August 30th, 2018
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WALKING THROUGH THE doorway of my bathroom Thursday morning, I couldn't help the scrunch of my nose. It was only the first week in a new house and it was already trashed by none other than yours truly.

Oopsies.

Over the next ten minutes, I spent the entirety of it putting my clothes back away and straightening the things that had been knocked over. After the little episode with Josh, I wanted to busy myself in hopes to forget the conversation completely.

I've only known those boys for a few days. Plus, I'd surely pick on something if they weren't who they said they were. A frown curved my lips as my mind thought about last night. How Noah came out without a single scratch, how the boys had protected me. It was an easy conclusion that there wasn't a single bad bone in their bodies.

I had tried messaging Hannah, apologizing for what happened and for ruining her night. She never responded, but I assumed it was because she wasn't awake yet. My heart hoped she wasn't mad at me. Although we had all just meant, I considered her one of my friends.

She had that friendly quality that set me at ease. Nothing like the infuriating irritation Zeke liked to ignite. I left the Neosporin on the grey marble countertop, knowing I'd probably need it later. A sudden pair of eyes flashed through my mind.

The eyes shined a brilliant grey and silver, reminding me of thunderclouds right before a lightning storm.

Despite it being at a perfect temperature in the house, I shivered. I can't believe a guy is getting to me. I hope I never see him and his perfect body ever again. A lie I'll tell myself until I start to believe it.

Why couldn't he be like Noah and Evan? Because Noah and Evan don't look like that for starters. I'm going to pretend that thought never crossed my mind. Ever. Shaking it off, I continued with working on the bathroom.

Old bloodied toilet paper I quickly threw in the trash, along with a few q-tips I had used to dab on the Neosporin. Don't tell Michael, but I hated using my finger. He'd call me a wuss. Speaking of the Archangel, I could only assume we were going to have a long talk once he got home.

Just the thought of it made me wince. I started to hum a random Christmas song as I re-entered my room. I headed toward my nightstand to pick up my phone, the humming never ceasing.

"Oh, what fun, it is to ride, a one-horse open- FUCK!"

Holymotherofhelpmepleaseohgawdthishurts.

"Stupid fucking bed frame," I huffed, grumbling as I hopped on one foot. Stubbing your toe was worse than stepping on a damn leggo.

As my fingers grazed my phone, my eyes instinctively lifted to a picture frame. It sat like any other picture frame; tall and sturdy, filled with beloved memories and joyous occasions. Except this one didn't remind me of that.

The picture was taken a few years ago. I sat next to my mother on our couch, bright and genuine smiles on both of our faces. My heart ached. It had been Christmas Eve, and we had just gotten dressed in our new matching Christmas pajamas. A tradition Mom had started when I was little.

I was leaning over her lap, my mouth wide and eyes lit with an innocence I could never get back. Mom's arms held me around my small waist, holding me so my clumsy ass wouldn't fall off her lap. Michael was terrible at taking pictures, always unsure when or how to take them.

Nine times out of ten, they came blurry. But this one had come out perfectly, and it was my favorite. As my eyes filled with tears, thoughts of my mother crashed down on me like a wave.

There hadn't been a funeral service for my mom. No event to share beloved memories, mourn her passing or shed tears over the loss of a loved one with the person next to you. There was no family bonding after her death, no friends to message and grieve. The only person other than myself who was fortunate enough to have loved my mother was Michael.

Michael and I were all that we had. Growing up with a single mother, no close relatives and moving from state to state had started to dwell on me the past couple of years. It wasn't until the first Christmas without her that I felt truly alone.

My nose didn't perk up at the smell of freshly baked pancakes. My eyes didn't shimmer when I gazed at the gifts under the tree like I was a kid again. There was no Christmas music playing throughout the house. At the time we had lived in Miami, and there wasn't even snow on the ground to call it a "White Christmas". To say it had been depressing would be an understatement.

My guardian has done everything imaginable to make it how it was, but even he knew there was no point. For the past year and a half, Michael and I have stuck to a routine. While I go to school he goes into work.

When we arrive home, we finish up any extra work we must, then train. However, "train" was a pretty broad term. Whether that meant research, combat training, magic training, or simply not training because we were too tired, really just depended on the day.

After waking up this morning, I did my regular morning routine then headed straight outside for a couple hours. When I was younger, I did it all the time. Sit out on the front porch, gaze out into the late night and watch as the sun came over the horizon. It would always memorize me at how the night would fade away and a new day would arrive with the rise of the sun.

Michael used to say that each star has a name, unique to them. He added that there are two great lights-the greater light to rule the day and the lesser light to rule the night-and the stars. He would then point to me and say how we believe that one day, I would be that greater light.

My lips would never part to counter him and speak the truth we'd never say aloud. It didn't matter how much we tried to prevent it, one day I will have to face my fate. Whether it was the light that blossomed within me or the darkness that singed my soul, only one could come out on top.

A vibration from my phone made me jump, a new text message lighting up the screen. I snatched my phone off the nightstand, opening up my messages.

Noah: Heard you're not doing well after last night, sorry about that Cupcake.

Evan: No shit, dumbass, she digested poison.

Noah: Stfu moron, I was trying to be nice.

Evan: You're doing a horrible job.

Noah: Whatever.

Evan: Anyways, Angel, we're wondering what your favorite soup is?

A smile spread across my lips, their humor never seizing to cheer me up. I glanced at the time, noting that it was already around our lunchtime at school. I ignored their question and asked one of my own.

Me: Who'd you hear it from? Aren't you supposed to be in school?

Noah: Sorry Mom.

Oops.

Evan: Ignore him, he's being a sour-puss.

Noah: Fuck off.

Aren't they sitting right next to each other?

Me: lol

Evan: We heard from Michael, we caught up with him before he left for work.

Noah: We left school right after the lunch bell rang, now are you going to tell us your favorite soup or what, Cupcake? This is crucial.

Me: Why?

Noah: Cupcake...

Me: I'm not answering your question until you answer mine

Evan: That's cruel but fair

Noah: We asked you first

Noah: Wait what, E wtf

Evan: We're coming over in twenty-five minutes, don't argue, it's happening.

I giggled, my cheeks starting to burn from smiling so hard and for so long.

Me: Okay, but why

Noah: Cupcake you are impossible

Evan: Don't be an ass, Rudolph

Me: Lmao

Noah: SOUP WOMAN, WHAT IS IT

I burst out laughing and finally relented.

Me: Cambell's Chunky Beef Stew

Noah: Chunky, huh(;

Me: Perv.

Evan: You started it, Angel

Me: Bro who's side are you on?

Noah: The side that wins...

Me: You cheat, E

Evan: Do not

Me: Do too

Noah: Do too

Evan: Shut up, see you both soon.

Noah: Cupcake you better be on that damn couch & in pajamas when we get there.

Me: Yes dad

Noah: Damn right(;

Me: BYE NOAH

Evan: ...

Placing my phone back on the nightstand, I grabbed a pair of pajama bottoms and flew to my bathroom. My green tank top was good enough. Glancing in the mirror once I shut the door behind me, and my mouth dropped. I hadn't looked in the mirror since last night - and damn.

Makeup was smeared in all different directions all over my face. My red lipstick in places they shouldn't be and my eyes were covered in mascara where I nearly looked like a damn raccoon. My once wavy chocolate strands were now bunched up in a rat's nest against my back.

I looked like shit.

Shaking my head, I stripped my jeans that I had put on this morning on and replaced them with my blue rubber ducky bottoms. My mom had got them for me our last Christmas together, referencing me with the rubber duckies. She said I was cute but annoying sometimes. It was a typical mother jab and had made me laugh. Now it nearly made me cry.

Rubbing my hands over my already fucked up face, I groaned, blinking back the tears. I need to get my shit together before the boys get here.

I had just tied the strings together at the waistband when there was a knock at the door. My eyebrows scrunched together, looking at the door. It was humanly impossible for twenty-five minutes to have already passed.

Not thinking anything of it, I opened the bathroom door and tossed my jeans inside the bedroom. I skipped downstairs, a small smile raising the edges of my lips. I was "sick" and the boys were coming over to make me feel better. I owe them more than my life at this point.

I didn't bother checking the windows or the peephole as I made my way over to the door. That was my first mistake. Swinging the front door open, I blinked back from the bright ray of sunshine that poured into the house.

"Hey," my eyes adjusted. "I thought you said twen-" The words were cut off from my lips as a pair of blue-grey eyes locked with mine. My stomach dropped to my toes and my blood ran cold.

"Hey, sweetheart," Dylan chirped. "Long time no see."

The first rational thing I could think of was to slam the door on his face, and I did. Or, well, tried to at least. His foot caught the doorway, blocking the door from shutting. I started to panic, my hybrid-self not really up for a full-out fight with a hellhound at the moment.

A hand slid around the edge of the door, slowly pushing it open. "That wasn't very nice," he pouted. I gulped, backing a few steps into the kitchen, my horrified eyes never leaving his gleaming gaze.

There wasn't a single scratch on his nearly too perfect features from last night, and I found myself disappointed. Noah should have beat him harder.

Dylan took a few steps forward into the house, his eyes roaming the inside. He was making a mental map. He snapped his gaze back to me, a grin eating at his lips. "Miss me?"

I growled, somewhat starting to get my shit together. "What do you want?"

He took a few more steps forward, I took the same amount back. I hissed when my spine hit the corner edge of the island. Dylan smirked, his eyes roaming everywhere on my body. I tried not to squirm.

"You," he stated.

Heh, what?

"Why?"

Dylan shrugged. "Ask your father," he said innocently. I snarled at the mention of my sperm-donor.

"Well you can tell daddy-dearest to fuck off, 'cause he ain't getting me," I bit out, clenching my jaw. I used this as the time to try and reach for my other halves, digging deep within myself. They stirred, but that was it. I was on my own.

Dylan's eyes flashed their crimson red and I instinctively gasped, clutching the counter behind me. "You can tell him that yourself, sweetheart," he growled.

Time seemed to stop within the next few moments. One second I was standing in the kitchen staring at the beast in front of me, the next he uppercut my jaw and sent me flying back. My body crashed hard into the slider door behind me, cracking the glass as I slid down to the floor. It felt as if my body itself had shattered.

A groan parted my lips as I slowly lifted myself off the floor. I tasted copper as I got to my knees, looking up at the demon stalking towards me.

"Well this is just disappointing, but I can't say I'm surprised. I put enough Ricin in your drink to suppress your other halves long enough for me to bring you back to your dear old dad," his voice boomed across the entire house.

"Go fuck yourself," I spit at him, blood spurting from my mouth. Dylan growled as he reached me, lifting me up from under the pits and threw me again. I landed with a crunch a few feet from the windows, my body rolling the rest of the way.

"Too easy," he snickered. "Nice pajama pants, by the way, sweetheart," he remarked, his footsteps getting closer. I kept my eyes shut, trying to focus my energy, but there was still nothing. It was like I was cut off.

Dammit.

I spit out more blood on the hardwood floor, watching it splatter. My head rose as I licked my lips. Adrenaline started to pump through my veins, igniting the little energy I had in my body. Dylan was five feet from me when I hopped to my feet.

"Think again, asshole," I snapped.

The smirk on his lips never ceased, his blood red eyes only glimmered with excitement. "Show me what you got, sweetheart," he taunted.

I cracked my neck, whipping the flood off my mouth. Then we ran at each other and one second later, we collided.

Before he could make the first move, I tackled Dylan to the floor and we rolled. Sticking my foot out, I stopped our movements and straddled the hellhound. I pinned his legs with my own behind me, overlapping them with my feet.

My hand bunched in a fist and rose, coming down hard on his jaw. I heard a snap, but I didn't stop. I jabbed his temple with my left hand, then switched and did the same with my right. His arms were punching my stomach and it hurt like a bitch, but I was trained better than to just give in.

With one final uppercut to his jaw and another crack of something snapping, I jumped off the hellhound and circled behind him.

Dylan groaned and in no time the snapping of his bones realigning echoed through the house. Dammit. Wasting no more time, I grabbed him from underneath his armpits, just as he did to me, lifted, and threw his body as hard as I could to the other side of the room.

The hellhound hit the wall just above the windows with a satisfying crunch. He fell to the floor at an angle, his body laying still. My breathing was ragged as I placed my hands on my knees. As much as I wanted it to be, this wasn't over, and I had about ten minutes until the boys would be here.

I marched over to Dylan's body while he slowly healed, his eyes wide open and still colored crimson. I almost shuddered at the sight. He opened his mouth to speak but before he could utter another word, I stomped my foot down on his neck.

Dylan gasped, clutching at my foot as his eyes widened. I pressed more weight on my foot as I leaned over him, making sure I was clear view. The split skin on my lip started to heal itself as I spoke.

"I'm going to make this very clear, so listen up," I growled. Dylan glared at me but didn't argue. His face was starting to turn blue and I needed him to hear this before he passed out.

"If you ever set another foot anywhere near here ever again, I will send you straight back to hell myself, do you understand?"

Dylan said nothing, his nose flaring as he put more pressure on my foot to try and push it off. In return, I put over half of my weight on his. Dylan wheezed, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment.

My demon started to stir again beneath me, his voice overlapping my own as my eyes started to glow. "I said, do you understand?" It growled.

Welcome back.

When Dylan's eyes reopened, they were back to their mundane blue, nearly matching his face at the moment. He nodded as best he could, looking me dead in the eyes.

I took back control of my body, the colors of my eyes changing back to their brown.

"Good," I smiled. Releasing the pressure off his neck, I took a small step back, watching his every move. Dylan gasped for air, clutching at his neck as if he had almost died. What a pansy. My eyes followed him as he slowly sat upright.

That was my cue. Before he could react, I quickly stepped behind him and grabbed his head and jaw, snapping his neck with a twist. At the crack of his neck, his body started to fizzle away in ash particles.

"Have fun in hell," I snorted.

Once all of what Dylan's remains were aloft, my shoulders sagged in relief. I glanced at the time on the oven, my eyes widening. The boys would be here soon. It's a damn good thing I heal fast.

Just as I started to brush the ash off of my pants, the front door burst open and a blur sped through the house and directly at me. I squealed and jumped back. Hands encased around my upper arms, steadying me as I nearly toppled over.

Once I was sure I wasn't going to fall over and my heart returned to a normal pace, my gaze lifted to a familiar pair of diamond blue eyes.

"Michael," I sighed in relief, collapsing against him as if he were my lifeline. He caught me, gently lifting me up into his arms.

"I came as soon as I could," he murmured, hugging me to his chest almost too tightly.

I nodded. "You knew it was coming, didn't you?" I whispered.

A long time ago, before he started to grow weaker from suppressing his powers for so long, Michael could see into the future. However, because of certain laws, he couldn't interfere until said event was over.

Nowadays it comes and goes, and by his worried expression and rush to get home, I'd say he saw this coming. My suspicions were confirmed when he nodded his head, gulping and gripping me tighter as he carried me over to the couch.

"Yes," he croaked. "It was that same hellhound you saw at the club, Nightshade, right?"

My body shuddered, his blood red eyes flashing through my mind. "Yeah."

Michael set us down on the couch, holding me tightly. I curled into a ball on his lap, breathing in my real father figure.

"What did he say he wanted? I was only able to see the part where he got here, nothing else."

That explained his freaked out expression. "He said he was here to bring me to my father," I said.

Michael sighed, his shoulders sagging as reality really set in. "We have to train you harder," he said. "You're not ready yet, Paulo Demonium."

Disappointment weighed heavy on my mind. Although I knew he was right, it still wasn't what I wanted to hear. Michael was supposed to grant my immortality tomorrow, but it doesn't look like it's going to happen now.

"The boys are going to be here soon," I blurted, desperate for a subject change.

"I know," he said. My head snapped up from his chest, my eyes narrowing at him.

"How?"

The Archangel smirked, lifting me off his lap and setting me gently on the couch. "I know many things, Celeste, and that happens to one of them."

I snorted. "What an Angel thing to say," I snickered as he walked towards the chicken. Seconds later a pillow hit me in the back of the head and I almost toppled off the couch. I spun around and glared at the Archangel.

Michael had a blank expression on his face as he stood behind the counter, acting as if he's been there all day. "What?" he asked innocently.

"Some angel," I muttered, turning back around.

"How are you going to cover for you being healed already?" Michael asked from the kitchen. I shrugged my shoulders, reaching for the remote on the glass coffee table.

"Um," I mumbled, not really paying attention. The goal was to not get off the couch while retrieving the remote. It defeated the whole purpose.

"Celeste..." Michael egged on.

"Um, I said that I didn't feel good and that I was still sick. So, technically, I'm not." In one final reach towards the table, I finally latched onto the remote and snatched it greedily off the table.

"Is that why you look like a bloody raccoon?" he called.

Such the flatterer.

"I'm going to pretend you didn't just say that," I grumbled, repositioning on the couch. I pulled the blanket off the back and laid it over my bottom half.

"Would you rather me lie?" he inquired. This caught my attention. I turned around and opened my mouth to tell him, yes, but he cut me off with a glare.

"Not gonna happen," he snipped.

My eyes rolled. "Angels," I grumbled.

I heard him grumble "hybrids" from the kitchen, mocking my tone. I ignored him as I turned on the T.V., hoping to find something good to watch. Since the boys were coming over, the Xbox was a no-go for a little while.

Michael's next question caught me off guard. "Why don't you just tell them the truth?"

"Absolutely not," I laughed half-heartedly.

Michael scoffed, his voice off to my right now. He was by the slider. "Why not?"

I heard him open the slider door, probably hiding the crack in the class behind the blinds. Oops. Totally forgot about that.

"That way they stay longer," I mumbled, suddenly uncomfortable. Besides, the less the know, the more safe they are. My father would use them against me if he had the chance, I know it.

"Celeste," Michael began in his lecturing tone, but before he could start, there was a knock on the front door. I smirked, happy the conversation was over.

"This conversation isn't over," Michael hissed as he walked over to the doorway.

Damn.

"I bring Cupcake's favorite soup!"

My head swung around from the T.V. to Noah as he stood in the doorway. A smile cracked my lips as our gaze locked.

They're here.