Chapter 39: Chapter 17.2 – Bones ~ My patience is waning Is this entertaining?

*Bones by Imagine Dragons 

 

Thomas Pitch stepped proudly on the doorsteps of Lucifer’s castle in the red evening sky of Hell. He admired the sword as the door was opened by demonic guards, stationed at their position on a daunting poster, and wore silver armor.

Pitch took his first steps in the castle after so many years, breathing in the familiar scent of waxed candles flickering on the walls, greeting him with warmth and brilliance. As he walked the vintage red carpet down the royal hallway, going up three flights of stairs, one level going into the ballroom, the next level the dining room and kitchen, and the third level was offices, a grand library, a spacious living room, and a bar room that connected to the living room. There were a total of thirteen levels in Lucifer’s comfortable castle, the outside standing with a much glamorous stand to the kingdom of Hell.

Thomas Pitch went to the third level and headed to Lucifer’s office, his heart pouncing proudly as he strode down the corridors with demonic guards doing a slight bow of respect. He opened the office door and exclaimed, “I have the sword!”

Lucifer’s office didn’t change at all when Pitch left with a gloomy plea to Lucifer. There stood the desk, which had pink ivory wood as its complexion, the glossy wood making it look shiny and precious. Some people had claimed that specific pink ivory was rarer than diamonds. The desk had carvings of the symbol of pentagrams on the top and bottom, lined up; and on the front in the middle of the desk, spread out Lucifer Morning-Star in cursive.

And there sat Lucifer in his black and golden fabric lion chair. The head of the chair had in the middle that wonderful symbolic symbol of the satanic of the five-pointed star. The Devil looked up at Pitch, he seemed to be writing a letter with quill and ink. He grinned handsomely, putting aside his vintage paper, “Good work, Pitch.” He stood up, walking to Pitch in his formal outfit, nice black pants that were silky to the touch, and wore his usual white dress shirt; and black vest buttoned in silver with the pentagon symbol with a blood red necktie that had a golden clip. He wore black oxfords that were cleaned into a shiny gloss.

Lucifer grabbed the sword that had feather wings as the guard and angelic and demonic language was scripted on the sword. The blade glinted as he looked at it, his chocolate eyes glistering with a wicked promise. He gazed at Pitch, “You did it.” He narrowed his eyes with a beautiful smirk on his face, his black hair slicked back into its regular nature way, and Pitch was happy to see Lucifer in a better-looking state. He hadn’t seen his friend look so pretty and kingly for a while.”Now it’s time to get revenge. It will be game over for Michael.”

Pitch raised his head in the same smirk expression, “At your service, my king."

Lucifer swirled the sword in his hand, feeling the beautiful weight in his hand. He had longed to get this weapon in his head for many, many years, and now that dream had come true. He could finally kill his twin brother once and for all. He knew that killing Michael won’t heal his scars, but he knew for sure that he would be much happier—he hoped. He stroked the blade of the sword and felt the sharp tip of it, “I expect my idiotic brother will call me in the morning for my help.” He looked at his friend, “Remember our plan. We need to get all of Michael’s sidekicks in one place with him. My friends know the plan.” He grinned, “I am confident my plan will be executed.” He ran his finger against the edge, “We finished the hard part, now it’s time to play.”

Pitch smirked as he sat down on Lucifer’s desk. His heart fluttered as he gazed at his friend in wonder and love. He wondered what would happen if he leaned into Lucifer and kissed him. His heart pounded against that impossible thought. He had to be content with what he had now. And most importantly, Lucifer seemed to be in a better mood.

Pitch flickered his hands up, and little sparks of magic fly out of them in a celebration, “How about some wine?”

 

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Kate connected her fists against the punch bag over and over again. She was upset that everything was going in the wrong direction. Sweat poured from her forehand, making her blink constantly to get the wetness out of her eyes. Her breaths were heavy but steady as she kept punching over and over again, grunting as she did so.

Even though she had said those heartening words to the people in the room and felt her spirits liven up a little, the thought of seeing Michael struggle was upsetting her.

She knew she couldn’t control how people felt and acted, her heart throbbed at Michael’s reaction and everything seemed to be falling apart before her eyes. I’m Michael’s personal sidekick and help him constantly, so why do I feel this way? Why do I feel I am a disappointment? I am not doing enough?

She threw another hard punch, feeling anger rush through her like a kick of caffeine. Her knuckles were getting sore, but she kept on until her limbs felt they couldn’t lift themselves anymore.

Kate threw her arms down, breathing in and out, looking at the beaten-up punchbag. She flexed her fingers and sucked in the hardcore muscles of her abs. She rolled her shoulders as she walked away. She saw heroes had been watching her with some reverence. She couldn’t help but grin slightly.

She saw her boyfriend leaning against the wall in the same room, nodding to her, “Good job. Looks like you needed that.” He chuckled, “I’m glad I wasn’t that punching bag. No one would’ve survived that.”

Kate blushed as Andrew put an arm around her back as they walked out of the room. They went to the cafeteria and Kate got a bottle of water and breakfast. She swallowed the water in three big gulps, letting out a huge burp. “Excuse me,” she said, digging into her bandit eggs.

Andrew had gotten biscuits and gravy and the couple enjoyed their breakfast in silence. They put their empty plates back into the kitchen and Kate tossed the water bottle away. “What’s today?”

Andrew said, “September fifteenth I think.”

Kate stopped her walking and went white, “Oh shit.”

“What?” asked Andrew, concern written over his face.

“Today is Sara’s birthday,” she groaned, “I didn’t get anything for her.” She wiped her sweaty brow.

Andrew whispered as they began up the stairs back to their rooms, “You don’t Michael forgot?”’

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Kate sucked in a breath, “I think he had. But Pitch and all this shit, I’m not surprised. Ah, shit, I have to get something for her.” It wasn’t that Kate didn’t care, she did, but Sara wasn’t very easy when it came to presents, “Sixteen birthday…” her eyes lightened up, “I got it.”

Just as she was about to run up the stairs in excitement, she smacked Nathan.

“Ow!” Nathan cried out in surprise, looking up at her, “Oh hey, Kate.”

“Oh hi,” Kate said, “Sorry, I didn’t watch where I was going.”

“It’s fine,” answered Nathan, “Actually, I was coming down to get you, Sara, and Timothy. Michael wants all his sidekicks to meet him in his office.”

Kate gave a worried look, “Why?”

Nathan shrugged, “I don’t know, he just texted me about to round up you guys.” He raised his phone with a shrug. “I was going to the hospital because I heard that’s where Timothy and Sara were.”

Kate swallowed down her anxiety in wondering why Michael would want to talk to all of them in his office. She wondered if they did something wrong when they came to him in the basement. He probably just wants to have a meeting to discuss the next move, Kate. “Okay, let’s find the others.” She grabbed Andrew’s hand as they followed Nathan. She did wonder why Michael all of a sudden was trusting Nathan, for The Archangel had suspicions about the boy, but she thought that Michael could use all the help he could.

 

 

Ashley chewed on her lips as she drummed her fingers, watching the video on what happened last night. Demetrius was standing next to her, shaking his head, “How?” He quickly glanced at Ashley’s beautiful distressed face as she concentrated hard to find anything that would give any hints to how Pitch escaped.

“It is literally impossible to escape from that glass wall. Any magic towards destroying that wall would’ve made him go to sleep,” explained Ashley, twirling a strand of her tangerine lock around her finger. “Just doesn’t make a damn sense.”

Demetrius licked his dry lips as he went backward watching what happened before the falling glass and then watched in slow motion as the glass fell down, “God, poor Timothy. You heard anything that him?”

“Resting as far as I knew,” responded Ashley. She rubbed her eyes, “This is so tiring.”

Demetrius was about to comment on how hot she still looked, but Ricky flung open the door in a grand way and stomped in, “So, what did the devil do this time?”

“Well, Pitch actually,” sighed Demetrius, frowning at his brother.

Ricky shrugged, “Different people, same thing.” He leaned over the computer and hit restart.

“Hey,” Demetrius exclaimed, “We weren’t done yet.”

“Oops,” said Ricky, although not sounding apologetic at all. He nodded as the scene replayed, “You know, not sure if somehow the glass had a crack on the outside...maybe Pitch cracked the wall before he went in, like a very small sliver?”

Ashley and Demetrius blinked at him, and Demetrius stated, “Someone would’ve realized and there would’ve been warning signs if by chance Pitch did a small sliver of a crack in the glass wall.”

Ricky put on his thinking face, trying to calculate all the moves Pitch did before that happened, “You know if Timothy wasn’t in the way when Pitch broke the glass in front of him, we could’ve seen what Pitch was doing with his hands.”

Ashley concluded, “He might’ve stood in front of Timothy so the cameras would’ve blocked his movements.”

“Makes sense,” agreed Ricky. His phone chimed and he pulled it out to see that Michael had texted him. “Oh, Michael wants all of us to meet him at his office.

“Oh no,” Demetrius said in perturbation.

“Maybe it’s nothing bad,” said Ashley, but her sweet honey tone stated otherwise. “Guess we should head up there now.” She looked back at the video and stood up, closing the computer. She frowned at the fact they weren't much help to Michael, “We can tell him what we know so far, which is basically nothing.”

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