Sinners & Sorcerers: Four Urban Fantasy Thrillers (65 page)

This was enough to faze the Demon Queen, and Laila suddenly changed course and flew straight up, slamming her head into Zarel’s belly. The Demon Queen tumbled, knocked aside, and Laila tossed a second grenade. It burst against Zarel, and Laila followed it with more bullets.

The archdemon was mad now. Blood dripped from her nose, her hair blazed, and spit oozed from her maw. She came swooping at Laila, eyes aflame, growling.
Damn it, can nothing kill this beast?
Laila wondered, pulling back. She escaped the brunt of Zarel’s charge, but the demon’s leg still kicked her shoulder, knocking Laila into a spin.

Before Laila could recover, Zarel grabbed her, digging her claws into Laila’s shoulders.
Oh, hell.
Laila felt the fear flow through her, an instant of terror at the sight of Zarel’s furious eyes and chaotic, drooling smirk. She struggled and cried, kicking, but could not release herself from Zarel’s grasp. The Demon Queen leaned in to bite, and Laila felt teeth sink into her shoulder.

She bit back. Her fangs tore at a scale, pulling it loose, and she dug her bite into Zarel’s flesh. Blood filled her mouth, and Zarel screamed.

Laila pulled back, bleeding, dizzy, blood in her mouth and on her body. She was so dazed, she could barely fly.

“You shouldn’t have done that, sweetling,” Zarel said and pulled back a fist. She punched, and the blow hit Laila’s cheek with a burst of white brilliance.

Limbs like noodles, wings limp, Laila tumbled from the sky.

“Leave her alone!” came a voice from somewhere impossibly distant and vague. It sounded like Bat El, Laila thought as in a dream, but of course that was impossible. She could barely see a thing through the blood and fire, but it seemed like she saw great swan wings spread in flight, crashing into Zarel.

It was the last thing she saw. The pain overwhelmed her, and the ground rushed up below. Laila the half-demon, outcast from Heaven, banished from Hell, slammed onto the earth and darkness rolled over her world.

Michael coughed, dust filling his lungs, and struggled to his feet. When he straightened, he winced in pain and rubbed his neck. Every part of his body ached. Blinking in the flying ash, he surveyed the scene. The church debris lay strewn about, a hodgepodge of shattered bricks, shards of glass, and twisted metal. Dust still flew over the scene, hiding the sky.

Were there other survivors? Michael looked around, but saw none, only the ruins of the church. The blast had even leveled the buildings surrounding the church, turning the streets into piles of rock. Michael surveyed himself and cursed. The blast had cracked his breastplate and blown off his greaves. His clothes were bloody tatters, and bruises and cuts covered him. It took a lot to hurt an archangel. Michael could not remember the last time weapons had made him bleed. Zarel meant business; had Michael not managed to reach the window at the last second, the blast could have killed him.

The wind blew, tendrils of fire flurried among the ruins, and ash flew. Michael groaned and began to climb down from the pile of wreckage. Had Laila escaped? Any of the others? Michael tried to think back to just before the blast. “A trap!” Laila had shouted, and Michael had burst into flight at once. He had reached the window, and just begun to exit the church, when the blast hit him. The thud tossed him outside, and then stones buffeted him, knocking him to the ground, covering him with ash. It seemed like Laila had managed to flee the church in time, but Michael could not be sure. As for the other angels... Michael was not optimistic. If this blast was enough to batter Michael, the Lord of God’s Hosts, it would tear apart lesser angels.

“Damn you, Beelzebub,” Michael sighed. Things were bad. Laila might be dead. Shield Division had been destroyed at the fort, and it seemed like he had just lost Heavenfire too. How could this had happened?
We have Laila fighting with us now. How could we be losing?

Pushing aside despair, Michael concentrated on finding survivors. Countless bodies lay strewn about, both angelic and demonic, but Michael heard groaning and weeping. Moving about the wreckage, he found wounded angels covered in dust and blood. Some angels, those who had stood far back enough, were well enough to help him clear the wreckage.

Survivors were few. Most of Heavenfire, fabled Fifth Division of Heaven, had perished here, and Zarel had escaped them. Bloody and battered, Michael lowered his head, the wind cold against him.

A grunt came from behind, and Michael turned to see Nathaniel, the dour commander of The Wrecking Balls platoon. Blood dripped down the angel’s forehead, and he cradled his left arm.

“Managed to leap out the window just in time,” he said, voice hoarse. “My men weren’t as lucky.” He stepped down a pile of rubble, winced, and cursed. “Damn, smarts.”

Michael looked at the sky where a trail of fire burned. “We’re going to need reinforcements. I want to secure this neighborhood. The church may be gone, but it’s another few blocks of Jerusalem to claim.”

Nathaniel followed Michael’s gaze to the fiery wake, like the path of a comet. “The half-breed abandoned us.”

Michael shook his head. “She’s following Zarel. I’m going after her. Lieutenant, stay here. Make this neighborhood safe.”

With that, Michael unfurled his wings, ignoring the pain from his bruises and cuts. As powerful as Laila was, if she challenged Zarel to a duel, she would die. Michael wasn’t ready to lose the girl yet. He still needed her.

Though his body ached and begged for rest, Michael took flight and followed Zarel’s path. The strands of smoke and flame spread across the sky, leading west. The wind slammed against Michael, ruffling the feathers on his wings, stinging his wounds.
Damn Laila. Damn the girl. What could she have been thinking?
They had brought an entire division to capture Zarel, and now Laila went after the archdemon alone. She wanted to die, Michael realized. This was a suicide mission, and Laila knew it.

Michael flew, worry gnawing on him. Most likely, he knew, Laila was dead already.

+ + +

When Bat El shot into the sky to attack Zarel, Beelzebub froze for a moment, able only to stare in shock.

Bat El. Laila. Zarel. The three women of his life, together above him, battling in the sky. Beelzebub could only blink.

“Damn,” he finally said.

He flapped his wings and flew after Bat El, crashing through the canopy of pine branches. This could not end well. Zarel would either kill Bat El, or learn of his romance with the angel. Whatever the outcome, it would end in blood and tears.

“Leave my sister alone!” Bat El cried above, slamming her wings against Zarel. The Demon Queen growled and crackled, and Laila tumbled from the sky, bruised and bloody, to crash into the forest.

For an instant, Beelzebub wanted to follow Laila, to capture her if she still lived, but the half-breed was probably dead, and Bat El needed him. In a second or two, Zarel would kill the young angel.

“Zarel!” he called out, using his deepest, most echoing voice. He flew up to hover before her in the sky.

The Demon Queen glared at him, hissing. In her claws, she clutched Bat El’s throat, a second away from crushing the angel’s pale neck. Droplets of blood trickled down Bat El’s throat, and she gasped, struggling for breath, tears in her eyes.

“What do you want, Beelzebub?” Zarel demanded, fangs dripping drool. Her hair of flame raised sparks.

“Leave the girl alone,” he said.

Zarel spat, still clutching Bat El’s throat. The young angel struggled and kicked, but could not free herself. “Oh, my my,” the Demon Queen said, cackling. “Have you found another innocent angel to love, my dear husband? Have you found a young girl to defile?”

Beelzebub gave Zarel his sternest, coldest glower. Damn his wife. Damn the archdemon. “Zarel, for God’s sake, will you give it a rest? It’s Gabriel’s daughter you hold there. I’ve kidnapped her from Michael rather painstakingly, not so you could kill her now.”

Clutching Bat El’s throat with one hand, Zarel traced the claws of her other hand across Bat El’s face. She hissed at the angel, smoke rising from her nostrils. “Kidnapped the girl, how clever of you, and I suppose you’ll do some dog and pony show now, how she’s of great importance, and a lofty bargaining chip, is that correct?”

Beelzebub flapped his wings, raising more sparks from Zarel’s hair of flames. “Damn it, Zarel, you know she’s a bargaining chip, so stop killing everything you see.”

“Go to hell, Beelzebub,” Zarel said. “Don’t give me that. Of all the angels to kidnap at the fort, you chose the pretty blond one, is that so?”

“I kidnapped the highest ranking one I could find,” he responded icily. Bat El still struggled, but seemed to grow weaker. Her body was still bruised and cut, and she could hardly breathe in Zarel’s grasp. As for Laila, Beelzebub had no idea if she still lived. The half-breed was probably dead; it was unlikely that she could have survived a duel with Zarel and a fall from this height. Beelzebub’s head spun.

“Zarel, let the girl go, that’s an order.”

“An order? Do you think I’m some lowly shade?” Zarel spat a glob of lava. “Did you sleep with her, Beelzebub?”

“I won’t dignify that with an answer.”

“Did you kiss her, then? Don’t even bother answering. I can see the answer in your eyes. You kissed her, Beelzebub, so now watch me kill her.” She tightened her grip around Bat El’s throat, drawing another few droplets of blood.

Beelzebub grabbed Zarel’s wrist and twisted hard. Bat El came free, fell a few feet, then managed to flap her wings and flee. As Bat El flew into the distance, Beelzebub slapped Zarel across the face as hard as he could. His hand stung, and Zarel screamed in pain, blood flying from her lip. The anger fuming in him, Beelzebub hit Zarel again, a slap to her other cheek that sent her swirling backwards. The Demon Queen hissed and wept.

“You’re lucky I’m busy, or I’d give you more than just a couple slaps,” he said icily, then flapped his wings and took after Bat El. Zarel did not follow. Beelzebub knew he had hurt her, but he refused to feel guilt. The archdemon had to learn her place.

As he flew, following Bat El under the clouds, Beelzebub glimpsed a light in the eastern sky, like a flare or comet.

Michael.

The archangel was flying toward where Laila had fallen, following her wake of fire.
So my brother came to protect his ward,
Beelzebub thought, rankled. If Laila had survived, Zarel would be unable to kill or capture her now, not with Michael there. Briefly, Beelzebub considered confronting his brother, but he was in no mood for the archangel.
Bat El is the only one I care about now.

Shoving his wife and brother out of his mind, Beelzebub kept flying, following Bat El over dunes and cracked highways. The angel cried as she flew, bloody and battered. She soon lost strength and began to flag, then finally landed in a sandy field, her hair tousled, her wings ruffled.

Beelzebub landed beside her, the sand soft against his feet. He was still dressed in but a tunic, he realized; he hadn’t had a chance to change since going to Bat El’s chamber last night and finding her missing.

Bat El turned toward him, eyes huge and weepy, lip trembling, blood on her neck. She knelt in the sand, trembling.

“Laila,” she whispered. “Is my sister.... Do you think she’s okay?”

Beelzebub embraced her. “I don’t know,” he said. “But after you left, Michael showed up. If Laila lives, Michael will protect her.”

Bat El wept against his shoulder, shaking, and he held her for long moments, saying nothing. He tore off bits of cloth from his tunic and bound her wounds, and they lay in the sand, spent, holding each other. The breeze blew softly, scented of distant grass and sea. They were safe here for now, far from any other angels or demons.

“I’m scared, Beelzebub,” she finally said. “I’m scared that Laila is dead. I’m scared that Zarel will come back. I’m scared for Michael, for everything. I don’t know what’s going to happen.” She kept her arms wrapped around him. “Everything here on Earth is so different. I miss Heaven, and my dad, and... just understanding things. I’m so confused here, I don’t even know who’s good and who’s bad anymore.” She looked into his eyes, her own eyes haunted. “Sometimes I think you’re one of the good guys, but.... Oh, Beelzebub, I don’t know. I wish it would all just go away.”

“Do you really?” he whispered, and kissed her, and marveled at how her lips seemed softer and fuller than ever. She kissed him back, hands in his hair.

Beelzebub shut his eyes, holding Bat El. Though she was an archangel, daughter of Gabriel, puissant and high-ranking, she felt so fragile in his arms. When he felt her arms around him, her lips against his, Beelzebub felt like he could forget the whole war, forget his new throne in Hell, and stay here forever with her. Wasn’t this better than all the glory and might in Hell?

What was it about Bat El? Women had always been his greatest vice, back since the old days when he knew human girls, planting Nephilim in their wombs. Yet few women made him feel like this; none had since Laila fled him into exile a decade ago.