Flaming Dove (30 page)

"It's tasty," she said to Laila.

"I'll get you new clothes, too, after you eat, and a hot bath." Laila herself had found new garments here. Instead of her old tattered cloak, she now wore a cape of black velvet, clasped around her with a ruby fibula. She wore leather pants tucked into heavy boots, and sported silver vambraces on her forearms. Across her chest, she had strapped a breastplate of black iron, molded to fit the curves of her body. She had polished her great bat wings with oil; usually dusty, they now gleamed a deep black, sucking in all light.
If I am a ruler in Hell, I must look the part.

"We might not have time for that," Kayleigh said, placing down the wine goblet. She looked up at Laila, fear in her eyes. "I had to come see you, Laila. I walked into the empty lake until I found the tunnel. It didn't take long, and I found myself here." Kayleigh took a deep drink of wine, hands shaking. "Beelzebub came to see me yesterday. I had to come give you the news."

Laila pulled lake weeds out of Kayleigh's hair. "What did he say that's so important?"

"He plans to nuke you, Laila." Kayleigh shivered. "In his passion, he was. I know how to make him mad with his desire. He will say anything then. It was his wife's idea, he said. They have some nukes, great weapons we humans made before you demons and angels came. He says they can destroy Limbo and everyone in it." Kayleigh finished her wine. "You are my friend, Laila. I know you meant it when you said we'd be friends, that you understand me. I wanted to help you, to save you. You can still run from here, back into the forests."

Laila turned away from the table, walked toward the jet columns that lined her hall, and stood between two columns, gazing upon Limbo. The craggy towers glistened in the light of a million torches, while armies of demons swooped to and fro through the air like schools of piranhas. The cavernous Limbo stretched miles across, so large Laila could not see the ends of it. This had been her home for only a week, and now Beelzebub would destroy it?

Laila ran her fingers along one of her silver vambraces, tracing the delicate engravings of demon chants. Her fiery halo crackling, she gazed upon her new kingdom, and refused to lose it.

I have no nukes of my own. Zarel knows that. She knows they can nuke me without fear of retaliation. But I am Laila, of the night. I have run for too long, hidden for too many years.
She let her hand rest upon the hilt of Haloflame, which hung at her waist.
I won't give up this place, not so easily, not without a fight. This place is mine now. In Limbo does Laila the half-demon rule, and that will not change.

Her halo crackling with fire, she turned back to face Kayleigh.

"I will rise to the world and meet her. I will meet Zarel in duel." She once swore to Angor that, while he lived, she would grant clemency to Zarel.
But Angor is dead now, like so many others in this war. Everything is changing.

Kayleigh joined Laila by the columns and stood, muddy, watching the craggy horizons of Hell. "Would she agree to fight you?"

Laila nodded, caressing the pommel of her sword. "She will. If she refuses, she'd think herself a coward. So would everyone else. She will agree to duel me. She would prefer to kill me herself, with her own claws, rather than nuking this place. If she kills me, she'd even get Limbo back whole." Laila closed her eyes. "It's the only way. Beelzebub would agree to it too. If Zarel kills me, he loses me as an enemy, and can go ahead and conquer the world. And if I kill Zarel, well... he'll be equally happy, free to pursue my sister in peace. It's a win-win situation for him." The air suddenly seemed hot to Laila, too heavy in her lungs. She forced herself to take deep breaths.

Kayleigh took Laila's hand and squeezed it. "Can you beat Zarel?"

"I don't know. But I have to try." Laila opened her eyes and looked upon the human girl. "It's in my destiny to face her. It has been this way since I returned to Jerusalem. She knows it and has been waiting. I can't escape this fate."

Kayleigh bit her lip. "But Laila... even if you do kill Zarel... what's to stop Beelzebub from nuking Limbo anyway?"

Laila squeezed Kayleigh's hand back and forced herself to smile. "I'll take care of that. I know what to do."

That is, if I survive,
she added silently. The armies of demons swarmed outside, shrieking through the darkness. The two girls stood between the columns, watching the landscapes of Hell, silent.

Chapter Nineteen

The earth was still fresh over Raphael's grave when Michael began mustering a force to reclaim Beelzebub's fort.

He moved grimly between the troops, silent, gripping his lance. His officers dared not approach him, and his glower, they whispered, could cause baby angels' wings to fall off. Michael did not care if troops whispered, did not care that Laila had abandoned him and ruled, silent and still, in Limbo. He cared for only one thing.

Bat El.

"I will get her back," he swore over Raphael's grave that evening. "I will make her one of Heaven again. I won't let her become a fallen angel, turned dark and cursed."

The grave was silent, covered with stones and flower petals, but Michael seemed to hear his baby brother's voice in his mind.
Is it for her sake that you want Bat El back, or for your own?
Michael shut his eyes, kneeling over the grave, lance in hand. He was a soldier. He had no emotions, certainly not love. Why would he love Bat El? The girl was thousands of years younger than him, infinitely less experienced and wise.
If I do feel love toward her, I'll bury that feeling. I'll feel no love now, only hatred toward Hell. I am a soldier. That's all I've been for thousands of years. You, Raphael, were the one who loved and healed. I came to this world to kill.

And yet the thought of Bat El's eyes and pink lips still filled his mind.

A month since Laila claimed Limbo as her domain, Michael stood upon a steeple, staring down at rows of angels among Jerusalem's ruins. Tens of thousands of troops stood there, wings spread, gilded armor dusty, swords drawn. Their banners flapped feebly in the ashy wind, white and gold. Standing above them, Michael raised his lance, and they shouted, a battle cry that rattled the city, sending birds into flight.

I'm going to get you back, like it or not, Bat El,
he thought, taking flight. His troops followed in formation, tens of thousands darkening the sky. Michael felt blood pounding in his ears, as if a fever claimed him, or perhaps bloodlust. The thudding of angel wings was like thunder. Glints of dawn broke through the clouds, kindling their thousands of blades. They burned red, as if already bloodied.

Soon he saw the sea. The waves rose high, blue-gray tipped with foam, the clouds veiling them. The Crusader castle rose above boulders and stones, a sentinel over the beach, fluttering with demons.
Did the men who built this fort ever imagine that, a thousand years later, demons and angels would fight over it?
Michael narrowed his eyes and flew down toward this ancient pile of stones.

Beelzebub's demons met them head on, thousands shooting upward, claws drawn. Angel swords flew, demon fangs bit, and blood rained upon the beach below.

"Zarel!" Michael shouted as the battle raged in midair, demons and angels swirling and killing, countless wings flapping. He thrust his lance in every direction, clad in light, spearing endless shades, their blood splashing against his arms. He remembered how Laila would fly into battle, guns blazing, grenades flying, fighting like a human. Michael clenched his jaw. Would Laila emerge to fight with Heaven, or would she remain in Limbo without fulfilling her end of the bargain?
You swore you'd kill Beelzebub for me, Laila. You better get your butt back up here soon.

"Zarel, Demon Queen of Hell!" he shouted, voice hoarse. "Come out and meet me."

Hellfire blazed, and with a crackle and smoke, Zarel the Demon Queen shot out from the citadel, a fireball. Screeching, she launched into battle, tossing aside angel bodies. Michael narrowed his eyes and flew toward her.

"Get her, now!" he shouted, and ten seraphs doffed their cloaks behind him, bursting into blinding light. The light fell upon Zarel, and she screamed, burning. Michael shouted at the top of his lungs. "Now, while she's blinded!"

They crashed into the Demon Queen, Michael and ten seraphs, stabbing with blades and lance, blinding her with godlight. The archdemon screamed, wreathed in flames, clawing and biting. Her hellfire burned bright, singing Michael's hair, burning his eyes. Still he fought on, slamming his lance into her scales as she screamed. Zarel's claws lashed in all direction. One seraph fell dead, soon another, then a third. Michael grunted and kept stabbing, and the seraphs hacked at Zarel with blades that dented her scales. Her screams were so loud, Michael thought they would break his eardrums. Two more seraphs fell dead to thud against the distant ground.

Three seraphs grabbed her from behind. She spun to claw at them, and Michael swooped forward and drove his gauntlet into Zarel's head. Blood flew, and Zarel's eyes closed. She growled, and Michael slammed his fist again. He felt her nose crush under his blow, and he grunted. His gauntlet broke, and he thought he might have broken his knuckle.

"Tie her up," he grunted. The surviving seraphs grabbed Zarel's unconscious body. "Use heavy chains, lots of them. Quick, before she wakes."

They descended to the ground, demons and angels battling above, blood raining. Between mossy boulders, Michael and his seraphs wrapped the unconscious Zarel with chains. They bound her legs together, her arms behind her back, her wings to her body. They placed an iron muzzle over her mouth, and finally shoved her into a cage.

Michael surveyed their handiwork and nodded with satisfaction. "Good job, boys," he said to his seraphs.

Zarel was waking up, moaning. Blood dripped down her muzzle. She blinked weakly, shook her head, and her gaze found Michael. Smoke rose from the muzzle as she snarled.

"Let me go, angel," she hissed.

Michael stared at her, lance in hand, the battle still raging above. "In good time."

Spreading his wings, he grabbed her cage and lifted it, flying with it over the beach. The fort's tower rose before him, mossy and craggy, bleak under the veiled sky. Demons and angels battled around it, feathers and scales flying, blood splashing. Zarel's cage was so heavy, Michael could barely lift it, but he ignored the pain in his muscles. The pain of Raphael's death, of Bat El's betrayal, of Laila's disappearance all eclipsed any physical pain Michael could feel this day.

"Beelzebub!" Michael shouted hoarsely, Zarel dangling beneath him in her cage. Rain began to fall, pattering against the cage, soaking Michael's hair and feathers. Zarel's flames raised steam that flowed across him, and he tasted ash running down his face. "Brother!" His shouts were hoarse, like the cries of a dying beast. "I have your wife! If you want her, show yourself."

The rain pattered, crashing against the fort, the armies, the sea and sand. For a moment the battle seemed to die, all angels and demons staring at Michael and the captured Demon Queen. For a moment the only sound was the rain and thunder.

Then, with a thud of wings and crackle of flame, Beelzebub, demon lord of Hell, emerged from the fort's front gates, flying into the sky. The fallen angel's bat wings spread wide and black, and the rain pattered against his blackened armor. He stared at Michael with eyes of flame.

"Hello, big brother," he said. "You have taken a liking to my wife, I see. I never knew you were into romance, but if you like her so much, keep her. She's all yours."

Zarel hissed in her cage. "Beelzebub, damn you."

Beelzebub shrugged. "My brother has always had trouble meeting women. The only way he can get a lady is to chain her up. So I'll humor him."

Holding the cage with one hand, Michael pointed his lance at Zarel's neck. "Enough of this." He grunted. "Beelzebub, shut up, or watch me kill her now."

Beelzebub sighed. "You won't kill her, Michael, we both know that. She's worthless to you dead, so cut the games, cut the threats, and in God's name get a shave and a haircut, you look like you're the hostage here." The fallen angel flapped his wings, sending droplets of rain flying, and rubbed his neck. "I was just in the middle of a nap, so please, make this short. What do you want, Michael? What do you want for her? This fort? A few barrels of bloodwine? Me to do your laundry? Name your price and let's be done with."

Michael stared at him through the wet strands of hair that hung over his eyes. His voice was so hoarse, it sounded more like a grunt than words. "You know what I want. Bring her out."

Beelzebub snorted. "Bat El? The girl's on my side now, brother. She's no longer my hostage, but my willing accomplice. She's useless to you."

"Damn it, Beelzebub!" Michael shouted, hating that he let his temper claim him. He pushed the spearhead against Zarel's neck. "Bring her out now."

Beelzebub stared back, eyes flaming, for a moment all amusement gone from his face, leaving only sternness. The fallen angel then spun around, flapped his wings, and disappeared back into his fort.

Michael descended to the ground and dropped the cage with a groan. Zarel struggled against her bonds, the rain steaming over her, but could not free herself. Michael's entire body ached. Rubbing his arm, he shoved his lance into the ground and sat on a boulder. The battle was dying around them, each army retreating to its ranks, glaring at the other side.

"What now?" asked one of Michael's seraphs.

"We wait," Michael said, the rain running down his face.

* * * * *

Laila sat in darkness, curtains drawn. She had found this bedchamber in Moloch's fort, high upon a tower, a simple room where she could live with her thoughts, alone, in silence.

I have slain demons and angels. I am strong. I am a legend. But can I kill Zarel?

She remembered the first angel she had killed. She had been sixteen, living in the forests as an animal, never speaking, running with wolves. Rain poured that evening, washing across the forest, and thunder rolled. The smells of mud, water, and wet leaves filled the air, thick. Laila sat in a small cave, a mere burrow not much larger than her body, cloak pulled over her shoulders. Little light remained, and Laila sat, chewing on dried boar meat, watching the rain fall outside. The sounds of raindrops and thunder placed a calmness within her, and she chewed slowly, staring outside.