THE DEVIL WEARS PRADA
by spiderkru

≿━━━༺❀CHAPTER ONE❀༻━━━≾

The sun hung low on the pink-tainted sky as the last day of summer itched closer to its end. Rays of golden light danced with the shadows of the gray pines' branches as they swayed in the wind. It wasn't a particularly cold wind, but it sent shivers down Lucia's spine nonetheless. Though the girl was abnormally resistant to heat, the cooler temperatures were, on the other hand, not her strong suit.

She laid spread out on her pool bed, soaking up the last heat the sun had to offer before it eventually would be submerged by the hills in the distance. Her small hands gripped tightly around her book as her piercing blue eyes scanned the pages, paying no mind to the time nor space surrounding her. The Feminine Mystique had that effect on her. It was one of the original copies, dated all the way back to 1963. Lucia remembered the ecstasy of reading it for the first time back then. It had sparked raging fires in the hearts of the women she had surrounded herself with, and equally raging fires in the men constantly shutting them down. Lucia had fed on those raging fires. They had given her strength and power, and a newfound lust to pull the strings she knew would control the pitiful humans in whichever direction ignited the most ruthless wildfires. It brought her amusement to watch the chaos that unfolded once she made mankind point their spears at each other rather than at their common enemies.

Lucia mindlessly pushed her sunglasses off the bridge of her nose, and moved them to her head, drawing back the blonde locks that flowed around the structure of her face. Like the golden frame surrounding a piece of art. She put the book down for a moment and bent over the table next to her to sip at the red straw in her drink, filling her mouth with the sweet taste of pink lemonade. It was a paper straw, of course. She was the Devil, not a monster.

"Lady Morningstar," a strained voice called. Lucia turned around, cocking an eyebrow at the elegant Demon standing in the doorway.

"Yes, Lady Mania?" she teasingly responded.

She watched in amusement as Lilith pursed her lips, holding back the devilish smile she usually wore to accessorize her warm skin and dark outfits.

Lucia supposed Lilith was what humans would call her 'best friend'. The pair had, however, always looked down at the humans' many terms to define their relationships. It was their insecurity, Lucia had decided, that made them so dependant on them. The fear of being abandoned forced them to label every relationship they ever made during their short lives. It was pathetic yet amusing to witness it all. They seemed to think being on the same page about the label was enough to keep them together forever, and failed to realize that what they actually needed to have a common understanding of, was the relationship itself.

Lucia and Lilith weren't humans. They understood their relation perfectly. Which is why Lucia didn't need to put a fancy title such as "best friend" on her fellow child of the night in order to understand why she was behaving oddly formal.

They had a visitor.

Without another word, Lucia reached for the white, oversized blouse that had somehow ended up in a bundle next to the sun bed. She frowned as she slipped into it, running her hands over the fabric in an unsuccessful attempt to flatten it.

"Who is it?" she asked Lilith through gritted teeth as annoyance built up within her. She hated it when guests came unannounced. She had a reputation to uphold — as someone with devilishly well-put-together outfits and a remarkably sharp tongue. An oversized shirt, through which one definitely could see her red bathing suit, was not up to her standards.

Lilith inhaled sharply through her nose, throwing a glance towards the living room. Lucia raised her eyebrows.

"They're already inside?" she hissed lowly.

Lilith nodded, and Lucia cursed. Lilith was a sour Demon, and was famously known for her bitter remarks and ruthless use of magic. If anyone dared enter the mansion without permission, the dark witch wasn't hesitant to get rid of them, preferably with a curse or two. If whoever stood in her living room was powerful enough to make Lilith obey them without a word of protest, Lucia knew with certainty she wouldn't like them.

Cautiously, she entered the house, Lilith following closely behind. Although a visit definitely wasn't what she wanted to spend her last day of summer vacation on, Lucia carried herself respectfully; head held high, chin pointing towards the ceiling. It was what she had been taught — to always demand superiority. No matter how powerful her opponents were, it was always her duty to rise above them and do everything in her power to watch them crumble before her. Her father's legacy depended on it.

The formal posture drooped into more of a slouch once she entered the living room and came eye to eye with her guest.

"Gabriel," she deadpanned.

The corners of his lips curled upwards. "Can't even mask your disappointment, can you?"

The playful glimpse in his eyes gave her an urge to slap him across the face. Lucia rolled her eyes coolly. She understood why Lilith had let him in. Gabriel came from a powerful line of Angels. The blood of the First Creators ran through his veins, just as it ran through her own. That being said, Lucia knew he was nothing like her. He had a strict moral compass. She was fairly certain she didn't. At least she'd been told so by all the Angels that he bad-mouthed her throughout the centuries.

"What's the point in that? You already know I don't like you," she bit back as her piercing eyes travelled up and down as they took him in. "Or respect you."

Gabriel chuckled, forming deep dimples in his cheeks. Lucia clenched her jaw at his reaction. He was the one Angel who seemed to never get offended by her venomous spitting. It was agonizing. She wanted nothing more than to see him tremble like a leaf in the wind under her wrath.

"What are you doing here?" she asked him darkly. "I assume you're not here to play chess."

Gabriel's grin stretched wider. His dazzling smile revealed a bronze glow on his high cheeks. "I would never dare to."

"Then why are you here?" Lucia smirked at the sound of Lilith's voice, laced with skepticism to the Angel before them.

She cast a glance over her shoulder to see the Demon standing behind her, glaring holes in Gabriel's skull. She had caught on. Of all the people they were supposed to behave formally around, Gabriel was a definite exception. Lucia was certain she could chop his hand off, and all he'd do would be to simply laugh along.

"Actually, no, let us guess!" Lucia blurted, flashing her teeth in a devilish grin. "You've finally grown tired of wearing white all the time, and have come to me for fashion advice, because let's face it, I'm the best dressed person you know."

Gabriel snorted. "You realize that we don't actually wear white all the time, right? It's a part of our uniform. We have to wear it on formal missions."

This time it was Lilith who snorted. "Formal missions to do what, pet puppies?"

"Amongst other things, yes."

Lucia rolled her eyes. His pure sincerity, even when in response to a spiteful comment dripping with sarcasm, was enough to cause unease in the pit of her stomach. He was such an Angel. Bound to honesty and politeness, even in the hottest of arguments. According to her father, Angels had even been polite at the battlefield, hundred thousands of years ago, before the two kinds had made a pact of peace. She didn't quite grasp how they had been able to come to this agreement. Not with the bloodlust she knew took root within the Demons once provoked. She couldn't imagine how they had gone from presenting severed Angel Wings as trophies to making peace with them.

"Holy shit," she whispered as realization dawned on her. "This is your eighteenth century."

She paused to watch all signs of amusement drain from his sandy complexion. The sunny glow in his eyes dimmed. For a split second, she could have sworn she saw a glimpse of anger in them. She couldn't have stopped the wicked grin from stretching on her lips even if she had wanted to. He wasn't crumbling, or trembling for that matter, but she supposed this was good enough for now.

"You haven't earned your Wings yet."

A dramatic gasp sounded from Lilith at the revelation, closely followed by amused laughter.

"Oh, honey," the Demon mused. "That must be so embarrassing for you. No wonder daddy kicked you out of his mansion in Heaven."

Gabriel's jaw chiseled, though he plastered on a smile. "I was not kicked out. I was sent here. To complete the final step to earning my Wings."

Lucia hummed. "Why so late? If I have my facts right, which I know that I do, most Angels earn their wings during their sixteenth century."

"Not to mention," Lilith added, "An Angel's eighteenth century is their last chance of getting their wings. If you don't complete your trial within the end of the century, you'll be wingless forever, little man."

"I'm taller than you," Gabriel frowned in confusion at the nickname. "And I will complete my trial. My Queen appointed me for this task personally."

Lucia huffed at the mention of her mother. It was never not bizarre to hear her referred to as the Queen. With all the fondness in his voice, one might actually be fooled to think she was a good ruler. She doubted it. If the woman couldn't keep her own daughter on a leash, how was she supposed to control a kingdom?

"And what task might that be?" she challenged, crossing her arms over her chest.

The excited spark was reignited in Gabriel's eyes. He mirrored her actions, crossing his arms over his chest. All hints of shame were washed off his features as pride painted them instead. Once again he flashed his angelic grin at her, lifting his head high.

"You. My task is you."