Before Sara could ignore him like usual and walk past the desk, the people’s heads lifted, and a variety of bright-colored eyes shone out at her. Warlocks? Her mind shrieked.

The black office chair swirled around, and there sat the Gala Kate was talking about.

Sara’s heart dropped into her stomach, seeing bright lavender eyes glimmer back and a smile taunting on his face. “It’s you!” she screeched, feeling incredibly dumb for falling for this trick. She hadn’t expected him to be waiting for them.

Thomas Pitch grinned with delight, reclining easily on the office chair and crossing his legs. “Ah, hello...who are you?”

Sara flickered at the closed doors, feeling quite screwed over.

“You...look familiar,” stated the Gala.

“Look, shapeshifter,” started the assassin with a shaking breath. “My father told me to capture you if you were here!”

“Your father…” Pitch cocked his head, scanning her up and down. Before he could jerk to his feet, a dagger slammed centimeters from nicking his neck on the chair. He froze for a second, seeing the girl’s scared expression and fumbling to get out her handcuffs from her cloak.

“Don’t move!”

Pitch yanked the dagger from the chair, half studying it and the other half watching the girl.

“Sal, open the fucking door while I get this Gala!”

“Hmmm, what’s the magic word?”

Sara clutched her jaw, her mind pleading with him, afraid beyond belief of falling into this trap. “Please!” She withdrew a sword from her cloak, pointing it at him. “Alright, shapeshifter, you will come with me very nicely!”

The warlocks stood without moving an inch, finally advancing toward Sara.

“Stop, or I will have to kill you!” stuttered Sara, backing towards the door.

Thomas Pitch rose from his chair and asked, “Are you—?”

However, before he could finish his query, the vault door gears were unlocked. The assassin dashed out of the vault, feeling like a coward. Yet she thought if she ran towards the public, people would help her.

This time, eyes looked at the terrified girl dashing out of the vault, and warlocks wearing what looked like S.W.A.T. outfits walked out in a military march. They halted in unison.

Pitch emerged from the vault in studded spiked-punk boots. They clomped on the marble floor, an echo ringing out in the air. He lifted his hands in the air with a glee of happiness dancing on his face. “I’m back in black, baby!” Rings glistened on his fingers, and a pentagram earring dangled on his right ear.

Galas stopped dead in their tracks; their eyes were shell-shocked, and their mouths dropped to the floor.

He wore an elaborate trench coat with a white design, symbolizing a High-warlock. A black dress shirt buttoned up and leather pants fitted well on him.

Sara swirled around to look for her friend, but she was nowhere to be found. I am going to kill you Kate once I find you! I don’t care what dumbass's meeting you have with the Devil! She couldn’t believe the only time she was alone in public was when she desperately needed her friend the most.

There were no whispers to be heard but loud exclaiming: “Is that Pitch? No, it’s impossible! He’s been dead for nearly nine years! Who is he? A shapeshifter!”

Thomas Pitch rolled his eyes so hard they nearly tumbled out of his head. “I am not a shapeshifter for the last time!” A rush of frisson coursed through the atmosphere and goosebumps ran down everyone’s spines. Horror and amazed struck Gala’s visages. The immense magical presence coming from him overwhelmed them.

Lavender flames enlightened in his palms and exploded from his hands. Galas flung back and smacked against the walls or pillars. Sara stood her ground and knew she had to end this. She sprinted towards him, raising her sword and ready to attack.

Pitch pointed the dagger she threw at him previously, and when Sara swapped her blade down to knock him to the ground, he let the dagger’s blade take the hit and a ring of metal boomed through the room.

“You can’t fight me with my weapon!” complained Sara, staring ghastly at him.

“You gave it to me,” Pitch acknowledged, impressed by how well the blade was made. He expected it to break from the impact. He was also dazzled by how well that swing came from her. He smiled and lifted the dagger high in the air. “Come and get it if you want it back.”

“It’s mine!” Sara whined and jumped to reach for the dagger, realizing this was another trap and now feeling childish. She quickly dodged his hand, gripping her cloak and twirling around, aiming her sword at his neck.

A burst of lavender hit her, and she was thrown to the ground. She groaned from the strike to the floor, but the landing was smooth. A thought came to her: Why didn’t he try to kill me? Another thought followed: This is not a shapeshifter. They can’t do this.

If anyone knew well about the supernatural and their abilities, it would be Michael’s daughter. Her eyes flashed red from anger being tossed sideways, but he had done it to not have his neck split. Sara’s powers came to her unexpectedly, matching her confused emotions.

Curling her palms into fists, she refused to let go of her powers. She couldn’t afford to hurt anyone else in this room, or her friend or father might get a bad reputation as a loose cannon in the mix.

Sara managed to get to her feet, a headache pounding inside her. She heard wild shouts and guards running to protect the Infernals and Harmonies. The bank was heated up by the mixed magic swirling in the air, and a shot of frisson coldly shot down her spin. Nervous sweat broke up, and her powers were demanding to be released from her inability to focus.

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The room spun, and she stumbled forward to go back to fighting. She would’ve fallen on her face if someone hadn’t caught her.

The person asked with genuine care in his voice, “Hey, are you okay?”

Sara gazed up, blinking with some confusion at the emerald eyes staring back at her. He was a warlock but wasn’t in the group of warlocks from the vault that she recognized. She pushed back, “I’m fine.”

The warlock let go of her once he knew she was steady on her feet and bowed to her. “Nice to make your acquiescence. My name is Timothy. I’m the boy you saved from the auction—”

“I don’t think it’s time to make introductions,” replied Sara quickly, pointing at Pitch making a speech.

“Oh, right,” agreed Timothy. “Yes, the guards can handle him.”

Sara cried, “No, it’s Thomas Pitch! I’m pretty sure some guards can’t bring him down!”

“I thought you said that he was a shapeshifter,” answered Timothy. He mused, “Yet what he just did is very unlikely.” He put his fingers on his chin in a thinking posture. “Do you think he’s Pitch?”

Running her fingers through her tangled mess of hair, Sara breathed heavily. “I don’t know, and I don’t care! I must capture him!”

Timothy’s eyes sparkled. “I can help you! I came here on the orders of the Archangel himself. He wanted me to check out the bank before making my way to the Celestial Realm.”

The girl breathed out thankfulness: “Yes, please! That would be awesome.” She eyed the warlocks surrounding Pitch and facing outwards. “We need to get rid of the warlocks, get him, and get my dagger back!”

“Do you mean by killing the warlocks? I prefer violence, not the answer…”

Sara was already sprinting towards the warlocks, taking another sword from her cloak. Her cape flew behind her, and her ankle boots clicked against the marble floor. She jumped from a pillar, her blades shining in the light. She swirled around at three hundred and eighty degrees.

Pitch ducked in time for the blades to barely miss his head and cut off a few strands of his black hair. Sara’s blades sliced behind all the warlocks’ necks before they could even stop her, and blood spurted out.

She landed inside what used to be a circle; the warlocks fell to their knees, and a pool of blood spread around them. She pointed her blade at Pitch, growling, “You are coming with me now!”

Groaning and shaking his head, Timothy rubbed his temple. “I just told you...” He sighed and frowned at the blood trickling further to cover more flooring.

Pitch stared at his guards, giving them a moment to mourn for them. “That was quite unexpected.” His eyes locked on her. “You are an assassin, aren’t you?”

The supernatural people gaped at the young assassin, taking a few steps back from her.

“Err, no, I’m a prowler!” Sara lied, knowing her father would dislike her very much if rumors had spread that he had a personal assassin. This would mean she would become a new threat to the Infernals and word about her would spread everywhere, and she didn’t want that kind of attention.

“Aren’t a Prowler and an assassin basically the same thing?” Pitch said, disbelieving her.

Sara scowled. “No, a Prowler is assigned to protect humans from Infernals throwing chaos while an assassin targets whoever their bosses ask them to.”

“Kinda the same thing,” proclaimed Pitch, but he shook his head. “I’m not going to argue about this.” He snapped his fingers up to the dome, and in a split second, the dome shattered, plexiglass raining on them as more warlocks jumped from the roof into the bank below.

Galas dove to get cover from shards of glass, but Sara stared with terror. Glass was sliced on her skin, and one dug into her shoulder.

Pitch crackled, throwing his arms up like the villainous man he was. “The biggest heist in mankind!”

Guards shook from fear and darted away from the warlocks, and chaos began. Apparently, what Sara was hoping for was help from them, which quickly dissipated.

“Sara!” Katerina yelled on the second floor, the Devil right behind her, “Get out now!”

***

Following Lucifer up the staircase and sitting down on opposite chairs from each other, Kate could never imagine herself taking orders from him. Yet here she was doing so, wondering what could be so important to talk about. She wanted more than almost anyone to know who this Gala was.

Kate decided to cut out the formality, spitting out, “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same question,” Lucifer responded, tapping his finger on the arm of the chair.

The Prowler pressed her lips together and said, “That’s confidential. I’m on a mission on Michael’s orders.”

“Ah, so it’s coincidental that a Gala opened an account here by the name of Thomas Pitch, and somehow you are here?”

“I am not here for you to interrogate me,” snapped Kate, gripping her chair’s arms. “You wanted to know about the Gala I saw. Yes, he looked exactly like Pitch, but I have no idea who he is.” She whipped her head towards him. “Your turn; what do you know about him? We already had this discussion during the meeting, but if you figure it out anymore, it would be best to tell me.”

“You first saw the Gala at the beach, then I saw him in Hell threatening my Infernals, and now here he is opening a bank account in the H&H.” He leaned back in his chair, “To be honest, I haven’t done any digging since I thought Michael would like to take over.”

“But it would be helpful to have both sides looking into it in case you find something we’ve missed,” declared Kate. Blood rushed through her from sitting across from him, looking at that disgusting monster. She couldn’t understand how people loved him for the things he had done.

She rose from her chair and spat, “I told you from what I’ve known. If this was the important conversation you wanted, it was just plain stupid.”

Lucifer commented, “I’m sorry, Katerina.”

Kate stopped moving away from him, slowly turning back at him. She shuttered, “What do you mean?”

The Devil repeated, slowly standing back up, “I’m sorry for what you have to face every day from the deaths of your parents. The scar you have witnessed from me killing them.”

Kate dared not to take another breath in disbelief at his statements. There had to be a double-edged sword to this. If he was apologizing, then he would want something. She asked, “You’re playing me.”

“Why would I?”

“You want something from me!”

Lucifer glared at her with a sneer. “Not everything is about you, Kate.”

“Then why are you apologizing?”

Silence took over as the answer, and Kate scoffed, “Are you apologizing to hopefully say you wish that you had the chance to kill me also? You are sorry that you messed up the only time to end the Dixon generation.”

“Your parents killed my sister,” snarled the Devil.

Kate stared at him with a dumbfounded, stunned gaze. “No, Lucifer. This is about you! This has always been about your pathetic pity over a dead sister! You know what, Lucifer?”

“What, Kate?” answered Lucifer, gazing coldly at her.

The Prowler chewed on her lower lips and swallowed what she was going to say. “Never mind.” She scowled, hissing between her teeth. “You’re not worth it.” She stormed passed him with fury masking her face and anger steaming from her.

A horrible, earsplitting crash made Kate nearly jump from her skin. She ran to the edge of a railing made from short pillars. Glass poured onto the Galas below. She spotted her friend stuck with trepidation.

She didn’t want her friend to get hurt. “Sara, get out now!” However, it was too late, as the glass cut her, and one stuck on her shoulders. “Damn it!” She saw below that Galas were frantically running all over the place, with guards leaving them behind. The Prowler gasped at their fleeting courage. Warlocks fell from the sky and landed inside the bank.

Worst of all, that damn Gala, Pitch stood next to her, laughing like a manic. She swung around, dashing madly down the stairs and trying to dodge Galas throwing magic at the warlocks.

Kate noticed Lucifer from behind her, waving his hands to let the magic soar past them safely. Racing down the flight of stairs and too distracted to spot the blast of magic hitting her sideways, she tripped and tumbled down the stairs.