The aftermath of the chaotic revelation at Lux should have been earth-shattering, catastrophic, disastrous…but all in all, it was surprisingly quiet. Lucifer mostly kept to himself the remainder of the night, staying within the confines of the exploded glass and splintered wood of what used to be an immaculate penthouse. Not even the pristine ivory piano keys could tempt him into making a sound (Drawn-out silences usually bothered him, left him unhinged. It was a peace too close to the Silver City. Now, though, he couldn't really bring himself to care).

Instead, the only sound that filled the air was liquid sloshing around in a bottle as he paced back and forth across the room, drinking himself into a stupor. When he inevitably passed out from the tremendous amount of alcohol a few hours later, the silence remained unbroken for the rest of the evening (that was, until a certain graceless demon stepped out of the elevator and kicked his unconscious body awake with an all-too-familiar exasperation).

Even for Sabrina, the rest of the night was relatively uneventful (though, really, even a snowstorm in the heat of coastal California would have been a complete non-event compared to the recent developments in her already-confusing family history).

Still in a daze after the unexpected confession from her father (it was hard to believe that in a matter of months, that single title was already given to three different people), she spent some time wandering aimlessly along the Sunset Strip, deep in thought and with no clear destination in sight, just walking and staring and musing, no regard whatsoever for her aching feet and the sheer number of scantily-dressed club hoppers she kept bumping into. Eventually, though, she was awoken from her self-induced trance when she felt the unmistakable brush of fur against her leg.

"Salem?" She looked down, confused, at the little black cat that circled her feet. Putting down her bags for a moment, she picked him up, petting his fur as she cuddled him close. "What are you doing in Los Angeles?"

Before leaving Greendale, Sabrina debated for a long time on whether or not she should bring her familiar with her on the trip. On one hand, he could have kept her company, giving her a tangible reminder of home as she explored this strange new city. On the other, it wasn't worth the risk of him becoming too fussy and hostile in the presence of other pets (there was a reason, after all, why familiars weren't allowed at the academy). In the end, though, she ultimately decided against it and left him in Theo's care for the time being (if she wanted to leave all remnants of magic behind, stringing along a supernatural spirit would have been rather counter-productive).

Salem was never one to object once Sabrina made up her mind (which she actually found quite strange, hearing all her classmates groan and grumble on how long it took them to train their familiars into submission), so she knew he would be patiently waiting for her when she got back. Not that his presence wasn't a comfort (somehow, he arrived at the perfect time, just when Sabrina needed a companion to brave the endless night with her), but it brought forth too many confusing questions that she wasn't entirely sure she'd have the answers to.

Pulling him away from her chest and raising him up to her face, she levelled him with a stern look. "Salem, you're not supposed to be here. You know the rules. You don't show up unless you're summoned."

For the passerby striding past them on the street, it painted quite a confusing picture. After all, you don't go out past midnight at the heart of L.A. nightlife just to see a pasty teenage girl blocking the path, holding a cat at eye level as she gave it a good scolding. Even stranger, the animal had the audacity to look guilty, seemingly explaining itself with a series of frantic meows (if the girl somehow looked as if she understood every single word of it, you'd best chalk it up to the very good party drugs being given away at the club).

"What do you mean my father summoned you? You don't even–" The rest of her words died in her throat as realization suddenly dawned on her. She put him back on the ground, voice suddenly soft, a weak disbelief in her eyes as they flickered to him. "You knew about him, didn't you?"

The cat avoided her gaze and looked anywhere besides her, licking its paw in faux innocence.

"Salem," she warned, her gentle tone betrayed by a hidden threat.

With a bristle of his fur, he finally relented, explaining as much as he could in a series of meows. (He was never in the mood for a cross-state trip, actually. Theo was very liberal with the treats, and it was nice to just sit around all day without worrying about his mistress's next reckless scheme. But then his true master and creator – her father, now that everything was out in the open – came calling for the first time, and before he knew it, he was dropped into the middle of L.A. just when his human looked to be on the verge of a mental breakdown.)

Sabrina blew out a deep breath and looked to the sky as she tried to process this new information. So apparently, her familiar always acted out of the ordinary because he was never a familiar at all, but rather a demon made especially for her guidance and protection by her estranged devil father. Beyond that, Salem knew about her parentage the whole time, yet never said a word (or rather, made a meow) even as she got into her latest hellish escapades, all because it was allegedly something she was never supposed to know about. Now that all gloves were off, though, he was quick to fill her in on his demonic origins and the apparent blood pact he had in servitude to the antichrist.

Trying to wrap her head around the latest bombshell of the evening (She took it back. It was shaping up to be quite eventful, after all), Sabrina started pacing around in little circles, hands on her hips the way her aunt always did while trying to clean up her messes. "This is a lot to take in. So were you-were you spying on me for him or something? Is that why he made you?"

Salem made a disgruntled noise at that and Sabrina rolled her eyes. "Yes, you mentioned your sole purpose was to keep me out of trouble." She whispered the next part under her breath. "Not that you were very good at it."

Affronted, the cat swiped at her feet, and Sabrina swiftly jumped out of the way, hands held up in defense. "Okay, okay, that was out of line. I'm sorry."

She sighed as she crouched down to his level, palms on her knees. The young witch held her arms out to the familiar, and hesitantly (her actions always straddled the fine line between making bad decisions and endangering everyone in close proximity; neither one boded well for the demonic feline at that moment), Salem jumped into them, clinging close to her as she stood, stroking his fur. "You've saved my life more times than I could count this past year, and for what it's worth, I think you've done an excellent job at keeping me alive."

She rested her chin on the top of his head as a new thought came to mind. "I suppose Lucifer couldn't be so bad, if he thought to put you in my path." (Dad. He was not Lucifer, or the Dark Lord, or the Prince of Evil. At the end of the day, he was just "Dad". But after everything that transpired that evening, it didn't feel quite right to call him by the name just yet. So at the moment, for all intents and purposes, he was simply Lucifer Morningstar; the jittery club owner who abandoned her at birth, left her to fend for herself, and showed up sixteen years later just to get her out of jail. He just so happened to get her an awesome demonic birthday present along the way, too.)

Salem snuggled closer as she scoffed to herself. "Not that I'd ever tell him that, of course."

Sabrina's second day in L.A. got off to a rocky start. With barely five hours of sleep, she was already jolted awake by the sun filtering in through the broken blinds and shining on her closed eyes for a solid two minutes.

Both she and Salem spent the rest of the night wandering the length of Sunset Strip in search of a place to turn in. Just when she was on the verge of placing a numbing spell on her poor, aching feet, they chanced upon a budget motel that was pretty loose when it came to pets (though to be fair, Salem offered multiple times to possess a dead body for the evening just so they could get into a much nicer, non-pet-friendly place, but Sabrina wasn't quite ready to add "sleeping next to a corpse" on her trauma roster for the year).

Not that Sabrina was ever used to a life of luxury (however, one would be surprised with how much a mortuary makes in a month), but the place was rundown even by her own easy-going standards. The sheets were scratchy, the bedside lamp was broken, and even Salem let out a sound or two over the questionable stains on the carpet. Thankfully, it was nothing a quick spell or two (or twenty) couldn't fix. Still, it didn't make for much of a comfortable evening.

And so, when morning came (despite a quiet pounding in her head and the eventual realization that she hadn't eaten anything since yesterday's breakfast), she was just glad to get out of there. That was, until she noticed slight movement from the corner of her eye and whipped her head around to see someone watching her from the nearby armchair.

The woman in question had dark skin, with hair framing her face in large waves. She was dressed in black leather, legs crossed nonchalantly, all the while twirling a butterfly knife between her fingers (First a gun, and now this. Sabrina had to seriously wonder if Californians had a thing for violent assault weapons). What was most unsettling, however, was the way she smiled, as if she was trying her hardest to look friendly but didn't quite grasp the whole concept of it just yet.

"Princess, you're finally up!" She put the knife away in her back pocket and stood, arms spread out as if to hug the girl. Sabrina quickly drew a symbol in the air, and in a matter of seconds, it was inscribed on the floor, light bursting from every curve as it created an invisible wall of magic between her and the woman.

"Don't you dare come any closer," the witch ground out, suddenly alert. She shuffled out of bed, dragging the sheets along with her as if the cheap cocoon of cotton could offer much protection. "It's too early in the morning for another death threat, and I am not amused!"

It was a charming sight: the antichrist with bed hair, glaring daggers at her from across the room. Mazikeen could only chuckle in response, sharp teeth bared as she looked on in fondness (what a feisty little thing Lucifer's daughter turned out to be; it was hard to imagine she was the same baby in the photos who blew raspberries at her aunts during bath time and made silly faces everytime her cousin fed her vegetables).

The woman crossed her arms and stepped over the sigil on the ground with ease, the lines glowing a faint red but mostly leaving her unharmed. "Well, I for one, find your little drawings here very amusing." She grinned up at the teenage girl who only frowned at her in confusion. "Spell work might be a little rusty, but hey, what do I know?"

Sabrina shook her head in bewilderment. It didn't make any sense. Yes, she was groggy and hungry and half-asleep, but the runes were drawn to perfection and they should have worked. (Nick taught her the symbols, himself, back at the academy, and every single time, they held up an infallible layer of pure protective magic that instantly stunned any witch or mortal alike who dared cross it).

There was nothing rusty about her spell work (how dare that woman even imply such a thing), and Sabrina knew it. The only reason it shouldn't have harmed her was if she was neither witch nor mortal in the first place. Suddenly, the pieces clicked into place and the girl was so sure she had it right this time around. "Tell me your name!" She demanded, authority clear in her voice as her confidence returned.

Maze smirked slightly (she was more like her father than she expected). With a practiced defiance, she ignored the order and sat herself at the edge of the bed, eyeing her nails in boredom. "Nice try, princess, but no decent demon is dumb enough to speak their true name to a witch. Lucifer would never let me live it down if I got banished back to hell by a teenage girl."

Her eyes flickered to the witch who was growing more and more disgruntled with every passing second (A name, after all, was all she needed to create an Acheron, or call out a trapping spell, or seal her off in hell. She couldn't believe a few unknown syllables were the only thing that stood between her and an upper hand). "Just so we're properly introduced, though, you can go right ahead and call me Auntie Maze."

Sensing no imminent threat (Salem would have clawed out his fellow demon's eyes the moment she stepped into the room if she was actually a danger to his mistress. Considering that the cat was still lazily stretched out in the carpet, watching the pair of them in humor, Sabrina figured her earlier panic was really all for nothing), the girl lowered herself into a deflated heap on the armchair. Running a tired hand down her face, she peeked at Maze between her fingers. "Let me guess. My father sent you, didn't he?"

(Sabrina was slowly starting to accept that this trip was going to be less of a vacation and more of a challenge on how much Lucifer Morningstar could fuck up her life in one week).

Mazikeen beamed her usual not-quite-smile. "Good, you're all caught up. Now," she produced a paper bag seemingly out of nowhere and threw it to Sabrina. The girl, caught by surprise, made no move to catch it, but it managed to land in her lap just the same. "Lucifer sent this for you. He has a little note in there, I think. Or it might just be the receipt. Doesn't really matter."

Before Sabrina could make another sound, the demon was already halfway out the door, her next words thrown over her shoulder as she didn't even bother to look back. "I'll be waiting in the car downstairs. You have 15 minutes."

And just like that, Maze was gone as if she was never there at all, save for the glowing rune marks on the carpet and the confused girl staring dumbfounded at the door. She trained her gaze on Salem and gave him a flinty look. "You better explain to me what the hell all that was, or I'm leaving you here in California and I will not summon you back."

The familiar shot back a wide-eyed meow in his defense and crawled back under the covers (The few short months they'd spent together, the demon found that it was best to retreat and ride out the storm whenever Sabrina started making empty threats. One wrong move, and they wouldn't be so empty at all).

With a groan (for someone in a supposed blood vow to her service, her familiar held a blatant disregard for loyalty when it was no longer convenient), the young witch figured whatever answers she was looking for probably laid waiting inside the crumpled brown bag. As she tore it open, the first thing that greeted her was the otherworldly scent of freshly-baked pastries, carefully nestled in an intricate red box (she didn't miss the way it mirrored the exact shade of yesterday's sweater) that looked to be more expensive than her hotel room. True to her word, stuck to the package's lid was the letter that Maze mentioned, drawn out in loopy cursive that actually would have looked nice had the writer not scribbled it out in a half-drunken haze.

Dearest Sabrina,

I know I'm the last person you want to hear from right now, but this is really very important. We left things in a tense state last night, and though I don't blame you at the slightest, I understand that it's not the best start to a healthy relationship. Still, you've asked for some space, and I've given it. Now that we've both had a good night's rest (at least, I hope you did. I'm still quite hungover), I'd like to try again in getting to know you a bit better.

You mentioned yesterday that you hadn't eaten since your flight, and considering the hurry you were in a few hours ago, I think it's safe to assume you're quite hungry at the moment. Fret not, I sent over an assortment of treats from California's best patisserie. I wasn't really sure what you'd like (hence, the need for the getting-to-know-you part), so I sent over one of everything. Also, none of them are poisoned, if you're worried about that.

I hope my demonic delivery person didn't give you too much of a fright. Maze comes off a bit strong, but she wouldn't hurt you…I hope. Even if she did try, you could just banish her to the pit till she learns her lesson. Her real name's Mazikeen, just in case she's being stubborn about it.

Lastly, do dress warmly for the day. The air-conditioning tends to run a bit cold where we're going. You can bring Salem along, if you'd like. Whatever makes you comfortable.

Sincerely Yours,

Lucifer (Or father. Or dad. It's up to you, really.)

As soon as Sabrina read through the words, she folded the paper back up with a quirk of her brow. She didn't really think she could carry on unscathed with the rest of her getaway after the heavy truths she had to face last night. Like it or not, her father was here in the city, and it wasn't the kind of reality that would go away no matter how much she ignored it. She wasn't entirely ready to accept him into her life and act as if his absence early on hadn't left a deep scar, a palpable void, but with all things, she had to move forward someway. And maybe that way involved facing him again today.

With a determined huff, she gathered up her things and headed into the bathroom to change (warmly, like he said).

She hummed to herself as she readied for the morning. This should be quite interesting.

A few moments later, both she and Salem were cruising down the speedway with Mazikeen behind the wheel (the demon couldn't be killed by petty mortal things, and she sure as hell drove like it), and though Sabrina was immortal herself, it was basic human instinct to strap her seatbelt on tight and hold on for dear life.

"Just out of curiosity," the young witch began, struggling to speak against the rapid winds blowing against her face as they sped down in the bounty hunter's convertible. "Where are we headed to, anyway?"

"Dr. Linda Martin's office."

"Who's that?"

Maze smirked and pushed her foot deeper down the gas pedal. "You'll see."