Lucifer cocked his head to one side with an amusing gaze. He drummed his fingers on the desk and bit the bottom of his lips, looking away in the distance at what his friend was suggesting. The moon rayed brightly behind him, illuminating his lashes and how thick they were and showing off his pearly teeth. “I need to think about that.”
Turning around and putting his back towards Pitch, he placed his hands down on the desk and shifted his weight on one leg, staring out of the window. Lucifer sighed. “Let me think about it.”
This was the cue for Pitch to give the Devil some space. The High-warlock’s eyes were titled to the floor and not any higher to lust at Lucifer’s ass. “Please consider. There’s no rush.” Then, he swirled on his feet to leave the office, but before he could take a step, he heard a shift in Lucifer’s weight, and when he looked back, his boss turned his head at him but hadn’t moved from his position.
“You have me reconsider our plan at a moment,” Lucifer began, his voice quiet, which made Pitch listen carefully. “Then I will also tell you this: don’t go soft with my brother. Have you forgotten how Michael used you?”
The warning in his tone sent a shiver down Pitch’s spine. He exhaled at the memory, “I haven’t.” Lucifer faced back towards the window, and Pitch walked out of the office, heeding his friend’s words. Their conversation could’ve been way worse, and he was glad to finally have Lucifer listen to him once. Yet the dread in his heart deepened for what could happen.
Of course, Pitch hadn’t forgotten what the Archangel had done to him. Michael used him like he had with everyone else, it seemed. Thomas Pitch once trusted Michael more than Lucifer. He used to be closer to the Harmonies and hardly paid attention to the Infernals. Those were the days when he was immature and so young without the wisdom he needed.
He went into his bedroom and rested his head on the silk pillow. His breath was shaky when he recalled the day he got a personal invitation to help the Archangel with a new device that could change the ways Galas and humans lived together. Michael had told him he was destined to become the next High-warlock due to the bloodline that ran in his family. How excited Pitch was to receive such a golden stamp letter from him. He had thought he was the luckiest person alive and was grateful to have the attention of the leaders of the Harmonies himself.
When Pitch arrived at a destination to meet up with Choirs, how he was amazed to be standing with holy beings. Back then, his lenses were clouded with bad judgment, and he thought every Choir was impeccable, wonderful, and without flaw. What the Harmonies said about them being perfect had to be true, right?
Wrong.
The Celestial Realm did feel like Heaven itself at first glimpse. Pitch remembered thinking about how he would love to live with the Harmonies in such a peaceful place. No humans to deal with, and a blissful life.
However, the longer he stayed in the Realm, the place seemed still in time, and being in the white hallways, rooms, flooring, and roofs, Pitch felt he was living in a pure dimension that destroyed anything unholy or imperfect, in which everything had imperfections. Besides the Choirs, there were no smiles among the Harmonies that sat in the cafeteria. The kids that lived there weren’t running away, laughing wildly, or screaming as normal children did, but they were rigid like porcelain dolls and dressed all the same.
Pitch expected the Realm to have all the freedom anyone could wish for. Yet he felt if he took one wrong step, all judgment eyes would be directed at him, and he would be banished by one mistake. That’s how he felt anyway, and he didn’t feel like he belonged here.
But the young lad hadn’t given up hope and kept saying to himself that once he met Michael, everything would be right. When those white doors opened, Pitch was numb at just seeing a muscular, tall man with golden hair and an unsettling twinkle behind those eyes. He seemed the same as every snotty Choir he came across and was disappointed when Michael kept talking about a paradise future where all those fallen angels burned for their crimes for an eternity and the world would be just like the Realms he controlled.
Pitch was bored in the Celestial Realm, his eyes twitching at all the same color whiteness and boring talk the Choirs conjured up. Finally, the Archangel brought up why he needed Pitch. Again, he got his hopes up in excitement about what it could be and listened earnestly to this thing called the Pulse of Deception. It would be like an ambient sound in songs, always in the background, covering the missing spots in the music but being unnoticeable. There would be a building where the main source was, and the radio waves would emit from it.
The Pulse of Deception would erase any memory of magic from humans when they saw it after five seconds of seeing it.
Pitch loved the idea and immediately talked about the tranquility the Galas could finally have, hiding among the humans and not being burned, haunted, or locked up to be used anymore. When he spoke, Michael locked eyes with him and nodded along with him. After he finished, Michael told him he was so impressed that he was going to make him the leader of the Pulse of Deception. Pitch was shocked and agreed to do it, blinded by the real reason why the Archangel needed him.
It took several years to complete the Pulse of Deception, but Michael had been positive every step of the way towards Pitch. No matter what the Choirs or Pitch did with their magic, they couldn’t fix one thing.
There were humans out there that could see past the Pulse of Deception, and after some experiments, Pitch found out they had a strand in their DNA that could overcome the frisson waves from it. They were called Solos because no mundane believed them of what they saw and remembered, and the Galas didn’t want to mangle with them.
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Even with the flaw, Michael gave Pitch the okay to set it up in Asia, where the Seers would keep an eye on it. The Pulse of Deception was in a protective building guarded by Choirs’ magic and under surveillance day and night because the source could be destroyed, and if it was…the humans would go back, hurting the Galas, and there would be war; the balance was gone in a snap of a finger.
There were many Galas who hated the humans for what they had done to their kind, and Michael created Prowlers to stop them from hurting humans. Although Pitch told him that was a great idea, he didn’t know that the Prowlers were also to begin hunting down Infernals causing mayhem later.
After the project was done, the Archangel celebrated with him their accomplishments. Pitch thought Michael was trying to do what was best for humans and gave him his whole trust. During the toast, Michael stated to the Galas attending the ball that Pitch had decided to be High-warlock and work for him after finishing the Pulse of Deception.
Pitch hadn’t agreed to this, and in that moment, he saw through the Archangel. Every time Michael invited him over to his office for a chat or coaxed him to complete the Pulse of Deception during those years, he had been forcibly getting Pitch to work with the Harmonies. Michael had Pitch spend time with the Choirs so he would like them and want to stay at the Realm.
At the very start, Michael had planned for Pitch to side with him and groomed him to become the High-warlock he was so supposed to be destined for and work for the Harmonies. Pitch scoffed at the podium in front of everyone, realizing that Michael couldn’t have done the Pulse of Deception by himself without Pitch’s powers, and he wanted to use his powers for other purposes. And probably for the greater good of all Galas, just the Harmonies.
Pitch stared at people waiting for his speech of what he would do as High-warlock that day, and he grabbed the microphone and announced, “Michael is a bitch, opposite of this famous Pitch, and I’m done!” He dropped the microphone and left the stage, leaving the Choirs speechless, and he was never seen again at any Realms.
Knowing that the Archangel hated to be called names and looked at as anything less than perfect, Pitch would be hated by Michael, and soon all Harmonies would hear whatever rumors he set up. The most frustrating thing he was frustrated by was all the time spent with the Choirs wasted for Michael’s gain, and he could’ve done something better to find out who he was as a powerful warlock, not living in someone else’s shadow.
Living in the Celestial Realm with the Harmonies, Pitch did realize one thing about them. Something awful and heartbreaking. Without the Infernals, who would the Harmonies kill and blame for the evil in this world? Who might be the victim the Choirs pinpoint the horrible things at? To them, someone should be the ‘hero’ and save the day, taking all the credit. Yet if they didn’t have anyone to blame, there would be no excuses for their murders and destroying the buildings humans made, hunting after Infernals for the thrill, and saying that they were only doing it to save the world.
***
To Pitch’s surprise, his boss took an extremely long time to decide what to do. Days passed into weeks. Weeks fluttered into months, and before anyone knew it, Thanksgiving and Christmas rolled around on Earth.
Pink snowflakes drifted from the lucid red sky. In the library. Pitch was reading a spell book about complex potions and trying to memorize what healing potions were needed and the right herbs and ingredients. Even as a great doctor, a better one never stops learning.
A soft knock thumped on his door, and Pitch put his pen down from writing in his notebook and looked at the door creaking open. The library was his domain, and hardly anyone disturbed him since he took studying quite seriously.
“Come in,” Pitch said, reclining back in his chair to see who it was.
Elena, whom he does nails with, walked in and crossed her arms. “Lucifer wants to see you in his office.” She lowered her voice and smiled, her red hair brushing off her shoulders. “I think this is it.” With these long months of no activity from the Devil, everyone has been wondering what he has been up to, and they always went to Pitch since he usually knew what was happening.
Yet to Lucifer, who was older than the dirt on Earth, time was nothing for him.
Not trying to jump up from excitement, Pitch nodded and cleared his throat instead, “I’m coming. He neatly put his hair back since it was tangled. He brushed off any crumbs from his pajamas and froze, wondering why he was trying to look presentable. Lucifer and he have been friends for a good while, and there was no need for formality.
As he entered the office, he saw his friend gazing out the window at his kingdom below him. The throne chair’s back was towards Pitch, but he could see Lucifer’s legs crossed and him smoking a cigar. “Elena said that you wanted to talk to me.” Pitch clasped his hands together in anticipation, holding his breath for what could come next.
In a low mummer, Lucifer replied, still facing his kingdom and holding his cigar cockaded between his fingers. “I’ve been thinking about your proposal.” A second beat of silence, and he continued, “I want Michael to suffer more than anything. I want him dead.”
His eyes flashed red, and the window reflected them at Pitch. “But as you said, his reputation in front of his siblings and the Harmonies slowly being torn apart would be such a delightful sight. Seeing him be able to do nothing would be the sweetest revenge, better than death.”
“Death can do only so much. I don’t want Michael to die; that would be too easy,” Lucifer seethed softly. “I want him to hurt. I want every Gala to see the truth about him. I want him to bleed.”
Relief coursed through Pitch. He wasn’t fond of torture, but this kind of embarrassment towards the Archangel was something he could get down with. Walking to the desk, he asked, “So, what’s your plan?”
Putting his cigar on a small dish, Lucifer flickered his fingers for Pitch to come closer; the High-warlock leaned forward to hear their new scheme. Swirling the chair around, the Devil looked up at his friends and locked into those shining lavender eyes.
Pitch was breathless, staring down at those dark chocolate eyes. They were so close, their noses almost touched, and he could feel Lucifer’s breath on his neck. Goosebumps skimmed over his skin, and he swallowed as his heart raced in his chest. This had to be unreal, but he couldn’t tear away from this moment.
Blush rose on his cheeks, and words caught in his throat. Pitch was standing up, so he had the leverage of seeing fine details from his friend who was sitting down. Lucifer’s black hair was slicked back, and some strands stroked in the perfect direction to complete the dashing, devilish look everyone was always caught dead in.
“I will need your help,” Lucifer responded, his eyes never faltering away.
Pitch noticed the Devil’s muscles underneath the tight, silk-button shirt he wore. He stammered, doing his best to focus his eyes anywhere else. “Yes.” His hands flattened on the desk as the Devil smirked and went just an inch closer to him, their lips almost touching.
Did he know what he was doing? Was Lucifer purposely being seductive, or was it in his nature, which Pitch had never seen before? Or did he not understand boundaries?
Lucifer pulled away with a smile that Pitch hadn’t seen for years, and his heart lifted in happiness. He tried to ignore the reddening in his chest and the butterflies in his stomach. The Devil said with a chuckle that promised pain along his wake, “I think I have an idea.”