Flaming Dove Read Online Free

piece. Candles filled the church belfry, dancing against the statue, burning low. He had been working for hours on his self-portrait; soon the light would be gone.
    "Your nose is bigger," came a voice behind him. "You're not that pretty."
    With a sigh, Beelzebub turned to see Zarel enter the belfry. The Demon Queen swayed as she walked, formed of endless curves, her red scales clinking. Her hair of flame crackled, and drool dripped down her fangs to steam against the floor.
    "All angels are pretty," he said to her. "We are beings of light and beauty."
    Zarel barked a laugh, smoke and flame rising from her nostrils. "You're a fallen angel, my dear husband, do you remember? It's been a long time since a halo glowed above your head."
    Beelzebub turned back toward the statue and took a step back, admiring his work. The black marble rose seven feet tall, just slightly larger than life, great bat wings spread. It's good, Beelzebub thought, nodding slowly. He especially liked how he had carved the armor; the stone breastplate, greaves, and vambraces glittered like the real armor he wore, old Roman pieces he had been wearing for two thousand years. I will gild the marble armor too, he decided. His own armor was black and gilded, and he wanted the statue to look as authentic as possible.
    "I'll mount this statue in the Armenian Quarter once we take it," he told Zarel. "Michael will like that."
    Zarel bared her fangs, and her hair of flame raised sparks. Her eyes burned like lanterns in the shadows. "Forget the Armenian Quarter. We have larger concerns today. Whispers fill the city. They say that Laila has returned."
    Beelzebub sank into a chair by his workbench. "Who says this, Zarel?" he asked wearily.
    His wife ran her claws along his arm, raising steam against his skin. "Humans. Who else? You know your lover. She consorts with them, so I listen."
    Beelzebub sighed again, a deep sigh that ran across his body. "She's no longer my lover, Zarel. That was years ago. You know that."
    She smiled with a hiss, drool dripping down her maw, flames burning in her eyes. More flames ran across her scaly body, a raiment of fire. She unfurled her great bat wings, horns and claws glistening. "The girl must die."
    Beelzebub rose to his feet, stepped toward the belfry window, and opened the shutters. He gazed out upon the ruins of Jerusalem, letting his gaze caress the toppled temples, fallen columns, cracked streets, the skeletons of demons and angels. Ash swirled across the sky, and he could see no life other than a vulture pecking at some bones. In the distance, beyond alleys and ruins, he could discern the glow of angels hunkered down in their trenches. Stubborn bastards, he thought. It's been twenty-seven years since Armageddon, and still they hold out. They don't give up on dreams easily, angels. Stubborn, stubborn.
    He turned back toward Zarel, letting his gaze move over her body clad in flames, her toothy maw, her flaming hair. She was beautiful, of perfect form and malice. He stepped toward her and embraced her. She struggled, trying to shove him back, but he held her tight and kissed her cheek.
    "My dearest Zarel," he said. "Don't be jealous, my queen. I have no more feelings for Laila, you know that. You're the only one I love."
    She hissed and scratched her claws against his nape, trying to hurt him, but could not penetrate his skin. Her claws could rip through stone and steel, yet some were still too powerful for Zarel the archdemon. "Then why did the sound of her name bring pain to your eyes?" she said, her voice half a growl.
    Beelzebub shoved her aside, and she fell back two steps, glaring at him, eyes aflame. She bared her fangs like a wolf.
    Pain. Was there still pain? Beelzebub turned back toward his statue and stared at it. A fallen angel was he, a being of beauty and power, a being who could claim any woman. His wings were no longer those of a swan, but of a bat, and no halo glowed above his head. Those had been stripped from him