fingers.
Laila hissed at the light and pushed herself further into the shadows, turning her head away, so as not to look upon the glow. Her fists clenched at her sides. The godlight burns her demon blood, Bat El thought, but no demonic blood filled Volkfair. All wolves were God's creation, Bat El knew, smiling as she passed her hands through the black fur, as the wounds closed, as light and life filled Volkfair's eyes.
The wolf rose to his feet, shook his fur, and licked Bat El's palm. His yellow eyes gazed at her, and Bat El wondered how she had once so feared the creature. A look passed between them that told Bat El that now, and forever, the wolf would be her friend.
Laila stepped forward, still shielded in her cloak and hood, and Volkfair moved to stand by her. Two warrior comrades together again, Bat El thought, and gazing into the shade of Laila's hood, where red eyes burned, Bat El knew: There is more that she came here for.
"What is it?" Bat El whispered, for she saw somberness and horror she had never before witnessed in her half-sister.
Laila took a step forward and pulled the hood back from her head, her face pale and bloody, her eyes burning. "Take me to Michael," she said.
* * * * *
Zarel swooped down from the church clerestory, caught a demon that fluttered by, and pulled it to the floor. She tore out its throat with her fangs, then shook her head, splattering blood in all direction. She ripped into the dead body with her claws, tossed back her head, and howled into the darkness.
Standing in the pulpit, perusing a dusty old volume, Beelzebub flicked up his eyes. "Zarel, calm yourself," the fallen angel said wearily. "Please."
Zarel shot him a venomous glance and growled, drool and blood dripping from her maw. The blood was hot, fresh, igniting flames within her. The bloodlust burned through her, making her vision red, blurry. She hissed, smoke rising from her nostrils to veil her eyes.
Beelzebub shook his head with a sigh and brushed sparks off his breastplate. "We won't have any demons left if you keep killing them."
Three more demon bodies lay strewn across the church, shredded with fang and claw. "A thousand more demons fill this church," Zarel said and licked her lips, savoring the taste of demon blood. Beelzebub could not understand, she knew; no fallen angel born of Heaven could truly understand a demon forged in hellfire. He could not understand how the flames forever burned in her. "I'll kill as many as I like."
"The only one you were to kill is Laila, and you failed," Beelzebub said.
His words hit her like a slap. She screamed, her hair crackling and raising sparks, and leapt into the air. She smashed an old statue of a saint, shattering it, scattering stones across the floor. She leapt again, flipped through the air, and landed before Beelzebub, hissing, claws drawn. "The girl fled. I was close to killing her."
"And yet she got away," Beelzebub said, staring at her levelly. He was the only one who'd dare stare at her levelly. "Now step back, Zarel, or you'll burn my book."
Zarel lowered her head, feeling tears gather in her eyes to seep over her scales, bloody. "Why do you hurt me, my lord?"
Beelzebub sighed again and slammed the tome shut. Dust flew. He stepped down from the pulpit, approached Zarel, and embraced her. His old Roman breastplate, blackened from fire, felt cold against her. She tried to push him away, hissing, but he held her firmly. Finally she relaxed and leaned her head against his shoulder, wrapping her arms around him. He smoothed her flaming hair with his clawed fingers.
"I love you, my husband, my eternal king," she said.
"And I love you, Zarel, forever." His wings wrapped around them like a cocoon.
"I failed you, Beelzebub. I let you down. I know." Her eyes lit up; she could see their flames reflected in Beelzebub's breastplate. "But I will not fail again. Send me on the hunt, and I will bring her back. When I'm done with her, she will be begging for
Laila hissed at the light and pushed herself further into the shadows, turning her head away, so as not to look upon the glow. Her fists clenched at her sides. The godlight burns her demon blood, Bat El thought, but no demonic blood filled Volkfair. All wolves were God's creation, Bat El knew, smiling as she passed her hands through the black fur, as the wounds closed, as light and life filled Volkfair's eyes.
The wolf rose to his feet, shook his fur, and licked Bat El's palm. His yellow eyes gazed at her, and Bat El wondered how she had once so feared the creature. A look passed between them that told Bat El that now, and forever, the wolf would be her friend.
Laila stepped forward, still shielded in her cloak and hood, and Volkfair moved to stand by her. Two warrior comrades together again, Bat El thought, and gazing into the shade of Laila's hood, where red eyes burned, Bat El knew: There is more that she came here for.
"What is it?" Bat El whispered, for she saw somberness and horror she had never before witnessed in her half-sister.
Laila took a step forward and pulled the hood back from her head, her face pale and bloody, her eyes burning. "Take me to Michael," she said.
* * * * *
Zarel swooped down from the church clerestory, caught a demon that fluttered by, and pulled it to the floor. She tore out its throat with her fangs, then shook her head, splattering blood in all direction. She ripped into the dead body with her claws, tossed back her head, and howled into the darkness.
Standing in the pulpit, perusing a dusty old volume, Beelzebub flicked up his eyes. "Zarel, calm yourself," the fallen angel said wearily. "Please."
Zarel shot him a venomous glance and growled, drool and blood dripping from her maw. The blood was hot, fresh, igniting flames within her. The bloodlust burned through her, making her vision red, blurry. She hissed, smoke rising from her nostrils to veil her eyes.
Beelzebub shook his head with a sigh and brushed sparks off his breastplate. "We won't have any demons left if you keep killing them."
Three more demon bodies lay strewn across the church, shredded with fang and claw. "A thousand more demons fill this church," Zarel said and licked her lips, savoring the taste of demon blood. Beelzebub could not understand, she knew; no fallen angel born of Heaven could truly understand a demon forged in hellfire. He could not understand how the flames forever burned in her. "I'll kill as many as I like."
"The only one you were to kill is Laila, and you failed," Beelzebub said.
His words hit her like a slap. She screamed, her hair crackling and raising sparks, and leapt into the air. She smashed an old statue of a saint, shattering it, scattering stones across the floor. She leapt again, flipped through the air, and landed before Beelzebub, hissing, claws drawn. "The girl fled. I was close to killing her."
"And yet she got away," Beelzebub said, staring at her levelly. He was the only one who'd dare stare at her levelly. "Now step back, Zarel, or you'll burn my book."
Zarel lowered her head, feeling tears gather in her eyes to seep over her scales, bloody. "Why do you hurt me, my lord?"
Beelzebub sighed again and slammed the tome shut. Dust flew. He stepped down from the pulpit, approached Zarel, and embraced her. His old Roman breastplate, blackened from fire, felt cold against her. She tried to push him away, hissing, but he held her firmly. Finally she relaxed and leaned her head against his shoulder, wrapping her arms around him. He smoothed her flaming hair with his clawed fingers.
"I love you, my husband, my eternal king," she said.
"And I love you, Zarel, forever." His wings wrapped around them like a cocoon.
"I failed you, Beelzebub. I let you down. I know." Her eyes lit up; she could see their flames reflected in Beelzebub's breastplate. "But I will not fail again. Send me on the hunt, and I will bring her back. When I'm done with her, she will be begging for
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