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Total silence dominated the space between me and Mammon, as we strolled through the dim lit streets of Devildom. That is right, I have not seen a single ray of sunlight- since arriving here. With that thought in my head, I found myself missing the heavenly daylight of the Celestial Realm. "Alright!" Mammon, cheekily grinned, only to stop in front of an odd looking purple and white building, which reminded me of a fancy wrapped gift box. "We're here!"

"And where is 'here' exactly?" I sarcastically asked, crossing my arms over my chest, while eyeing the building in front of us, radiating with party lights of numerous colours, woozy laughs, and raucous music. If I did not know better, this place was similar to those weird hangouts called, clubs.

"Something tells me you're going to get yourself wasted," I pointed out, prepared to turn around, and walk away.

Mammon took notice, and quickly stumbled just to grab my wrist, while somehow pleading to me in that arrogant tongue of his," Ye, come on! Just this once! Cuz those three crazy women are driving me nuts!"

"Women?" I emphasized, slightly raising an eyebrow at his words. "You actually stoop so much lower than what I expected."

Other demons were starting to eye us curiously . . . A lot. My gaze fell back at Mammon, who eyes were silently pleading for help. "Remind me why you don't just ignore them?" I asked, only to receive an awkward smile from the white-haired demon. "Forget that question."

I kept trying to think of an escape, but knowing Mammon, he was going to be as stubborn as a bull, and drag me inside. "Fine, but only this time," I finally spoke, glancing uncertainly at the building standing before us.

Even though I agreed, I found myself resisted Mammon's grip on my wrist, as he slowly dragged me into the literally jaw-like, entrance doors. It was worse than what I imagined. The smell of alcohol and sweat filled my nostrils, as we walk through a room, which I assumed was the kitchen. "This place stinks, "I pointed out, a hand over my small nose, as I allowed the white-haired demon in front of me to take lead. "So where are your witch friends?"

The second I asked that, three women, dressed in matching, tight, black, tops; short, rubber skirts; knee-high, leather boots, and crimson, leather jackets. I wanted to puke right at the spot, but held back the urge, as I watched Mammon hopelessly try to explain why he was late. "Might as well be a house goblin," I mumbled, trying to avoid getting touched by anyone.

"Oh my great lord, Mara! Look at this cutie Mammon bought with him! "The shortest witch squealed, grabbing my tail forcefully.

Instantly, an intense blush crept up my cheeks, as I nudged my ghost-like tail away from her grip. "Certainly Lezabel I have never seen such a creature before," the witch, whom I assumed was called Mara spoke with amusement in her voice.

They were probably in their early thirties, unless they were using an aging potion, and their continuous giggle and chuckles were proof they were getting a bit drunk. "Sybil, don't you think she's cute?" Mara asked her friend, Sybil.

I found myself adapting to ignoring their irrelevant conversations, as time passed, probably an hour and a half. We had the VIP room for ourselves, which meant I was squeezed against one of the couch's arm, next to Lazabel, as she clinged to Mammon's arm, whom seemed to be having a far more uncomfortable time-than me. Sybil and Mara had left a minute ago to get more drinks, and looking at Lezabel, she looked like she could pass out any second with locks of her curly, blond hair sticking at the edge of her lips from what I assumed was because of her saliva and several shots of wine. She reeked of alcohol. That's right, Mammon wanted me to come, because they drive him nuts. "Mammon . . . Drink this," Lezabel's words slurred, as she poured another cup of white-whine, and handed it to Mammon, who drank it without hesitation, but regretted it directly as a dry cough erupted from his dehydrated lips.

He was reaching his limit. Should I help, before he really screws up? I took notice of the-tips of my fingers flaring with small flames and without thinking twice, held my right hand an inch way from the witch's waist, where her leather jacket was covering her naked belly. I could see Mammon's eyes widen in alert, but it was too late, the clothing had caught fire. One more step to getting rid of this witch . . .

"Oh my god!" I yelled, catching Lezabel's attention. "Miss Lezabel! Mammon set your jacket on fire!"

An even more confused expression covered Mammon's face, as the witch began panicking in front of us, while yelling furiously, "Sue you Mammon! This is my favourite jacket! Screw having a pact with you!"

So she had a pact with him, no wonder he could not get rid of her. She was a living leach, but why did this idiot even bother making a pact with her if he hates her so much? I calmly watched, as the woman ran around the room screaming, and Mammon being a panicked mess, picked up the nearest bottle of wine and poured the clear liquid at the burning area of the woman's jacket . . . which only fed the wild fire. Little human like figures seemed to rise from the flames, and dance excitedly around the burning witch. They seemed familiar. . . Like the flames I saw in the fire place, at the House of Lamination. "Mammon!!!! Do something!" Lezabel yelled, bringing me back to reality and just like that, the strange fire-figures vanished into thin air.

I was still sitting on the side of the couch, when Sybil and Mara came back, whom Lezabel rush into out of panic. No laugher or chuckle could muster itself out of me, because I could taste ash, but not the ashes of the burning leather jacket of Lezabel. . . her sins that hid under her skin. They tasted bitter, sour, a misery feeding on temporary pleasure to stay alive. The three witches rushed out of the room, causing screams and shouts to erupt through the mansion. I stood up to leave, but just when I was an inch from exiting the entrance door, a firm grip on my left wrist brought me to a solid-stop. "What. The. Heck. Was. That?!" Mammon growled, his hair a complete mess, and his orange sunglasses-slightly tilted to one side.

"I just did what you asked for," I replied calmly, "to get rid of those witch's."

"I never said that!!!" He yelled over the screams of people on the lower floor." I just said they drive me nuts!"

"Well if that's so, then I did it out of instinct," I shot back." It's not like she was not going to get set on fire anyway."

My hand found its way to my pocket, and pulled out a small lighter. "She hand this peeking out of the pocket of her jacket, and look here," I pointed at the small trigger used to set a spark," it's stuck. She probably pressed it while using it, and it got stuck."

"Your point?" the white-haired demon asked, while crossing his arms over his chest, with a confused expression.

"Mammon," I spoke in disappointment," this is a club . . . Filled with drunks running around with fire crackers, alcohol, and people, who are not in their right mind . . . There could have been a million ways that lighter blew up in her pocket."

The demon slightly parted his lips to speak, but closed it back swiftly. "It is up to god whether she burns to a crisp, or survives those flames," I continued, remembering the small human figures I had seen in the flames." The other two witches will probably break their pacts with you the second they think you set their friend on fire . . . or demand your head to be cut off. . ."

Panic dominated the demon's face at the mention of his head getting cut off, that he even ran his hand over the tan skin of his neck. ". . ....or not, you never know," I joked, a small smile crossing my lips, but there was rarely any magic left in me to keep me awake for the night.

If I take a step now I will defiantly fall. I rubbed my eyes, and focused my vision on Mammon, who seemed more concerned than I was. "Hey! Cat! Pull yourself together!" He yelled, as I fell to my knees, with his hands gripping my shoulders to soften the fall." Ok! What's wrong?!"

Then I was them Shadow Souls . . . They were laughing. . . Laughing at my state. Luke . . . where is Luke? Luke . . .
They were slowly closing on us, their faces hidden under shawls of black and grey. They were hungry . . . for my soul.

"𝘓𝘶𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥 . . . 𝘙𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 . . . 𝘋𝘦𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘳!"

"𝘏𝘦𝘩𝘦 . . 𝘋𝘪𝘦! 𝘋𝘪𝘦! . . .𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘵"

"𝘍𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘢𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘩𝘦."

They were getting closer . . . and then I felt it . . . a tingling warm sensation on my lips pouring magic within my pitiful soul.

"𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒚 𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒕."

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ʏ'ᴀʟʟ ꜱᴏʀʀʏ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇ ɪ ᴀᴍ ᴀ ʙɪᴛ ʟᴀᴛᴇ, ʙᴜᴛ ɪ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴡᴏʀᴋɪɴɢ ʜᴀʀᴅ ᴏɴ ᴘɪɴɴɪɴɢ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴀꜱ ᴀɴ ɪᴍᴘᴏʀᴛᴀɴᴛ ꜱᴄᴇɴᴀʀɪᴏ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʟᴏᴛ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ᴛᴡᴏ ɴᴇᴡ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ꜱᴍᴀᴄᴋɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴏꜱᴇ ᴠᴏᴛᴇ ʙᴜᴛᴛᴏɴꜱ.