angel blood. If Heaven wins, the godlight will sear my demon half, leaving me just as dead. But now I have a way out. I am heir to Hell, and once I sit upon its throne, I can douse its fires. I'll build myself a home there, a home with no hellfire that would burn me, where my mixed blood can survive. Once I do that, you take Earth; I'll no longer need it. Help me kill Beelzebub, help me take over Hell. I'll give you Earth in return."
The sun began to rise, sending pink feathers over the eastern horizon, gilding the ruins. Laila pulled her hood over her face as Michael looked at the dawn, admiring it. "I know sunrise burns you, but can you appreciate its beauty? Do you ever just stop and admire it?" When Laila said nothing, he sighed. "Laila, I will not give you a hundred thousand spears, and I will not fight your wars for you. If you want to kill Beelzebub, you will do so as a soldier of Heaven, under my command. You will work for me; Heaven will not work for you."
She glared at him, baring her fangs. "I work for no one. I do not serve Heaven and I never will. Heaven is your domain, Michael. I'll even give you Earth once I take over Hell. Hell is mine, and I serve no one. I will not serve as a soldier for you. I will make an alliance with you, but I remain loyal to none but myself. Join me and together we will kill your brother. And if I need spears, you will give them to me. Those are my terms. Take them or leave them. Do we have a deal?"
Michael stopped walking and stood among the rubble, wisps of dust flying around his boots. He looked at her, and Laila was almost taken aback, for she saw pain and remorse in his eyes. She saw pity there, and it both shocked and enraged her.
"Laila," he said, sadness in his voice, "come with me to Caesarea. Our partnership begins there."
She laughed mirthlessly. "Caesarea? That's Angor's city. Forget it. You'll never take it."
"We need Caesarea. It cuts the beach between north and south. It houses a horde of demons just a few miles from our fort. We will take it. And you will help us."
Volkfair growled and Laila patted him. "I don't care about Angor. I don't care about Caesarea. It's Beelzebub I want to kill, and maybe his wife. I care only for Jerusalem."
"Beelzebub's church is guarded by more force than in ten Caesareas, for miles around. We will get there, Laila, when the time is right. Baby steps. We take Caesarea first. And you, Laila, will go underground until either you, or Angor, is dead."
Her halo crackled. "And if I refuse?"
Michael looked at her shoulder, where claw marks still dug deep. "Did Zarel give you that wound, Laila?" he asked softly.
She stared at him for a moment, then nodded.
"Do you want to get back at her?" Michael said, only the hint of a smile in his eyes. "Angor, the archdemon that lurks below Caesarea, is her father."
Laila barked a laugh, though it sounded to her more like a sob. She could still feel the pain of Zarel's claws on her shoulder. "If I couldn't kill Zarel, what makes you think I can face her dad?"
Michael put a hand on her shoulder. "Angor is old now, and tired, and his strength is not what it was. He is still powerful and mean—a real bastard—but if you faced Zarel and lived, you can kill Angor. And that, Laila, will be a greater blow to Zarel than any other you can give her."
Laila lowered her head, remembering the fire of Zarel's drool burning against her. Ash swirled around her, staining her frayed cloak. She tightened her lips and nodded. "I'll do it."
* * * * *
Laila knelt in the shadowy chamber, moonlight falling upon her through the arrow-slits. She could hear angels clanking in the hallways in their armor. This entire fort stank of them; a smell like roses, fresh air, goodness, a stench that made her demon blood cringe. At least here, in this small chamber where archers had once stood, she could find relief from their godlight, she could lurk in shadows with only moonlight to fill her eyes. Volkfair sat by her, and Laila
The sun began to rise, sending pink feathers over the eastern horizon, gilding the ruins. Laila pulled her hood over her face as Michael looked at the dawn, admiring it. "I know sunrise burns you, but can you appreciate its beauty? Do you ever just stop and admire it?" When Laila said nothing, he sighed. "Laila, I will not give you a hundred thousand spears, and I will not fight your wars for you. If you want to kill Beelzebub, you will do so as a soldier of Heaven, under my command. You will work for me; Heaven will not work for you."
She glared at him, baring her fangs. "I work for no one. I do not serve Heaven and I never will. Heaven is your domain, Michael. I'll even give you Earth once I take over Hell. Hell is mine, and I serve no one. I will not serve as a soldier for you. I will make an alliance with you, but I remain loyal to none but myself. Join me and together we will kill your brother. And if I need spears, you will give them to me. Those are my terms. Take them or leave them. Do we have a deal?"
Michael stopped walking and stood among the rubble, wisps of dust flying around his boots. He looked at her, and Laila was almost taken aback, for she saw pain and remorse in his eyes. She saw pity there, and it both shocked and enraged her.
"Laila," he said, sadness in his voice, "come with me to Caesarea. Our partnership begins there."
She laughed mirthlessly. "Caesarea? That's Angor's city. Forget it. You'll never take it."
"We need Caesarea. It cuts the beach between north and south. It houses a horde of demons just a few miles from our fort. We will take it. And you will help us."
Volkfair growled and Laila patted him. "I don't care about Angor. I don't care about Caesarea. It's Beelzebub I want to kill, and maybe his wife. I care only for Jerusalem."
"Beelzebub's church is guarded by more force than in ten Caesareas, for miles around. We will get there, Laila, when the time is right. Baby steps. We take Caesarea first. And you, Laila, will go underground until either you, or Angor, is dead."
Her halo crackled. "And if I refuse?"
Michael looked at her shoulder, where claw marks still dug deep. "Did Zarel give you that wound, Laila?" he asked softly.
She stared at him for a moment, then nodded.
"Do you want to get back at her?" Michael said, only the hint of a smile in his eyes. "Angor, the archdemon that lurks below Caesarea, is her father."
Laila barked a laugh, though it sounded to her more like a sob. She could still feel the pain of Zarel's claws on her shoulder. "If I couldn't kill Zarel, what makes you think I can face her dad?"
Michael put a hand on her shoulder. "Angor is old now, and tired, and his strength is not what it was. He is still powerful and mean—a real bastard—but if you faced Zarel and lived, you can kill Angor. And that, Laila, will be a greater blow to Zarel than any other you can give her."
Laila lowered her head, remembering the fire of Zarel's drool burning against her. Ash swirled around her, staining her frayed cloak. She tightened her lips and nodded. "I'll do it."
* * * * *
Laila knelt in the shadowy chamber, moonlight falling upon her through the arrow-slits. She could hear angels clanking in the hallways in their armor. This entire fort stank of them; a smell like roses, fresh air, goodness, a stench that made her demon blood cringe. At least here, in this small chamber where archers had once stood, she could find relief from their godlight, she could lurk in shadows with only moonlight to fill her eyes. Volkfair sat by her, and Laila
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