I am Lucifer's daughter. The news still made her tremble, filled her stomach with ice, sent shivers along her arms. I am Satan spawn. Laila shut her eyes, bloody tears on her cheeks. Could she truly usurp Beelzebub, take Hell from him, mold it into that home she had always sought?
Laila hugged Volkfair. Tomorrow she would go with Michael to Caesarea. She would go underground.
"And if Angor kills me, so be it," she whispered, the moonlight upon her, tears in her eyes.
Chapter Five
Laila rode her motorcycle along the highway, the wind blasting her face, thudding against her wings, and streaming her hair. The bike bumped over every pothole and crack, threatening to toss Laila onto the pavement, but she did not care. At a hundred miles an hour she rode, the beach to her left, the hills to her right, dead burned lands and lurking horror ahead and behind. The bike growled and trembled beneath her, this bike she had found a year ago and repaired and maintained. Over the ruined plains of the Holy Land she rode, dawn rising around her.
It was only on these mornings, when she rode upon cracked highways at full speed, that she could find some relief. There weren't many roads left in this land—most were now cracked and weedy beyond use—but Laila made do with what she had. Driving like this, she felt free, more than when she flew, or drank, or fought. She needed to ride on this humming hunk of metal, over this broken road, and when cracks in the pavement tossed her aside, she did not mind. It would take more to kill her, and bruises and cuts only helped dull the pain within her soul.
When the sun had risen, she turned the bike around, heading back to the Crusader fort that stood fifty miles south. Riding like this, roaring over asphalt, ripping across the land, she didn't even mind the sunlight, and she wished she could ride forever. Yet still she returned, roaring up toward the fort, smoke rising behind her.
Today her journey began. Today she took her first strike against Beelzebub.
She screeched her bike to a halt outside the fort, a cloud of dust rising around her. Michael and a host of angels stood outside the fort gates, clad in filigreed armor, spears in their hands. Laila took some satisfaction seeing the dust cover their polished breastplates. She stepped off the bike, bared her fangs, and spread her bat wings wide. Her halo burst into flame, crackling. She smiled seeing them tighten their lips, tighten their grips on their spears. Let these angels see my demon side; let them never, not for an instant, think that because I fight with them, that I am one of them.
Volkfair ran up to her, and she placed her hand in his fur.
"We go to Caesarea," she said, "and let's take on some demons."
"You're late," Michael said to her, wings spread wide, the sunlight upon them. "I told you we'd leave before dawn."
"I keep my own schedule," she said, hissing, fangs bared. "I leave and come as I please, so get used to it, angel." With that, she spread her wings and shot into the sky. Volkfair burst into a run below, following upon the plains. The angels too took flight, flapping their wings behind her. Laila grinned, flying fast enough to always keep Michael behind her. Let them see who leads this group. Let them see that it is I, Laila, who flies ahead, not the great archangel Michael.
The angels covered the sky behind her. From three divisions garrisoned at the fort, they brought two with them—Heaven's Fifth Division, known as Heavenfire, and the Sixth Division, known as Talon. Twenty thousand angels they were, soon to join Arrowhead, Heaven's Seventh Division which was already besieging Caesarea. I bring the might of Heaven with me, Laila thought, gazing at their armor and spears. Yet when she thought of the might of Hell that awaited, even the sight of two angelic divisions did not comfort Laila.
Soon the fort was a jutting stone in the distance, and ahead, Laila saw the ruins of Caesarea by the sea. The sun glinted on the aqueduct, the amphitheatre, the old walls and houses. She could see no demons there now; there would be none during a clear day. Angel tents surrounded the city, a siege of godlight.
She descended in the amphitheatre, upon the old stone stage where two thousand years ago, gladiators fought. Volkfair came running from the fields to stand by her, and Michael and his angels descended around her, wings flapping. Laila pulled her hood over her head, to shield herself from the sunlight, and slammed a magazine into her Uzi. With a small smile, she yanked back on the cocking handle, loading a bullet into the chamber.
She saw the angels glance at one another, and Michael even rolled his eyes, which made Laila's smile widen. They thought guns were human weapons, clumsy and barbaric. No angel would use a firearm; it was only spears and gilded swords for them, weapons forged in Heaven. Laila would take an Uzi and grenade to battle any day over a blade. Today, she also carried a jerrycan full of gasoline over her back. I'm going to need this underground.
"Show me the way," she said, baring her fangs, and Volkfair too growled and bared his own fangs. I will show no fear, she thought. I will go into the tunnels, not for Michael, not for God. I will go underground and defeat Angor so that Beelzebub knows that I did. So that Beelzebub knows that I faced his pet, and fears me for it. Because you are coming next, Beelzebub. Your time will come soon.
She tightened her grip on her gun, shoving down the fear, shoving down the anguish. If she died today, her soul would wander eternally, banned from both Heaven and Hell. Laila gritted her teeth, banishing the thought. I must claim Hell. I must make it my home. Think only of that, Laila.
Lance in hand, wings folded against his back, Michael began to walk. Laila walked beside him, and the angels followed, clutching their spears. They left the amphitheatre and entered the ancient, cobbled streets of Caesarea, moving between weedy walls, the sea whispering ahead. Sparrows and doves fled from them, and ants scurried between their feet. Laila kept her Uzi in automatic mode, and her finger on the trigger, but knew that they would find no demons today. Not as sunlight bathed the world, not until darkness or ash covered the skies.
As she walked upon the ancient cobblestones, she could feel the rush and hum of demons below. She knew the angels could not feel it; it took one of demon blood to sense them. The evil flowed beneath the streets, hissing, roiling, a hundred thousand shades. And deeper below, far in the darkest caverns, Laila could almost hear it. She felt it bubbling up between the cobblestones. The ancient evil. The great reptile. Angor, the archdemon.
They walked through the city, Laila's boots and the angels' sandals silent upon the stones. The waves murmured in the distance, and strands of smoke wafted in the horizon, as from remote battle fires or camps. Even the birds were silent as they pecked between the cobblestones, as if too weary and wary to sing. Laila kept her left hand on Volkfair's back, and her right hand on her Uzi. A dozen magazines of ammo hung on a strap across her chest, and grenades dangled from her belt.
An angel whispered behind her. "I see nothing here. Are you—"
Volkfair paused and growled, showing his fangs.
Something is here.
Laila clutched her Uzi, staring around. The angels froze.
With a crackle and roar, columns of flame burst from underground through sewer holes, shooting up toward the sky, spreading out swirls of smoke. One column rose only yards ahead, while a dozen others rose from behind buildings across the city. The heat sent sweat down Laila's brow.
"They're trying to burn us out," a tall, wingless angel grunted. His name is Nathaniel, Laila remembered.
She shook her head. "No. They're covering the sky with ash, so that the sun does not burn them." She raised her Uzi with a crooked, chaotic smile. "Be ready, my darlings. My brethren are coming."
The smoke swirled across the sky, thick and foul, and the world swayed with heat waves from the flames. The cackling of demons came from underground, and this time, Laila knew the angels could hear. They took position against the walls and shattered columns, holding their spears ready to fire godlight. Within moments the pall covered the sky, leaving the city in shadow.
Laila spotted the first demon, a shade of blazing eyes and glinting
claws, swooping toward them. Her gun rang out, and the demon crashed against the ground at her feet, spattering blood.
For a moment the angels stared in silence. And then a thousand more demons came swooping down.
* * * * *
When the alarm bells clanged, Bat El was kneeling in her chamber by her bed, hands pressed together in prayer, eyes shut.
"Amen," she whispered hurriedly, ending her prayer, and leapt to her feet. Beyond the clanging bells, she heard flapping demon wings, shrieks, and clanking armor. A chill ran through her. This was more than a rogue demon scout, she knew. This was a full attack... and she was alone.
Her fingers trembled as she strapped on her gilded breastplate and hurried out of her chamber, sword drawn. Michael was away in Caesarea. So were Nathaniel, Laila, Raphael, and most of their garrison. Both Heavenfire Division and Talon Division had gone to kill Angor, leaving only Shield to guard the fort, a third of their usual force. Of course Beelzebub would attack now.
Bat El rushed down the tower, raced across the main hall, and burst out into the courtyard. Demon wings and smoke darkened the sky. Countless demons glared above her, eyes burning, leathery wings churning smoke. Their stench, like burning meat, filled her nostrils.
"Rally here!" Bat El cried to those angels she spotted. She saw maybe a hundred angels upon the walls, another hundred battling demons in the air. More angels were emerging from the fort, but they were confused, outnumbered. I'm the highest ranking angel here, Bat El realized with another chill. She had never felt more alone.
As demons were landing on the walls, angels rallied around Bat El. She spread her wings and took flight. "Follow me," she shouted. "Knock them off the towers!"
Pillars of flame burned in the landscape around her, hiding the sky behind black smoke. Between swirls of ash, Bat El flew toward the fort's tower, where her chamber was located. Demons covered the tower, entering the windows. Bat El and her angels slashed their swords, yet more demons descended around them. One demon clawed at her, scratching back the gold on her breastplate, revealing the steel underneath. In midair, Bat El swung her sword, slicing off the demon's head with blazing godlight. The demon's head tumbled to the distant courtyard.
Bat El glanced around. She felt herself pale, and her heart thudded. There were tens of thousands of these demons, and there—behind them, floating under the ashy swirls—Bat El saw a fallen angel. Beelzebub.
"Into the fort!" she shouted. The demons were inside already. She couldn't let them take the fort. I've been on Earth for only a few months. I can't let Michael down already.
She flew through the tower window, but few angels remained to follow. Most were battling demons in the sky, or lay dead upon the ground. We are overrun.
Inside her chamber, more demons lurked, eyes blazing. Bat El and those few angels with her slashed their swords, forcing their way down the tower staircase. Into the fort's main hall they fought, only to find a thousand demons filling it. The demons had already torn down the tapestries and shredded the towering painting of Michael.
Beelzebub himself stood in the center of the hall, angel bodies at his feet. Until today, Bat El had never seen the fallen angel, the new ruler of Hell, but she recognized him at once. He looks so much like his brother Michael.
Of course, Michael had swan wings, and Beelzebub's wings were like those of a bat. A halo lit Michael's head, and Beelzebub sported fangs and claws instead. Michael was a being of light, Beelzebub a creature of darkness. Yet still... Bat El saw the same power in their eyes and stance, their ancient armor, their casual confidence mixed with the jaded weariness of their age and endless war.
"I think I'll place my new statue here, right in the hall," Beelzebub was saying when he noticed Bat El. His dark eyes locked with hers, and Bat El felt a tremble run through her. Laila used to be his lover, she thought, shivering.
Beelzebub smiled. "You must be Gabriel's daughter," he said, walking toward her. "You look a lot like him."
Bat El stood before him, claw marks in her breastplate, demon blood coating her drawn blade. "And you must be Beelzebub," she said and hated that her voice sounded so weak. Michael had left her in charge of this fort, to defend it in God's name, and this was all she could say? If Michael were here, he would have killed Beelzebub on the spot; even Laila might have. Yet she, Bat El, could only stand helpless, sword drawn, no idea what to do next. Guilt filled her. I let Beelzebub take our base. I failed God.
Beelzebub seemed to read her thoughts. He placed a hand on her shoulder, and Bat El could not even shove him away; his eyes seemed too sympathetic.
"There is nothing you could have done, sweetheart," he said softly. "Don't feel like you failed my brother. It was his failure for leaving the fort with inadequate defenses. He was so excited to have Laila with him, that he erred. It's not your fault."
She was alone here, Bat El realized. Those few angels who had entered the fort with her lay dead, sliced open by demon claws. The sounds of battle were fading outside; the ancient Shield Division had cracked and lay shattered across the ruins and beach. Heaven ruled this fort for fifteen years, and it falls in fifteen minutes.
"Are you going to kill me now?" she asked, and instantly regretted it. It made her sound young and scared. When she landed on Earth a few months ago, Bat El had thought herself a great warrior of God. She now felt callow as a cherub. Beelzebub must think I'm a child.
Yet if Beelzebub did mock her inwardly, he showed no sign of it. He took a handkerchief from a pouch on his belt and wiped a smear of blood off Bat El's lips; a demon must have bashed her, drawing blood she did not notice in the heat of the battle. Beelzebub's fingers brushed against her cheek, and Bat El hated that she found his touch soft and warm. Those hands would once touch Laila.
"No, I won't kill you, Bat El. You know I won't."
She forced herself to look away from him. Of course he'll take me alive. I'm Gabriel's daughter. What better bargaining piece?
She lowered her head. I won't let him capture me. Michael would never let himself be taken alive. Bat El tightened her lips, then screamed and slashed her sword at Beelzebub.
Chapter Six
Clouds of demons surrounded Laila and the angels among the ruins of Caesarea, a maelstrom of scales and claws. Flames left the demons' mouths, and their fangs bit into angels. The angels shot back with spears and blasts of godlight, and the ruins trembled under the smoky skies.
As the battle raged, Laila stepped away, leaving the angels behind in the sea of demons. When demons flew her way, she knocked them aside with blasts of bullets or thrusts of her claws. She had her own business here, and it wasn't killing shades. She, Laila, had come to fight her own battle, and that battle waited underground.
Volkfair killing demons around her, Laila soon found a hole in the ground. An iron trapdoor covered it. A bomb shelter, she knew; the humans had built many during their wars before Armageddon. Laila fired at the demons around her, knocking them aside, then pulled the lid off the bomb shelter.
The demons kept buzzing around her, clawing and snapping their teeth, annoying like mosquitoes. Laila felt her anger rise. I'm wasting ammo on them. With a snarl, she waved her hand, and a ring of fire burst around her, crackling. The demons sizzled and screeched, and the walls of flame rose around Laila, for a moment shielding her and Volkfair from the demons.
She knelt by Volkfair. "You'll have to wait for me here," she told the wolf. "You can't climb down the ladder or tunnels, and I can't carry you while holding my gun."
For the first time since she'd known him, Volkfair growled at her. His eyes said, I'm not leaving you.
"You brought me this far, Volkfair," she said, "and I don't just mean from the fort to these ruins. You brought me far on a long journey that started years ago, but here's one step I must take alone. Stay here aboveground, Volkfair. Stay here and protect Michael; he's going to need it, and I'm going to need him." She kissed the wolf. "Kill lots of demons for me."
With that, she leapt into t
he hole, plunging into darkness, wings pressed close to her sides. She heard Volkfair howl mournfully above, and then blackness overcame her, muffling all sounds. Laila fingered her jerrycan of gasoline. I'm going to need this.
In the dusty bomb shelter, the fire of her eyes and halo illuminated canned goods, a few gas masks, a scorched crib, and several skeletons. A human family lived here, Laila thought. They must have fled here just as Armageddon began twenty-seven years ago. They hadn't lasted long; most of the canned goods had never been opened. This bomb shelter must have served the family well during the human wars, but when demons come to the world, underground is the last place you want to escape to.
Confirming her thoughts, Laila spotted a hole carved into the floor, roughly hewn by demon claws. She entered the hole, feet first, and began climbing down, digging her claws into the walls for support. The tunnel was narrow, and Laila folded her wings against her. The sultry air smelled like smoke and sulfur, and grumbles and creaks sounded deep below. These tunnels would run miles underground, Laila knew. She had seen too many demon hives in her life.
The tunnel curved after a hundred yards, and Laila found herself crawling on her belly, her Uzi held before her. Soot covered her. She could hear nothing of the battle aboveground and wondered how long it would last. The dwellers of these tunnels had emerged to fight, but when their battle ended, they would swarm through the hive, and there were more demons than Laila had bullets. I have to hurry.
Flaming Dove: A Dark Fantasy Novel Page 6
