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Crown, scales, and sword. It is an ordinary package filled with ordinary things that have had an extraordinary role in the world. But that doesn’t matter to Lesley; it’s only a package, same as all the others, and the only thing that matters is that it gets to its destination.
Its destination being a little extra-dimensional space between worlds.
The entrance is in Egypt, but as an International Delivery Professional, a little distance has never stopped him. Lesley carries the package to the ancient door round the back of an ancient stone temple. The door hadn’t been there yesterday and would not be there tomorrow. It appears only when necessary, such as when a corporeal being needs to meet up with the Angel of Death.
Lesley knocks. It’s only polite.
The door opens on its own, and he takes that as an invitation, popping his head through the door and calling out, “All right?”
No answer. The space beyond is blacker than mortals can conceive of, an empty void. Lesley takes off his hat as he steps through the door, unconcerned, and his feet land solidly on nothing at all. “Anyone home?” he tries again. “Looking for a Mr. Azrael?”
Azrael is there. They don’t fade into existence or appear in a curl of smoke or teleport into the space. They have always been there. Lesley takes it in stride; he probably just missed seeing the poor bugger in all this blackness.
“Hullo!” he says cheerfully, already reaching for the clipboard hanging off his belt. “Mr. Azrael, is it?”
“YES,” Azrael says. Their mouth doesn’t move. Lesley’s not sure they have a mouth. That’s all right though.
“Right. Got a package for you.” He holds out the clipboard properly, paperwork situated so the customer can read it easily, signature line placed just so. “Just need it signed for. Your real name, please.”
Azrael still doesn’t move, but a word appears on the paper. The block letters look solid black at first glance, but if you look too long at them, you might see through the fragile paper and even more fragile reality, to the very fabric of the universe.
You probably shouldn’t. Might go mad, looking at the universe like that.
Lesley checks the paperwork as a formality, nods, and tucks the clipboard back at his side. “Here you are, then.” He holds out the package. It disappears, and he blinks, shaking out his fingers; they tingle, as if his whole hand had fallen asleep for a moment.
“THANK YOU.”
The only bit of light shining into the room comes from the open door, simultaneously a few paces away and in the furthest corner of the furthest planet. Lesley hesitates. "Shall I go back to my Maud, then?” It’s the first time he’s questioned anything in his life. “It’s only, she’s right peeved that I’ve been going on all these deliveries all over the world, and I’d like to have a spot of vacation with the old girl.”
“YOU MAY GO.” If Azrael could have been amused, they would have been. Nobody’s quite certain what they’re capable of. Nobody wants to look that close. “YOUR JOB IS COMPLETE.”
“Oh, good.” Lesley nods appreciatively. “Nice, completing something. Hope my delivery job’s still there, though? A being’s gotta have something to do with his time, is all.”
“IT IS.”
Azrael is not there. They have never been there.
Lesley leaves the way he came. The door seals behind him and fades away as he heads back to his little delivery truck, eager to return to London. It’s been his home for a very long time. He likes having a home, and he likes having a wife, and he likes having a job, and he likes that the Earth is still spinning on its proper axis and hasn’t been blown to smithereens.
That would have been inconvenient.
Maud is waiting.