A God-killer. One of the weapons forged during the first war, designed to kill beings of divine power. There were only seven made, and they were supposed to be destroyed after the war ended."

*Your father had one of the most dangerous weapons in existence hidden in a bank vault.*

"Can it kill a Seraphim?"

"It can kill anything," Raphael said. "Including you, if you're not careful. The blade is designed to sever the connection between a soul and its power source. For angels, that means separation from Heaven. For demons, separation from Hell. For you..."

"It would kill both me and Vex'thul."

"Instantly."

*Wonderful. A weapon that's as likely to kill us as our enemy.*

"How do I use it without dying?"

"Very, very carefully. And only as a last resort."

*The bank's security system just activated,* Vex'thul warned. *We have company.*

Kael looked up to see the security guard approaching with three other men in suits. They moved with the predatory grace of enhanced soldiers, their eyes already beginning to glow with artificial light.

"Mr. Draven," the guard said, his voice taking on that mechanical quality. "Dr. Webb sends his regards. He's been waiting for you to claim your inheritance."

*Trap. Obviously.*

"How long has he been watching this place?"

"Twenty years," the guard replied. "Ever since your father first rented the box. Every transaction, every visitor, every time someone even looked at box 2847. We've been waiting."

*He knew we'd come here eventually.*

"What does he want?"

"He wants to make you an offer. The same offer he made your father."

*Walk away, and everyone you care about dies slowly. Continue fighting, and they die quickly.*

"I'm not interested in his deals."

"Then you're not as smart as your father was." The guard's form was beginning to shift, his human disguise falling away to reveal the enhanced soldier underneath. "He at least tried to negotiate."

*The knife. Now.*

Kael's hand moved to the God-killer, but Raphael caught his wrist. "Not here. Too many innocent people."

*The civilians. The bank employees.*

"Then what do you suggest?"

"We run."

*I'm starting to like this angel more and more.*

The enhanced soldiers lunged forward, their movements fluid and inhuman. Kael and Raphael moved as one, diving behind the safety deposit box racks as plasma fire scorched the air where they'd been standing.

"Emergency exit," Raphael said, pointing to a door marked "AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY."

They ran, dodging between the metal racks as the soldiers pursued them. Behind them, Kael could hear the sounds of destruction—plasma fire, metal tearing, and the screams of civilians caught in the crossfire.

*More blood on our hands.*

"We didn't start this war," Kael said through gritted teeth.

*But we're going to finish it.*

The emergency exit led to an alley behind the bank, where more enhanced soldiers were waiting. They stood in perfect formation, their weapons already charged and ready.

"Kael Draven," their leader said. "You will surrender the weapon and submit to enhancement processing."

"Counter-offer," Kael replied, letting his claws extend. "Go to hell."

*I believe that's our cue.*

The fight was brutal and efficient. The enhanced soldiers were fast, but Kael and Raphael were faster. The angel moved like liquid light, his strikes precise and devastating. Kael fought with the fury of someone who'd lost everything and had nothing left to lose.

But there were too many of them, and more were arriving every minute.

*The sewers,* Vex'thul suggested. *There's a maintenance entrance fifty yards north.*

They broke through the soldiers' formation, running through the maze of alleys and side streets that connected the financial district to the rest of the city. Behind them, the sounds of pursuit grew louder.

"The God-killer," Raphael said as they ran. "It's not just a weapon. It's a key."

"A key to what?"

"To ending this war permanently. But using it will require a sacrifice."

*What kind of sacrifice?*

"The kind that makes victory meaningless."

They reached the maintenance entrance just as the first enhanced soldiers rounded the corner. The sewer tunnels were dark and claustrophobic, but they offered cover from the plasma fire that was turning the alley into a war zone.

"Azrael's not just trying to kill us," Kael realized as they moved through the tunnels. "He's herding us. Forcing us to make specific choices."

*He wants us to use the God-killer.*

"Why?"

*Because it's not just a weapon. It's a trap.*

"What kind of trap?"

*The kind that destroys everything you're trying to protect.*

They emerged from the sewers in the Underground's territory, but something was wrong. The air was too quiet, too still. None of the usual sounds of the supernatural community reached them.

"Where is everyone?" Kael asked.

They found the answer in the main cavern. Bodies lay scattered throughout the space—humans and supernaturals alike, all bearing the same cause of death. Their life force had been drained, leaving behind empty husks that had once been people.

"Azrael," Raphael said grimly. "He's been here."

*Nyx. Mitchell. All of them.*

"Are they...?"

"Dead. All of them."

In the center of the cavern, written in what looked like blood, was a message: *THE OFFER STANDS. SURRENDER THE WEAPON, AND I'LL MAKE IT QUICK.*

*He's not just killing our allies. He's sending a message.*

"What message?"

*That no one is safe. That fighting him is futile. That the only choice is submission.*

"He's wrong."

*Is he? Look around. Everyone who trusted us is dead.*

Kael stood in the center of the cavern, surrounded by the bodies of people who'd believed in him, who'd followed him into a war they couldn't win. The God-killer felt heavy in his hand, its blade seeming to pulse with malevolent energy.

"The assault," he said. "We still have to stop Peterson."

"Peterson is dead," Raphael said quietly. "This is Azrael's facility now. He's been playing us from the beginning."

*The entire plan was a trap. Every move we made, every decision we thought was ours—he orchestrated all of it.*

"Then we change the game."

*How?*

"By giving him what he wants."

*The God-killer?*

"Me."