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(Present)
The Devil stared at the girl he tried to murder fourteen years ago. He almost succeeded if his spiteful twin hadn’t come to the rescue and been the hero everyone made him out to be.
Katerina Dixon spat out accusing words about everything wrong with him: he couldn’t get over his sister’s death, the definition of a narcissistic person if there was ever one who could be, and why he was wasting her time.
Even though Lucifer kept the Prowler distracted by replying, deep inside him, emotions wrangled from where he had buried them for a long time. Hatred burned in the darkest part of his soul, and it shone brighter than any star from what her family had done to him—to the Infernals, to his sister.
To Lucifer’s relief, the dome shattering was music to his ears. If more seconds had ticked by, the girl would’ve had her heart yanked out and her brains spattered on the pristine walls.
Screams pierced the shocking silence that had taken the bank moments ago from Pitch’s appearance. Disbelief flickered on Kate’s face, and she madly dashed to the railing with her cheeks draining from color. Magic exploded at the warlocks falling from the sky.
Hubbub buzzed through the atmosphere, and the amount of frisson from the powers chilled the Galas to the bones.
Fear choked the air around the terrified Galas. A hint of a wry smile flickered on Lucifer’s lips as he followed Kate down the stairs. Pitch crackled handsomely, and warlocks sliced at anyone who dared to get in his path.
In a million years, Lucifer would’ve thought he protected the daughter of the family who killed his sister. Yet here he was, letting his powers flourish against the blasts of magic whizzing by them. Revenge ignited like a spark’s flicker.
Kate was too distracted to head to her friend, and he let a ball of magic from a witch fight against a warlock, which soared toward them and hit directly at her. The girl barely had time to catch her breath when her knees buckled from the impact. Collapsing and tumbling down the marbled staircase, a yelp escaped from her, and the sound of a bone-crunching followed.
Landing on the first floor, she clutched her jaw from shrilling in pain and grabbed her leg. Blood gobbed the white, slick bone, which was jetting out of her skin. Kate held her breath as she pressed it back inside, making a squashing noise when the bone went back into place.
The Prowler exhaled from anguish, her flesh knitting together.
A calm temperament took over when she healed herself. Lucifer watched in wonderment, despite her groaning in pain. He realized how Harmonies, especially well-trained Prowlers, quickly bounced from an attack or injury.
He offered his head to Kate, who looked at him in startle. She hesitantly took his firm grasp and stood up with a soft thanking. Then she came to the realization that the person who murdered her family was acting kind, but he had a minced gaze.
After quickly putting her hand away, she cleared her throat and took a few wobbling steps before leaping back into battle.
Lucifer glanced at his friend, Pitch sliding him a wink before going back to taunt poor Sara. The High-warlock held a silver dagger; the light’s shade gave it a pastel purple color. He twirled it with his finger around its circular hilt.
There was a magic-proof handcuff dangling from Sara’s hand. She crossed her arms in annoyance, her black cloak reaching to her ankles. She puffed her hair from her face. Blood spilled around her shoes as she glared at him, calculating his next moves.
Kate called out, “Sara!”
The teenager’s coal eyes remained on the lavender ones. Inching closer, she watched how Pitch would react.
Pitch flickered his gaze at the glass stuck in her shoulder blades but never stopped observing her every move. “You should take that out. The longer the glass is in there, the more you are prone to infection.”
Yanking the shard out of her shoulder and dropping it onto the floor to spite him, Sara’s countenance creased into a snarl.
The doctor grimaced at the blood trickling down her arm. “That’s not what I meant; you are damaging so many muscles and tissues doing that.”
“Give. Me. My. Dagger. Back.” Sara growled, heaving out and ignoring the throbbing pain that increased every second. She couldn’t let herself heal because her frisson would leak out.
“Oh, why did you do that to yourself?” asked Pitch, and he rubbed his temple from her rebellion.
Sara furrowed her brows, wondering why he was being so informal with her and casual if they had been long-lasting friends that she couldn’t recollect. Perhaps he’s this way for everyone.
“Enough!” ordered the oldest Prowler. Kate swiped her hand in the air, and flames burst up in the surrounding air, concealing them from the battle’s onslaught surrounding them as Galas and warlocks attacked unmercifully. She strode to her friend and grabbed the handcuffs. Her heart beating in anger, she whirled to Pitch. “You are coming with me!”
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With an amused smile, Pitch looked at the handcuff. “If you are putting me in handcuffs, then sign me up.”
The Devil bit his lips to stop a grin flashing on him. The heavenly flames encircling them had smoke suffocating his lungs, and the fire licked close to his skin, sweat rolling underneath his black clothing.
Unless Thomas Pitch dared to attempt to cross the roaring flames and burn right there, he stayed in his spot.
Relief coursed through Kate, and she scoffed in disbelief at his silent surrender. She grabbed Pitch’s arms, handcuffing him with clenched teeth.
“Do you hate that I’m alive?” questioned Pitch and felt his powers snap out of him in the magic-proof cuffs. He sighed, knowing that the Prowlers had trapped him. Struggling with his restraints, he knew it was pointless. “Or do you hate that your leader failed to kill me?”
The walls of flames disappeared, but contentment appeared in Kate. It took every ounce of willpower from her to not ask Sara to assassinate him. She took the dagger—more like prying it from his hands—and tossed the weapon into Sara’s ready hands.
Disgusted by the ordeal, Kate pushed the High-warlock to Lucifer: “You deal with him now, but he is coming to the Celestial Realm with us.”
Lucifer wanted to roll his eyes at her, knowing she hated him and Pitch, but she needed to take care of him if he was going to the Realm.
The captured doctor, the amused Devil, and the infamous Prowler watched the young girl stare at her weapon in adoration. She ran her fingers along the blade. A satisfying smile relaxed on her face.
Sara looked up at their blinking eyes, holding her dagger protectively. “What?”
Before any of them could reply to their confusion about her love for her weapons, the entrance—yet simultaneously an exit that led outside to a patio—cracked into a golden glow. The wide doors patterned with black and white titles tore from their hinges.
Several titles flung in every direction and smacked on Pitch’s front. The air was knocked out of his lungs, and he stumbled back. Lucifer tried to catch him, which caused them both to fall. The Devil came on top of the High-warlock.
Pitch struggled underneath Lucifer in his handcuffs while his friend tried to get up. Their cheeks flustered red from either embarrassment or shock…maybe both.
A ball ignited from Kate’s hand, and Sara withdrew her other dagger from her sheath, the girls anxious on their feet from the continuous battle. The warlocks working with Pitch had halted in their tracks, defending him; even the Galas stopped to witness what on earth could be happening.
In strode the Archangel, with his league of Choirs behind him. Michael glanced at the Prowlers, and then his eyes locked on, seeing Pitch in handcuffs and Lucifer on him. He raised his eyebrows at the interesting sight.
“It looks like your brother likes men in handcuffs; don’t discriminate,” joked Pitch, his heart racing as he tried to dismiss the warmth of Lucifer’s body pressed against him.
Lucifer finally managed to get up, finding a way to catch his breath while also holding back a slap at Pitch from his statement. If Pitch wasn’t his best friend, he would’ve killed him on the spot. Being surrounded by Infernals and Harmonies watching this action unfold between them was just damn humiliating.
Gazing upon the destructive room with a grim expression, the Archangel had no idea how this mission had gotten so badly screwed up. He held his breath and was rankled at Katerina messing up again.
While Pitch struggled to get up, Michael didn’t bother to look at his twin, knowing he probably made everything worse. He glared at Kate with gritted teeth and then directed his attention to his daughter. “Sara, please escort this...” not who this Gala mimicking Pitch was, “man back to the Celestial Realm.” After composing himself to not be mad at the other girl, he said, “Kate, stay with me to explain what happened.”
Feeling a heavy pressure wail up in her chest, Kate nodded, grasping that she was in trouble. Her boss expected her to keep this mission easy and for Galas to have their noses out of any business, but she did just that. A hard lump formed in her throat. “Yes, sir.”
An older boy with emerald eyes ran up to Sara and exclaimed, “I lost you when you were killing those warlocks!” He clammed his mouth when he saw the dissatisfied Archangel.
“I’m going to make sure this Gala isn’t Pitch.” Lucifer said, raising his hand to cut off his brother’s rejection, “Unless you want him to escape, ahem, again, I’ll go with Sara.”
The Archangel wanted to argue with his twin about this, but he had no choice. The Galas in the Heaven and Hell bank needed him now, but not until he settled this powerful person and his brother hours later. He was the president of the bank, so he had to be in charge until he got the owners’ attention.
Also, Michael felt he was somewhat responsible for this utter mess. He grumbled, “Fine.” When he looked at Sara, some of his tension withered away. “I’ll trust you on this.” Blood ran down her arm, and he touched her shoulder, healing whatever wound she had.
Michael’s daughter didn’t wince away from the pain. Once she was healed, she turned to Pitch and Lucifer, who were finally straightening up after falling. The Devil knew that what happened between him and Pitch would fly over the Galas’ heads because the destruction of the most peaceful bank in the world had turned into a battlefield.
“Um?” Sara inquired, her eyes darting between the two men. She helped the High-warlock up, refusing to let him struggle anymore in getting up with his hands bonded.
What just happened between them? She shook her head, staring dead-on at Lucifer and Pitch. Not her business, but she blurted out a question: “Were you guys a couple once?”
The High-warlock slid a glance at his friend, awaiting his answer. A bit dumbfounded by what just happened to them, Pitch couldn’t reply.
The Devil cleared his throat, giving Sara a befuddled look to the best of his ability. He answered honestly, but for some reason, his heart was racing a million miles per hour, and he was still trying to catch his breath. “No.”
Sara wasn’t sure if she should believe him, but she shrugged it off. She jammed the edge of her blade at Pitch’s throat and sneered, “Don’t make a stupid move...err, Dr. Pitch or Mr. Gala.” She glared daggers at the other evil man.
Lucifer stifled his chuckling at this young girl trying to take care of the most powerful men on earth. The Archangel made a portal to the Celestial Realm, giving a threatening look at his twin brother.
“Take care of them, Sara,” ordered Michael.
The Prowler twirled her other dagger in her hand. “Behave, Mr. Morning Star, and I’m sure we’ll get along just fine.” She smiled at her father and said, “I’ll tie them up in my bedroom if they don’t!”
Eyes glanced in her direction.
Sara stumbled out, her cheeks blossoming into a cherry. She matched Pitch and Lucifer’s embarrassment for today: “Not like that!”