Flaming Dove Read Online Free Page B
flesh."
Beelzebub stared at his wife, gazing into those burning eyes, eyes full of hatred and love for him. He stepped toward her and kissed her. She struggled at first, then kissed him back hungrily, her body pressed against his old Roman breastplate, her claws in his hair.
"I love you," he said.
She ignored him, turning her head aside, eyes shut. "You say she might change the tide. If she returned to join Michael, she might help him win this city. If you won't let me kill her for my own vengeance and hatred, let me kill her for that reason, to make sure she never joins Heaven."
Beelzebub shook his head. "Zarel, my love, my life. You are wise and strong, maybe wiser than I am. But you don't know Laila. She did not return to this city to join my brother. She did not return to pursue my love." Beelzebub, the fallen angel, the new Lord of Hell, smiled sadly. "Laila returned to Jerusalem because she is lonely."
* * * * *
Dust fluttered across cobblestones in the night, murmuring, the only sound to disturb the silence.
Nights were so silent these years. Black. Empty.
Like my own heart, Laila thought, walking through the darkness, her cloak wrapped around her. Black and empty, filled with naught but the whispers of dust.
Alley walls surrounded her like catacombs. Jerusalem was more graveyard than city these days. Her feet were silent upon the cobblestones, and Volkfair trailed behind her, a shadow. Laila held her Uzi like a child holding a doll, seeking comfort from the cold, oiled metal. She kept no bullet in the chamber, but knew she could load and fire fast. She had learned that many nights in these alleys. I've been away for long, but I still remember some things.
Volkfair growled softly, as if hearing her thoughts. So often, the wolf seemed to read her mind. Laila patted him.
"Yes, dear Volkfair, I know," she whispered. "I know you can lunge forward and kill any alley demon as quickly as I can get a shot off."
The wolf looked up at her, yellow eyes glinting. The beast weighed twice as much as she, and was longer than she was tall, but still she thought of him as her baby. She knew that Volkfair, in turn, thought of her as a mistress of infinite power and wisdom; there were none in Heaven or Hell with as much loyalty as Volkfair, Laila thought. She knelt and kissed his black fur like midnight, and he licked her cheek.
"Sweet Volkfair," she whispered into his ears, lowering her head, that old anguish creeping into her throat. She hated that anguish, hated the fear that forever coiled within her, hated the tears that fell in darkest, loneliest nights. So many of those tears had fallen into Volkfair's fur, and so many had he licked from her cheeks. "You are all I have, my friend," she whispered, embracing him. "You are all I need."
Volkfair nuzzled against her, making soft sounds of affection.
"Do you think it's true, Volkfair?" she whispered. "Was my angel sister speaking truth?"
He looked at her, eyes large, and Laila leaned her cheek against her wolf's shoulder. Angels, she knew, could be as deceitful and conniving as any demon, if it served their purpose. They would lie, swindle, or kill whoever got in their way when they wanted something—even the pure, beautiful Bat El. She, Laila, Lucifer's daughter? Laila ran her claws through Volkfair's fur.
"Beelzebub would have told me," she whispered to the wolf. "He was Lucifer's first lieutenant and knew all that Lucifer knew. He would have known if it were true. He would have told me."
And yet her words did little to convince herself. She knew Beelzebub. He had wanted her love, her kisses, her innocence, her dependence on him. He would have hidden this if he'd thought it could give her strength, give her a reason to leave his comforting embraces, his power.
"Dear Volkfair, could it be true?"
When she had pretended to know, sipping her drink nonchalantly, Bat El had seemed taken aback. It had taken all of Laila's strength to keep her face blank and emotionless,
Beelzebub stared at his wife, gazing into those burning eyes, eyes full of hatred and love for him. He stepped toward her and kissed her. She struggled at first, then kissed him back hungrily, her body pressed against his old Roman breastplate, her claws in his hair.
"I love you," he said.
She ignored him, turning her head aside, eyes shut. "You say she might change the tide. If she returned to join Michael, she might help him win this city. If you won't let me kill her for my own vengeance and hatred, let me kill her for that reason, to make sure she never joins Heaven."
Beelzebub shook his head. "Zarel, my love, my life. You are wise and strong, maybe wiser than I am. But you don't know Laila. She did not return to this city to join my brother. She did not return to pursue my love." Beelzebub, the fallen angel, the new Lord of Hell, smiled sadly. "Laila returned to Jerusalem because she is lonely."
* * * * *
Dust fluttered across cobblestones in the night, murmuring, the only sound to disturb the silence.
Nights were so silent these years. Black. Empty.
Like my own heart, Laila thought, walking through the darkness, her cloak wrapped around her. Black and empty, filled with naught but the whispers of dust.
Alley walls surrounded her like catacombs. Jerusalem was more graveyard than city these days. Her feet were silent upon the cobblestones, and Volkfair trailed behind her, a shadow. Laila held her Uzi like a child holding a doll, seeking comfort from the cold, oiled metal. She kept no bullet in the chamber, but knew she could load and fire fast. She had learned that many nights in these alleys. I've been away for long, but I still remember some things.
Volkfair growled softly, as if hearing her thoughts. So often, the wolf seemed to read her mind. Laila patted him.
"Yes, dear Volkfair, I know," she whispered. "I know you can lunge forward and kill any alley demon as quickly as I can get a shot off."
The wolf looked up at her, yellow eyes glinting. The beast weighed twice as much as she, and was longer than she was tall, but still she thought of him as her baby. She knew that Volkfair, in turn, thought of her as a mistress of infinite power and wisdom; there were none in Heaven or Hell with as much loyalty as Volkfair, Laila thought. She knelt and kissed his black fur like midnight, and he licked her cheek.
"Sweet Volkfair," she whispered into his ears, lowering her head, that old anguish creeping into her throat. She hated that anguish, hated the fear that forever coiled within her, hated the tears that fell in darkest, loneliest nights. So many of those tears had fallen into Volkfair's fur, and so many had he licked from her cheeks. "You are all I have, my friend," she whispered, embracing him. "You are all I need."
Volkfair nuzzled against her, making soft sounds of affection.
"Do you think it's true, Volkfair?" she whispered. "Was my angel sister speaking truth?"
He looked at her, eyes large, and Laila leaned her cheek against her wolf's shoulder. Angels, she knew, could be as deceitful and conniving as any demon, if it served their purpose. They would lie, swindle, or kill whoever got in their way when they wanted something—even the pure, beautiful Bat El. She, Laila, Lucifer's daughter? Laila ran her claws through Volkfair's fur.
"Beelzebub would have told me," she whispered to the wolf. "He was Lucifer's first lieutenant and knew all that Lucifer knew. He would have known if it were true. He would have told me."
And yet her words did little to convince herself. She knew Beelzebub. He had wanted her love, her kisses, her innocence, her dependence on him. He would have hidden this if he'd thought it could give her strength, give her a reason to leave his comforting embraces, his power.
"Dear Volkfair, could it be true?"
When she had pretended to know, sipping her drink nonchalantly, Bat El had seemed taken aback. It had taken all of Laila's strength to keep her face blank and emotionless,
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