Sophia's Chronicles

A/N:

This chapter begins from a scenario set up in the previous chapter. Basically, we're looking at when Zara tried to infiltrate the Russian vampire mafia in Ukraine. I just wanted to do some world-building, because I'm hoping to use this plot device again in the future. And there is a little hint there, that something's connected to another thing already mentioned before. But after this scene is the whole conflict between Lucifer and Zara we saw at the end of the last chapter (and the thing with Esther), and the next flashback will continue after that point.

Chapter 76: Another Chance To Take

Hell – 6 months ago

"How's your Ukrainian?"

"Rusty. And by rusty, I mean I didn't know they spoke something other than Russian in Ukraine until now," Zara quipped. "I don't think I'll be doing much talking. There's a small-time gambling den where the Vory actually house their victims before bringing them home for a nice big family dinner. That's our in."

"Hm," Lucifer zoned into a spot on the table, pensive. "And how did you stumble upon this little nugget?"

"Oh, uh," she stuttered. "The…Internet. I just searched really long and hard."

She maintained eye contact and nodded continuously, like it would boost her credibility. "The Internet. So you can find anything on it? How does it work?" he asked in turn.

"I… I don't know! You don't need to know how it works. You just- you just use it," she shrugged in response to his positively befuddled expression.

"One day you're gonna have to explain it to me," he ordered.

"Alright, Grandpa," Zara's smile was a thin, playful curve. "So, Odessa."

"You can go," Lucifer conceded. She was relieved, tempted to release a huge sigh of relief. Her muscles were even quivering from how excited she was. Her first mission. The thought of blood spraying on her skin made her restless. And it would be all hers to relish, on her own. She wasted no time in getting to the common armoury on the lower floors, where she packed a handgun and a machete into her leather jacket, and then some more into a small backpack.

"Ready to go, partner?" a voice said behind her. Zara spun round to see none other than the flame-haired Knight herself.

"Abaddon?" Zara recognised. "Wait, did you say… 'partner'?"

"Damn straight I did," she responded with gusto.

"But I'm supposed to be doing this alone," Zara's voice wavered, softening with every word.

"You are…" Abaddon confirmed. Hands poised on hips and chin lifted, she towered over Zara like a parent. "At least in the loosest sense of the term. But the boss told me to watch over you. What did you think, we were just gonna send you all alone to a place you've never been to where our enemies may be conspiring against us as we speak? It's cute though, that you asked to do it yourself."

"It's not cute! I'm being serious," Zara shot back firmly.

"Oh woah, she's being serious! She's being serious, boys, did you hear that?" she called out into the doorway. A couple of demons who were walking past the door to the armoury shot them toothy grins before disappearing from view.

It was a difficult task to bite back a snide response, but Zara did anyway. Hell could feel so trapping sometimes. Abaddon knew it from the look in her eyes, how Zara unblinkingly kept her dark irises fixed on her while releasing a measured exhale. Abaddon would have been lying if she said it didn't satisfy her a little. "The Vory will know something's up if they catch a demon trying to sneak onto their premises. Which is why I, a human, should do this alone."

"Right, right. And who's gonna hold onto all that ammo while you're pretending to play a Turkey ham on a cold Thanksgiving morning?" Abaddon rebutted. "What was your plan? Get killed as soon as they search you? You wouldn't even have made it to their hideout."

"Hey, I had a plan, okay? I planned for this," Zara argued. "I'm not an idiot."

"Good, you can tell me all about it en route," Abaddon said as a matter-of-fact. Within no time, the both of them stood in a chilly alleyway. The sudden change startled Zara. A spark of warmth filled her to know that she was standing on the earth again, like a return to something familiar. The tangerine streetlight pierced the midnight darkness. "So where's this place?"

With the help of GPS, Zara located a shady street where there were noises of people but no one to be found in the open. "That one," she pointed.

Among closed shops was a single lit establishment. The lighting inside appeared dim. A middle-aged man stumbled out the doors in a drunken stupor, one arm around a younger woman who had obnoxiously high stiletto heels. He yelled some kind of obscenity at her and she laughed. Their gait was reminiscent of a horse that had just been shot with a tranquilizer and was struggling to stay awake. Kissing passionately, the couple staggered into an adjacent alley.

"Ugh," Zara groaned. "I guess I'm going in there."

"Wait," Abaddon stopped her. "You're sure you know what you're doing? How're you gonna get out?"

"You're here, aren't you? I'll bust a vein. Keep the line open," Zara suggested. It hadn't been long before that she'd learnt to contact demons with blood but she'd had a fair amount of practice. "As soon as I get something on Crowley, you'll know."

"You got till daybreak," Abaddon stated, much to Zara's discontent. Sounds of vigorous love-making pulsated from the aforementioned alley as echoes, though it was still a considerable distance from where the two stood. At one point, there was a distinct slap of skin contact and then the woman's lustful shriek. "All you need to do is get in and get out. Kinda like that lucky old man there."

Zara was pensive at first, but deciding that any further argument would be suspicious, surrendered all her weaponry into her backpack and handed it over to Abaddon. "Guess I won't need that now."

"Hey," Abaddon called out one more time as Zara began towards the place. Though nothing but coldness seemed to emanate from the Knight, this moment was an exception. "You were trained for this. You'll do fine."

As reassuring as it was supposed to be, a knot formed in Zara's stomach. Abaddon had a plan and she had a plan, but those two plans weren't quite the same. Those uncertainties faded to the back of her mind as she entered. Walking past round tables where men convened and played card games over beer, smokes and money, she settled at the bar counter. The bartender was a man with shortly-trimmed hair and a sketchy smile in his eyes. He sported a gold chain around his neck but a dirty rag in a hand which he used to efficiently wipe the counter top. Zara didn't even know he was talking to her until a mumble of words in a different language reached her ears. She looked up and found his grey eyes staring into hers.

"One whiskey, please," she ordered. "On the rocks."

"You're tourist?" he asked with a heavy accent dripping in his voice.

"Yes," she smiled briefly. Her darkly-lined eyes scanned her periphery. Men in tracksuits in the corner watched her quietly. She pretended not to notice. Instead, she took out her phone and pretended to scroll through it. "Damn, battery's running low. Do you have a charger here?"

"No charger, sorry," the bartender answered. She tilted her head and made a mildly exasperated face before returning her phone to her pocket. "You here alone?"

"Unfortunately," she sighed.

"No friend, no boyfriend?" he pressed, somewhat casually.

"That's a little personal," she smirked, which seemed to ease him up a bit. She leaned forward in her seat, her elbows traversing the counter eagerly. There was a girly twinkle in her eyes, one that you couldn't really suspect. "But if you really wanna know, I prefer being alone."

"You come to Odessa before?" he politely asked.

"Mm, not really," she said. "I didn't really think. I just jumped on a plane and came here."

He raised both eyebrows as he poured her a drink and served it to her with ice. "You're a brave girl," he remarked.

"But… there is something I'm interested in," she murmured mysteriously. He paused what he was doing, settling in front of her with the rag slung over his shoulder. "I heard… that this area has a little special something to it."

"Special? What do you mean?" one of his eyebrows dipped in curiosity.

"You know…" she imitated a smoking action. The bartender huffed a smile and his eyes roved over the table. "You know what I'm talking about."

"No," he shook his head though he still wore an amused grin. "We don't do that here. It's illegal."

"Really?" she leaned in closer to him, and whispered, "Then what are those people in the corner having?"

"I pretend I don't know. I don't want any trouble," he said.

"Really? Because they said that you were the one I should ask. That you'd bring me to someone named Yakiv," she narrowed her eyes.

His lips pursed. He definitely knew something. "How do you know that name?"

"Oh, just…" she shrugged. "Word of mouth. I know a guy who knows a guy who told him. Said this was the place to get dope."

"Your friend's friend… he is a man with good taste," he said with a knowing look. Zara remained demure. The way she glistened, she passed off easily as a young city-bred woman with a whole life ahead of her. She was well-aware of this fact. "Meet me outside."

"Okay, I'll just pay for this drink first," she stated.

"No, no need," he dismissed with a wave of the hand. "Yakiv will take care of it."

Sure enough, Zara waited out in the cold for a while before the bartender showed up. He led her down an alley adjacent to the place. A strange feeling stirred within her. Something seemed off. Then she realised what it was. It was eerily quiet. A glance at the ground revealed a stray stiletto heel turned on its side. A couple of men in leather jackets and beanies walked by, greeting the bartender with a nod. As she watched, one of them picked up the stiletto and kept it in a bag. I've got the right place, alright. A prickly sense of danger climbed up her spine. But instead of sending dread through her veins, it pumped excitement instead.

"Right this way," he led her past a wired gate. There was no one there. She looked around herself, unable to help the curiosity. There was a flash of movement. A glimmer of vicious, yellow eyes. And then the hard smack of something against her head. In a second, she fell unconscious.

She awoke to the drone of an engine. The jerk of an uneven road snapped her to complete consciousness. All she saw at first was red, but when the haze in her mind cleared, it was apparent that a strong red light permeated the back of the truck. Of course, her hands were bound, and the emptiness in her pockets suggested that her belongings had been taken from her. The wallet and phone were for temporary use anyway, so retrieving them was not on the agenda. Zara's dead eyes zoned in on the other victims. There must have been a dozen other people in there with her. They were unconscious. Except for the woman with a missing stiletto heel. Smudged eyeliner ran down her face. Her lips quivered. Once her damp eyes found Zara's, she muttered a string of words. Zara couldn't understand her. Zara just stared. Realising that her words were falling on deaf ears, the woman quietened down and shifted her attention to the large man who was slumped over next to her.

Zara bathed in the red light.

When the truck stopped, there was incomprehensible muttering. The doors opened. It was still dark outside, but judging from the ambience, they were somewhere more rural. A bunch of tall, pale men and women in stiff black suits appeared before them. It looked like they were parked at the back entrance of a large mansion, the width of which couldn't even be seen – that's how big it was. What is this, some kind of palace?

"(Get moving! All of you)," one of them said. Those of the victims who'd awakened obliged wordlessly, though trembling. Those who hadn't were carried out roughly and taken away immediately. Zara followed what the others were doing. The one who gave out the order roughly grabbed her jaw as soon as her feet touched the ground. "(This one looks… foreign)."

She passively looked at him, eyes portraying no emotion and facial muscles relaxed.

"(Yakiv said one is a tourist)," a blonde lady with a youthful, round face said. "(She came alone)."

"(Tourists these days are idiots)," he huffed. His bloodless lips curved up on one end as he traced her healthy pink lower lip with a thumb. Zara didn't so much as twitch. "(I like this one. Can we keep her?)"

He chuckled to himself while his friend shook her head in boredom. "(Only the All-Father decides who becomes our kin)," she answered him, as if it needed saying.

"(I know, Vicky. You don't understand a joke?)" he rolled his eyes. "(You know what would be funny? What if we let Isayev have this one all to himself?)"

"(Isayev is a spoilt little brat. Always makes demands of his food. It always has to be a 'bad person' or else he cries about it)," Vicky grumbled while the other victims were led into the building. "(Does he think he's so much better than all of us because he has a conscience? Arrogant rat.)"

"(Don't you think it'll be so funny if we told him that this girl was some kind of spy or something?)" the man giggled. His eyes widened as he continued, "(What if we told him that she's some kind of serial killer? Like a doll sent from Hell)," this time Vicky couldn't help but laugh along with him. "(Then, when he rips her apart and drinks all of her, we'll tell him, 'Oh no, Isa, why did you kill this innocent girl? She came here all alone and now her family must be in some other land wondering where their little girl went!')"

"(He'll kill you first)," Vicky responded amidst bead-like giggles.

"(Leave him alone)," another vampire interjected. "(He's just… confused. It's a phase. Aren't most of us like that when we're young?)"

"(He's been having that phase for the last 200 years)," the first vampire retorted snidely. "(And now he hunts his victims on the internet instead of the streets. I feel bad for Old Zhirov now. He made a son who would rather be a hacker than a vampire.)"

Zara had no idea what they were saying. Her hyper-aware senses tagged a location on every person she could see. The radius of sight that her angel vision allowed was limited, but even within that circle, she pegged no less than about 70 vamps. The mansion was big – it must have housed thousands of them. But the more challenging task was identifying them. She had a few names. Koy, Ilik, Oleg and many more. Esther mentioned them without pause. She told her what each of them were like. How they… made her do things she didn't want to do. Esther's place was to be a servant, just like them. Her magical powers were theirs to use, even if she had spent so much of her own efforts growing them. Esther had mentioned that these were the top guys – they'd also have the information that Zara was looking for.

Nothing really stood out when Zara was being hauled through the hallways. If anything, it looked perfectly ordinary. As ordinary as a palace-like mansion could be. The tapestries were majestic, lining every inch where feet could tread. The rooms were all brightly lit by exquisite chandeliers and there was only the sound of joyous conversations in the background. Clearly the upkeep of the place was quite costly, but it seemed to house an uncountable number of vampires who all looked suave and professional and could form a giant company of their own. In essence, that was what this was. A family-run mafia that controlled affairs in parts of Europe. It was interesting to Zara how it never felt like she was an actual hostage, save for the actual ropes binding her wrists. Even the other victims were in awe. Their questions were mostly ignored. Soon they were all led into a large dining room where they were urged to take a seat.

Food was served. Their hand-ties were removed. The same guy from before yelled another instruction, which she assumed to mean that any attempts to escape would be met with force. As expected, a number of them stood near the wall, armed with assault rifles. The bowl of Borscht looked tempting, but Zara couldn't muster the will to eat. It must have been, what, an hour and a half already? It was no time to eat. And it was strange too. These vamps liked their meals well-fed. The others, though still anxious about their future, obliged. When she hadn't picked up her spoon, the vamp grabbed her by the jaw again and turned her head to face him.

"Eat," he ordered in English.

"I'm not hungry," she answered, looking him as firmly in the eye as she had before. With a snarl, he bared his vampiric fangs. They were nothing like Zara had imagined. Up close, she could see them as razor-sharp thin incisors, monstrous and craving for her. But again, she was expressionless. The other hostages were frozen stiff at the sight. But not her. She was unfazed. The air was thick between them.

"Bring her up," a woman's voice said. They both turned to the doorway, where a tall, lean woman observed the debacle with the calmness of an unperturbed lake surface. The lines on her face made her seem older, but the alertness in her eyes suggested otherwise. "(Viktor needs another one.)"

Viktor. That was the leader. He's here? Before she could fully contemplate what was going on, they brought her up to a higher floor, where less people crowded the hallways. Zara had expected that they'd bring her to one of the higher-ranking ones, from what Esther advised her to do, but she hadn't thought she'd get to see the boss man himself. They sat her in a more private room, which was probably his office. It was devoid of people, save her, the guy escorting her and another, kinder-looking vampire. She knew the moment she laid eyes on him that he was something different but how, she couldn't tell. He had short, blonde curls that were the colour of a fire that wanted to be started. And his jaw was a sharp edge, contrasting the softness of his facial features and sapphire-blue eyes. He seemed as surprised to see her as she was to notice him. Is this him? He looks a little young…

"You stay here," the escort commanded with his thick accent, wagging an authoritative finger at Zara. "Isa, keep an eye on her."

Just like that, the two were left alone. They were sat next to each other opposite the desk chair, where Viktor would presumably sit. Zara observed her surroundings quietly. There were wooden bookshelves and curious-looking items scattered all over the place. Though messy, an unknowable order controlled the arrangement. She hadn't even noticed the vampire staring at her because of all the Soviet-era paintings that hung on the wall behind him. He seemed to study her with a mild frown.

"Most people would be terrified of being someone's next meal," he said in flawless English. As much as he tried to hide it, there was a subtle undertone of his native accent. "Who are you?"

"Someone who's going to die soon, apparently," she nonchalantly answered like it didn't bother her in the least.

"Viktor keeps his… victims… alive long enough to feed on them for weeks," Isa revealed, albeit with a stunned inquisitiveness. Zara took note of how he said that, like he didn't enjoy calling it that. "What're you doing here?"

"You ask me like I wanted to be kidnapped in the middle of the night and brought to some Addams Family dinner," she shrugged.

"You don't look like you don't want to be here. I'm sure the others must think you're dumb, but I don't smell any fear on you. If you wanna infiltrate us without looking suspicious, you could at least try," he was quick to accuse. "You won't last one second without Viktor catching you in the act. So what are you really doing here?"

"Maybe I'm just a girl looking for adventure," she shrugged, again with that eerily sharp eye contact. "Or someone who doesn't care what happens next."

"Good luck with that, then, whoever you are…" he huffed, turning away.

He looks like a kid sent to the principal's office, she thought to herself. Just then, the man of the hour arrived. Viktor was a commanding man with a built stature. He appeared contained to civilisation by his finely-tailored suit but anyone could tell that a beast waited to be unleashed underneath. He radiated a 'Do not disturb' sign. "You're here," his husky voice boomed in the room. It was only when she turned to acknowledge his words that she realised that he was talking to Isa, not her. Promptly taking his seat, he continued to address the younger vampire. "Do you know why you're here, boy? Zhirov was… troubled when he mentioned you."

Isa's eyes flickered between Viktor and Zara. "B-but sir, are we going to talk about this here?" his eyes darted back to Zara. "In front of her?"

"Should we be afraid of talking over our food, Isayev?" Viktor's question sliced the air with precision. It might have been safe to say that this was his casual tone, but his straightforwardness coupled with an unrelenting brown-eyed stare and stone-cold face made it hard to tell.

"N-no, sir-"

"I hear you're having some issues with your diet too," Viktor pointed out. He leaned back into his chair, casually resting an arm on the armrest of his chair. "Is it true what they say? That you'd rather feed on rats and cattle than humans?"

"I- I…" Isa rubbed his forearm as he struggled to form the words. "I d-don't do that anymore. I p-prefer to hunt my own prey n-now."

"But you still don't eat what we provide," Viktor scratched his dark beard with a finger. "Your father is worried, you know? He thinks you're straying." Isa simply looked down wordlessly. "And he's not the only one."

A tense silence passed between them. "I just have a preference," he muttered, uncertain of himself. "Sir."

"Hm," Viktor nodded. Both his eyebrows jumped as he contemplated that. "Zhirov is a traditional man. He gets scared of anything different from him. The world won't end if one of us decides to go 'vegan'."

Just like that, the old man erupted in a throaty laughter. Isa's shoulders relaxed as he dared to release a chuckle.

"You're a real man for choosing what you want, Isa. I mean, look at me. I don't just take anyone. I like them young and quiet, like this one here," he gestured to Zara. "And look at her! I never had to tell her to shut up even once. That's hard to find." Glaring straight at her, he took a deep breath and released it. "You got to love the smell of a young, fertile woman. Oh wait, you prefer different, right?"

Isa shifted uncomfortably in his seat, eyes reluctant to meet his superior.

"Zhirov also seemed to take issue with that. But what can you do, he's an old fart who still thinks he's fighting the Byzantines in Constantinople." Viktor's head swayed back as he stared at the ceiling in contemplation. "You're a young boy. You still have the vigour of youth coursing through you. It's different, you know? To be young in flesh and to be young in mind. Some of us age in the head and it makes us slow to adapt," he tapped two fingers against his temple as he leaned forward to address the boy. "Igor was an old man at heart. When people ask me about him, I tell them, 'Poor guy died of old age'. He was stiff as a doornail when it came to important things. And then it all finally got to him."

"B-but sir, if you don't mind me asking… what happened to him?" Isa ventured a question. Zara took note of that. "They didn't tell us much."

Viktor's eyes despondently roved over the table. He released a deep sigh, as if on cue. "They assassinated him. The Chinese. Without mercy," he paused to take another deep breath, like it pained him to do so. Zara suppressed the urge to burst into laughter at his act. She knew, much better than Isa, that Viktor was complicit in Igor's death. "And now I have to carry the burden of my dear brother's legacy on my shoulders. I swore then that I would exact revenge and do him proud."

"I can't imagine what that must have been like," Isa expressed sympathy. He shook his head, lost in thought. "We were all shocked to hear the news. It was so… sudden."

Viktor studied the boy from where he sat. A cursory assessment was done with the sweep of his eyes. "You mustn't be sad, boy. The young heart may feel too much. You must be strong. That's what Igor would have wanted. He thought of all of you as his own children. And now you are mine," his reassurance was firm, like something you'd hear from a brick. It was as much emotion as the old leader could summon. "But enough of that. That's not why I've called you here today. Zhirov tells me you've been spending… a lot of time on your digital toys. He suspects… your loyalty."

The young man's eyes shot up to meet his superior's. "He…" A dumbfounded huff. "Father said that?"

Isa shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Listen…" Viktor beckoned with a sturdy softness that only he was capable of. "I'm not saying I doubt you, but from what he tells me, it does raise some questions. He caught you communicating with some unknown individual about missions assigned to you."

"I- I can explain," Isa rushed to defend. "I- I got some help. This guy I'm working with, he- he's really good. He doesn't leave a trace. I just tell him w-what to do and he does it. He gives me- he gives us no trouble."

"Really? And what do you give this man in return?" Viktor questioned, folded arms sceptical.

"Just some Botcoin. He's in it for the money," Isa struggled to convey his rationale with animated hand gestures. "I swear, that's all he wants. He doesn't question me, I don't question him. We have a mutually beneficial relationship."

"We don't make outsiders do our dirty work, Isa." The old man was clear on that.

"B-but sir, we're an efficient team. I- I- I hack whatever place he needs to go and he does the job w-without getting spotted by cameras or anything," Isa's shoulders practically shook as he quickened the explanation. "He doesn't leave any physical evidence either. That way no one can trace the job to us."

"No camera footage?" Viktor picked up on that in particular.

"None at all," Isa shook his head convincingly.

"So you have no clue who this person is?" Now the viciousness was beginning to surface, in both Viktor's tone and voice.

"Uh…" Isa gulped. "N-no, sir."

"Or where he's from?"

"It- it's proven difficult to pinpoint his location…"

"And yet you trust this man," Viktor's words bored the air like a club.

"He speaks Russian fluently, like a native-"

"Do you see the problem, Isa? We can't reveal our activities to outsiders." Viktor had stopped listening to the boy.

"I swear, I don't tell him any more than he needs to know," Isa sped through the sentence.

"We don't tell anyone anything unless we're doing business with them. Your man is just a mercenary-for-hire. We aren't in need of those," Viktor authoritatively stated with an unyielding percussion in his voice. "And more importantly, you don't get to make these decisions without consulting your elders." In the time he allowed the boy to think, Zara found little use for her hands other than to be crossed on her lap. Any movement would have been awkward but her lack of movement wasn't any better. Now she knew what it was like to be a demon watching Lucifer berate his subjects. "You're a good kid, Isayev. But as the All-Father, it is up to me to protect all of us. I want you to turn in all your computers and other tools."

"What?" Isa panted heavily. "B-but sir, y-you can't! I need them…" he cast a brief side-eye to Zara. "…for our other affairs."

"I'll admit, you're clearly talented with all these machinery. But until we can be sure of your loyalty again, we can't take any chances," Viktor declared, almost uncaringly. "Surrender your phones as well."

"I assure you, this is unnecessary," Isa tried. "I'll stop using the merc, I promise. Please. My work can help us in many ways."

"I'm not banning you from ever putting your skills to use," Viktor clarified. "This is just… a 'time-out', as they call it. I believe in your abilities. I just want you to remember who you are and what you do."

Some resistance seemed to grip Isa's jaw. "Yes, sir," he reluctantly conceded.

"But… I do see another option," Viktor admired a small bear statuette on his desk. It showed the bear viciously pouncing, claws and teeth showing, in a striking pose. "If you're convinced this merc is so good, I want you to acquire any footage of him doing the job."

"You'll let me hire him again?" Isa puzzled.

"I'm… curious. No trace, you said? If you're up for it, do it once more. I want to see this man in action," Viktor mentioned the idea as lightly as a paper floating on the evening breeze. "He'll either be a good addition to the forces or the perfect blackmail puppet."

Something about that disturbed the younger man's demeanour. His gaze was caught in an invisible wormhole of thoughts. "I- I don't know…"

"Are you now protective of this person? Someone that you don't know?" Viktor pressed.

"N- no. I just thought… it would be bad if he found out. Shouldn't there be an honour in our relationship?" Isa consulted the elder.

Viktor huffed, lips curving up on one end. "Honour is for our business partners. Not for a dog on a leash," he said. Isa put a hand to his neck subconsciously. "Still not up for it?"

The air slowly faded to an ambient static until the night breeze rustled the curtains. "I'll need my equipment," Isa remarked.

"I'll allow it, under supervision," Viktor agreed. His smile was just another line on his aged face, underneath the thick but neatly-kept dark beard. "You're a reasonable kid. Zhirov will be pleased to hear it. Now go. You look absolutely parched, my boy. Go downstairs and feast with your brothers."

Nodding a forced assent, Isa took his leave. Now it was only Zara and the vampire leader. She watched the door come to a close and when she looked back, he stood over her.

"It's your lucky night," he muttered to her, loosening his tie. "I'm not hungry anymore."

It's your lucky night. I might not kill you after all, Zara thought. She was where she needed to be. Her plan would begin.


Motel Room, Jefferson City, Missouri – 23 September 2012, 7.48pm

"After almost being run over by a demon stampede, I'll never take you for granted ever again," Dean achingly vowed. He immediately stuffed his mouth with a pepperoni pizza slice, audibly enjoying its fluffy and cheesy base.

"I'm sure it loves you too," Zara's lips thinned as she watched him devour the slice with the elegance of the Cookie Monster.

"Holy shit, you guys. There was a battle and I missed it? Dammit," Jack cursed. Despite the weariness the team faced from the traumatic scene they'd just witnessed, Jack seemed genuinely disturbed that he wasn't witness to it. Meanwhile, Ser Adler stood guard on his shoulder as always with a look of perpetual alertness. "I always end up missing the fun stuff."

He crossed his arms and pouted, disgruntled. "What else did you miss?" Dean puzzled as he finished his pizza slice.

"Don't get me started man…" Jack moaned. "The Crusades, the Renaissance…" his voice took a sudden turn for a wave of angst. "… the bloody American revolution! Can you believe it? I missed that? And the way you guys describe it, it sounds like the greatest war the planet's ever seen!"

"Yeah, the way we describe it," Sam's eyebrows jumped. The three hunters were seated at the small round table in their motel room while Jack leaned against the floral wallpaper.

"Damn straight it's the greatest war ever," Dean confirmed, patriotism boosting confidence into his posture.

"Why, exactly, did you miss it?" Zara blinked, craning her head to face Jack.

"Well, I…" Jack trailed off. His eyes darted among the three of them. They awaited an answer. There was no pressure from them, but neither a cause to be at a sudden loss of words. He remembered what he'd been doing. Not exactly angelic. "Oh, you know…" he nodded his head at them, as if that should glean something, and then shrugged. They still seemed to anticipate something. "Doing God's work doesn't always come with front row seats to the action. You know what I'm talking about. God's. Work. Top secret stuff."

He just smiled and nodded. "Right…" Dean rolled his eyes.

"Anyway…" Sam verbalised his rolling of the eyes. "I guess we have some good news. You're not gonna miss out on anything, because we have it all on tape. Right here." Sam held up the thumb-drive and handed it to Jack, who eyed it cautiously. "Could your 'friend' maybe run through it and get us something to work with?"

"I'll get it to him immediately," Jack confirmed. He glanced cursorily at the thumb-drive and sighed. "Hope I have enough Botcoin for this. What are you guys gonna do until then?"

Sam and Zara simultaneously looked to Dean for an answer. "Cas called. He and Kevin are working a lead in Montana. They think they might have something on our… archangel predicament," Dean announced.

Zara's pupils hardened, though her exterior mirrored that of Sam – curious and awaiting elaboration. She glanced at Jack knowingly. "What do you mean?" Jack asked, taking her cue.

"They're assembling ingredients for an exorcism spell," Dean said. His eyebrows furrowed as he recalled the details. "They need uh- bone of a sacrificial monk, blood of a… something and a whole list of things I can't remember. Point is, we're gonna join them."

"An exorcism," Jack repeated slowly. "Uhm, correct me if I'm wrong but… aren't those for demons?"

"It's an exorcism for angels," Dean explained. "Straight from the angel tablet. Might be our key to taking down Lucifer."

"Right…" Jack trailed off.

"They're sure it'll work?" Sam doubted.

"I don't know. But we can always test it out," Dean answered. "Let's focus on putting it together first. We're gonna need all the help we can get."

"I'd… love to help," Jack stuttered rather unenthusiastically.

"I sense a 'but' coming," Sam noticed.

"But… my tour doesn't end for another two months," he ruminated. "I mean, don't get me wrong. You can call me if you need anything."

"Jack, it's fine," Sam reassured him. "You've done a lot already. You don't have to stick around us all the time."

"I know, but just… seems a little contrived to worry about my fake human life when you guys are dealing with bigger things," he rubbed the back of his head.

"Dude, it's cool," Dean confirmed. He huffed under his breath, amused by the angel's concern. "Your fake human life might be the closest I've come to seeing someone actually live normally. Besides, we got a whole team of angels by now. There's Cas, there's Raziel and friends. I'd say… we got a good support system," he smirked. "We'll let you know if we need anything."

"Yeah, save heavy metal for us, won't 'cha?" Zara agreed.

The next day, the grey clouds sauntered lazily across the sky as a chilly breeze swept past the hunters. Dean checked the weapon inventory in the trunk of the car while Sam and Zara made sure they didn't leave anything behind in the motel rooms.

"So I guess this is where we part," Jack sombrely stated. He dug his hands into the pockets of his black Hollister jeans though he was comfortably clad in a shiny black racer jacket for any pretence of warmth. "For now, that is. I'm not really gone. I'll be there if you need anything."

"We know," Zara patted his arm to stop his rambling. She held his gaze with a smile that connected their eyes, but she couldn't hold it for long. "I'll miss you."

"Dammit, who's chopping onions here?" Jack cursed, eyes darting away from her. He sniffled a little and gulped, blinking rapidly.

"Jack…" Zara's voice softened. She shared a surprised look with Sam, who just shrugged and pointed at the angel with his eyes. A chamber in her heart seemed to open with her arms. And when he pulled her closer, she felt what she had always felt in his presence. The feeling of being home.

"I'll miss you too, Danger," he managed to make a smile reach his hazel eyes. In the gloomy background, the light green flecks in his irises were most apparent, balanced only by a darker inner ring of amber. "Remember, I'm always a phone call away. Don't pray. I don't respond to prayers." Zara and Sam each had a differently-paced half-nod. This was Jack's way of making sure prayers didn't get lost in a celestial network to an angel who didn't exist, at least to his knowledge. "My uh- inbox is full. Hard to filter out anything."

"Of course," Sam conceded. He held out his palm to shake the angel's hand. "Listen, Jack, it was nice to meet you. I hope we see more of each other-"

Sam's sentence was cut short by the archangel's ambushing embrace. His palm, initially expecting to meet Jack's palm, simply detoured to pat him on the back. "The feeling's mutual, friendo," Jack muttered.

Zara couldn't help but chuckle at that. By then, Dean had finished his inspection of the trunk and shut it. Now he too was witness to the spectacle. When Jack let go of Sam and caught his gaze, he subconsciously stepped back. "I'm good thanks," he held up his arms in a mock surrender, though that didn't stop the angel.

"No, you're not," Jack defied and pulled him into a hug too.

"Oh- uh, okay," Dean realised quickly that he had no choice in the matter. Just when he thought Jack would let go, the angel turned his head and leaned in for a kiss on the cheek. The hunter deflected away immediately. "What the-"

"Just kidding," Jack let go with a throaty giggle. "Relax."

"Stop it," Zara ordered with an uncontrolled grin.

"Stay away from me," Dean warned, though not entirely serious. He took a second to clear his throat and regain his composure. Ser Adler clucked from his spot on Jack's shoulder. "The lizard, on the other hand, is cool."

"I wouldn't spoil him, Dean," Jack teased.

"Stay in touch, Jack," Dean waved at him, warmth in his firm glare.

"Have a safe trip," Jack said as a final farewell. He watched them drive off out of view and before he knew it, he was alone to be Jack Pierce again. Just another punk rolling through town, living in the shadows and existing in the eyes of the people who came to see him for a dose of his rhythm.


Rufus' Cabin, Whitefish, Montana – 7 October 2012, 4.39pm

It was the aftermath of a light shower when they finally arrived. It had taken them a while to drive across the country, but a case had caught their attention sometime during the journey and the hunters just couldn't ignore it. When all was said and done, they made it to the cabin in time to find Castiel and Kevin poring over some books.

"What's the sitch, Kev?" Dean pulled up a chair. "Must be something big if it got you out of the bunker."

"Okay, so, think of a mouse trap, but for archangels," Kevin's eyes widened as he put forth the proposition in light speed.

"Uh-huh," Dean dipped his head in a half-nod.

"That's it, that's the plan," Kevin sped. "We get a lure for Lucifer, and when he sets foot in the trap, we exorcise him and BAM! Trap him in the cage."

Dean blinked a few times as he stared at the kid. The bags under his eyes were at a worrying size and his sclerae were a single shade short of bloodshot. Dean craned his head to Cas, and then back to Kevin.

"We're still working on the details," Cas added. "But first, we're working on perfecting the exorcism. It hasn't actually been done before, despite the obvious usefulness of such a ritual. But I suppose that it makes sense, considering that such a power could be easily abused by mortals."

"Okay…" Dean paused him. "Guess I can't complain about that. So how's the spell coming along? We need a bone of a… sacrificial monk or something, right? Whatever that means," Dean said.

"According to the specifications of the tablet, we took it to refer to a holy man who practises self-immolation. Unfortunately, self-immolation isn't that common these days," Cas elaborated.

"Yeah. Unfortunately," Dean dryly agreed.

"But, that doesn't mean that no one does it," Kevin interjected. "Just not on our side of the pond. What we're looking for is… Ghana."

"That's in Africa, right?" Dean guessed. By this time, Sam and Zara had freshened up and joined him at the table.

"No, not the country. Ghana is Sanskrit. It means Destroyer," Kevin explained. "It's the name of a blade. And wait till you hear the story. It's pretty brutal."

"Just what I need to hear before dinner," Zara remarked.

"So there are these Indian monks, right? They're called Aghori. Kind of a creepy bunch, if you ask me. They love playing with people's corpses," his eyes widened in certain terror. "I think it's safe to say that you wouldn't want life advice from an Aghori."

"Kevin," Cas said, almost like a parent would. "The story."

"Right. So they believe that human remains can be used for rituals right?" Kevin paused rhetorically.

"Naturally," Dean answered.

"Back in the 1950s, there was, I quote, 'a very aggressive spirit' haunting a village," Kevin continued, full with air quotes.

"So, a poltergeist?" Sam guessed.

"A whole damn village! Thing must've had some juice. Actually, the story behind the poltergeist is quite interesting too. But I guess it's not immediately important to the purpose of our conversation. Anyway, the villagers went to the cemetery to look for an Aghori. Because, where else would they find one? And that Aghori decided that the only way to get rid of the thing was to sacrifice himself. I found an article that explained in quite some depth what the sacrifice entailed. And oh boy…" Kevin sought a pause amidst his train-like speed. "He starved himself for two days for purification and then his Aghori friends walked in circles around him while throwing rocks at his head and chanting mantras. Let me repeat that. They threw rocks at his head until his skull cracked and he bled to death."

"Yikes," Sam commented with the appropriate disgusted expression.

"It doesn't end there. They smeared bits of his flesh on themselves and then crafted a blade out of his bones, which was said to be powerful enough to destroy the spirit. But the Aghoris died fighting though," Kevin abruptly ended.

"Way to end on a high note," Dean said. "Crazy monks help kill even crazier monk to ice spooky. There, saved you all those sentences you didn't need."

Sam ignored his brother and got straight to the point. "So this blade's what we need? Where is it now?"

"Ghana's been acquired by a history museum in Iowa," Cas spoke up from where he stood, arms folded cordially.

"That's great," Dean shifted his weight forward to get up.

"But it was reportedly stolen a few years back," Cas immediately added.

"Or not," Dean fell back into his seat.

"And?" Zara beckoned.

"I managed to get in touch with Raziel again and he offered to help us," Cas reported.

"Next time, lead with that," Dean sighed.

"Raz is back?" Sam said, lips inching upwards in relief.

"We are unsure if he is 'back', as you'd say, but it seems he's found what he's looking for," Cas said. His eyes despondently roved over the table.

"Which is…?" Sam gestured.

"He hasn't spoken of it. These Knowledge Keepers like their secrets. But you can try your luck by asking him yourself," the angel said. "As far as I can tell, he's been escaping death threats and investigating some leads regarding Naomi. Heaven appears to be stable, but suspicions about the new administration have risen now that Raziel is absent."

"Sounds like things are going good up there," Zara commented. "Last I heard, you guys were killing each other."

"So far, progress does seem optimistic. But until we have law again, I wouldn't count on it," Cas replied to her. "But I digress. We're here because we're looking for another ingredient for the spell – a primordial ornament."

"Sounds New Age-y, we know," Kevin stated. "I called a guy who owns a trinket shop in a town nearby and he may have one. We set up a meeting for tomorrow."

Dean nodded, impressed. "Alright. What else do we need for the spell?"

"Blood of a powerful mage. It's the last ingredient," Kevin informed them. "Or a witch. I don't think the tablet was specific about gender."

"A witch," Zara repeated. Not like I know one who also would be happy to help with this stupid spell, she thought. Shoulda killed her when I had the chance. Dammit. Just when the thought came to her mind, so did Lucifer's face. Maybe I am getting weak.

"Hey, we'll find one. Don't worry," Sam rubbed her upper arm. That was when she realised she must have let her discomfort slip. She recovered by placing a palm over his hand, holding it to her arm as she smiled at him. For the rest of the night, she would shed any thought of her obligation to Hell just to be a normal woman. Well, a normal hunter woman. After dinner, Sam enticed her with the offer of a documentary about ancient Egypt. So it was settled that the two would share his bed to cuddle and watch it together. Despite everything, the simplicity of the act was refreshing to Zara. Cas only watched in mild curiosity at the sight of the two of them walking into Sam's room.

"You'll get used to it eventually," Dean chimed from behind him. He reached into the fridge and pulled out a beer.

"I don't know much about human courtship so I am undecided as to what to make of this," Cas said in his typical monotone.

"I don't think they know what to make of it either. But they like being around each other. So hey, who are we to judge?" Dean shrugged as he popped the cap open.

Cas took some time to think it over but decided it wasn't best for him to understand things beyond him. At least he could now have a conversation with just Dean – something he'd missed for a while. With Kevin finally hitting the sack at a proper hour and the other two in their room, he found comfort in a seat next to Dean's. The static of the television was ambient, just the right volume that they barely realised it existed but appreciated the homeliness it added to the cabin.

"You mentioned that a lot happened when you got side-tracked on your trip," Cas recalled, tone warm like the first rays of summer.

Dean's head was finally in a state of peace, now that things had quietened down a little. He looked to his old friend with stories to tell, not knowing where to start. "Yeah. Our Rakshasa turned out to have a partner-in-crime, we ran into Crowley twice – two times too many, that is – and we discovered that Zara's old friend is actually an angel," Dean recounted. "Also a legend on the guitar, who woulda thunk it?"

"An angel?" Castiel's eyebrows both jumped. "What's his name?"

"Jack. Well, he goes by Jack. Said his real name was Malachiah. Ring any bells?" Dean asked.

Cas mulled it over. "I know a Malachi… but no, Malachiah doesn't ring any bells," Cas said. Dean's tranquillity seemed to fade from his face, but Cas continued, "It is possible that I haven't met or heard of every angel in existence. I'll have to run it past Raziel. This Malachiah, he helped you?"

"Yeah. As far as I can tell, Jack seems like a good guy. A little… questionable with the hair but I don't get any bad vibes off of him. He's just doing his own thing, you know?" Dean pondered.

"No. I don't know," Cas stared blankly at him. Dean's unamused expression suggested that he forgot who he was talking to.

"He's… you know," Dean tried to find the words. "Different. He called himself the angel of music."

"There are no angels of music," Cas answered. "Not anymore, at least."

"I don't think he meant it like that. He just meant, he likes music enough to… make it his thing or whatever. You know what, forget it. I don't know much about this stuff," Dean dismissed with a wave of his hand. "He just isn't like the other angels. He's less… robotic. No offence."

"I've come to realise now that angels aren't always, as you say, robotic. Raziel and his team have shown me what it's like to see the world in a new way. In a way that I wasn't taught before," Cas contemplated. "I'm still trying to grasp their perspective but it proves to be challenging. Like imagining a colour that doesn't exist."

"You'll get there, buddy," Dean shot him a half-smile. "But yeah, there is something about life that Raziel and his buddies seem to get. Jack kinda reminds of that guy… who's the one with the flip flops?"

"Shemsiel?"

"Yeah, him. Just less British," Dean considered with a new perspective. "They're both… I can't put my finger on it."

"Homosexual?" Cas blatantly said.

"What?" Dean muttered, blinking rapidly.

The angel's expression was frozen with a curious frown. "Shemsiel educated me in some detail on his preferences the last time we talked."

"Well… yeah, Jack doesn't really care about the junk but I don't think that's what I was thinking about. And isn't it weird that there are angels that like boning a lot? Actually- you know what, don't answer that."

"Hm…" Cas was lost in thought. "It only worries me that I've never heard of this Malachiah. I would advise caution."

"So did Zara. I mean, they have history, man. He lied to her about being an angel," Dean explained. "But they're cool now."

"What was his business with her before?"

"He was supposed to be her guardian angel. Before the apocalypse. Makes sense, right? Sam had Lucifer, literally like a Devil on his shoulder, I had Michael. And Zara had… Jack."

"I… I don't know. I'd have to ask Raziel. But if he has… lied, as you've mentioned, I'd have a fair amount of suspicion," Cas warned.

"Not to dredge up the past, Cas, but haven't we all made the same mistakes? Hell, you lied to us for a whole year about working with Crowley," Dean put forth.

"And you were rightfully upset with me about it," he rebutted, doubt creasing his eyebrows. "It just… perplexes me. I don't think I've known a guardian angel to be so… involved with a ward as to reveal himself. The normal protocol is to watch from afar. To watch from Heaven."

"Jack said something along those lines. That he wasn't supposed to be a part of her life. He said he only intervened because it was the only way to keep her from making horrible decisions. And from what he's said about her, I can see why," Dean huffed in amazement. "Girl's got some issues. I get it."

"Even then, angels don't intervene this directly," Castiel's eyes narrowed in contemplation. "I'll have to meet this Jack sometime."

"You're in luck. It might happen sooner than you think. He's on the team," Dean gave his friend a reassuring smile.


Hell – 6 months ago

"When I find bitch, I rip her head off!" Hades ardently vowed in Lucifer's study. "Look at what she did to my little kitten!"

Though Abaddon's eyes were fully opaque, Zara swore she could see them rolling. "Stop defending her. It was her stupid idea to play nice with the witch anyway," her words were like arrows shot at Zara. "You happy, princess? You took her into your skinny arms and she stabbed you in the back. You should've been happy with that basket of puppies Lucifer wanted to get you."

Kittens. It was kittens. Zara didn't bother correcting her. She knew that nothing she could say would make this right. She just pulled her black cardigan closer to her body.

"Hey, nobody said Kitten was good with brain! She's good with body," Hades defended.

"Oh my god," Zara mumbled under her breath as she pressed a finger to her temple, which was by now a canvas for a number of bruises.

"I mean, with fighting, of course," Hades further qualified, softening his voice at the sight of her exasperation. "She's good with heart too."

"Sure thing, big guy," Zara dryly answered, eyes refusing to meet his. A disheartened hesitation found its way into the momentary tremor in his clenched vertical fist.

It was barely a moment of silence before Lucifer stormed into the room. "How did it happen?" he asked as more of a demand than a question. "How?!"

Everybody flinched. "She had help," Zara meekly spoke up, still not meeting his glare. "It was Roman."

"Who?" Lucifer narrowed his eyes.

"Th- the guy who sweeps the halls," Zara answered. "That's what she called him."

"Never even realised we had a guy who swept the halls," Abaddon remarked.

"Exactly. A threat to us, hidden right under our noses. It's perfect," Zara sombrely said.

"Why would random demon risk life to save bitch?" Hades growled a question.

"This must be Crowley's doing," Abaddon guessed.

"No… how could it be?" Zara doubted. "He left her for dead to save his own skin. Why would he care enough to rescue her?"

"She's the most powerful ally he's ever had. And she's a liability because she knows a lot about him," Abaddon retorted. "Why's that so hard to believe?"

"It's just… why would she go back to someone who's clearly bad for her?" Zara held her ground. "You know what, forget it."

"None of you idiots are saying anything that is less likely to get you all nuked right now," Lucifer muttered through a clenched jaw. That injected a sense of urgency into the room. With a rapid blink, his true irises showed and at once, evoking a collective shudder. "Let me tell you what I'm hearing right now," his voice slithered into their ears as he strolled in a circle behind their chairs, hands clasped behind his back. "Our walls were breached. Maybe one of you is responsible. Maybe it's all of you."

He paused behind Abaddon's chair. Her cement-like exterior chipped away in the nervous twitch of her eyebrows.

"Abaddon," he uttered her name like the careful flipping of a page. "You were in charge of the prisons. Somehow someone managed to slip past your guards and find out exactly when she'd be out of the basement."

"Sir, I-"

"Shut up," Lucifer clenched his fist. The infancy of Abaddon's sentence was aborted by the choking sound of her trachea being crushed. Though she quickly learned to keep her quiet, her throat muscles contorted in a sign that Lucifer gave her no relief. Seeing that, Zara sucked in her lips immediately.

He then sauntered over to behind Hades' chair. Though his hand was poised innocently on the spine of the chair, nothing but fatal vibes radiated from the gesture. The giant froze in a straight-backed posture, single eye unmoving from a trajectory staring straight ahead.

"And Hades," Lucifer continued. "How did a no-name demon manage to get on my floor, past your guys?! I thought you had everyone screened and checked against a list. Was this… Roman on the list?" His silence was punctuated with fear pulsating from the three subjects. "Because you see… if he wasn't, how'd he get up here? And if he was, how'd you not peg him with that stupid eye of yours?" Hades' head craned down in shame. "And don't think I haven't noticed all those secret deliveries to your chambers. Hard to hide all those dead women after you're done with them, isn't it? Dick-for-brains."

He spat out the insult so caustically that Hades couldn't help but flinch. To see a being so powerful humiliated made Zara wish that she could just dissolve out of existence or become an inanimate object. And then it was her turn.

"Zara, oh, Zara," both of his hands gripped her chair, slender fingers firm on the wood. The hairs on the back of her neck snapped to attention. He lowered himself to pose his head right behind hers. "Where do I begin…" An arctic breath tingled her ear. It was the first sign of a freezing bubble of air forming around her. "I really thought you were ready. I really thought…" he huffed, almost amused with himself. "I really thought you were gonna… not get beat up like some kind of… cheap luncheon meat. All that effort I put into you, and this is what I get? I get why you tried to kill yourself so many times."

That left a bitter taste in her mouth.

"All of you are incompetent!" his voice bellowed so ferociously that Zara felt it shaking her bones. The sockets of his eyes seemed to darken. An icy tendril grew from an index finger he casually pointed upwards. Despite their differences, a shared nervous gaze among the three beings at the table put them in an alliance of necessity. A pool of lethally cold air gathered around their feet. A glimpse at the ground revealed a patch of pure ice growing from where Lucifer's feet were planted. Meanwhile Lucifer himself was a portrait of inner conflict. "I don't even know why I try anymore. I could just let this vessel burn out. I don't need a vessel to destroy all of creation. And I can start with you three!"

With a swift exhale, the cold air flew up all at once, enveloping them like a thick blanket. It hit the human the worst. Zara had but a terror-stricken expression as her jaw dropped in a struggle to release quick exhales. It felt like the blood in her veins was freezing at an unprecedented rate. All feeling was lost from her body at once. The sudden dissociation did not only find a target in her. The pagan god's rough grey skin became a ghastly pale. It seemed even he, the most powerful of the three, couldn't escape the frosty wrath of the archangel king.

The searing pain of the cold inched its way up Zara's body. It was quite the miracle that her brain was still functioning enough to process thoughts. Currently, her thought was that if the freezing wave made it to her neck and then her head, she would be medically dead in no time. Despite her so-called immunity against death, nothing made the process less painful. Which was why the human embodiment of suicidal tendencies was trying her best to attract Lucifer's attention somehow. He was engaged by his own thoughts as he traced a finger across the table, his back facing her.

"There is no losing if there isn't a universe to lose in…" he muttered to himself.

She used all her breath to groan but barely a whimper made it past her lips, which endured a struggle of their own to stay shut. Her face hurt when her eyes widened in a panic but that was obviously no way to signal to him.

"She'll find it funny, maybe," he further contemplated, one hand now poised on his hip while the other rubbed the back of his head. He even chuckled a little. What about, no one could tell. "A rebellion to end all rebellions…"

You're fucking insane. Zara's throat clenched almost skeletally as she struggled to even say a word. This is hopeless. She sucked a deep breath in through her nostrils. Her chest physically hurt to do so, not to mention that she now could not feel her nose. Or any part of her face, in fact. With as much force as she could summon, she pushed the air out of her lungs. As much as her attempt to verbalise was futile, the imminent feeling of death triggered something else within her. Nested in her solar plexus, the hawk fired up like an engine. At once, archangel magic flooded her veins. The heat wave, a thaw of relief. Breathing wasn't so difficult anymore.

"Lucifer," she called out, heaving as the life returned to her. He turned to see her. She dared to look at him with Sophia's eyes. But when she looked, she also saw him through Sophia's eyes. His true, scarlet eyes, scarlet hair and everything. It was overwhelming. The radiance hit her all at once. His stature was much larger than his human vessel would suggest. And his killer glare was deadlier than Nick's eyes could ever be. It burnt into her with a ferocity that left a mark on her bones.

"You need to die, Zara," he mumbled. "Everything ends with you."

"We haven't lost everything," she said. When she stood up, power invigorated her movement. Thin green tendrils grew and faded in cycles around her body. In spite of the pain in his heart, Lucifer kept still as she made towards him as carefully as one would towards a wild animal. The damage on his vessel was more apparent now. The burns peeking out through the collar of his shirt and the inner facet of his forearms were just the surface. She could see now what the past several weeks had done to his lungs and insides. And at the centre was a glowing ball of fire that pulsated with his anger. She put a palm to his chest unthinkingly. It seemed like a natural thing to do. Something Sophia would do. "I know what I must do."

Targeting the wounds was her primary aim, but she seemed inhibited by the ball of fire. It would deflect her efforts to direct energy to the damage. That was when she realised that the resistance was coming from him. Hesitantly, she met his gaze. He seemed to understand what she was getting at. Lucifer hated it. The stupid confidence in her actions. The motherly glint of Sophia's irises shining through Zara's. Lucifer thought he should say something, maybe as a symbolic monologue that he could pretend his lover heard. But reason got the better of him. Only Zara would hear it. And Hades and Abaddon too. Stubborn rationality curbed his impulses and he calmed down. The ball of fire waned.

The sudden release was jarring to Zara but she quickly learned to recover. The damage faded. A healthier colour returned to the vessel's skin. His insides showed a similarly quick improvement. Keeping at it was somewhat of a comfort to Zara. The whole task seemed to her like the taming of a beast. There was something of a bond there. She dared look up at him again. His expression had barely changed. He was just… silent and unmoving. Eerily statue-like. But she swore she could read some softness in there. Best not to think too much of it. She looked away.

The air warmed around her. He'd released his frosty grip on everyone. Colour returned to the faces of the other two. "I… I can defuse the spell," Zara declared. "I think I can do it now."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea," Abaddon voiced. It was the first time Zara heard her sounding so soft. The brush of death smoothens all wrinkles, she thought.

"You were ready to destroy everything you had just a second ago," Zara said, holding his passive gaze. "What's another chance to take?"

There was an emotion that perhaps, only Lucifer was capable of. Anyone could easily mistake it for nothingness. That blank look on his face said little but was the only clue. Zara could tell. She recognised a semblance of it in herself sometimes. It was that feeling she got before she did something colossally stupid. A feeling of letting go, of not caring. Like nothing would change, even if experience had proven her wrong over and over again. Repetition. Insanity.

Later,

The table was a mess. Papers were laid out all over it. But there was an order to this chaos, one which Zara had designed. Now that she'd put it all in the same place, the pattern was more obvious. "Of course…" she muttered as her mind tirelessly worked to put all the pieces together.

"You figure it out?" Lucifer asked, eyes curious now.

"I see something. I don't know how to put it in words," she barely lifted an eye to him. That was somewhat of a confidence-booster. When she looked up at him again, her pupils were firm. "I'm ready."

The air was warmer this time. She raised her palm towards his chest. Before she could begin, he grabbed her wrist. "If this doesn't work, I will kill you," he stated factually.

"Knock yourself out," Zara fatalistically answered.

"Esther said it's like a bomb," Abaddon interjected from her spot leaning against the wall. "If you screw up, it's gonna blow. We might all die."

Hades was shocked to silence. He stood nervously behind a chair. After that revelation, he strategically shifted the spine of the chair to cover his crotch. "I have faith in Kitten," he growled rather curtly. "But just in case…"

It was probably for the best that Zara stopped listening or paying attention to her surroundings. It barely took a second for her to enter the headspace she needed, focused solely on the cage mechanism in the vessel. The locks appeared as levers – as points to be activated. Now it was a matter of which were the right points of activation. Zara picked one. Her magical thread turned it like a knob. She felt a 'click'. Lucifer watched, breath-abated. All conscious effort went into not flinching. But so far, no explosion. Okay, good.

The next several moments were a recurring cycle of referring to her notes, thinking carefully and taking a chance with the cage mechanism. No one said anything. They just let Zara do her thing. She would verbalise her thought process, just so she could be sure of herself. What added to the already-unnerving task of picking the right points of activation was that each step had to be in an order. By the time she neared the end, Zara's body was attacked by pins and pricks from the sheer tension of the task at hand.

"The last one…" she held her breath. Her palm rotated with the 'lever'. It clicked. A cool wave washed over her. A second passed. Then, like an alarm going off, she felt something ticking. Tick, tick, tick. It went so fast. Her heart dropped. Clearly, Lucifer had noticed it too.

His mouth agape, his eyes widened at her, he yelled, "Do something!"

Paralysed, Zara's eyes darted between him and her notes. This wasn't a contingency she'd prepared for. The ticking got faster. Tick, tick, tick.

"Zara!"

Here goes… "Omnis!" she yelled in a state of unbridled panic.

The last thing she saw was his piercing blue irises. A sphere of bright, burning light enveloped them.