Chapter 41: 18.2 – Hungry Like the Wolf ~ I’m on the hunt, I’m after you.

*Hungry Like the Wolf by Duran Duran 

 

Ten more minutes until she needed to meet her father in his office, Sara looked at herself in the mirror, almost not recognizing the pale face girl she was before. Her gaunt eyes were sparkling like the night sky and she looked more alive than ever with a rose color blushing on her cheeks as her heart thumped for the ceremony.

Ever since she left her friends, a grin passed her face as she walked to her room. This was possibly the best and worst birthday present ever. Why the best? For the first time, she could prove herself to the angels and heroes that she was indeed Michael’s assassin and a daughter for the angels to be proud of. Yes, she was Michael’s daughter, but she belonged to all the angels—that was what her father had said—and the weight of her crushing down to be the perfect daughter of all the angel race was unbearable. But becoming the Archangel’s assassin, maybe they would appreciate her more. She was doing more work and giving the angels to look into her, not as some reckless girl that Michael wanted for no reason, but someone willing to sacrifice her life to protect the humans as she killed evil with her own hands.

Why the worst? She gazed down at emptiness, as being titled an assassin all of a sudden didn’t come easily over her as she wanted to. Her whole life was preparing herself for this moment and on. She would have to give the demons and monsters a new whole reputation that she was not a girl to be mocked or laughed at but to be feared when she came to them down the alleys or approached them as they knew that was it. They were done.

Lucifer knows I’m Michael’s daughter because of my recklessness. Will the villains hate me more because of that? Will they hate me more than Katerina? The only reason why she would want the villains to hate her more than Katerina, was because their attention would be on her and her best friend might be a little safer.

Many at the Heroes’ Headquarters, such as most angels and heroes thought she didn’t care much about her people, she did. She just didn’t make big announcements like Kate that she loved them and wanted to protect them.

Now it’s time not to be a child, but the grown woman that you are expected to be now. No more being childish. “Agh,” Sara grunted, “How the fuck am I supposed to mature in less than seven minutes.”

She went to her bed and collapsed on it, feeling more crushing weight heavy down on her. She felt her combed her fan out as she gazed in wonder. Guess I’m going to have to fake being mature until I learn how to. Even thinking of such made her giggle in stupidity.

The bed dented a little as Sal sat down with a chuckle, “Mature less than seven minutes? Tsk tsk tsk. That’s going to be fun to see.” He picked up some of her hair, playing with it.

“Sal?” Sara groaned with dread, “How can I mature? Tell me the secrets!”

Sal laughed as he heard her begging inquiry, “Sara, you don’t mature overnight. It takes years and years to find your maturity, and immortals, it can take centuries.”

Sara turned to Sal, “Do you think I should leave my hair naturally or curl it?”

“If you were going to have your hair naturally...you know what I mean.” A hairbrush appeared in his hand as he started to comb it. “I think that dress is a good idea.”

“It’s my angelic outfit,” muttered Sara.

Sal sighed as her hair ran through his fingers, “It’s a pity that you are to become Michael’s assassin.”

Sara sat up, making Sal frown as her hair slipped from his fingertips, “Why?”

Sal moved closer to her and started to brush her hair again, “Why? Sara, you are destined far greater than to be Michael’s assassin. It’s a pity he wastes your talent on that.”

Sara scoffed as she batted his hand away, “I think being the Archangel's assassin is privileged.”

Sal rolled his eyes as he pushed Sara down on the bed not gently, combing her hair once again, “Now that’s immaturity right there.” Sara struggled to get up, but he slammed his hand on her chest, “Stay, I wasn't finished with your hair.”

Sara grunted a frown as he pulled away his hand to finish the brushing, “Why? Lucifer told me I was mature for my age—Ouch! What the fuck was that for?"

Sal combed her hair a little rough as he mused, “You had a tangle. Lucifer is right on that I guess. And Sara, you were only raised to think of such of being privileged of working with the highest being in Heaven besides God Himself.”

“Maybe I should put on some makeup before I go?” Sara yanked herself up, prying away from Sal as she stumbled back into her bathroom, checking over herself in the mirror. She grabbed some mascara, but Sal snatched it away from her, “Sal!”

Sal shook his head, “No, wear only your face. You’re stunning enough without make up. Now,” he pushed her out of the bathroom door, straightening the rest of her hair quickly, “Go on, don’t want to be late to your father.”

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Sara whirled to Sal, her eyes frightened as she whispered, “Do you think I’ll make a good assassin, Sal?” Although she despised Sal with all of her heart, she didn’t know who else to ask before being whisked away into her future ahead. She was surprised how quickly being an assassin could easily come, but how scary such a big responsibility dangled at her face.

Sal sighed, looking her over and tossed her shoes at her, “Sara. You are the best assassin I know by far—and not saying that because I love you—but because you've always been a natural fighter.”

“Love me my ass,” spatted out Sara, slipping on her white ankle boots, zipping the boots up, “If you loved me, you would fucking leave me alone.”

“But you love me also,” commented Sal as Sara opened her door.

She turned to her in aghast, “Love you? In your dreams.”

“You would miss me if I disappeared.”

Sara was about to spite out that was also a lie, but something caught in her throat. Sal was the only friend who listened to her and spoke to her daily.

Kate, her brothers, Ashley, and a few angels, including her father, were her only friends also, but Sara felt, they didn’t know her inside out like Sal did. They didn’t lovingly look at her—Sara smacked Sal’s face. He stumbled back, “Stop it! You don’t love me like the rest of my people! You are a stupid, selfish bitch!”

She saw some heroes crossing the hallway take a few steps back. Sara ignored them as her mind grumbled at her: Those are irrational thoughts that you fucking bitch are giving to me. My father loves me more than anyone else besides God. Kate is my best friend who is like my sister, and I would give my life to her. I have heroes to support me and angels who have my back...kinda. She flung her white hood over, feeling the swoop of her white cloak swirl behind her as she hurried down the hallway. The cloak hemmed at the back of her dress. She saw eyes peel on her as some angels smile at her with a nod and heroes muttering among themselves.

Sara’s boots tapped gracefully against the ground as she rushed into her father’s office. She quickly closed the door behind her, grateful to be away from the prying eyes of others. Michael watched his daughter breathe a sigh of relief as she rested her head on the door to catch her breath. She was wearing a gorgeous gown that he had never seen her wear before. He had seen the same style of gown on her before, but he has never seen this dress with beautiful designs as she looked up at him. She was much younger the last time she wore an angelic dress. If he was honest to himself, he liked the one she made and wore now more than the last one he gave her.

The dress was silvery and white with gold accents that followed the dress to where it hung just above the floor. She had really gone all out for her inauguration, but he expected as much from her. “Hello, Sara.” He added with a nod of liking, “You look lovely.”

“You do too, Dad,” Sara muttered under her breath, trying not to look uneasy in front of him. But when she finally gave her father notice, she had never seen her father look so nice before. Coincidentally they had both picked the same color pallet, his suit was a gorgeous white with golden accents trailing his cuffs. His suit was tailored nicely to him, and his dark curly hair sat rigorously combed on top of his head. Her dad truly looked like what you’d picture an Archangel of Heaven to be. Gorgeous and heavenly, “Thanks.” Sara walked over to him and tilted her head. “Are you sure about this? Are you sure about wanting to make me an assassin this early? Like Kate pointed out, I’m still basically a child.”

Michael gave out his hand with a beaming grin. Sara took his hand as he pulled her into him. He kissed her on her forehead and whispered, “Sara.” He looked at her fondly, but there was a harsh gaze on her as he said, “Child or not, I need you on this. Can I trust you?”

“Of course, father,” said Sara, looking at him with her befuddled eyes.

“Then I need you to become my assassin,” responded Michael sternly, his eyes cutting through Sara, “Why I am making you my assassin now?—there’s no time to question about it. Do you understand? Trust me on this one, sweetie.”

*Hungry Like The Wolf by Duran Duran 

 

Sara placed her head on his chest, hearing their hearts beat in unison, “Yes father. I understand.”

She saw Sal leaning against the wall with a shake of his head, “Maybe there’s a reason besides you being Michael’s assassin just because you might need to kill Pitch?”

Father doesn't need a reason for me to become his assassin. Sara knew Sal had been watching everything, but never see him observing. She never comprehended how he heard of all this information. She always guessed what she heard, he heard without having to be seen by her.

Sal swayed his head slightly in almost disappointment, “Whatever, Sara.”

Sara felt Michael let go of her a little, looking down at her with all of his love, “Your ready, sweetie?”

Sara smiled back, but inside she wasn’t as happy as she thought she would be; she didn’t know why. She got what she wanted—but her mind kept repeating: This is just it? That’s how you feel? She had dreamt of this moment and always was eager for her father to announce when she would become his assassin...but the alive feeling that she felt minutes ago was diminishing faster than she expected. She anticipated more excitement to adrenaline her soul, but only felt sadness. She always hungered for this moment when she would be crowned Michael’s personal assassin—but for some reason, her heart hungered for something else. Something more.

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