“That was a warm-up,” stated Michael.

Sara taunted, “A bad loser, aren’t you?”

The Archangel’s narrowed his golden eyes. “I’m serious.” Lifting his sword to cut up her body, Sara jumped back in surprise at his quick move.

She frowned at the unexpected speed, realizing he was done playing games. Sara twirled her sword once to calculate her next action.

Her father didn’t let her wait, rapidly swinging his rapier to catch her off guard. The girl barely had time to raise her sword as their blades hit with a smack, the strike vibrating through their bones. She kicked her foot to her father’s leg but missed him twisting around, steel-grating each other.

Slightly releasing the grip against him, Sara let the edge of Michael’s blade swoop down on her, but she dodged sideways, cutting at her father’s side.

Michael blocked her move with his rapier, swirling around to elbow Sara on the back. She almost fell from the impact, but quickly stumbled forward. She whirled around in her ankle boots and didn’t waste a moment’s breath lurching at him.

She caught her father reflectively lifting his blade to aim at any of her vulnerable spots, but she used that to her advantage. Sara jumped, her blade smacking against his as a distraction, and released her sword. Hooking one of her legs around his torso and her other leg on his shoulder, Sara used the momentum to flip backward in a circle, her hair flying up in the air.

Michael fell on his back from her, unbalancing him with a spiral of confusion. She was on top of him, her hands gripping his to prevent movement. Sara breathed out her victory and grinned boldly.

“Now, you are just showing off,” remarked Michael, glad to bring a smile to her face. Before he dared to challenge her again, going down a notch of being easy, Kate walked up to them.

She flashed a smile. “May I cut in?”

Not wanting to be rude but wishing he had more time to train with his daughter, Michael said with his back on the ground, “Of course.”

Standing up and desiring to continue the training because she was on a winning streak, Sara frowned slightly, but she nodded to her friend. Michael ambled over to the wall to watch the fight.

The assassin stepped back, eyeing her friend wryly.

Kate freed her pistol from the holster, taking some paces back. She unlocked the safety of her gun, confident that her aim was accurate and on point. She fired for a warm-up, right at her friend’s head.

A step sideways on the left, the bullet zoomed past Sara’s ear. She straightened her posture, ready to fight until one of them bled. Her heart started back up again, observing the way the pistol was cockeyed.

The two Prowlers studied each other’s motions. It was Kate who made the first move, blasting bullets at Sara. The first round headed to Sara’s heart, and the next succession of bullets flew at random—well, to her important organs.

The young girl darted at them as if she had a death wish. She somersaulted, the bullets flying underneath her. She landed softly, but she kept on her toes, dodging the newcomers of ammunition ready to conclude against soft flesh.

She barely missed a bullet to the head and flung her head back just in time for another one to speed centimeters from her nose.

Kate frowned, thinking she had that one.

Cartridges burst from the gun and bounced on the concrete floors in echoes. The bullets are soaring as fast as lightning.

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Flicking her blade to block the ammo piercing her body, Sara kept moving forward. Her swords were made out of special steel that would not become damaged by each strike of the bullet.

Besides hoping to beat her friend for the millionth time, Sara continuously wanted to prove to her father that she was still the qualified assassin he marked her to be. The Prowlers inched closer, with Sara having a harder time keeping up with the bullets closer to her.

Cuffs electrified her wrists like defensive gear, and it was easier to have the ammo strike them when she moved her arms. Sara held her sword tightly, plowing forward.

Kate lowered her pistol and changed tactics, not always shooting for the organs. She fired at Sara’s limbs and sometimes went for the heart and head. She swiftly aimed unexpectedly.

While Sara dodged the onslaught of bullets to her organs, the different course of ammo caught her by surprise. Her friend shot off another round, hitting each mark, one slamming into Sara’s arm, another piercing in the right side of her chest, and the last one grazing her cheek.

Blood rushed even faster with thrill, and Sara welcomed the bullets slamming into her. She had taken them as a punishment for disobeying her father at Lucifer’s Castle.

The ammunition kept flying at her. Warm blood trickled down on her pale skin. After being shot three times, she was guaranteed to miss the rest of them. Her eyes flashed golden, zigzagging to miss the bullets.

Prior to Kate reacting in time to lift her gun at Sara and fire a single bullet that would stop her friend’s heart, the assassin flashed close to her. She shoved her free hand on Kate’s chest, the girl sailing across the room and slamming against the wall.

The Prowler groaned, pain exploding from the impact. There were no broken bones, but a huge bruise would appear if not healed. Black spots clouded Kate’s vision. The tip of a blade pricked her neck. She opened her hazel eyes, and a gentle smile flashed on Sara’s face.

Both girls sucked in air from the exhilaration flowing through them and the tiresome training that demanded of them. Kate thought she could’ve beaten Sara this time; however, that’s what she had told herself over the past three tears of unsuccessfully defeating her. She rasped, finding a way to catch her breath. “We should practice magic now.”

Sara stared at her for the two words.

“I yield,” affirmed Kate.

Pursing her lips, Sara retreated her weapon back into the sheath that dangled from her hips. “I rather not.” She glanced away from her father’s disapproval. She knew the imperative of one’s exercising their powers to control them more, but today was not the day.

“You know that you would lose to me if we battled with our magic,” Kate teased, placing her hands on her hips, her jeans ripped, and her shirt a tad sweaty.

“At least I’m not dependent on my powers,” Sara accused defensively, her tone strikingly annoyed. She bit her tongue and stammered, “That’s not what I meant!”

Kate looked at her friend in disbelief at the uncalled blow. The statement felt worse than hitting the wall. She huffed and stormed away.

“That was unnecessary, Sara,” stated Michael with a frown.

The fifteen-year-old teenager hunched her shoulders together. She flinched away from her father’s stern stare, which was worse than the bullet jammed in her chest. “I was teasing back.”

Shaking his head, Michael replied gently, “Remember to think before speaking. Your attitude catches up with you sometimes.” He looked at her messy appearance with ammo stuck into her and said, “Let’s go to my office and clean you up.”

Sara nodded and followed her father to his office. Anger cut deeper than the bullets lodged inside her from her careless remark. Her head was cast down on the way, and she hugged herself self-consciously.

***

Fire blazed alive across the desk. The days were getting chilly for the onset of winter. Sara usually felt more insecure about her cloak and found comfort sitting near the warmth of the fire.

Her father had ordered her to stay, and she left to get some supplies.

The girl was seated on a comfortable cushioned chair, enjoying the silence from the loud training sessions moments ago. She relaxed her mind, remembering the movements to avoid being shot at. She thought of the insult to Kate. She sighed heavily, leaning her head on the armchair.

Sara was indeed ignoring four bullets in her.

“Don’t beat yourself up,” Sal said, picking up a small globe standing decoratively on a bookshelf. “I do admit, I don’t understand why you are afraid of testing your powers.”

“You know why, Sal,” muttered Sara, disliking that the blissful quietness hadn’t lasted long enough.

“Hiding your powers won’t do you any good,” lectured Sal, spinning the globe around its stand. “You need to get over it. That accident was like a decade ago? The past is the past; move on.”

Turning her back on him, Sara flared, “You wouldn’t understand! My father has given me so many chances that he wouldn’t have if I weren’t his daughter. I’ve killed two Choirs, or was it three? It’s awful; I don’t even remember! I can’t afford to mess up again.”

Sal cut in before the foolish girl could rant about being perfect, “Right, because if you mess up, rumor has it, your father will banish you or kill you.” He set the globe back on the shelf and collapsed on a love seat with a shake of his head. “That’s bullshit.”

“As I said, you wouldn’t understand,” snapped Sara.