Flaming Dove: A Dark Fantasy Novel

by Daniel Arenson

  She wished she could kill Zarel today. Merely capturing the Demon Queen, and swapping her for Bat El, would be hard to do. Damn you, Bat El, Laila thought. I should let you rot in whatever prison Hell put you in. Laila grew up apart from her half-sister. While Bat El grew up in Heaven, pampered and protected, Laila grew up in forests and deserts, running from Heaven and Hell, hurting and hunted. The sisters had rarely met growing up, but some memories still remained. In some of her darkest hours, Laila conjured old memories of the years before she turned six, when she still lived with angels on Earth, before she escaped into the countryside. Bat El would visit sometimes then, descending from Heaven with gifts for Laila, dolls and teddy bears which Laila never played with. While Laila hated those toys, she loved Bat El's visits. Her older sister always knew how to comfort Laila when she cried bloody tears. The angel, already a young woman in those years, would rock the demonic child, kissing her forehead with soft lips. Everyone else feared or pitied Laila. To Bat El, she was just a younger sister—different, yes, but family. Loved.

  She might have met Bat El only several times in her life, but blood was blood, Laila knew. Bat El was perhaps the only being in Heaven, Hell, or Earth who truly, fully loved her, even more than Beelzebub ever did. She was perhaps the only soul Laila herself loved.

  Damn you, Bat El, she thought again, fighting on those sloping streets outside Zarel's church. I hope you appreciate what I'm doing for you.

  It took hours to reach the church. Weariness slowed Laila like shackles by then, and she cursed. I need my strength to face Zarel, damn it. Thousands of angel and demon bodies surrounded the church; their spirits would travel to Heaven and Hell, become godlight and hellfire, and never more war upon the earth. Most of Orion Brigade had died on the streets, splashing the cobblestones with blood. About two thousand angels remained around Laila. Barracuda had fared scarcely better; two thousand of them remained too. Michael stood atop the church roof, killing the last few demons, bloodied angels surrounding him.

  Beelzebub will be on his way here with reinforcement, Laila knew. She flapped her wings, flew onto the belfry tower, and growled.

  "Zarel's inside," she called to Michael.

  The archangel stood on the roofs by her. He nodded, speared a last demon, and moved toward the shattered church windows. "Ready?" he asked.

  Laila reloaded her Uzi and her halo of fire crackled. She nodded. "Let's crash this party."

  * * * * *

  Beelzebub stood in Bat El's tower chamber, staring around, candle in hand.

  When he'd arrived just a moment ago, the door had still been locked. A hundred demons still circled outside the window. And yet the chamber was empty. Bat El had escaped.

  Beelzebub placed the candle down on the dresser, thinking, forcing himself to calm his nerves. No need to get mad. No need to freak out. Think. Where could she have gone?

  He explored the walls, the floor, the ceiling, searching for trap doors, but the bricks seemed solid. An iciness flowed through him, a disappointment that she had left him after that morning at the beach. He had kissed her, whispered loving whispers into her ears, and she had left him.

  He snorted. Come on, Beelzebub, you're no schoolboy in love. Of course she would escape if she could. She's still Gabriel's daughter, and you're still the lord of Hell. And yet it rankled. How could she have slipped from his grasp so easily? Beelzebub sat down on her bed. Lumpy mattress, he thought. Maybe she just escaped because her bed was uncomfortable.

  He stood up, walked to the window, and leapt out, spreading his wings. The demons outside saw the wrath in his eyes and cowered. He would kill many of these demons tonight. I will find answers.

  * * * * *

  When Beelzebub sat on her, Bat El bit her lip not to cry out. The fallen angel nearly crushed her bones, and it was all she could do to stay silent. Blessedly, Beelzebub soon stood up and leapt out the window.

  Bat El let out a shaky breath. It was hot here inside the mattress, stuffy and sticky, with barely any air. Bat El pushed open the tear she had made on the side of the mattress and peeked. The room was empty. Outside, she could hear Beelzebub questioning the demons, voice raised. One demon screamed in pain.

  Hurriedly, Bat El pushed herself out from the mattress and stood up in the room. She pressed herself against the wall by the window, so that Beelzebub could not see her from outside. As Beelzebub interrogated and killed the shades, Bat El inched along the wall toward the door. She reached to the door knob and opened it. Unlocked.

  Dressed in her tunic—Beelzebub had taken her armor and sword—Bat El raced down the tower stairs, heart pounding. She had to do this carefully. Thousands of demons still swarmed through this fort, and thousands more fluttered outside. For a moment, Bat El cursed herself, sure that she had taken on a suicide mission. The demons will kill me now. This is insane. And yet Bat El could not bear to remain in this fort, with Beelzebub, with the fallen angel who sent tremors through her. She had come to Earth to fight for God, to fight for Heaven's light and truth; she would not let her soul be possessed by the devil, no matter how tempting and sweet his lips seemed.

  As she raced downstairs, Bat El hated the sadness that filled her at the thought of leaving Beelzebub.

  I'll have to be quick, she thought when she reached the bottom of the tower. There would be no sneakiness, no crawling through tunnels, no hiding in shadows. She'd have to rely on surprise and sheer strength, burst into the hall, and crash outside. Bat El took a deep breath, grabbed a torch from the wall, and kicked open the door into the fort's main hall.

  Hundreds of demons filled the place, playing dice and cards, drinking from mugs of beer, feeding on meaty bones. At the door opening, they spun around and stared, maws hissing, smoke leaving their nostrils.

  Bat El did not waste a second. She spread her wings open with a thud and leapt into the air, screaming. She flew above the demons, waving her torch, keeping them at bay. Their claws scratched her arms and legs, and she screamed and kept flying. She crashed through the window and flew into the night.

  I made it out of the fort! she thought, joy filling her. Then a thousand demon eyes burned ahead of her, and Bat El shot into the sky, flying up, streaked in light, a pillar of white. "Stand back, in the name of God!" she shouted, a thousand demons beneath her, grabbing at her feet. Like a rocket, she flew into the sky, toward the stars, armies of Hell surrounding her.

  I am Gabriel's daughter. An archangel. I have strength in me.

  She swirled around a cloud, somersaulting, then swooped down, wings pulled close together, a comet streaming with godlight. Demons swarmed behind her, hissing. She shot up just before hitting the ground. At two hundred miles an hour she flew, leaving the fort behind, countless demons in pursuit. She headed toward the forests in the north, the Carmel woods where thousands of years ago prophets would wander.

  Her strength was waning. She was hurt, maybe badly, was losing blood. She'd need rest soon, food and drink and healing. She flew toward the trees and crashed between them, leaves and branches snagging her, tearing her clothes. Thousands of demons followed, crashing into the canopy around her, tearing down trunks.

  Bat El ran between the trees, leaping over boulders and thistles. She could see nothing in the darkness. Sap covered her, thorns scratched her, and ivy wrapped around her feet. The hissing of demons rose around her.

  "Bat El!" she heard Beelzebub's voice behind. "Please, Bat El, you're hurt. Let me take care of you. I won't harm you."

  Bat El kept running through the dark forest, until she found a shallow stream, and there—behind bushes and two boulders—a burrow. Some animal must have lived here once, maybe a boar or jackal. Bat El pushed herself into the damp, earthy burrow and pulled vines over its entrance, hiding.

  She sat in the darkness, knees pulled up to her chin, arms wrapped around her legs. Her entire body shivered and hurt, and tears filled her eyes. As the hissing of demons streamed through the forest, Bat El bit her lip, trembling and praying.

&nbs
p; Chapter Ten

  Standing atop the church belfry between two gargoyles, Laila surveyed what remained of Heavenfire, God's ancient and legendary Fifth Division. She saw several thousand angels, beaten and bloody, armor dented and wounds bandaged. They covered the church roof and courtyard. In the surrounding streets, Laila saw thousands of angel bodies upon the cobblestones. As the ashy sky grumbled, Laila knew that the greatest challenge lay inside the church. Zarel. Demon Queen of Hell. Here waited an evil greater than ten thousand shades.

  "Nathaniel!" she called out. "The Wrecking Balls enter with me through the clerestory." She turned to face several other platoons. "Spear. Falcon. You enter the main gates. You, Blade, enter the back doors. The rest of you wait out here. If any demons try to escape, kill them." The angels nodded, grim, faces bruised and ashy.

  "I'll enter the main gate with you, Falcon and Spear," Michael said. The archangel stood upon the church roof between more gargoyles, swan wings spread wide, halo glowing bright even under the fiery sky. Demon blood dripped down his lance and splashed his old Roman armor. He stared at Laila. "If she tries to escape through the clerestory, she'll meet you. If it's the main doors she chooses, it'll be my lance."

  Laila nodded, though she had the feeling that Zarel would rather fight than flee. The archdemon, she knew, might just be strong enough to face both Laila and Michael and win. As for the thousands of angel troops, well.... Those will annoy her no more than fleas annoy a dog.

  Dawn was starting to rise, tickling the east with pink feathers. Laila shut her eyes. Last time I was here, I escaped through these shattered windows, but I'm back now, Zarel, and I brought some company. I'm going to take Hell from you and your husband. I am Laila, of the night, Lucifer's daughter. I am fallen. I rise again. She took a deep breath and opened her eyes, tears just stinging at their corners. Hell is mine. I'm going to make a home for myself there, and nothing can stop me.

  With a flap of her wings, she leapt through the clerestory windows into Hell's church.

  She landed on the floor in darkness. The torches had been extinguished, and no demon eyes lit the shadows, nor did Laila hear demon hissing. As the angels joined her, filling the nave, Laila narrowed her eyes and raised her Uzi. Could Zarel have abandoned her post?

  Then, with a crackle of flame, the altar shattered and Zarel emerged from within it. The Demon Queen shot up like a rocket, wreathed in fire, and broke through the roof, flying into the clouds.

  Laila understood.

  Damn.

  "A trap!" she shouted. "Get out, get out!"

  Without waiting an instant more, Laila shot out the roof after Zarel, wings flapping. From below, the blast hit her, tossing Laila into a spin. The shock-wave took the air out of her lungs, like a thud from Angor's wings. Stones and smoke buffeted her and flames licked her.

  She glanced over her shoulder. It was as she thought. The she-devil wired up the entire church. It looked like Zarel had planted several tons of explosives. Laila could barely see through the stinging smoke and dust, but it seemed like the explosion had leveled the church and the streets surrounding it. Laila returned her gaze above, flapping her wings, flying up. Where was Zarel? Laila could see only smoke, and she narrowed her tearing eyes.

  There. She glimpsed a trail of fire—Zarel's wake. Laila snarled and flew in pursuit. You won't escape me.

  The fiery trail led to the west, and soon Laila emerged from the smoke and saw Zarel. The Demon Queen flapped her wings, a fireball, scales glinting. She was heading toward Beelzebub and his garrison at the fort, Laila knew, cursing. If she reached that fort, she'd be untouchable.

  Where was Michael? Laila glanced behind her, seeing only a cloud of smoke and dust. No angels followed. Had any escaped the church in time? Laila cursed again. She had planned on facing Zarel with Michael and a few thousand troops watching her back. Now she was alone again.

  Laila tightened her lips, fighting down the anguish and fear that filled her stomach like ice. If Michael's died on me, I'm going to kill him. She cursed the fear that refused to leave her, quickening her heartbeat and making her fingers tremble. She'd have to face Zarel herself.

  "What's the matter, sweetheart?" she cried out to Zarel. "Scared to face me without your hubby?"

  Zarel spun around in the sky, her great wings churning the clouds. She hissed, eyes aflame, hair crackling. "Well, well, my dear," the Demon Queen called back. "Were the cuts I gave your shoulder not enough? Do you want some more?"

  Laila flew toward the sun, then swooped down with the sunrays at her back, to blind the demon. "Zarel," she said, claws outstretched, "I beat the brains out of your dad last week. He whined like a baby. I bet you're going to sound just the same."

  Zarel snarled and charged too. In the fiery clouds, the Demon Queen and half-angel clashed.

  * * * * *

  Beelzebub wandered the forest, sandals crunching fallen pine needles. Dawn had risen, painting the old pines grayish green, sending ruby tendrils across the sky. No demons surrounded him; he had sent them back to the fort. They would be no more help here. He would find Bat El himself.

  Beelzebub enjoyed walking through this forest, smelling the pines and sap. It amused him that trees should still grow in this land. Few trees had ever grown in the hot, sandy Holy Land, and most of those few had burned in Armageddon. More trees had survived than humans, he thought, wandering between the pines, tickled by the notion. Audacious bastards, these pines. Haven't they heard that Armageddon was supposed to destroy the world?

  When he crested a hill, Beelzebub saw valleys where indeed trees stood burned and blackened, but between them younger trees were growing. The planet was recovering from the first waves of Hell's war, but things wouldn't last long, Beelzebub knew. With Laila back and serving Heaven, the war flared with escalated brilliance. All those trees, birds, and bugs that thrived in the lull after the initial flame would soon meet the returning fire.

  Beelzebub sighed. "My dear Laila, look what you set in motion. Couldn't you have just stayed in exile?" The girl's return had started a chain reaction; Beelzebub could not predict its end, but he doubted it would be pretty. Sooner or later he would have to kill her, and damn all those kisses he had once given her.

  The rising sun revealed acorns strewn among the pebbles, cyclamens growing between mossy rocks, and mushrooms that clung to gnarly tree trucks. Birds fled as Beelzebub walked through the forest, as if they knew that here walked the lord of Hell. Beelzebub sighed. Why did the birds hate him? He liked birds. Even they had heard his reputation, it seemed.

  In the morning light, Beelzebub soon located Bat El's trail. A piece of her torn gown hung on a branch, and her footprints covered the moist earth. She was wounded; Beelzebub saw specks of angel blood on leaves and branches. He shook his head. Why did the angel flee? Did she truly think she could escape? She was young, brazen and foolish. Innocent. You almost got yourself killed, Bat El. He felt sorry for her. The little thing must be frightened here in the forest, hurt, bleeding. His pity only lasted a moment, though, replaced with disappointment. He could not tolerate these repeated attempts to escape him.

  For an hour, he tracked her through the forest, until he reached a thin stream. A curtain of vines seemed to hide a burrow there, and Beelzebub saw specks of blood coat the leaves between angel footprints. He smiled slightly. Brave the girl might be, but not the best woodswoman. Not wanting to startle her, he found a mossy boulder and sat down, making a point of ignoring the burrow. The breeze rustled the trees, and the birds still chirped. No sound came from the burrow.

  Beelzebub relaxed and began to whistle, a tune he would sing with Michael, Lucifer, and the others in the old days. They would wander around these hills sometimes, he remembered, thousands of years ago, long before the rebellion. Raphael, now the great healer, had always known where to find good wine, and Gabriel had always known which villages held the prettiest, most willing girls. It was on these hills, Beelzebub remembered, that he knew his first human girl. He could no longer r
emember her name, but she was slim and short, with long brown hair, mocking eyes, and clothes that fell off whenever he was around. It wasn't far from here. But it was such a different time.

  Beelzebub remembered the first time he touched the human girl, kissed her, not really knowing what he was doing, but liking it. Oh, man, God was so pissed, Beelzebub remembered. He and his fellow angels had made more than a few Nephilim, monstrous spawn born half angel, half human, giants who terrorized the hillsides. But God, Heaven was boring, Beelzebub thought. Who wanted harps and prayer, when you could go down to Earth and know saucy little brunettes with a wicked side that could put demons to shame? Gabriel, Michael, Raphael... those three had grown up, of course, straightened out, took on high positions in Heaven. But he and Lucifer, the two scoundrels, the wildest members of their little gang, well, they would not bow the knee to God. Beelzebub laughed softly. Not even as their Nephilim spawn wandered around the hills, destroying villages, would they straighten out. No. He and Lucifer just kept drinking, knocking up human girls, and infuriating the powers that be.

  Sitting on this mossy boulder, Beelzebub lowered his head. He missed Lucifer sometimes, but he kept telling himself that the old Lucifer, his best friend, the angel who rebelled against God with him, was very different from the Lucifer who became ruler of Hell. The Lucifer who refused to acknowledge Laila. The Lucifer who, when he learned of Beelzebub's love for Laila, had thrown a fit and tossed his wine horn at Beelzebub.

  Lucifer changed. Beelzebub closed his eyes. I had to kill him. I had no choice. He might have killed Laila otherwise, and maybe me too. The tempers he would have in his later years.... Beelzebub sighed. Why did things have to change? Michael, his older brother, was his enemy now. Lucifer was dead. Gabriel, once their partner in crime, now governed Heaven while Raphael wandered around healing people and preaching. It seems like only I stayed the same, Beelzebub thought. Then again, he could not believe that thought; he too had changed, had grown from a wild youth to becomes a prince of Hell, then finally a great king. If you lived long enough, he thought, everything changed. That life evolved, ever changing, could be the greatest curse for an immortal.