Harrison ran a comb back through his hair in the mirror. His skin, tan from all the days training under the island sun, had only had a few light scars. His shirt and jacket were on the bed. A dagger hung from his neck on a chain.

I'm nervous, he admitted, trying to get the mop of his hair to stop falling in his eyes.

How long have you known William.

Since forever.

He felt like he'd known Traciel forever too.

The first time they'd met, Traciel had been long, and dark, and heavy. The work they had ahead of them had been the same. When Harrison reached out into the black for a something, a someone, it was because he needed strength. He wasn't the greatest kid. He helped with the housing projects, and played on the team, but he didn't always keep out of trouble. He didn't talk as nice as some of the other kids. He had a talent for extortion, and a tendency towards physical violence, when pushed. He wasn't clever. A lot of times he wasn't even nice. William was maybe the most refined and beautiful person he'd ever met, but he hadn't met him at his perfumed and put-together best. Harrison had been at his first summer camp, and William had been crying behind one of the buildings, because his mom had died. It wasn't the last death they'd grieve over.

Harrison had seen enough of his teammates, his friends, go out on missions and not come back that he'd developed a better focus on what was important.

When he summoned Traciel, he used the broad side of the axe. He defended, and protected, and with William close by to keep him fit and Jordan doing reconnaissance they could take even the harder missions. And as Traciel developed they became tall, and symmetrical, steady, calm, if not a force of justice or judgement, because maybe a guy from nowhere and a fallen angel had no business in that department, at least one that tried to help, and make the world a little less shitty in the meantime.

He listened to Traciel. Neither of them liked technology much. He trained daily, because they both liked to be outdoors. He polished Traciel before he went to bed. And Harrison's respect and dedication to them was returned in balanced measured. It was a good partnership.

It was Traciel that had brought up the importances of names.

Through half-shadowed memories, and scraps of information from missions, they thought they might have had another name. One they could no longer remember. And although Harrison was not a researcher by nature, William and Jordan were, and they searched until they found a trail to an item left behind by one of Traciel's kind. Harrison and Traciel followed the writings to a cathedral in England. There they found strange and ancient murals. An altar. A dagger.

It was Traciel who was able to read the Latin.

And though the sacrificial dagger had been cold, it grew steadily warmer, and when Harrison at Traciel's request joined the dagger and the axe, both had changed.

He pulled the dress shirt over his shoulders, doing the buttons. He was nervous, but it wouldn't be the first time. They'd have a nice evening. There was a game after. His hair still wasn't behaving.

The dagger itself was inlaid with pearl, and written in gold filigree was a single word. Azthraciel.

He fastened the final button.