.the sons of God saw the daughters of men

The sounds of strife drew Azael’s attention. He left the road he was on to follow the noise, aiming towards the shoreline. Rounding a cliff he beheld a tiny war.

Some humans were within a cave, barricaded by driftwood and rocks. Other humans attacked the barrier, obviously to get to the ones inside. Off to one side stood another figure, laughing at the conflict.

Azael strode to stand beside the squat one. “Hail, Abbadona.” He looked down on the rounded figure of one of his friends.

“Hail, Azael.” The angel’s welcoming smile was sincere. Abbadona’s emotions were always easy to discern. He pointed towards the cave. “Isn’t it wonderful?”

The attackers were all women. They worked in teams of three. Two with spears drove the defenders back into the cave while the third struck the barricade with a maul, axe or pick. They drug the debris to the side while another team surged forward.

“I don’t know,” Azael admitted. “What is going on?”

Abbadona pointed toward the cave. “Pirates,” he said simply. “Victims,” he said, indicating the women. Then a gesture for the whole scene: “Justice.”

“Ah,” he nodded in understanding. “Now I suppose the pirates regret ever harming these women.”

“Oh, they never met these women.” Azael raised an eyebrow, and the ear on that side, and looked quizzically at his friend. “I take my wives from the generally trodden upon, the undefended, the prey,“ Abbadona explained. “Teach them to stand up for themselves. Then find them oppressors to stand up to.”

They watched the conflict for a while. At least half of the original barricade was gone. The rest was falling away more easily but the defenders were getting more desperate so progress actually slowed.

“So, you don’t have any of the victims of these pirates seeking justice? Just your squads of matrimonial avengers?”

“Yes,” the shorter angel nodded. “We seek injustice, or those who would inflict it, and we justify.”

“Who WOULD inflict it?” Azael asked. “Are you saying these men may not be pirates?”

“Living in a cave in the wilderness? Far from the reaches of any city watch? Near a major roadway? What else would they be?”

“I guess you’re right,” he nodded. “Better to be safe than sorry, anyway.”

“Of course. Plus, we’d been three days without justice when we came across the cave. The wives were good and ready to apply some justice.”

Just then, a cheer rang out from the women. Instead of debris, one of the teams had snagged a defender and dragged him away from the cave. At a safe distance from his fellows, the better part of the women fell upon him.

The blood shed upon the sands made Abbadona laugh until he could barely stand. Azael looked to the cave to see how this affected the defenders.

One of the women guarding the mouth looked over her shoulder at the slaughter. A pirate took his chance and stabbed out, slicing her across the shoulder.

She screamed and staggered backwards.

Abbadona screamed and charged forward. As he smashed his way into the cave, Azael ran to the wounded woman.

He picked her up and stepped to the side. Women flowed past him, following their master to the slaughter.

Blood from the woman’s injury snaked down to flow over her breast. Azael lifted her up and kissed the gash. His tongues licked the skin, repairing the damage and closing the wound.

She stared up in wonder for a second, one hand lightly touching her shoulder. He smiled into her gaze, then lowered his own. He was about to lick the breast clean when she started to jerk in his arms.

“I’m missing it, I’m missing it!” she cried. He put her down and she stormed after her husband.

After a while, Abbadon stepped into the sunlight. He dragged four bodies behind him with a length of rope, leaving them at the edge of the water.

“It seems,” Azael said, “that you could have done that right from the beginning.”

“Eh,” his friend shrugged, eyeing the women dragging out other bodies. “I wasn‘t mad enough to interrupt my wives until they hurt one. Besides, where would the fun be in that?”

“You mean, where’s the justice?” Abbadona shrugged again, stepping into the water to wash off.

The woman Azael had healed stepped up to him. “Thank you,” she said, looking up with a smile.

“It was…my pleasure,” he replied. Looking down, he saw that both of her breasts were covered with blood now. There were no wounds, though, so most of it was not hers. He found that he did not feel a need to lick her clean anymore.

He gathered up his chest of silver and continued on his travels.