Terror flickered on Grace’s countenance, but boldness and determination overrode her fearful state, shining her heroic self. Slyly glancing to see if her children had made any progress in escaping, she spat for more time for them, “Any of your disgusting Infernals deserve to die.”

Lucifer prowled closer to her, like a cat ready to pounce on its prey. He looked to where his sidekicks were to make sure the children behaved. Taking the opportunity of his distraction, she clicked the trigger, and the gunshot rang in the air.

With a swirl of his heel, the bullet hit the door frame instead, and he threw his knife with a flick of his wrist. Grace was too slow to react to dodge the blow, and the blade sank home. She slammed against the plastered wallpaper, her body lowered to the floor, and blood smeared on the wall.

Blood gurgled and congested in her lungs, coughing up to her mouth. The knife stabbed in her heart, red oozing warmly down her blouse and onto the plywood. Pain ruptured inside her, and she tried to cry, but she wheezed for oxygen—crying knowing her kids were in danger and she could only watch helplessly.

“Leave my children alone,” Grace begged and gingerly touched the knife, knowing if she took it out, the damage would be worse. Looming over her, a scowl was planted on Lucifer’s face. She breathlessly begged again, “Spare my children, please. They had nothing to do with this.”

Mercy was nowhere to be graced by the Devil. He yanked the knife from her body, and she howled. “Kill them,” he sneered, stepping over the parent's almost lifeless body.

Kate squirmed against one of his sidekick's grips, and so was her brother at another Infernal. The girl with the flaming red hair tossed Demetrius on the floor, and he saw his mother using all her effort to stand, but blood poured out of her.

His face turned pale, and when Demetrius tried to escape, the Infernal sliced a gush in his chest, but he jerked back—the wound inches from his heart. If he hadn’t moved, he would’ve died.

Thrusting around, the teenager screamed in pain and terror. Kate broke free from the Infernal’s grasp somehow and ran to him. “Demetrius!” Her voice broke into a million pieces, and she slipped on the lake of blood pooling everywhere on the flooring and cried in horror, her jeans and shirt covered in sticky red.

Dankness spotted Grace’s vision. She wheezed as blood clotted her airway. Reaching out her hand to only her daughter her face wet, “Katerina, you are..." The last breath freed from her soul, and she slacked, her body slumping as death enclosed her.

“Mom!” Kate wept as tears dripped from her chin. She had never experienced death before. Her parents didn’t take her to funerals, and she realized her mother’s life vanished like that—so precious, but gone in a snap of a finger.

Anger built inside her like nothing before. Rage coursed through her veins like poison. Getting up, she was covered in her mom’s and brother’s blood, and fury burned in her hazel eyes.

Kate dashed to him without a second beat, not thinking anything but hatred for the Infernals. “I’m going to kill you!” she yelled, never saying that word before, but it bounced in the house and left her lips as if she had done it many times.

Chucking from this ferocious child, the Devil twirled the blood knife and advanced to her with a gleeful wicked look. A car vehicle was sounded, the tires crunching on the gravel. Lucifer whirled to see Mr. Dixon leave his car and realize their door was open. Then his gaze trailed to his wife, dead against the wall, right through the doorway.

Panic rampaged inside him, and Mr. Dixon's knees bucked. “No, Grace!” He flickered at Lucifer, threatening to approach his daughter, and shouted, “Let my children go! This is between you and me!”

Lucifer glanced at the shaking child. He cocked his head and looked back at Mr. Dixon. Then he grabbed a gun from his stocky sidekick’s belt and shot him. The bullet rocketed into his shoulder. The father stumbled back and hit the white car, blood spattering all over it.

“Kate, run! Don’t just stand there!” Mr. Dixon pressed his fingers against the three buttons on his black watch, and a red beep confirmed his emergency message had been sent. He had underestimated the Devil, assuming that by living in the human world as secretively as possible, his family would live in harmony.

How idiotic Mr. Dixon felt now, trying to hide from the King of Hell, Prince of Darkness, and Mastermind of Evil! He had made the virus that killed millions of Lucifer’s people.

He should’ve known this karma would come to bite his ass. There could’ve been safer alternatives, and his family would’ve stayed in the Celestial Realm, guaranteed protection; yet, this man wanted to have a normal lifestyle—but he was the person to bring down the Infernal race.

Should’ve. Could’ve. Would’ve

Quickly realizing the mistake he had made, it didn’t matter anymore. Mr. Dixon had to get his kids to safety, but before he was able to stand his ground, another gunshot rang out and a bullet exploded in his head. Kate screamed as brains, flesh, and bones splattered all over the driveway and onto the car. She covered her mouth and watched the rest of her father’s body collapse on the ground.

Lucifer turned back to the girl with a gloating grin. Tossing the gun sideways, he couldn’t wait to rip out her little heart and end this disgusting generation.

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Swallowing her squealing terror and bawling dismay, she would not let this bully kill her entire family. “You monster! You leave me and my family alone!” Tears sting down her face, picturing her dead mom lying motionless on the floor and the images of her father’s head exploding like a firework—a memory forever within her.

These awful killers stabbed Demetrius and knocked Ricky out. Even through extreme trepidation, her parents tried to save them. So she could too, even with the smell of rusted iron congesting the air and her feet madly wishing to dash away from this horrible place.

Her oldest brother heaved out a breath; blood leaked from his mouth. “Kate, run, please.”

Tightening his grasp on the knife, Lucifer walked towards her and swapped it with her, almost cutting her neck open. She shrieked and backed away, barely missing the blade slicing her flesh. With no time to think about her actions and choices, she ran at him with vengeance.

The bubble of fury inside her chest burst, and her fingertips glowed heavenly. Not knowing what she was doing but wanting to get these intruders out of her house—out of her life—she slammed her hands against the Devil’s chest, hate, fear, and anger coursing through her, and flames scorched him.

Lucifer screeched in pain; his breath caught in his throat. His sidekicks came to his side, and before one of them could finish Kate, a boom echoed and a heavenly light circled. A golden portal whirled to life. Michael, with three Choirs behind him, emerged from it. He raised his hand, and the Infernals flung away from the child, crashing outside, and the door slammed close.

Sneering at his twin brother in repugnance, Michael spat, “You are gone completely out of your mind.”

Lucifer glared with hatred; his black shirt was burned through, and a horrible scorched mark was ingrained into his skin, revealing raw flesh and tissue.

The Choirs went to Ricky, while the Archangel kneeled by the boy crying. “Hush there.” He hovered his hands above Demetrius’s wound and healed it. Michael grabbed the teenager’s hand, and Demetrius hugged him, gasping his gratification.

While picking up Kate with his other arm, Michael headed to the portal, and a Choir had the middle child over his shoulder.

Lucifer watched the Harmonies pass him. There was nothing he could do to stop them now that Michael was protecting the children.

Burying her head toward her hero, Kate’s body shook as she sobbed heavily. Her ordinary path was remade into a dangerous road filled with curves and obstacles. Clinging to the Archangel tightly around his neck, she never wanted to let go.

----------------------------------------

Katerina Dixon fluttered her hazel eyes at her boyfriend’s concerned ones. Laying on the sand, tears trickled down her cheeks. She glanced somewhere other than at Andrew, batting him away when he tried to help her up.

She barely heard him asking what was wrong and inhaled deeply to trigger memories. Getting to her feet, the night sky winked at her as if it were holding a secret from her. The eighteen-year-old Prowler shuddered from the cold and rubbed her face, sand managing its way into her eyes.

Placing a comforting hand on her shoulder and rubbing her back, knowing she loved the touch, Andrew asked once again what was wrong.

Kate swallowed sadness and misery, recovering from only a few seconds of a concussion. The Gala’s teasing attack had caused a trigger, bringing up her traumatizing past, which flooded emotions she had kept at bay for so long.

She replied weakly, “Sorry, having an episode.” From what happened to her at a very young age, she had panic attacks every once in a while, and one time, she was with Andrew and told him everything. Besides Sara and her brothers, he was the only person with whom she would cry about that moment of her life—but she hadn’t had an episode for a while.

“Are you okay?” Kate pressed her lips and worried for his well-being from being unconscious. “I hope Pitch didn’t put a curse on you—I mean the Gala, whoever he was.”

Andrew stared incredibly at the name he had heard: “Did you just say Pitch? Thomas Pitch? He’s dead!”

Whether this person was indeed the High-warlock, Thomas Pitch, or some powerful shapeshifter, Kate knew immediately she had to tell her boss. Whoever he was, an unsettling feeling churned in her gut about his true motives.

The Prowler knew Michael was exceptional at remaining unagitated by any information someone laid out for him. However, how well does one react when someone they killed is back from the dead?

Would Michael be calm or freak out?

Kate raised her hands, fire summoning on the tips of her fingers. Her memories left her emotions rupturing like an unpredictable volcano that was about to erupt at any time. From her powers, a portal sparkled, and fire whirled around it.

As she grabbed her boyfriend’s hand and tried to reassure Andrew, who looked panicked, she ambled into the teleporting oval doubtfully, her heavenly fire glowing alive.

On the other side of the portal, Kate and Andrew entered the security dome room. The guards reacted the same every time she teleported into the Celestial Realm, lifting their guns slowly with observant eyes.

Usually, she would nod at them, but it was imperative to speak with the Archangel as soon as possible. Asking Andrew how long she had been down when he woke up, he claimed for a minute or so. However, Kate couldn’t have the exact timing of how long the Gala was gone after she went unconscious.

She squeezed his hand for comfort as they walked down the glass hallway and into the lobby. The moonlight spilled out from the window walls, illuminating the whole room radiantly. The sunset and sunrise synced with San Francisco’s days.

Kate would’ve stopped to admire the beauty of the ripe moon and kissed her boyfriend in a romantic gesture, but she hurried to Michael’s office. Her sneakers squeaked on the decorated, patterned flooring, and she knocked on her boss’s door.

Without waiting for a response, she flung the door open with a dramatic entrance. The first thing she saw was Sara curled on the Archangel’s lap, sound asleep, and secondly, the Archangel of all things was reading a romance book.

Putting his fingers to his lips, Michael pointed down at his daughter. He raised his brow from the Prowler’s worried countenance and inquired softly, “What’s wrong?”

From her heart thumping lousily and who she had seen today, Kate had a hard time maintaining a whisper and blurted out, “Pitch is alive!”