Sinners & Sorcerers: Four Urban Fantasy Thrillers

by SM Reine

  “I saw the Demon Queen,” Laila responded. Her bat wings made deep, thudding sounds while Michael’s swan wings sounded like grace and light. “She’s not Beelzebub’s type. He’ll have left her behind to guard his church.”

  “That’s conjecture,” Michael said, his spear and armor glinting in the dawn. “Not knowledge.”

  “I know,” Laila said, snarling. “I know Beelzebub like few others do. I almost married him, remember?”

  She looked behind her at their troops. All of Heavenfire flew there, Heaven’s fabled Fifth Division, bearing banners of flames on white fields. They flew in two brigades—Orion and Barracuda, five thousand angels each. Heavenfire was an old division, Laila knew, formed thousands of years ago, trained for nothing more than killing demons. Here were Heaven’s elite troops.

  Back in Caesarea, they had left Heaven’s Sixth and Seventh Divisions to keep the city. Would it be enough? Laila wondered. Between the fort, Caesarea, their trenches in Jerusalem, and their other towns across the Holy Land, Heaven was spreading its forces thin. Most angels had perished during the past twenty-seven years of war, and angels were born far fewer, and grew far slower, than demons. We’ll have to defeat Hell soon.

  As they flew, Jerusalem growing larger ahead, Laila thought of Bat El. They had not heard from the young angel since Beelzebub took the fort, but Laila doubted that Beelzebub would harm such a lofty bargaining chip. Bat El was Gabriel’s daughter, worth far more alive than dead.

  That, and, well.... If Zarel was not Beelzebub’s type, Bat El was everything he loved in a woman, Laila knew. The angel was young, frightened, inexperienced, and not hard on the eyes. Like myself when I first met Beelzebub. The fallen angel loved the role of the mentor, the father figure, the wise and handsome ruler who could provide protection and knowledge. He had seduced Laila with his little game; at seventeen, confused and frightened, she had fallen for it. Bat El—callow, scared, in peril—might find the same comfort in Beelzebub’s arms.

  Lucifer was mean and frightening, Laila thought. Beelzebub is charming and sweet—a far better devil.

  Laila did not know what disgusted her more; the thought of her former lover with another woman, or the idea of her innocent, angelic sister in bed with the devil. Neither was a pretty concept, and Laila tightened her lips and fists, forcing herself to think only of the battle ahead. That was what mattered now, only this war, and certainly not whatever love still lingered within her for Beelzebub. Think only of claiming Hell’s throne, Laila, she told herself. That is your destiny now. Hell will be your home, and you’ll never more have to run or hide. Beelzebub is no longer your lover, Laila. He is an enemy, and regardless of how you might still feel for him, you will have to kill him.

  “You think you’re strong enough to capture Zarel?” Michael asked, and for once, true concern filled his eyes. Laila hated when she saw love and pity in him; she found the stern, cynical Michael moderately less grating.

  “Maybe not,” she confessed, wings churning wisps of cloud. “But she’s the only demon we could swap for Bat El. And as annoying, sanctimonious, and prissy as my sister might be, I kind of, well... love the girl.” She growled at Michael. “Don’t tell her I said that.”

  Michael smiled thinly. “Not a word.”

  Jerusalem was below them, pale in the morning light. The ruins spread across the hills, a hodgepodge of tumbled stones, rusty cars, skeletons, columns of fire, and endless weeds. Laila descried Beelzebub’s church atop a hill, swarming with demons. The streets around the church rustled with more shades.

  “You attack from above,” she said to Michael. “Take Barracuda Brigade and drop on the church from the sky. I’ll lead Orion from the streets.”

  Michael shook his head. “We shouldn’t split up. The plan was we all descend from above. Together.”

  “I’m changing the plan,” Laila said. “We attack from two fronts.” She slammed a magazine into her Uzi. “We’ll confuse them a little. Meet you in the church. Last one there is a rotten demon egg.”

  Michael sighed and issued a few commands, and soon the force of angels split in half. Michael led Barracuda’s five thousand angels toward the church, to drop from the skies onto the demons. It would be a hard battle for Barracuda, she knew; thousands of demons fluttered over the church, waiting for them. Yet Laila knew that her own brigade faced a tougher battle; they would have to duke it out in the streets, an uphill battle toward the church.

  Uzi in hand, she led Orion—another five thousand angels—toward the Jewish Quarter. They landed in a large cobbled square. This was still Heaven’s neighborhood, but just ahead, behind the Mount of Olives and the Temple Mount, lay the dominion of Hell. There rose Hell’s church where Zarel waited.

  “We proceed on foot,” she said to the angels. She folded her wings against her back and checked her arsenal: her trusty Uzi, loaded with a full magazine; seven more magazines strapped across her chest; six grenades on her belt; her claws and fangs. Would it be enough? Remembering the last duel with Zarel, Laila regretted not having brought a Hydrogen bomb or two; perhaps that was the only weapon that would break Zarel’s scales.

  Last time we fought, I gave her a bloody lip, Laila told herself. She’s not invincible She can be harmed. Laila preferred to forget that just that bloody lip took several magazines and grenades. She wished Volkfair were with her. She missed him. Remembering how Volkfair was wounded in the last duel with Zarel, Laila had left the wolf behind, though it tore at her heart. She hated being apart from her best friend. It must be how Nathaniel feels without his wings.

  The wingless angel, as if summoned by her thoughts, stepped toward her. The dour lieutenant, commander of one of Orion’s platoons, stared at her with his good eye. A patch covered his other eye, and stubble covered his face.

  “When you face the Demon Queen,” he said, voice gruff, “I go with you. We capture her together.”

  Laila spat. “To hell with that, man. The bitch is mine. Besides, she’d kill you where you stand.”

  Nathaniel refused to remove his stare from her; there were few angels so foolhardy. “Kill me where I stand? I’m not so sure. I faced the Demon Queen before. How do you think I lost my eye and wings?” The tall angel smiled. Laila had never seen him smile before. “When we see her today, look to her left thigh. You’ll see a missing scale where my spear cut her.” Nathaniel opened his palm and brought it close to Laila. Inside was a small red scale.

  Laila stared at it in silence for a moment, then back at Nathaniel’s face. “Right. You come with me.”

  With that, the force began to move through the city. Laila walked ahead, Nathaniel at her side. Five thousand angels followed with armor, swords, and spears. War. Laila bared her fangs and her halo burst into flame, crackling.

  They moved through the cracked roads and alleys, the ruins around them, weedy and tumbled, some covered with demon prints. A few of the ruins sported boarded windows; homes to human survivors. Gradually they saw more and more demon prints, and Laila eyed the ashy sky. The sun was hidden, and any moment, she knew, Beelzebub’s troops would emerge. She remembered walking these streets only weeks ago, seeking Beelzebub, seeking the truth about her father.

  Lucifer. I am the devil’s daughter. A princess of Hell. Laila tightened her lips, fingers tingling. The discovery of her parentage still made her shiver, but she snarled, refusing to let horror overcome her. Think only of the battle, Laila. Think only of Hell—it will be your home, a place where you can finally belong.

  At the outskirts of Hell’s neighborhood, Laila paused and issued a few commands to Orion’s officers, halving the brigade. She sent two of its battalions to climb the hill from the east, under the dawn. Laila kept the remaining two battalions—over two thousand angels—to climb the hill through the shady western streets. She kept The Wrecking Balls at the vanguard; Nathaniel’s platoon. They were fifty burly, scarred angels with dented armor and spears that had shed much demon blood. Nathaniel had done a good job with The Wrecking Balls, Lai
la thought. They were all older, battle-hardened angels who loved killing like they loved drinking and whoring.

  She led her troops up narrow streets, moving toward the church. When they stepped around a toppled bridge, a dozen demons appeared atop rusty, broken cars. The shades’ eyes lit up, they flapped their wings, and began to shriek.

  Laila fired her Uzi, taking out three demons. The angels shot godlight from their spears, burning through the other demons, crashing their bodies to the ground. For a moment the world was silent; then a thousand more shades emerged from rooftops and sewers, swooping toward Laila. Ahead in the sky, she could see Barracuda Brigade descending toward the church, crashing against thousands of flying demons.

  Laila struggled to push her way through, clawing at demons, shoving them aside. At her sides, The Wrecking Balls fought with spears, cursing and smirking as they killed demons. Through the flying blood, Laila narrowed her eyes and stared ahead. The church rose several blocks away, ten thousand demons guarding it. But at least Beelzebub is gone with half his force. If we’re going to reach this church, today is the day.

  Laila decided to save her bullets for Zarel and fought with claw and fang. The demons seemed endless, and time passed in a blur of demon fangs, blasts of godlight, and the thudding of wings. They fought for hours, Laila and her angels taking the streets brick by brick. By evening they had claimed two blocks, three by nightfall.

  Laila toyed with the idea of hunkering down for the night, but dismissed it. I won’t let Michael enter the church before me. Zarel is mine. She could see Michael’s troops still battling demons in the sky. Barracuda was half its size now, as was Hell’s force. Every moment, a demon or angel body fell from the sky and thudded against the ruins. Demons grew more brazen in darkness, but Laila did not care. I take the church tonight.

  “We keep going!” she shouted to her troops, hoarse. The Wrecking Balls had lost most of their men; only Nathaniel and twelve others remained. Laila sent them back and pulled fresher platoons up to the vanguard. Nathaniel refused to retreat but remained by her, fighting with his spear. Cuts covered him, yet still he fought, killing demon after demon. He wants Zarel even more than I do, Laila knew.

  She wished she could kill Zarel today. Merely capturing the Demon Queen, and swapping her for Bat El, would be hard to do. Damn you, Bat El, Laila thought. I should let you rot in whatever prison Hell put you in. Laila grew up apart from her half-sister. While Bat El grew up in Heaven, pampered and protected, Laila grew up in forests and deserts, running from Heaven and Hell, hurting and hunted. The sisters had rarely met growing up, but some memories still remained. In some of her darkest hours, Laila conjured old memories of the years before she turned six, when she still lived with angels on Earth, before she escaped into the countryside. Bat El would visit sometimes then, descending from Heaven with gifts for Laila, dolls and teddy bears which Laila never played with. While Laila hated those toys, she loved Bat El’s visits. Her older sister always knew how to comfort Laila when she cried bloody tears. The angel, already a young woman in those years, would rock the demonic child, kissing her forehead with soft lips. Everyone else feared or pitied Laila. To Bat El, she was just a younger sister—different, yes, but family. Loved.

  She might have met Bat El only several times in her life, but blood was blood, Laila knew. Bat El was perhaps the only being in Heaven, Hell, or Earth who truly, fully loved her, even more than Beelzebub ever did. She was perhaps the only soul Laila herself loved.

  Damn you, Bat El, she thought again, fighting on those sloping streets outside Zarel’s church. I hope you appreciate what I’m doing for you.

  It took hours to reach the church. Weariness slowed Laila like shackles by then, and she cursed. I need my strength to face Zarel, damn it. Thousands of angel and demon bodies surrounded the church; their spirits would travel to Heaven and Hell, become godlight and hellfire, and never more war upon the earth. Most of Orion Brigade had died on the streets, splashing the cobblestones with blood. About two thousand angels remained around Laila. Barracuda had fared scarcely better; two thousand of them remained too. Michael stood atop the church roof, killing the last few demons, bloodied angels surrounding him.

  Beelzebub will be on his way here with reinforcement, Laila knew. She flapped her wings, flew onto the belfry tower, and growled.

  “Zarel’s inside,” she called to Michael.

  The archangel stood on the roofs by her. He nodded, speared a last demon, and moved toward the shattered church windows. “Ready?” he asked.

  Laila reloaded her Uzi and her halo of fire crackled. She nodded. “Let’s crash this party.”

  + + +

  Beelzebub stood in Bat El’s tower chamber, staring around, candle in hand.

  When he’d arrived just a moment ago, the door had still been locked. A hundred demons still circled outside the window. And yet the chamber was empty. Bat El had escaped.

  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 d
id 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.