Oraxael had to think fast - this situation could be deadly, even to nearly immortal beings such as he and Azrael. His mind raced, and a plan came together. Sneering, he shifted to his Hellform, a far more brutal, evil looking form than the more human looking visage he typically wore. The demon turned to look at him, ignoring Azrael's taunt.
"Release the angel back to my custody, fool," Oraxael snarled. The demon let forth a deep, rolling laugh, and then grinned widely, wickedly.
"Have you gone mad, demonling?" it growled, "I am your superior...and besides, it seemed an awful lot like you were attempting to *protect* an angelic being..."
"I have not gone mad, but you may well have," Oraxael opened his bluff, "That angel is my charge, to be delivered to none less than Asmodeus himself...by me."
The demon sneered, then chuckled.
"Pathetic," it said, "Trying to keep this morsel for your own. Scurry along, and be glad I do not smite you for your insolence."
Oraxael gritted his teeth, considering his next move, when it came to him.
"Fine," he spoke carefully, "Don't take my word for it - after all, we are demons, princes of lies...but there is one here who CANNOT lie."
Oraxael looked up at Azrael, and hoped the angel would understand his words.
"Tell us, angel," he spoke with a condescension that he did not feel, "And speak true - is it not my mission to deliver you, personally, to the High Demon Lord Asmodeus?"