Lust and the Choirboys of the Tenth Order

Angels are androgynous, and above the baser cravings of humankind.

Above reproach.

However, in the Book of Enoch, we meet The Grigori or Watchers. In the course of their visitation to Humankind, they become the voyeurs.

Angels being considered sexless and above reproach, the church was challenged to explain how they mated with mortal women. In the thirteenth century, the Bishop of Paris adopted a typical compromise. According to his theory, there were nine orders of angels but it was a separate one, the tenth that fell. These Sons of God saw the Daughters of Man and, we are told in Genesis 6, lusted after seductive flesh and took themselves wives from among them [women].

This was a neat solution to a discomforting theological double-bind. For it was difficult to reconcile a theology which insisted that angels were sexless with the damning evidence from the Scriptures showing these lusty celestials were enthusiastically proving the opposite.

Angels are not supposed to be able to produce offspring. Only demons can procreate. Angelic lore has it that the Grigori are nearer in form, genes and sexual interest to human beings, and that they had a genuine friendship and desire to teach humankind the secrets of Heaven. Azazel, the protagonist in my recently released Night Before Doomsday taught women the arts of seduction—makeup, how to dress, etc.

There were ten leaders of the Grigori, once illustrious angels, all listed as fallen by the fourth century. Of the two hundred angels who descended to Earth, nine-tenths fell to lust, siring the Nephilim. The Bible has this to say about the Nephilim: The Nephilim were on the earth in those days—and also afterward—when the sons of God went to the daughters of men and had children by them. They were the heroes of old, men of renown.

Anyone who has seen Supernatural or the short-lived series The Fallen will be familiar with TV’s version of the Nephilim.

This novella is an alternate history and the tale of the Grigori told in first person from the leader Azazel’s POV. The cover is the sigil (a mark given at his creation to each angel) of the angel Azazel. The sigil and the characters of any angel, light or dark, are used in alchemy to summon that angel. There were nights when I was writing Night Before Doomsday and I, Azazel, an as yet unpublished novel, when the hair at my nape would stir and I’d curl closer in my bed.

I’d like to share the blurb from NBD and an excerpt.

Blurb:

In Genesis, "The sons of God saw that the daughters of men were fair; and they took wives for themselves from those who were pleasing to them."Azazel was a leader of the Grigori, the angels sent to Earth to teach Mankind after the oust from Eden, how to survive in a less hospitable environment. Nine-tenths of the Grigori fell from Grace, but was it love or lust?This novella presents the Grigori's tale in first person from Azazel's point of view--the temptations, his struggles and the final realization that Heaven doesn't speak to him anymore.

Excerpt:

Eyes lined with charcoal as I’d taught them, lips rouged by my own hand mocked me. A bold hand slid beneath my robe, up my thigh, and gripped my shaft. The hot vibration deep inside trembled along my organ, growing longer and stiff.

Like a spider's web touched by a candle's flame, memories of Home shriveled.

Gentle Magdalene smoothed the hair back from my face, staring at my shocked expression. “Oh, Azazel.” A fingertip traced my cheek. “Did we hurt you?”

“No.” I clamored to my feet, bewildered by the feelings torturing me.

None would meet my gaze. Lord of Hosts, if they were afraid of me, I was doubly afraid of them. I’d never felt desire or the effect passion had on the body. If I had experienced sexual longings, I’d ignored them. Now, I could no longer pretend. My body yearned for something I’d believed to be the province of Man and the beasts.

Ruth winked a painted eyelid. In her dark eyes, amusement twinkled.

“Ungrateful rabble.” I tossed my hair back and folded my wings around me, brushing the dust from my feathers. “I make you alluring. You repay me by rolling me in the dirt and trying to tickle me to death.”

“You’re an angel.” Ruth undulated her shoulders. The lush breasts pointed at me swayed. “You can’t die.”

Oh, but I was dying. More than they could possibly know. Dying to touch them, dying for them to touch me, caress me there again. Before my face revealed forbidden desire, I schooled my expression stern.

Night Before Doomsday is available from Smashwords.