Chapter 27: Chapter 13.1 –Playground ~ Everybody got a price ’round here to play. Make me an offer, what will it be?

*Playground by Bea Miller. 

 

The prison cell looked exactly the same when Pitch left it ten years ago. John roughly tossed him into the cell and jolted the door with a bang, a grin passing the archangel’s face. John smiled up at Pitch and said, “If it was me who ran the imperial army of the angels, I would have you been slaughtered now.”

Pitch growled back, “I guess that’s why you aren’t the leader of the—” he did an awful mimicking impersonating of John, “’ imperial army’.” He quoted the last two words from his fingers and slumped back on the bed.

John hissed a breath at him and Daniel grabbed the archangel’s shoulder, “Let’s go.” He then smiled gently at Kate, “You did a great job.”

Kate, who was remaining silent, blushed, “Aw, thank you. I thought for sure that I would fail this mission,” she shook her head in almost disbelief for completing the task.

John patted her back lightly, “Anyone who has you on the job will know that the mission at hand will get done.”

Kate went pinker, “Too kind, John.”

John shrugged and turned to Pitch, in a snarling tone, “We are going to need to have someone keep a watchful eye on you. We need guard posts. Someone good.” He motioned his head to have the rest of them follow him, “I’ll find an angel to keep an eye on him.”

Pitch lifted his handcuffed hands, “Um, hello? Can you please take this off?”

Kate couldn’t help but have bitter emotions rise, “You created this hellish mess in one of the most important banks in the world,” she lifted her chin in disgust, “Killed innocent magical people, and was going to take one of our heroes as a hostage. And escape from Michael’s execution? That is the worst crime.” She gave a questioning look at Pitch, “You are, Thomas Pitch, right?”

Pitch smirked, “Yes, idiot.”

John did a deep frown, “Don’t call her that. She is the heir of the line of the imperial army. You treat her better than you treat yourself, understand, Mr. Pitch?”

Pitch rolled his mascaraed eyes, “I highly doubt Michael is going to die anytime soon. If he does, I will celebrate as I did on my five hundredth birthday.”

John banged his fist on the glass, “You dare speak to Michael like that?”

Daniel muttered under his breath, “As you do better, John? Let’s go before you humiliate yourself anymore.”

John crossed his broad shoulders, his body features were so much like the Archangel’s, “And how did I humiliate myself?”

Daniel gave him a blank, bored expression and shrugged, ‘Hmm, I don’t know, maybe stating to you that Michael should kill his daughter? You know, Michael doesn’t hide things from me. And I can’t believe you would disrespect our leader like that.”

John went flustered and was about to give an outburst.

Daniel pointed his finger up and shook it, “I thought Michael warned you not to say blasphemy about his daughter if I’m correct. I would,” he let a smirk, “Hate you to lose your position, saying that.”

Kate stood between the angels, perplexed, “Do you guys have to fight here?”

John gave an outraged snare and stormed out of the confined room.

“Did you have to say that to him?” groaned Kate, shaking her head.

Daniel snapped back, “I do not tolerate disrespect from our leader.” He did a slide glance at Pitch’s interesting face, “What are you thinking about, warlock?”

Pitch casually shrugged and leaned back, “Just eavesdropping. I do like drama.”

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Danie went out of the room, not liking how this ordeal was becoming.

Kate followed suit and quickly looked back at Pitch. She stepped out of the room and let the double metal, magical-proof door sealed close, leaving Pitch alone in the darkness.

 

“Chocolate or vanilla?” asked Sara as she walked down the afternoon in San Francisco. Her ankle boots clicked against the cracked pavements of the sidewalks and her hair blew gently behind her as the day started to cool off.

Lucifer licked his double-espresso, mint ice cream, “Definitely chocolate.”

Sara took a bite of her ice cream, “You seemed like a chocolate guy. I like vanilla. The vanilla bean flavor gives it an earthy taste I personally think.” Timothy had decided to stay and help with Michael and was going to ask a few questions around if anyone knew...anything. Any information would be helpful concerning Pitch.

Lucifer nodded in agreement. He was a little surprised that Sara seemed nonchalant about him. She headed to one of the popular ice creams in the city when they left the bank in a quiet mood, her cloak hiding her from the world. But her hood was down, revealing before him skin that was a little too white for Lucifer’s like. Is she a vampire? That would explain why she is so light on her feet. But vampires can’t be in the day...unless drinking that potion. The day-lighter potion, it was called, and expensive to get: If she’s Michael’s daughter, shouldn’t be hard though. When Sara talked, he looked to see any fangs, but she had nice sharp canines and perfect teeth that reminded him of his teeth.

So, Lucifer concluded she wasn’t a vampire. Then why is she white? She wasn’t the type of person to dose her skin in white powder or makeup.

“You’re staring at me,” muttered Sara, slowly pulling down her hood in an uncomfortable tone. She tugged on the bottom of the hood, glancing at his gaze.

“Your skin tone is frightening white.” He didn’t want to add, not in an attractive way. But, why should he bother to be nice to her? Aye yes, to get information about the sword and how she became Michael’s daughter. Lucifer wondered if he should think of Sara other than someone’s person. He knew he wouldn’t like being called: God’s fallen son.

“Um,” Sara said almost hoarsely, “Yeah, had it for a while. Anything else you would like to comment on while you are at it?” She bit down her waffle cone almost too harshly.

Lucifer stared at her whole, “Why are you Michael’s daughter?”

Lucifer studied her closely as she froze her chewing and her eyes darted away from him. Sara hugged herself tightly with her other hand. Then she glanced at him with a frown, doing a nervous chuckle, “That’s such a boring question. Everyone always asks me that.” She tried to tease him, but her voice was rough in a manner that Lucifer wanted to press even further.

However, the Devil had a feeling that this wasn’t the time or place to bring the subject up. If he was correct, this subject was a sensitive topic to talk about, so he asked, finishing his treat, “Why are you so comfortable around me?”

Sara swallowed her last reminder of the ice cream, “I was hungry and felt like having sugar.”

She didn’t answer my question. “I could tear you limb to limb if I wanted to,” Lucifer said, flatly. He knew he had turned off the switch of being nice to each other.

Sara gazed at him and laughed dryly. Actually laughed at him, “Oh, Mr. Morning-star, I’ve read books on how you respond to other people’s fears. You crave it. You are a selfish bitch and I could care less about you.” She whirled her back to him as she set off, surprising Lucifer a little with such an abrupt change in her personality, but he knew better.

Lucifer bit down his cheeks. So she was that kind of person. He clutched his fists and followed her, “Selfish bitch?” He wanted how to enlighten him on how he was selfish.

Sara nodded, not looking back at him, “Yes, my father tells me all the time what an immortal nuisance you are to him, but he still has unconditional love for you no matter what, blah blah blah.”

Lucifer narrowed his eyes, “You’re no better than your father.”

Sara kept walking, zag zigging between the busy streets, “Hearing it from you doesn’t really say much.”

Lucifer growled, not liking how she was approaching him. He continued to follow her steadily, “So, acting like a brat to me is some poor-ass, job acting defensive against me? You are right, I can sense fear, and you stink of it.”

Sara froze in her track. Lucifer had her now. Damn it. Her mind hissed at her. Why was she feeling towards the Devil like this? Well, Sara, maybe because he killed your best friend’s parents? She wanted to feel rage and fury towards him, but all she could feel and see was pain.

Like hers.

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