Sinners & Sorcerers: Four Urban Fantasy Thrillers (63 page)

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.

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.