Arthur was having a hard time controlling his nervous breathing as he spun around frantically, searching for Aziel amidst the chaos. His chest heaved with each labored breath, lungs burning as if he'd inhaled fire instead of air. The rain continued to fall in sheets around him, each droplet feeling like needles against his already abused skin.
When he finally located him, he saw Aziel standing amidst the bodies of the dead grimhounds, their corrupted forms scattered like broken toys around his feet. Steam rose from the ground where his lightning-charged body had evaporated the rain, creating an eerie mist that swirled around his ankles. He was staring at the Reaper just as Arthur was, both of them transfixed by the hooded harbinger of death preparing its attack.
The lightning coating Aziel's eyes was making it hard to tell what he was thinking—the normal windows to his soul now obscured by crackling blue electricity that danced across his irises. His face was an unreadable mask.
