The High-warlock waved his hand nonchalantly; Kate went flying again and smacked into the sand. Taking the opportunity with her down, he thrust his hand up, and the dome shattered brilliantly and so loudly that it was earsplitting.
Sand covered Kate’s body as she stared back at him with seething anger and then looked at her nonexistent dome in horror. Standing back on her feet and ready to dive into an onslaught fight where one of them wouldn’t make it out alive, she realized he had purposely tracked her down. How he found her was not to her knowledge.
Kate thought she was being cautious, but apparently, that was not the case. Her boyfriend was unconscious and not getting in the way. What did this man want from her? She knew better than to not eliminate him in case more people were involved in this trickery, but her emotions tangled and pushed in her chest to make the right decision.
As the man walked towards her, Kate stood her ground with a snarl completing her complexion. “I’m going to tell Michael about you.” Her hands crackled with heavenly fire; he still had the stupid smirk that she wanted to slap right off his face.
Pitch grinned with a raised, slender eyebrow. “Then tell Michael I said hi.”
“Fuck you!” the Prowler growled. She refused to let this Gala toy with her any longer and got the satisfaction of bewilderment from her.
The concerns on his lips twitched up: “I’m flattered, but no thanks.”
Lurching at him with a yell and hating every fiber of his being, Kate exploded fire at him. Flames soared at Pitch, but he countered it with an eruption of his colorful lavender magic, which slammed against her powers.
A burst came from the colliding magic. Pitch disappeared before he was knocked off his feet; however, this was less unfortunate for Kate. The force tossed her across the beach, and she hit a tree’s trunk, banging her head in the process and slipping into unconsciousness.
----------------------------------------
Five-year-old Kate piled building blocks into a neat tower. She sat on an antique rug with designs of Russian patterns. Steadily placing block after block, she grinned with glee at her master build.
Her older brother held a Darth Vader toy, pleading with his mother. With exasperated, wide eyes, Ricky gave all the cuteness he could muster. “May Demetrius and I please go to the new Star Wars movie? We’ll be home in time for dinner!” he promised earnestly.
Grace Dixon placed her hand on her hips, wiggling a finger at him and shaking her head. “No.”
Her Russian accent was thick, but the boy understood it perfectly. He whined, “Why not?”
Frowning at her son, Grace explained, “It’s your sister’s birthday today. You may go tomorrow, and you can bring her along; I trust you enough.” In the corner of her toffee eyes, her oldest child was helping Kate stack the blocks up.
She whispered and bent down to Ricky. Grace’s dark brunette hung low on her shoulders. “Don’t worry, I’ll give you enough money to buy popcorn and soda.”
Ricky clapped his hands excitedly. “Thank you!” He kissed his mom on her cheek and ran over to Kate, ruffling her long brown hair but accidentally knocking on the tidy tower with his elbow. “Oh shit—”
Grace snapped a dirty look at him.
"Oh, drats!” exclaimed Ricky and grimaced at his little sister’s upset expression. “Sorry.”
Crossing her arms, Kate pouted, “Ricky!
“I’m sorry!” Ricky replied. He grabbed the fallen blocks and quickly rebuilt a messy tower.
“It’s ugly and untidy; you can’t rush things.” This time, Kate knocked it over in a tantrum.
Watching the colored blocks tumble onto the floor, Ricky huffed, “Fine, build it yourself! I was trying to help.”
Grace sighed, “It’s your sister’s birthday, and fix that attitude.”
The doorbell rang, chiming a musical note that echoed through the house.
"Sorry, Kate,” muttered Kate.
The youngest sibling giggled, “I can’t hear you," and she started to poke at him.
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His temper decreased with his sister’s joyful laugh. Ricky grinned and pronounced louder, “I’m sorry.” Tickling at her neck, she screamed with laughter and excitement. Kate threw herself over him, trying to find her brother’s ticklish spot.
Grabbing Kate’s foot and shrieking in delight, Demetrius took a toe and started, “This little piggy went to the market.” He held the next one: “This piggy stayed home…”
A smile passed through their mother’s face. “Shh, lower your voices.” Yet, her children laughed harder and couldn’t hear—well, they chose to ignore their parent’s order.
“This little piggy had roast beef,” Demetrius continued.
Grace swayed from side to side but was smiling nonetheless. She was thrilled to see them getting along and wished her husband was here to see this cherished moment. Wondering where he was, she knew he should’ve been home from work thirty minutes ago.
“This had none…” Ricky said, joining the tale with his brother.
The doorbell rang again, and the musical sounds seemed more blaring than the first time. Grace called out with a sigh, leaving her living room to answer, “Coming.”
“And this little went,” Demetrius tickled her foot up to her neck, “wee, all the way home!”
Kate’s face was pink, and she rolled over on the carpet, squirming and giggling. “I’m going to get you for that!”
There was a man’s figure in the glossy, oval glass window on the door. The package delivery for Kate’s presents had already come, and Grace couldn’t fathom anyone else coming to her house.
Her parents passed away about a year ago, and she had been the only child. There would be no relatives to celebrate with the Dixon family, which saddened her. She wanted her kids to have grandparents they could look up to, listening to their crazy stories from their life experiences.
When Grace opened the door, expecting her neighbor to spoil her children once again, the person on her porch wasn't someone she wished to ever see. Blinking in disbelief and thinking her eyes had betrayed her, her heart dropped in her unsettled gut.
Stumbling back and going white as a sheet, her heart pumped double time to maintain her pure shock. Grace barely managed to spill the name from her mouth, feeling her throat constrict from terror shuddering through her. She gasped, “Lucifer!”
The Devil stared back at her, a smirk tugging on his charming features. Yet sinister glinted in his coarse gaze. Entering the cozy house, he gripped a pocketknife and flickered the blade up from its safekeeping. Lucifer swirled the knife in his hand playfully and cocked his head sideways as if he were thinking about what to do next.
Grace refused to be frozen in her spot any longer and tore away from his cold, piercing eyes, which already felt like daggers twisting in her soul. She spat out, “Demetrius and Ricky! Get the Portable Port and go in it; no questions asked!”
Snatching her gun from a drawer, her hands shook as she pointed at Lucifer, still in disbelief that he had found them. “Get out now!” She screamed again, fearfully looking up at the intruders.
Behind Lucifer, there was a girl with red, flaming hair, a muscular man in black, and a blonde guy wearing jeans. The Devil sneered, flicking his attention on the children.
Ricky ran beside his mother, the boy stared at the man in shock, and his mother was calculating what move she should make. Greatly disturbed that Lucifer hadn’t talked once, Grace locked her jaw and repeated harshly, “Get the Portable Ports now.”
Lucifer motioned his head toward the children, and his sidekicks began to move dangerously close to the kids.
Questioning with a shaky breath, Ricky's eyes glistered and looked like the world had ended. “But Mom, what about you?” He grabbed his mother’s arm, using all his might to pull her away before their attackers advanced on them.
Grace barked, which made her son jump. “We went over this, Ricky! Get the Portable Ports now!”
Tears streaming down his face and wishing this was not happening, Ricky listened. “Demetrius, get Kate!” He dashed to the stash where the Portable Ports were hidden in the kitchen. The oldest sibling picked up his confused sister.
The sidekicks strolled boldly to the frightened children, Grace wanting to shoot at the Infernals, but they were so close to her kids. She was an excellent shooter but not confident enough to shoot with shaking hands.
Before Ricky cracked the portal to life, one of the stocky Infernals appeared behind him and knocked him out with his caliber. The magical marble dropped from the child’s hands when he fell, rolling away into the dining room.
The Dixons had told their sons who they were to the world; they feared Harmonies that created something even more fearful: the Demonic Disease. However, they hadn’t explained this to their daughter since she was five and wouldn’t understand yet.
Kate screamed in confusion about why her family was being targeted. She did her best to pry away from her brother, he was too strong and kept her from getting hurt. To the scared girl, she knew the supernatural existed and there were Realms where Harmonies lived, but she had no idea the extremity of the world—and how cruel it was.
Rage boiled in Grace’s veins, and she shot at Lucifer, the bullets flying. Smirking at her tactics, the Devil vanished in proof of blood-red smoke and reappeared closer to her. She slammed against the entry table in thunderbolt surprise.
She jerked her gun up to his head, but her hands quivered because she had to look into the leader of the villains, the race she nearly wiped half off and destroyed the only person he loved. She fired a shot but missed him terribly. Her aim was so inaccurate that her mentor from the grave would’ve wept from her forgotten training.
The Devil scoffed softly. A lavish smile curled on his lips as he stepped forward, nearly daring Grace to take another round. He tapped the knife’s blade on his chin in a thinking pose, gazing at the pistol she held and patiently waiting for her to debate what she was going to do.
Staring at her pale complexion, he snarled quietly, “Creating the Viper is so clever.” Then he furrowed his brows, hate flashing across his burning red eyes. “But you thought you could control how a virus works.”