The streets were empty, something I relished every Sunday morning.

Church was by far the one thing that united everyone in this town. It was a social gathering everyone attended, regardless of their beliefs. Something I guessed the mayor had assumed would aid in the stronghold of the town.

I'd only been there once - thanks to Ellie's insistence on it being compulsory - and had been singled out as an exception on that very day.

Apparently, the mayor's law meant nothing when concerning a black-eyed, demon chameleon witch.

Others had refused my presence in there due to the werewolf crisis that occurred after I'd arrived in town, thinking me the culprit. I hadn't minded however - still didn't - and as long as no one bothered me, I didn't have to cause any trouble.

And that was exactly what they wanted, me to slip up and expose my "true" nature. They would've kicked me out or burnt me alive for turning the drunk man who'd tried to rape and kill me, but because I hadn't done it in vain and there had been evidence, the mayor had spared me. It had caused an uproar, but at least I still had my head on.

I took in a deep breath. Let's just get today over with.

I stood in front of Cleo's bar, eyeing Micaiah through the transparent glass door. He was the only one I could see in the establishment, so it was either Cleo had ditched us for church or he was out doing whatever I was sure would be beneficial to us.

Seeing that I had no choice but to associate with the arrogant man, I let myself in and shut the door behind me.

"You finally showed up."

"Don't feel so smug about that," I said as I slid onto the bar stool next to Micaiah's. My eyes heavy with weariness behind the shades barring them from the rest of the world, I leaned against the counter, waiting for its owner to show up.

Lucifer wasn't supposed to join us until tonight when we had everything sorted out. It was a good thing, because the thought of seeing Lucifer again after last night left my throat and stomach knotted in anticipation.

I couldn't help it. My mind just kept on replaying the kiss scene over and over. His nearness. Everything that had to do with him and proximity made me inwardly shiver.

It wasn't normal, that I knew. I'd seen people kiss before and none of them had acted like their partner was slowly stealing their soul with each sweep of their tongue against their-

"You're quiet," the Witch Hunter beside me said, interrupting my reminisce.

"Would you rather we argue all day?" I traced my finger along the designs on the wooden counter as I said this.

"Yes," he answered with much sarcasm. "At least then I'd know I'm not sitting by a statue."

"Didn't think you'd care," I retorted, looking up from the counter to stare back at him. "Besides, I like the quiet better than the sound of you cussing."

He chuckled. His eyes surprisingly didn't reveal any hint of malice. "I don't blame you."

Somewhat startled by his comment, I studied him carefully before he looked away to stare at the shot in front of him.

I blinked, not believing for a second that I'd just had a civilized conversation with a man who'd showed nothing but disdain towards me. As I'd previously witnessed, his black eyes held a solemn and weary look beneath the façade he'd created that it made him look less threatening and cocky.

"I'm not always a jerk you know," he spoke after a short while, downing his drink in one go.

I scoffed. "Could've fooled me."

"I did." Mik put his glass down and impatiently drummed his fingers on the counter.

After another minute of strained silence, Micaiah spoke out of the blue once more.

"Look, I'm sorry," he blurted out before he cleared his throat, sounding the tiniest bit uncomfortable. Not to mention, his apology had naturally caught me off guard, so like any other person, I asked him to repeat himself.

Maybe I hadn't heard correctly.

"I said I'm sorry."

No. There it was again. Sorry.

I straightened up. Confused.

"Sorry?"

"Grown deaf on me, Kid?"

"Well...uh." I too began to clear my throat, the area getting itchy for a different reason.

"Hmm, didn't picture you to be mute. Guess I have to apologize often."

I frowned, my discomfort evaporating. He's getting it too easy.

"What are you sorry for?" I asked after I'd recovered, pushing his buttons a little bit. Even though Mik appeared only a little uncomfortable, it made him look less of a grumpy experienced man and more of a man not any older than I.

If that made any sense.

Micaiah, however, didn't take the bait. "I'm not going to give you the satisfaction of seeing me this vulnerable again so use the time you have wisely."

I scowled. "I see you're not even remotely done being a cad."

"I told you, I'm only continually a jerk to people I couldn't care less about."

"That's reassuring."

Another chuckle escaped him and once again, I felt that foreign-familiar tug in my chest. It was like I'd heard a laugh like that before, somewhere distant, an unreachable memory of sorts.

I knew without a doubt that no one had ever genuinely laughed in my presence lest to mock me, save for Ellie. Cleo wasn't a laugher, so, by all means, I'd rule him out. For the third time or so, I chose the time to really examine Micaiah.

The white streaks in his hair made him look somewhat ancient, yet his black beady eyes made him appear just in his late twenties.

When he leaned forward to grab a bottle off the counter and pour himself a glass, I watched him more closely even then.

There had to be something else. Something else he definitely knew about that I didn't. And according to the way he kept on clenching his fist and staring off into space with a longing look in his eyes, I suspected that it had something to do with his obsessed hunt for the last Night Witch.

Or in other words, my mother.

"You and Cleo aren't the only Witch Hunters, are you?" This question had popped up in my head before, so I was glad that I'd remember to ask before I never got to sate my curiosity. "I remember Cleo threatening you with them."

"That's none of your business."

"It is if we're going to work together," I retorted.

"No it's not," he shot back. "Ignorant of my past life will not affect you in any way."

"What's so-"

"Enough." He cut me off rudely, slamming his glass on the counter and turning to glare at me.

Yet even as he did, I had an inkling that his anger wasn't necessarily directed at me. So I returned his gaze with much defiance, refusing to give him the advantage of knowing that his look intimidated me.

He'd been through a lot - his actions proved that - but for what? I knew he was a Witch Hunter and that basically spelt out his lifestyle, but I couldn't piece together why exactly only he and Cleo were on this mission.

There had to be others. Dealing with creatures of the shadows was a perfect example of a slippery slope. In that case, shouldn't there have been more Witch Hunters especially if, according to Cleo, they had all taken care of the fallen Night Witches in the past?

If so, where were they?

I knew Micaiah and Cleo were hiding something from me, and I was going to find out.

And to think that I had considered spilling the beans about my mother being the Night Witch at our rendezvous this morning. I was sure glad I'd thought the better of it.

Best to follow Lucifer's lead and keep silent.

"Fine," I hissed and broke our eye contact, immediately dispelling the disappointment that ate at me. "I'll stay out of it."

A while passed before he spoke again. "You're not fully a Night Witch, you know that right?"

"Thought we were staying out of each other's-"

"You got a chance to speak your mind before I stopped you, now I'm speaking mine," he interjected. "You're half Night Witch and half something else."

Tell me something Et Kar hasn't already told me, I thought. Like what the hell my other half is.

I glared down at my thumbs. "How on earth would you know that?"

"I'm a Witch Hunter. I should know."

"Well, that's none of your business," I said, understanding his need to keep me out of his closet.

There were just stuff that I wasn't ready to talk about.

Thankfully, Mik didn't say anything after that. The Witch Hunter kept to himself and his drink while I waited with him in silence for Cleo to appear.

"Where the hell are those two?" I heard Mik mutter right before the door burst open.

Wait. Two?

"Lucifer is coming?" I whispered to myself just as wolf-man stepped in behind Cleo.

I tried not to openly stare in surprise at Lucifer who stood shirtless for no apparent reason and had on a pair of boxers that I was in no doubt sure it had been borrowed.

Cleo, however, looked poised with an air of seriousness around him. Nothing new by the look of his casual black outfit and his stern expression.

Well, save for the unexpected visible golden gleam that shone in his eyes. I swallowed the sudden need to question him about that.

I'd seen the same thing happen to Micaiah once or twice so maybe it was simply a Witch Hunter thing. No need to bug Cleo over it. He didn't look quite in the mood anyway.

"No apology for being late?" Micaiah was the first to be on the receiving end of his partner's suddenly angry gaze.

"We wouldn't be if you'd just fulfilled your end of the plan."

Mik scowled. "I hunt Night Witches, not freaking werewolves."

"So do I," Cleo retorted, making his way to his usual spot in front of the bar counter and peeling off his gloves, all the while with his eyes trained on the other Witch Hunter. "Yet here I stand with one beside me, what does that tell me of your efficiency?"

"Nothing good I suppose."

"Damn it, Mik." Cleo banged his arm on the only structure separating us so forcefully that I felt the vibrations that emanated from the surface, making me almost fall backwards. And funny enough, so did Mik by the looks of it.

"If you let your damn pride come in the way of this mission again, I'll abandon you." He snatched the bottle and glass away from Mik, dumping them somewhere below. His hasty movements made them clatter loudly. "You know I will, and yet you keep on testing me."

The brunt of Cleo's anger didn't say a word, merely watched him for a moment, then stared down at his clenching fists in silence.

"Follow me, Lena," Cleo said without sparing me a glance, heading for the back door just beside the rows of drinks on the wall. "Let's leave these two to bond."

Having not much of a choice, I stood to follow his orders, careful not to make eye contact with Lucifer who stood silently by the door watching, something I was used to him doing in the presence of others.

And even though I made sure not to give in and look at his face, I could still feel his eyes affixed on the back of my head while I moved. Whether to force me to remember the overwhelming kiss or the plan we'd forged behind the two Witch Hunters' backs, I'd never know.

☆~☆~☆

"Why didn't you tell me Lucifer was coming?" I asked, closing the door and folding my arms across my chest.

The room was small and dark, but behind Cleo, I could still see the shape of another door on the other side of the room.

The Witch Hunter switched on the ceiling lamp before turning to face me. The little light source not casting away much darkness than I'd hoped. "I just thought to bring him here last night. We need him for something important."

"Which is?"

"We know he's hiding something from us, about who he's being tortured by," he said, the golden gleam I had witnessed was now replaced with his natural blue eyes. "The scars he bears are familiar, so much that it is possible that he's being controlled by a witch. We just need to find out if she's a Night Witch."

The unknown fleeting feeling came out of nowhere. Whether it was because of the fact that Lucifer was indeed being tortured, or that it was my mother who was the culprit, I had no idea.

Either way, I kept silent. Not giving anything away.

"But that's not my concern right now. We need to talk about something crucial and even more important."

His comment made me grow slightly agitated. "And what is more important than sticking to the damn plan that you guys conjured up?"

He stepped closer, staring straight into my eyes.

"You."

☆~☆~☆