LA wasn't the most ideal place to live. The crowds were thick, the competition for jobs was high, and about 60% of the population was high or drunk or off paying to get laid. Nightclubs littered the busier districts, strip clubs near (or in) them. Driving anywhere took at least a half hour. All in all, Mercy wasn't a fan, but it was easy to hide in big cities with so much happening inside it.
Exhaling out her nose in an effort to expel the stench of the homeless man she just past, Mercy walked briskly down the street with a guitar case strapped across her back and her flip phone in her hand. She squinted at the text on the screen, pushing her large black-framed glasses up her nose. The message read:
We got a gig.
Mercy frowned, a bit skeptical. Save My Hero was beginning to gain ground ever since their first album was released. Their concert gigs were ending up in bigger and bigger places. It wasn't that Mercy was displeased with their growing success, but she wasn't eager to become part of what she saw as LA's problem.
Gripping the phone with both hands, she texted back, Dare I ask?
The response came quickly. Hutch had a smart phone like the majority of people and was able to respond faster than lightning sometimes.
Lol chill. The money is insane.
Mercy paused and ducked slightly into an alley to stay out of the way of the walking crowd. She was tempted to just call Hutch, but he hated communicating in anything but text if it wasn't face-to-face.
Why? Mercy texted back.
What do you mean why? We're getting our name out there and this place wants some fresh talent that's I guess hip with the kids? Hutch replied.
Mercy pursed her lips. She was wary of just about everything lately. The band wasn't exactly meant to go anywhere, but somehow a record company manage to hear them and liked their sound. It was like winning the lottery; they didn't even have to send out demo discs. She was meant to be laying low and staying hidden here, and becoming a rock star didn't exactly help that.
However, she wasn't going to wreck everything for her bandmates. Hutch, Miles, and Blake had given this thing their all, and they were her only friends here. They were practically her family. Of course, there was always the stories of bands falling apart once they got fame. Money could lead to corruption, Mercy knew that far too well.
How much are we talking? Mercy texted.
Are you sitting down? Was Hutch's cheeky reply.
I'd rather not—pretty sure there's old vomit in this alley, Mercy typed.
Lol. Okay. $2,500.
Mercy's eyes stretched wide. For one gig? she hastily texted back.
Each.
Mercy's jaw went slack. "Holy shit," she breathed out loud.
Who the hell is paying us 2500 each for a single gig?! she asked.
Okay so don't freak out.
Mercy immediately narrowed her eyes at Hutch's text. Oh Lord what? she texted.
It's at this nightclub.
Mercy groaned and hit the call button, putting the phone to her ear. It rang once before Hutch's voice answered.
"Don't be mad!" he begged, half-laughing.
"Hutch!" Mercy whined. "You know how I feel about those sex dens."
"It's not a sex den!" Hutch insisted before pausing. "Okay, maybe a little."
"Ugh." Mercy closed her eyes and leaned heavily against the wall she stood by. "Which one? If you say the Kinky Lynx I will murder you."
"Ew, no," Hutch said. "We'd catch something just walking in. No, this place is supposed to have class. It's called Lux."
"Lux?" Mercy frowned thoughtfully. "Why does that sound familiar?"
"It's on the same street as the recording studio," Hutch explained.
"Oh. Oh!" Mercy snapped her fingers. "The place that always has a line at night that's like a mile long. Well, we'll have a crowd I guess. How the hell did we get this? And with the pay?"
"Blake," Hutch said. "She said that she met this chick there—the bartender or something? Anyway, apparently this chick is like, trying to prove a point to her boss, so she hired us."
"Wait, wait, wait," Mercy interjected. "It wasn't the club owner who hired us? Just a bartender?"
"She's co-owner or something," Hutch said. "She gave Blake half of the cash as a down payment, dude."
"You've got a lot of 'or somethings' riding on this," Mercy pointed out.
"Blake can give you the full story," Hutch said. "Well... maybe not the full story, unless you want to hear about how sore she is."
Mercy ran a hand down her face. "She slept with the bartender, didn't she?"
Hutch just laughed in response.
"Great, grand, okay, so what's this point that this chick is wanting to prove?" Mercy asked.
"That they need variety in their entertainment," Hutch said. "Some live performance to spice stuff up."
"We don't have any grind-up-on-the-person-next-to-you songs," Mercy reminded him. "Our music is meant to be listened to not just heard."
"I know, I know, and all of us care about that," Hutch assured. "And apparently that's a selling point Blake made. We're different enough to really test the bartender's theory."
"Okay. I guess we can't turn down that cash," Mercy said. "When are we doing this?"
Hutch hesitated for a moment.
"Hutch..." Mercy said in a warning tone.
"Tonight?" Hutch squeaked the word out like a question.
"Tonight?!" Mercy echoed. "We don't even have a lineup! We haven't practiced in a week!"
"So you don't have anything going on tonight?"
"Hutch!"
"It's not like we'll screw up," Hutch said with a laugh. "You're amazing, Mercy, you know that."
"No, it's not amazing—it's just a lot of practice which I haven't done in a week," Mercy snapped.
Hutch chuckled.
"Hutch!" Mercy shouted again.
"I'm sorry! It's just, you're like the most nerdy musician I've met," Hutch said. "You're like the Hermione of alternative rock."
"Hermione got fantastic scores on her OWLS because she studied like a maniac and music is no different than magic," Mercy replied heatedly. "In fact, it's probably the closest thing we muggles have to magic."
"Point taken, Professor Mercy," Hutch said, still laughing.
Mercy groaned again and shook her head, blinking up at the sky in irritation. "Fine, we'll do it. But for the love of everything, no more making last minute gigs!"
"Tell Blake," Hutch replied.
"Oh, I have so many words for Blake," Mercy assured. "You guys got equipment transport? I'm going to try and get a few songs in to warm up and we'll want to set up a bit early and get a good idea of the venue—"
"Dear God, Mercy, yes, we got it," Hutch interrupted. "Just get your practice in so you stop losing your mind."
Mercy smiled a little despite herself. "Thanks, Hutch."
"Always, Little Angel," Hutch said and then hung up.
Mercy sighed and flipped her cell shut. Little Angel. She'd gained the nickname a long time ago when they were first designing their band's logo: a halo with two wings beneath it. Miles was the one who thought it up and Blake pointed out how Mercy was their "little angel" because of how short Mercy was compared to the rest of them. It was now a tradition for Mercy to wear a shirt or hoodie with wings stylized on the back. Even their fanbase was starting to jump behind the nickname.
She still didn't know if she liked it or hated it.
Mercy readjusted her glasses and walked back onto the sidewalk and into the crowd. She didn't love the idea of performing in a nightclub, but music was something that sustained her. Without it, she wasn't sure what she was.
So the least she could do was take this as an opportunity to lose herself for the night.
Mercy was a bit surprised by how clean the alley beside Lux was. She plopped herself down on the ground, pleased that it was empty. All the people seemed eager to get into the nightclub rather than loiter about. Mercy set her guitar case on the ground next to her and ran her hand over all the stickers stamped on it. Most were from her trip to LA from Massachusetts, but there was also one from each of her bandmates.
Hutch had slapped on a cute little grim reaper that had a black hoodie and jeans instead of the usual cloak. He was tall and lanky, and their first Halloween wore just his black hoodie and jeans. When they accused him of not wearing a costume, he went to the bathroom and came back with a black skeletal skull sketched on his face. However, he had accidentally used a Sharpie instead of a washable marker and it was stuck on him for days.
Miles had placed the orange, white, and green flag of Ireland since that was where he was from. When he added it, he had apologized for not coming up with anything more unique, but Mercy loved it anyway. He had always been awkward and quiet, that was until one got to know him. Then he was nothing but puns and sass.
Blake's sticker was that of DC's Harley Quinn with her giant hammer at the ready. When Mercy first met her, it was in a comic store where Hutch had elected to introduce them. Blake had politely introduced herself and smiled before spotting a new poster of Harley Quinn and saying, "I would ride her so hard she'd forget Joker's name." Blake continued to be a bizarre mix of kindhearted sweetness and vulgar sex machine.
Close to the latches that held the case shut was a fourth sticker that someone other than Mercy had placed. She paused with her fingers over it. It was a howling arctic wolf, white fur striking against the black surface it was stuck to. Mercy let out a soft breath before undoing the latches and pulling out a blue acoustic guitar.
After carefully tuning it, Mercy began to play through a few songs, letting her fingers get back into the ease of things. She always had her guitar on her, but she didn't always play it. It wasn't usual for her to go a whole week, though. Her mind had been scattered the past few days, lost in memories. There was an anniversary approaching that she wasn't eager for. She didn't usually start reacting this early.
The notes bounced on the stone walls around her. Mercy was steadily getting into the beat of it, bobbing her head as her fingers easily danced along the neck of the guitar. The music flowed through her, pumping in her veins, refilling her soul with something that couldn't be explained but always seemed to be needed. The sun had set and the only thing illuminating the alley was the orange glow of the streetlights. Somewhere, Mercy could hear the soft clamor of the crowd waiting to get inside Lux. She played louder, trying to drown it out.
"Come on, little dove, now let's see you fly," Mercy sang. "I've seen your cage and stolen its door... I've heard your song and its lie... There were times you were so quiet... So soft and delicate... I want you to belong, I want you to belong, I want you to belong... So come on, little dove, now let's see you fly... I've been where you are... I know how hard you try... I see now you've broken a feather... But I won't let you fall, I'll take you to the sky... I want you to belong, I want you to—"
Out of the corner of her eye, Mercy noticed that there was someone standing on the other side of the dumpster she was next to. She'd had her eyes closed for most of her performance, letting the music consume her, so she had no clue how long the person had been there. Stopping instantly, she looked over to see it was a man in an expensive-looking suit complete with a vest and tie. His neat, short hair was black and he had the slightest hint of stubble on his handsome face.
"Oh, sorry," he said in a British accent. "Don't mind me, carry on."
"Uh, are you planning on standing there?" Mercy asked.
"I am, yes," the man replied calmly. "You're quite good."
"Oookay," Mercy said as she put her guitar back into its case. "That's my cue to leave..."
"You know, you'd make a lot more cash playing on the street where people can hear you," the man pointed out. "Pop open your case in front of you and people'll toss in all sorts of money."
"I'm not playing for tips," Mercy replied, latching her case closed.
"Clearly," the man said. "So what are you playing for?"
"Myself," Mercy said, grabbing her case and getting to her feet. "Sort of."
"Sort of?" The man's gaze glittered with curiosity. There was something rather striking about it, something that seemed to tug Mercy's attention.
"Long story, and you're kind of a creeper, so I'll just be on my way," Mercy said.
"A creeper?" the man gasped, insulted. "I've never been called that in my life."
"Really?" Mercy said as she pulled the strap of her case across her to have it rest on her back. "So this is the first time you've silently watched someone when they..." She trailed off, furrowing her brow. She could see how most people might not quite understand her frustration. After all, she had a band and performed in front of people all the time. But this was different—this was meant to be just her and the music. This guy might as well have walked in while she was taking a bath.
"Yes, see, most musicians want to be watched," the man said, seeming to sense her thinking. "So do forgive my misunderstanding."
"Whatever," Mercy sighed and made to walk by him and back out onto the street. The rest of her band should be arriving any minute.
"Hang on," the man said, turning toward her as she walked.
"You know, no amount of handsomeness excuses creeping," Mercy said in a warning tone as she glanced back at him.
The man seemed momentarily pleased with the half compliment. "Yes, glad you noticed. And I'm not creeping. I just wanted to ask a question."
"Okay?" Mercy turned fully to face him with a frown.
"I find myself intrigued that money doesn't seem to be a concern of yours. So, if not cash, what is it you desire?" the man asked. "What's you deepest, darkest want in this world?"
His eyes glistened in the soft glow of the streetlights. Once again, Mercy was vaguely aware of the pull they held. She blinked at him and took a small step back.
"My... desire?" she repeated.
"Yes," the man said with a nod. "Go on, tell me."
"Why?" Mercy asked indignantly.
Now it was the man's turn to frown. "Why?"
"Yeah, it's kind of a weird question," Mercy pointed out. "Like really weird, actually."
The man looked increasingly bewildered. "Fascinating. You're more complex than you let on."
"Allll right, my bizarre dude, I'm going to get going because I'm expected somewhere, so, uh, toodles!" Mercy said with a little wave.
"Hold on!" the man trotted after her a few steps. "What's your name?"
"Francine Dorothy Clamberbun," Mercy invented with a wave of her hand.
The man rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on."
"We're sorry, you're creep factor is too high to unlock this information," Mercy said in a mock robotic voice.
He laughed and started walking after her. "Yes, yes, very cute."
"Following is also considered creepy," Mercy said over her shoulder, maintaining her robot voice. "Creep factor has increased by 30%."
"I'm not following, I'm heading this way; it's not my fault you started walking first," the man said defensively.
"Warning! Warning!" Mercy chimed in her robotic tone as she turned around the corner and headed toward the entrance of Lux. "Creep factor nearing maximum capacity."
When she turned to smirk at him and walk backward, she saw his expression was both exasperated and amused. Mercy gave him a wave and turned to walk forward again.
Her bandmates were around the back of the building, so Mercy walked past the entire line and rounded the corner. The man stopped following her thankfully, but she couldn't help but wonder if she'd see him inside. He looked wealthy enough to frequent a nightclub like Lux.
In the back, there was a small parking lot with mostly shipping trucks. Mercy spotted Hutch's van with ease. It was painted a ridiculous bright pink with black tiger stripes. He'd gotten it from his eccentric but rather rich older sister. At first, it was the only vehicle they had accessibility to that could hold all their equipment. Now they'd all grown a strange sentimental attachment to it.
"There she is!" Hutch's voice called.
He was near the back of the van with the double doors opened. Hutch was the tallest of their group at a whopping 6'5. His light brown hair was strategically messy and his eyes were a pale green. His angular jaw along with his straight, defined nose gave him a handsome face. They already had "groupies" that adored him.
"How long have you been here?" Mercy asked.
"Not long." Miles walked around the other side of the van. He was tall as well, at 6'2, but any time he stood next to Hutch he was dwarfed. His dark hair was curly and reached down to his chin. His face was longer and his eyes were bright blue. Mercy always found him adorable rather than handsome.
"Surprised we beat you here, though," Hutch said. "You're usually so punctual."
"I was in the alley one the other side," Mercy explained. "Practiced for a couple hours, kinda got lost in the music. Then this creeper guy came up and started watching me."
"Do I need to beat someone up?"
Blake came from the propped open back door of the building. She was tall and lean with a near perfect figure. Mercy always felt rather plain and flat next to her curvy friend. Blake's hair was dyed a brilliant pink and cropped short. Her makeup was elegant and she designed her eyeliner wings in curling butterfly wing-like formation. All in all, she was stupidly gorgeous.
"No, no," Mercy assured. "I don't even know if he was fully a creeper. Maybe just a weirdo."
"There's a difference?" Miles asked. Mercy had told him on multiple occasions that he could talk her to sleep every night because of how much she loved his accent.
"Of course," Mercy said. "Creepers carry roofies, weirdos are just weird."
Hutch laughed. "And how exactly was this guy weird? 'Cause he was watching you play?"
"Nah, he just asked some strange questions," Mercy said. She waved off the subject. "I'll tell you later, let's get set up and make sure the sound is all good. We start in an hour?"
"And a half," Blake said as she pulled out another piece of her drum set from the back of the van. "Plenty of time, Astroid, plenty of time."
Mercy rolled her eyes at the nickname and started helping them unload the equipment.
The area where they were set to play had been sectioned off from the rest of the club until they were ready. Yet even without the lights and the people and the dancers, Mercy could tell this place was used to being occupied by party-loving crowds. However at the same time, there was a certain elegance to it. Like Hutch told her, it had class.
The tables were round and had curved padded benches hugging them covered in sleek dark leather. There were not only lights overhead, but also on the floor around the seats. There were also some round platforms with lights beneath them; for dancers, Mercy guessed. At least there weren't any poles. On the far right side of the room was a bar with black countertops and an lavish selection of alcohol behind it.
On the opposite end of the room from the bar was an exquisite grand piano. Its black surface reflected the lights above and the keys gleamed like chips of ice. Mercy felt a small itch to go play it, but she resisted and set to getting their equipment up.
As Mercy helped Miles set up the last few amps, an elevator next to the bar opened. A black woman that just as gorgeous and curvaceous as Blake walked out. Her long dark hair was straight and her makeup (if there was any) was done in such a way it looked natural. At least she was closer to Mercy's height of 5'2 rather than Blake's (5'10).
The woman smiled widely at Blake first and gave her a sly wink. Blake smirked back at her and licked her lips suggestively.
"The bartender, I presume," Mercy murmured to Miles.
"Aye," Miles said, smiling a bit.
"Guys, this is Maze," Blake said, gesturing to the woman.
"Hey," Hutch said, extending a hand toward her. "Thanks for having us. Means a lot."
Maze eyes his hand for a moment before taking it and giving it a shake. "Blake assures me you guys have a lot to offer."
Hutch chuckled nervously. "Well, I hope we hold up to her praises and she didn't overshoot us."
"C'mon, we're awesome!" Blake crowed confidently as she wrapped an arm around Hutch's shoulders and gave him a squeeze.
Mercy turned back to fixing the amps. Hutch was the main front man when it came to talking to both venue owners and audiences. Though Mercy was lead singer, she wasn't big on talking with strangers much, and whenever she did, she often joked her way into an awkward retreat.
"So, Save My Hero," Maze mused. "Where'd that name come from?"
"You'd have to ask Mercy," Hutch said.
Mercy looked over her shoulder, tempted to glare at Hutch for putting her in the spotlight. Maze met her gaze and perked a brow questioningly. The bartenders demeanor was confident and oddly sensual. She had her arms folded and most of her weight on her left leg, which cocked her hip out.
"Uh..." Mercy pursed her lips briefly. "It's complicated."
"Yeah, but you're the only one who can explain it," Blake said. "Or understands it."
Mercy wanted to turn back to the amps even though they were finished setting them up. She got the question quite a lot; most bands did. It was rather infuriating to her.
"Um..." Mercy got to her feet and turned to face the others fully. "Well, it's kind of a ironic name, right? Usually the Hero is the one doing the saving. But Save My Hero says that sometimes even a hero needs saving and sometimes a normal everyday person can do the saving. It kind of represents both hope and giving yourself a break. Even if you're a hero, it's cool to take a break—it's cool to have weakness."
Maze blinked a few times. "Uh, all right. That still doesn't really answer my question."
"It doesn't?" Mercy tilted her head to the side.
"No," Maze replied. "I mean, why did you choose this... ironic name?"
"Oh. I get it," Mercy said. "Um, well, I had someone in my life when I was young that I saw as my hero. He thought of himself as the hero as well. But he... he messed up one day and he was the one that needed saving."
"So you saved him?" Maze seemed amused more than anything else. Mercy wasn't exactly used to that reaction to this story.
"Uh, no..." Mercy said, shaking her head. "No, I didn't. Um, Miles, let's get to sound testing and mic checks, yeah?"
"Yeah," Miles agreed readily, happy to help her change the subject.
Maze gave a small smile before turning around and heading toward the bar. Mercy furrowed her brow. A woman that saw amusement in misfortune of others wasn't one she wanted to associate with. She hoped that there wouldn't be any hiccups tonight, but at least if there were maybe she could send Blake to do the talking.
It didn't take them long to get the sound set up just right. Mercy pulled out her blue acoustic guitar as Hutch grabbed his red electric one. Miles had a black bass guitar and Blake had her set of white drums. On the bass drum was their band's logo: the halo with the wings beneath. Maze came back out from behind the bar and smiled widely at it.
"Oh, that is perfect," she crowed.
"Why do you say that?" Hutch asked as he tuned his guitar.
"Oh, you'll see when my boss gets here." Maze continued to grin as she walked across the room.
Once again Mercy wondered if they were going to get in trouble for this. Did Maze really have the authority to hire them? Mercy wasn't keen on the actual owner of the club coming in and kicking them out; that wouldn't be the best for their reputation.
Mercy turned around and hooked her acoustic guitar up to the amps. She strummed it a few times to check the sound and smiled when it came through crystal clear. Behind her, the elevator pinged and footsteps entered the room.
"Maze, why in the world is this floor sanctioned off from our guests?" said a man's voice in a British accent.
"No way," Mercy breathed and looked over her shoulder.
It was the guy from the alley, the sharply-dressed man with an outrageously handsome face. He was walking into the room with his eyes on Maze first, but then he noticed that there were people and band equipment on the small stage. Mercy turned her head quickly away before he could recognize her.
"What's this?" the man asked.
"Our night's entertainment," Maze replied.
"Since when do we have a live band?" the man demanded.
"Since yesterday," Maze said. Mercy could almost hear the smirk in her voice.
"Why didn't you tell me?" the man pressed. Mercy could hear him approaching the stage.
"Hey, so I take it your Maze's boss?" Hutch said, hopping off the stage to greet him.
"Yes," the man confirmed. "Owner of Lux at your service. Maze, seriously, why do we have a band here?"
"It might bring in new clientele," Maze said.
"Bloody hell, is this about that stupid argument we had last week?" the man groaned.
"Humans are predictable and boring," Maze insisted. "You place the correct flame and the moths will come."
"I can't believe that conversation remained in your memory, let alone enough to cause you to pull this spiteful move," the man muttered.
"Uh, I hope it's not a problem that we preform?" Hutch said warily.
The man sighed. "Oh, you can stay. I suppose it changes things up a bit."
Mercy remained with her back turned to him, clutching her guitar tightly. What would he do if he recognized her? Would his hospitality end because of how she talked to him outside? Would he kick them out?
Of course he's the freakin' owner of the club, Mercy thought sourly. That's just my luck.
Carefully, Mercy pulled the hood of her jacket up and over her head; her long wavy ginger hair wasn't exactly inconspicuous. A string of curses went through her mind as she tried to think of a plan.
Miles seemed to notice her plight. He was further back on the stage, finishing up with the amps. He frowned at her and pointed to his head, indicating he was wondering why she pulled up her hood. Mercy pressed her lips into a tight line and started shaking her head, but then behind her, there was a soft gasp.
"Wait a minute..." the man said. "I've seen that jacket before—the girl from the alley?"
Miles' eyes grew wide and Mercy closed her eyes in torment briefly before straightening and turning around. She smiled sheepishly and gave the man a little wave. The man laughed and looked around at their setup and the other members.
"So their is some desire for money, then." The man smirked victoriously. "I can't imagine Maze offered anything less than two grand each."
"Money equals food and rent and more stuff for the band," Mercy told him.
The man laughed again and shook his head.
"I don't understand, you know her?" Maze asked.
"Not exactly," the man said. "We met briefly in the alley about an hour ago. Well, at least I know that my guests have decent entertainment, with your voice."
"This is the creeper from the alley?" Blake exclaimed, looking between Mercy and the man.
"Again with the creeper thing," the man sighed. "I heard music, I went to investigate and was momentarily enthralled." He smiled toward Mercy. "It's hardly my fault."
The priority of keeping the gig slipped from Mercy's mind and she rolled her eyes. "Flattery doesn't excuse creeping."
Hutch laughed nervously and held out his hands toward each of them. "Ah, heh, she's kidding. Mercy loves to kid. Cheeky one, that."
"Mercy?" the man echoed, furrowing his brow and looking at her. "Your name is Mercy?"
Mercy stood up straighter. "What's wrong with that?"
"It's very on the nose, isn't it?" the man said with a small chuckle.
"Well, what's your name, then?" Mercy demanded. "Harry Potter?"
"Ha, very original," the man scoffed. "And no, it's Lucifer Morningstar."
Mercy blinked a few times and exchanged bewildered looks with her bandmates.
"Lucifer Morningstar," Mercy repeated, staring back at him.
He nodded. "God-given name, I'm afraid."
"That... that's pretty bold, good on you," Hutch said.
"It isn't bold, it's my name," Lucifer replied.
"You had some weird parents then," Blake said.
"You've no idea," Lucifer murmured. He suddenly spotted the drum set and the band's emblem on it. "Angel wings?"
"Save My Hero's mascot, I guess you could call it," Hutch explained. "Well, and representing Mercy; our Little Angel."
"Don't tell him about that," Mercy hissed.
Lucifer laughed again. "Little Angel! Maze..." He looked over at his bartender. "You picked them on purpose!"
"I didn't know about the angel bit until they got here," Maze said. "It just made it perfect."
"Oh right, because he's Lucifer," Miles muttered, probably too softly for Lucifer or Maze to hear. "Cute."
"All right, well how about we get this show on the road?" Hutch said, clapping his hands together. Mercy had a feeling he wanted to start playing before Lucifer changed his mind and kicked them out.
"I'll open the floodgates," Maze said before walking out of the room.
Mercy adjusted her mic and her guitar's strap. Lucifer was eyeing her with a furrowed brow as she did so. She frowned over at him.
"You're really not helping your creep factor, buddy," she said.
Lucifer snorted softly, but his expression remained pensive. "What makes your different?"
"What?" Mercy blinked in confusion.
"You're different," Lucifer said. "You don't react the same to me. Do you prefer women?"
"If only," Blake groaned from her seat behind the drums.
Mercy shot her a look with a brow perked. Blake shrugged innocently.
"You're like a pocket-sized fairy," she said. "Who wouldn't want to tap that?"
"I'm... flattered?" The words came out of Mercy's mouth like a question and Blake laughed.
"Are you saying you're the ultimate chick-magnet?" Hutch asked their host.
Lucifer smirked wickedly. "I deal in desires. Women and men who have even the slightest liking to men tend to fall into my lap."
"Wow, you're confident," Hutch said with a surprised chuckle.
To Mercy's left, she heard Miles shifting his feet about. She glanced toward him and saw that he didn't seem comfortable. He kept casting furtive glances toward Lucifer and pursing his lips. Mercy's eyes widened a bit. Was there... truth in Lucifer's words? Miles was bisexual, though his preference was women. He'd had a few boyfriends, but they never panned out.
"Ah, see?" Lucifer noticed Miles now and smiled widely at him. "He knows what I'm talking about."
"Miles?" Blake said, looking over at their bassist with a shocked expression.
"I-I dunno what he's talking about," Miles stammered quickly. "It's just a bit toasty in here, yeah? Sh-should've brought the fans in."
"Miles, I'm telling you this because you're my best friend," Hutch said, holding his hand out toward him from the right side of the stage. "You've got a happy little friend in your pants."
Miles looked down and his eyes widened in mortification. He turned around briskly, clearly embarrassed. "Guess I'll just play like this tonight," he murmured.
Lucifer chuckled. "Relax, it isn't your fault. It'll pass." He locked his eyes on Mercy. "So if you're not into girls, what is it?"
"I dunno, I don't just fall over any handsome rich guy?" Mercy said.
"Like I do?" Miles snapped at her.
Mercy wordlessly gestured to his groin.
"Okay, okay, this is not my fault," Miles insisted.
Blake started giggling. Lucifer was merely smiling smugly. Hutch was clearly trying not to laugh as he looked over at Miles.
"All right, normally I detest his type," Miles pressed. "The smug, sharp-dressed douches are things I typically try to avoid."
"Hey!" Lucifer said, insulted.
Before anymore could be said, people started trickling in from the stairwell and the elevator. Lucifer turned as the crowd began to gather around, their expression pleasantly curious.
"Hello, everyone," Lucifer greeted them. "Apparently we have a different form of live entertainment tonight! Yes, I know, it's less tits and ass, but I've been assured their quite good." He smirked back toward the stage.
Hutch was still trying to recover from his amusement at Miles' predicament. He gripped his mic and smiled out at the crowd.
"Hello darlings, we're Save My Hero and we're here to offer such cliches as: How Are You All Doing Tonight? And, Are You Ready to Party? And of course, Stop Talking and Play the Music Already!"
A few laughs could be heard from the crowd before Blake opened their first song with a quick rap of one of her cymbals. The other instruments busted in, all except for Mercy's acoustic; this first song was meant to get the crowd pumped and excited before they toned down.
Despite the anxiety that came from being in such a place and dealing with Lucifer, Mercy lost herself into the music. She didn't even see the people anymore as Hutch's guitar purred on her right, Miles' bass blossomed on her left, and Blake's drums thudded life up through her feet.
"She likes '20s tunes and '50s diners, she likes karaoke and setting fires," Mercy sang. "She comes from the deep, deep dark. She comes from where you've never been. She's a storm with no end, she's a vampire you'll let in. Don't, don't, don't, don't pretend to know. Don't, don't, don't, don't go down that low. Don't, don't, don't, don't tell her your name. Don't, don't, don't, don't think she's the same."
Mercy bounced around as the music swelled throughout the room. Don't was one of their more upbeat songs; one people could dance to. A "boppin'" song as Miles called it. It was always a good one to open with. As they went on through the song, the crowd got into it. Mercy opened her eyes a few times to see them happily jumping and dancing around each other. Luckily there was no vertical dry sex; their music wasn't geared for that, but some people did it anyway.
When the song came to an end, there was cheering and applause. Mercy backed off the mic to grab a water bottle that was waiting on the stool behind her. Hutch took to it in her stead, grinning out at the people.
"Thanks, thank you," he said.
Mercy spotted Lucifer sitting at the bar toward the far right of the room. He was turned to face the stage with a glass of dark liquor in one hand. His expression seemed pensive and slightly pleased. His eyes met Mercy's and his smile grew. He lifted his glass toward her in a cheers motion. Despite herself, Mercy gave a small grin back.
They did one more boppin' song while the energy of the crowd was still high. They seemed to get into it even morel; that, or they were a bit more tipsy. Miles eventually turned to face the crowd as he performed, apparently over his momentary... distraction. Mercy spotted Maze in the crowd of people, swaying her hips and hopping around from person to person. She still didn't understand what point the bartender was been trying to make to her boss.
When their second song came rolling to a stop, the people gave them more applause. Mercy grabbed her water again and saw Blake looked like she was pumped but there was sweat beading on her forehead and she was slightly out of breath.
"Ballad?" Mercy asked her as Hutch talked to the crowd behind her.
"Nah, nah, I can handle a... a folky?" Blake said.
"You sure?" Mercy said, perking a brow.
"Yeah, yeah, then ballad next." Blake waved her off with a drumstick.
Mercy chuckled and turned back around to Hutch and Miles.
"We're doing a folky," she told them.
Folky meant a song that was acoustic but still had a rather fast rhythm and even some electric guitar in the back. That was their main type of music.
They played three of them for the crowd. Ludicrous, which was about an insane night out with someone who claimed to be a wizard. Ashen Days, a slower, more somber song that focused on war. Then I Still Write With a Quill, which was in the point of view of the same crazy wizard from Ludicrous.
"Last song of the night," Hutch prompted when they finished out.
"Uh, another folky?" Mercy suggested.
"Which one?" Miles prompted.
Mercy pondered briefly before grinning. "Soul Eater."
Hutch began to smirk. "Are you trying to get us kicked out?"
Blake laughed behind them. "It's perfect! We're so doing it!"
"Oh Lord almighty," Miles sighed before readjusting his bass and thrumming out the beginning notes.
It was low and pounding to begin with, like a slow heartbeat being pushed through the body. Then Mercy gripped her acoustic guitar for the first time, and began to strum out a catchy, pleasant tune.
"Down at the crossroads, there's a deal waiting for you," Mercy sang, tapping her foot. "It won't cost much, and he'll swear you'll come out new. Just listen close 'cause he won't be repeating. He's got one price and boy, you might think you're leaving, but no, no, no, no, no, 'cause it's your soul he's eating. Hey!"
She strummed the catchy tune again, bobbing her head to the beat. At the bar she spotted Lucifer. To her surprise, he looked more amused than ever. She couldn't look long before the chorus was there.
"He's got no care, he doesn't mind your crime, he's only there to eat one soul at a time. So you best wish your loved ones well. He'll lift you up just to drag you back to Hell."
The crowd gave a cheer and Mercy saw Lucifer chuckling to himself near the bar. She wasn't sure what sort of reaction she was expecting, but this wasn't it. Regardless, she was oddly pleased. For a guy named Lucifer, he was pretty laid back.
"Down at the crossroads, there's a deal waiting for me," Mercy sang on. "He says it won't cost much, but I'm starting to see. He says to listen close 'cause he won't be repeating. He thinks it's his song I'm singing, but no, no, no, no, no, 'cause it won't be my soul he's eating. Hey!"
Now Lucifer looked a bit conflicted. He peered toward the stage with a furrowing brow.
"He's got no care, he doesn't mind my crime, he's only there to eat one soul at a time. So I best not hear the lies he wants to tell, or it'll be my soul he's dragging back to Hell."
It was time for the bridge. The music slowed and Mercy leaned close to the mic and closed her eyes.
"Down, down, down in the depths of his domain, do you think that there's a place where he's humane? Is there any coming back from devouring so many souls, or maybe is it that he's just making them pay their tolls?"
The music swelled again and Mercy came in the last chorus with more power in her voice.
"He just might care, he thinks about your crimes, he's not just there to eat one soul at a time. So you best remember how far you fell, Before you realize he's dragging you down to Hell."
The song closed with one last burst of the folk-like music before fading off. Once again, they were applauded. Mercy looked across toward the bar for Lucifer, but he was gone. She frowned slightly, but went to drink her water anyway. Maybe she went too far with the song. Or maybe he went to the bathroom.
"Thank you!" Hutch went to the mic to give their goodbye speech.
As he talked, Mercy grabbed her water bottle and headed off the stage to the back right of it where it was gated off from the crowd. She wanted to be out of the spotlight as much as possible.
"You're quite the paradox, aren't you?"
Mercy startled and choked on her mouthful of water. She coughed and turned, eyes watering, to see Lucifer leaning on the wall a few feet away. He was eyeing her curiously but chuckled at her predicament.
"Didn't mean to startle you," he said.
"Yeah, okay," Mercy rasped, still clearing her throat. "You've already done it twice in one day."
"Apologies," Lucifer shrugged off the wall and stepped closer to her. "Fun little song at the end there."
"You like it?" Mercy said before taking another careful drink of water to help her now raw throat.
"Did you write it?" Lucifer asked rather than answering her.
"Erm..." Mercy shifted s little. "Yeah. I write most of our stuff."
"Where'd you get the idea?" Lucifer asked. "About the Devil being... more of a jailor than a monster?"
"I mean, the whole reason we're taught to fear Hell is 'cause he's there," Mercy replied.
"Not at the moment, but I see what you mean," Lucifer murmured. "So you don't see the Devil as a monster?"
"Uh, well, not a monster unless you deserve him to be, if that makes sense..." Mercy said, shrugging awkwardly. "Why? Is it because you go by Lucifer?"
"I don't go by Lucifer, I am Lucifer," Lucifer replied. "Now you... you don't like being the center of attention or around people, yet you do this for a living?"
"Wait, wait, wait." Mercy held up a finger to him. "You're saying you're Lucifer?"
"Yes," he replied, putting his hands into his trouser pockets and leaning back.
"Like... the Lucifer? Fallen angel, the Devil himself?" Mercy pressed.
"Yes, or Beelzebub, Satan, Old Scratch... I actually like that one." Lucifer shrugged carelessly.
Mercy blinked rapidly. "Wh... why in the world would the Devil be so open about his identity? And why does he own a nightclub?"
"Got tired of Hell, decided to come to Earth and play around with all these humans dear Dad loves so much," Lucifer replied. "So far it's been quite fun."
Mercy eyed him in sheer disbelief. "You... this is a bit, right? Or-or a stage persona?"
Lucifer rolled his eyes. "No, but if that's what you want to tell yourself for the time being, so be it. Now, my question? Why are you the lead singer in an up-and-coming rock band when you detest the spot light?"
Mercy stared at him for a moment longer. Did he seriously think he was the Devil? Was he delusional? Or was he just really committing to his character? She recalled Miles' embarrassing tightening pants issue and how Lucifer asked about her desires in the alley. He'd been so shocked when she didn't answer him.
But there was no way. It was impossible.
She put it aside for the time being. The rest of her bandmates were starting to take down the equipment and people were filing out of the room. Apparently Maze was closing off this part of the club so they could get their stuff out in relative peace. Mercy would be expected to help them.
"The... music, I suppose," Mercy said. "That's what made Hutch and me bond when I first came to LA, and it just kind of... snowballed, I guess?"
Lucifer snorted softly in amusement. "You never wanted it to get big, did you?"
"Mercy!" Blake's voice called from the small stage. "You gonna help or what? No turning into the self-centered asshole rockstar on us now!"
Mercy laughed softly and gestured over her shoulder with a thumb. "Duty calls."
As she started to turn around, Lucifer asked, "Am I still a creeper?"
Mercy glanced back at him and smiled. "Nah. Just a weirdo."
"There's a difference?" Lucifer perked a brow.
Mercy laughed. It was the same response she'd gotten from her friends.
"Creepers carry roofies," she explained. "Weirdos are just weird."
With a wink and a smirk, Mercy got onto the stage and helped take down the equipment.
Sitting up in bed, Mercy stretched and pulled some of her ginger locks out of her eyes. On her nightstand, her flip phone buzzed across the wooden surface, indicating a text. Mercy reached over and grabbed it.
It was from Blake.
Hey, so remember Mr. Creeper?
Mercy frowned and texted back, He's just Mr. Weirdo now. But yeah?
Whatever lol. Well Maze says he's asking about you.
Mercy pursed her lips into a tight line. She couldn't deny that she'd thought of Lucifer since their gig. She had an incredible amount of mixed feelings. There was their first bizarre encounter in the alley, then his confession to being the Devil himself after their performance. She couldn't decide if he was crazy or just plain strange.
Okay...? she replied.
He wants to talk about getting the band to play weekly, Blake texted.
Mercy's brows shot up. Seriously?
Legit. And the pay is even more legit.
?
Five grand each, per performance.
Mercy gaped at the message. This guy was willing to shell out $20,000 a week for them to play at his club? That was insane, even for LA standards. How much money did he make?
We'd be rich in like, one month! Black texted when Mercy didn't reply straight away. I know it's not your scene but shit, can't argue with all those dolla dolla bills.
Mercy rubbed her brow for a moment. Have you talked to Hutch and Miles?
Of course, Hutch is basically the manager, yeah? He's stoked. Miles is a little nervous being around Mr. Weirdo again after his incident, but again: dolla dolla bills, ya'll.
Mercy let out a long breath. She couldn't very well deny her bandmates this opportunity. If anything, it would allow them to get a decent amount of cash in case Mercy ever had to leave. She knew she wasn't the heart and soul of the band; each of them brought something irreplaceable. But she didn't want to leave her friends in the dust, regardless.
Why doesn't he just talk to Hutch? Mercy asked.
Told Maze that. Apparently he wants to talk to you.
Mercy ran a hand down her face. She wasn't certain if she should be concerned or not at that. Super rich guy claiming to be Satan wants to talk to her in person... how totally not uncomfortable.
I know it sounds kinda more creepish than weirdish, but Maze assures me that the guy is legit. No lies, no roofies, you know.
Oh great, that's reassuring, Mercy replied. You're still hanging out with that Maze chick?
Dude, you have no idea how amazing the sex is; I'm not going anywhere until she tells me to.
TMI
You asked!
Mercy chuckled to herself and sighed before typing, Tell Mr. Weirdo I'll come by later today to discuss.
Sweet potatoes, my dude. I'll let the guys know. Beep me when done?
Yeah, course.
Possum.
Possum was Blake's way of saying "awesome" that she thought was totally original. It tended to make Mercy giggle, though, especially because of the confused looks she sometimes got.
Once Mercy was dressed, she headed out to go over to Lux. The club wasn't nearly as lively during the day, which wasn't surprising. She went into the elevator and headed up to the same floor the main bar and stage was where they performed. The large room was pleasantly lit and Piano music floated toward her.
Sitting at the grand piano deeper in the room was Lucifer. His head was down and he was playing beautifully. Mercy didn't recognize the song, but it was complex and elegant. Lucifer rolled the notes into one another; he didn't miss a single key. Mercy was momentarily enthralled. She stared as his hands moved fluidly and music swelled from the magnificent instrument.
Then, Lucifer looked up and spotted her. Rather than ending the song abruptly, he smiled and carefully drew it to a close, letting the last notes float in the air like feathers.
"So, it looks like it's you who's the creeper now," he teased as he got to his feet.
Mercy's cheeks heated. "Oh, ha ha," she said sarcastically. "I didn't expect you to be talented, is all."
Lucifer looked hurt. "Ouch, Little Angel, that was rude."
"Don't call me that," Mercy said as she stepped further into the room. "I'm here to talk business. Blake said you were interested in hiring us as regulars?"
"Yes," Lucifer said and walked across the room to her. He sat down at the bar and patted the stool next to him.
Mercy pressed her lips into a tight line briefly before going over and sitting down. There were some papers on the table which Lucifer picked up and shuffled through.
"For once, Maze had the right of things," he said. "Your performance resonated with my guests. We've gotten inquiries about your next show, and even some new customers that heard you played here. Fans of yours, I'm guessing. You have quite the following online."
"Yes, well, when you don't tour, internet is the only way to really reach out," Mercy said.
"Mm, I noticed that." Lucifer put the papers down and turned to face her while leaning on the bar. "Why is it that you don't travel? As popular as you are, you've never performed out of California."
"I'm a homebody." Mercy smiled tightly.
"Yet LA has only been your home for three years," Lucifer replied.
Mercy narrowed her eyes. "Have you been internet stalking me?"
"I wanted to know more about all of you before extending the job offer," Lucifer said. "Hutch is a Californian, born and raised. Miles came in from Ireland six years ago with his mother and brother so they could live with his dear step father. Blake is from Wyoming of all places—how such a fun person came from there is beyond me. Then there's you."
Lucifer eyed Mercy as he leaned closer to her. His gaze was piercing and hungry for knowledge.
"The paper trail for Mercy Townsend raised some questions," Lucifer murmured. "Save My Hero was founded a little under three years back and according to Hutch's social media, you're from Massachusetts and arrived here about five months before you officially started the band. No father to speak of—runaway father or something I assume—and your mother died in a car crash. Other than that, no family to speak of. You went to school for a number of years and have yourself a masters in criminal psychology, yet you have no job in that department, you never have."
"Why does my past matter?" Mercy asked, leaning back a bit as discomfort tightened her spine.
"Because I am a curious individual and most of the time, people will tell me things," Lucifer explained. "But you didn't. You don't."
"Is that the entire reason you want to hire us?" Mercy demanded. "So you can keep poking and prodding at me?"
Lucifer finally leaned back and smirked. "Would you like me to poke and prod you?" he asked, bouncing one brow suggestively.
"Wow," Mercy said, unimpressed. "Is this how you get those women and men to 'fall into your lap?'"
Lucifer blinked then chuckled softly. "Yes, actually. Again, another curiosity of yours. So, about my offer."
He pushed some papers across the table toward her. Mercy picked them up and scanned them carefully.
"All the terms are in there," Lucifer said. "I'm quite honorable when it comes to my deals. If you have any questions, feel free to ask."
"This is a contract for two years," Mercy said, looking up at him in shock.
"Well, that's just how much I like you lot," Lucifer replied. "The pay isn't fixed either—it'll never go down, but it can go up depending on how much business you bring."
"Okay, just... let me read all this," Mercy insisted.
Lucifer merely nodded and sat back.
Mercy diligently looked over all the papers. It was clearly a phenomenal deal. The cash was amazing and they only had to play once a week. They were still free to play other gigs, given holidays and medical, dental, and optical insurance with no extra cost. There was even 401K. The only part that was worrisome to Mercy was that two year stipulation. Was she really ready to sign off ten years? She'd be stuck in LA. Then again, she decided to put her roots down here. But if something happened... if someone came for her...
"I'll have to talk to the others about this time restraint thing," Mercy said when she finished. "Do you mind if I take a copy of this?"
"That one's yours," Lucifer said. "Take your time deciding, I understand it's a lot to think about."
Mercy exhaled softly, looking the papers over one more time before putting them into her satchel at her hip.
"Is your hair naturally that ginger?" Lucifer queried.
Mercy considered him for a moment before replying, "Yeah. Sorry that I'm soulless; you can't take what isn't there, Mr. Devil."
Lucifer snorted in amusement. "I don't steal souls. They're sent to Hell and I punish them. They're given to me, if you think about it."
He stood up and reached over the counter to grab a bottle of brown liquor and a glass. Mercy eyed him as he popped the bottle open and began to pour himself a drink.
"You really think you're the Devil?" she asked him quietly.
"I know I'm the Devil, there's a difference," Lucifer said, setting the bottle aside and downing his drink in one quick gulp.
Mercy shook her head slowly. "Why're you so open about it?"
"Why shouldn't I be?" Lucifer replied. "It's not like I can be hunted down and burned at the stake as a witch. I'm quite invulnerable, you see. Can't be cut, can't be shot, can't bleed. So why waste time pretending I'm something I'm not? I haven't the patience for it. Besides, I'm not a liar."
"The Devil doesn't lie?" Mercy said incredulously.
"Yes, contrary to popular belief, I am always true to my word," Lucifer insisted. "Well, I occasionally will tell a small white lie, but nothing substantial."
Mercy looked him over with a pensive expression. "If this is one big leg-pull, I will punch you."
"Well that's rude," Lucifer replied indignantly.
"I mean if you are just joking around with this Devil crap," Mercy said. "As of now, I believe that you believe in what you're saying."
"Suppose that's progress," Lucifer said with a shrug and grabbed the bottle to poor another drink.
Mercy sighed and got to her feet. "I'm going to call Hutch and tell him about your proposal. Figure I can get them to come up here so if they have any questions they can ask you directly. But we will need to talk over some things before any agreement can be made."
"Fair enough." Lucifer raised his glass. "Anything's negotiable. Except for my time frame."
"The two year thing is the one part you won't budge on?" Mercy exclaimed.
Lucifer smiled widely. "What can I say? I'd like time to figure something out."
"Figure something out?" Mercy echoed.
"Go call your friends," Lucifer said with a wave of his hand. "Best get this all out of the way before guests start arriving."
Mercy sighed and turned around to walk toward the little area at the foot of a staircase leading up to the next floor. It was secluded from the rest of the room and Mercy felt more comfortable ringing Hutch where Lucifer couldn't hear.
Her friend answered after three rings.
"What's the deal?" he asked instantly.
"You really are excited about this, huh?" Mercy asked.
"Dude, that's some insane cash he's offering," Hutch said. "Are you game?"
"I don't know," Mercy admitted. "The contract is sound. This comes with benefits, can you believe that?"
"Like medical?"
"Yeah, and vision and dental. And the pay rate isn't fixed. Can't go lower, but can always go higher."
"I'm failing to see why you're hesitating."
"The contract is for two years."
Hutch was silent for a moment.
"That's a bit of a stretch," he admitted. "But, I mean, we don't tour anyway. Are you planning on going anywhere in two years?"
"I mean, no?" Mercy frowned. "Maybe? I dunno. I suppose I prefer having my options open to me."
Hutch didn't respond. Mercy waited a few seconds in rising anticipation. When Hutch remained silent, she squirmed a little.
"I wouldn't just ditch you guys, you know that," she assured.
When Hutch was still quiet, Mercy looked at her cell's screen to see if the call dropped. It still showed she was connected to him, but the timer on the call wasn't moving. Mercy punched a few buttons, but nothing happened. Her phone had froze up.
"Stupid old piece of junk," she muttered as she flipped it over and opened the back to take the battery out. The good ol' turn it off and back on again trick usually fixed things.
However, even when the battery was out and in her hand, her phone's screen remained on—still stuck at the same thing. Mercy blinked rapidly, looking from the phone to the battery. How was it doing that? It didn't make any sense.
Then she heard the sound of voices from inside the main room near the bar. Mercy quietly walked over to the edge of the stairs to peek over the railing into the room. Lucifer was still seated at the bar, but there was someone approaching him. It was a tall, handsome black man wearing a strange sleeveless outfit. It was gray in color, and seemed to be a vest-type garment on top while the bottom fanned out in a long skirt. The man had short facial hair and a shaved head.
"...what Father sent me here for," the newcomer was saying, eyeing Lucifer with rising irritation. "You know you shouldn't be here."
"Well, brother, look at my face and do tell me if you see any cares there," Lucifer replied curtly.
Mercy only just then noticed something incredibly peculiar; the bottle of alcohol that Lucifer had been drinking from was suspended in midair. Dark fluid was pouring a stream into the glass below it, but it was frozen, as if time had paused.
Blinking several times in the hopes of seeing something different, Mercy gaped at the astonishing sight. She looked down at her cell phone again—at the screen that was still lit despite her taking the battery out.
This isn't happening, she thought numbly.
"Lucifer, be reasonable," the man said, glaring at Lucifer as he reached his side. "What do you think happens down there when you're gone? The demons, the tortured souls, where do you think they all go?"
"Don't know, don't care," Lucifer said tightly. "Daddy Dearest is just going to have to send someone else."
Mercy closed her eyes tightly for a moment.
He wasn't kidding. He isn't delusional. He's really...
"He isn't going to do that," the man said.
"Amenadiel, do I have to escort you out of my club?" Lucifer snapped. "I'm trying to conduct business here."
"Business," Amenadiel scoffed. "This is your pathetic excuse to toy with and abuse humans."
"I do not abuse them unless they deserve it... or want it," Lucifer argued. "I was sick of Hell, so I left. I'm not staying there because Dad plot me down to discipline his rebellious toys. I'm living my life for myself now, and it's been lovely."
"You don't get to just—" Amenadiel began.
"What, rebel?" Lucifer said venomously. "What's He going to do, cast me out of Heaven? Please."
As Lucifer rolled his eyes, he caught sight of Mercy peering at them from around the stair railing. Oddly, Mercy got the inclination to dart backward out of sight, but the damage had already been done. She crouched down and clenched her fists around her phone and battery. There was an agonizing moment of silence, then someone finally spoke.
"If I have to ask you to leave one more time, it isn't going to be nicely," Lucifer snarled. "Get out."
"You will return to Hell, Lucifer," Amenadiel promised. "Sooner or later, you will."
Lucifer reached over and grabbed the suspended bottle of alcohol and shoed Amenadiel off with a wave of his hand as if the towering man was a pesky begging seagull. Amenadiel sneered momentarily before turning around and walking out of Mercy's line of sight. After a few seconds, there was the sound of flapping wings and a small gust of air went across the room.
The alcohol in Lucifer's hand started flowing again. He poured his glass then set the bottle down and let out a long exhale as he drummed his fingers on the bar.
"All right, stop lurking back there and come sit down," he called as he reached over the bar and grabbed a second glass. "Some whiskey ought to make this a bit easier."
Mercy slowly walked out from around the stairs. She looked down at her phone and saw the screen was black. It finally registered that the battery was missing. Shaking her head, Mercy went to the bar and sat back down in the stool next to Lucifer. He poured another drink into the second glass as Mercy wordlessly set her phone and battery on the bar.
Lucifer slid the glass over to her. Mercy picked it up and drained it in one gulp. It burned as it went down: whiskey. She wasn't a big drinker and instantly started coughing. Lucifer patted her back.
"That was my brother, Amenadiel," Lucifer explained. "I'm assuming that you've never seen time slow like that?"
Mercy shook her head as she wiped her mouth.
"Yes, well, I've never seen a human immune to it, so we've both had a first today," Lucifer said. "I don't get a lot of those."
Mercy stared at her empty glass for a moment, the burn of the whiskey still tingling her throat. She pursed her lips before reaching over and grabbing the bottle and pouring twice as much as Lucifer had into her glass. Lucifer chuckled and rubbed his brow.
"Are you planning to just drink it away?" Lucifer asked.
Mercy grabbed her glass and took a big gulp. After coughing a bit more she exhaled sharply and tapped her fingers on the counter a few times.
"Well, at least you weren't pulling my leg," she rasped.
Lucifer chuckled again. "You're taking it rather well."
"Am I?" Mercy said, surprised. "That's nice."
Lucifer drank the rest of his own glass and sighed as he set it down. "Giving your reaction, I'm going to assume you weren't aware that you have a surprising resistance to angelic power?"
"I wasn't aware that there were angels," Mercy replied. "I-I mean, not for certain. Not..."
"So, now you can understand why I was... intrigued by you," Lucifer said.
"Huuuhh..." Mercy groaned and drained the rest of her whiskey.
Lucifer put his elbows on the bar and put one hand over his mouth while leaning on it. He glared down in thought for a moment before looking over at Mercy.
"So, as far as you know, you're a perfectly normal human being?" he asked.
"Yes!" Mercy insisted. "I mean, I was born in a bathtub full of holy water, but other than that..."
Lucifer blinked in disbelief at her.
"It... was a joke," Mercy muttered. "I tend to do that when I'm nervous."
"Dually noted." Lucifer offered her the bottle of whisky, but Mercy waved him off. He shrugged. "More for me. Takes loads to get anywhere; stupid superhuman metabolism."
Mercy inhaled deeply. She was starting to feel a slight buzz from the whiskey. It made all the information she just gained able to process a bit smoother. Of course, it wasn't butter-smooth. It was more river-rapids-approaching-a-waterfall-smooth, but that was still better than it was.
"All right," she said with a long breath. "So... you're literally the Devil... you've an angel brother that can stop time—"
"Slow time," Lucifer corrected.
Mercy set him with a bitter look and he lifted his hands in surrender.
"Which means..." Mercy went on. "There's a God."
"Good ol' Dad, yes," Lucifer said.
"There's a Heaven," Mercy said.
"Overrated, if you ask me," Lucifer replied.
"There's a Hell," Mercy breathed.
"Got a little bored down there, but yeah," Lucifer said.
Mercy ran her fingers through her hair. "Okay. Okay! No, this is fine, it's not too much, I'm not... overloading on this..." She looked down at the contract papers before her. "I was about to sign a deal with the Devil."
"Oh, so that's off?" Lucifer asked.
"Yes! No? No." Mercy put her hands on the papers. "No! I mean, I have to talk to the others—oh they're gonna know something's up. Hutch reads me like yesterday's funnies. What do I tell them?" She put her head on her hands.
"Okay, so you clearly need time to process this," Lucifer said. "How about you let me talk to the others?"
"That two year thing—that was... was what? You said you needed to figure something out." Mercy lifted her head to glower at Lucifer. "Me? Figure me out?"
"More or less," Lucifer replied. "But I do find your singing beautiful."
"And my song... you..." Mercy pushed away from the bar and eyed him. "I was right."
"What?" Lucifer frowned.
"You're just a jailor, a warden, a... punisher," Mercy said. "You're not this embodiment of evil that everyone believes. Right? You aren't, right?"
Lucifer chuckled softly as Mercy's suddenly worried expression. "I prefer not to think so." He considered her for a moment. "Though... you're the first person who really knows and understands the truth and isn't..."
Mercy waited for him to elaborate, but he couldn't seem to find the word.
"Afraid? Pissing themselves? Weird Satanists that just wanna jump your bones?" Mercy offered.
"That last one hasn't happened yet and I'm not sure if I want it to, despite how much my bones do love getting jumped," Lucifer replied.
Mercy drummed her hands on the bar for a moment, pursing her lips. "This is... a very intricate day."
"One way of putting it I suppose," Lucifer said as he got to his got to his feet. He paced for a moment before looking at Mercy again. "It would probably be for the best if Amenadiel didn't know of your... uniqueness."
"Why?" Mercy asked cautiously.
"Well, until we can figure out exactly what it is, he might see your resistance to angelic power as a... threat." Lucifer pressed his lips into a grimace.
"He... would he kill me?" Mercy breathed.
"No. Well, I don't think so," Lucifer said, furrowing his brow. "But he would definitely want to isolate you from humanity until he could determine what you are."
"What I am?" Mercy echoed. "I-I'm just me!"
"Yes, but just you doesn't seem to be..." Lucifer trailed off a moment before taking a deep breath and saying, "human."
"You're joking," Mercy said.
"If only," Lucifer said. "Sorry, love, but humans can't... resist angelic power like you can—especially not Amenadiel's. I've encountered people before that make it complicated to drag their desires from them, but I've cracked them all. You don't show even a flicker of breaking down."
"I mean..." Mercy sighed and shrugged. "I find a weird draw to your eyes, when you asked me those things."
"But that's it?" Lucifer prompted.
Mercy grimaced and nodded.
"Exactly," Lucifer said, pointing at her. "I'm not as trigger-happy as my brother, though. I'd prefer to figure out all the details before taking any sort of action."
"What d'you mean by that?" Mercy asked. "Would you kill me?"
"No," Lucifer said. "Of course not. I don't kill people. Listen, I misspoke. What I mean is, I'm going to help you figure out why you have these... abilities. That way, if Amenadiel ever finds out that you're unique, we'll have information to give him."
"What if he finds out before then?" Mercy demanded.
Lucifer looked back at her and his expression softened when he saw her shoulders trembling slightly. He went over to her to gently put his hands on her shoulders, but when she winced he hesitated, looking conflicted.
"I won't let him hurt you," Lucifer assured. "Or take you away. I promise."
He lifted a hand again, this time with a questioning look. When Mercy didn't flinch or shoo him off, he gave her shoulder a squeeze. Mercy felt oddly comforted by the small gesture.
"Tell you what," Lucifer said, abruptly releasing her and sitting down beside her again. "I'll remove the time stipulation from the contract." He pulled the papers over to him and pulled a pen free of his inner jacket pocket. "You can perform here as long as you like, no locked-in time. I'll pay all of you handsomely. But..."
"But?" Mercy repeated warily.
Lucifer tapped his pen on the bar for a moment, as if trying to find the right words. Finally he swiveled to face her, his expression serious.
"I'd like you to stay here. At Lux, I mean," he said.
"What?" Mercy spluttered.
"Look, I know what it sounds like—" Lucifer began.
"It sounds like your creep factor is rising again," Mercy said.
"No! Listen to me," Lucifer pressed. "This building is huge, you'll have your own apartment; Maze does! Your own floor, if you want. But I'd be better able to protect you if you were here."
"Okay, but there's some holes in your logic there," Mercy said.
Lucifer raised a brow.
"Your brother, Amen..."
"Amenadiel."
"That, yes. He came here to tell you to go back to Hell," Mercy said. "Won't he be back? If I want to be safe from him, it sounds like I technically need to be as far from you as possible. How would he find me—one person among six billion—if I'm just out in the world nowhere near his brother?"
"You're a sharp one," Lucifer murmured. "Yes, all right, that is true, but..."
"But?" Mercy lifted her hands incredulously.
"But I need to figure out what you are," Lucifer said, meeting her gaze with sharp eyes. "You're something new. Something no one has seen, not even me."
Mercy eyed him. "This... this is exciting for you?"
"Of course it is!" Lucifer exclaimed. "I've been around since before the world began. I left Hell because I was sick of doing the same thing, I was sick of being my father's monster. I came to Earth to live among humans to experience life. And you're a sparkling star among gems."
"So, I'm just... what, a project? A toy?" Mercy snapped.
"Oh bloody hell, don't think of it like that," Lucifer groaned. "Look, aren't you the least bit curious about yourself now? I'm telling you, you'll figure it out a lot faster with my help. And at least I'm willing to let you keep your life and freedom while doing it."
"But you want me to stay here," Mercy pointed out.
"Yes, but not under lock and key!" Lucifer said, exasperated. "You can come and go as you please! Though, I would prefer it if you let me know if you're doing the going bit so I can come—"
Mercy got up off her stool and began to walk toward the elevator.
"Wh—Mer-Mercy, wait!" Lucifer stammered as he scrambled after her.
He got between her and the elevator rather swiftly and held up his hands.
"This doesn't feel like freedom, creeper," Mercy said.
"I know, but think about it," Lucifer pleaded. "I'm sorry about what I said, I just want to make sure you're safe."
"Safe so you can poke and prod me!" Mercy shouted.
"Again, I won't be doing that unless you want me to." Lucifer winked.
When Mercy's expression grew even more irate, he sighed in defeat.
"You're not a guinea pig—this isn't science," Lucifer said. "Honestly, I don't even know where to begin figuring you out. But together, we could!"
"What is with all the shouting?"
From the stairs came Maze and just behind her was Blake. Mercy blinked in surprise to see her drummer friend while Lucifer instantly put on a smile for them.
"Maze! And one of the band, Blake, correct?" he said.
"Yeah." Blake was looking between Mercy and Lucifer with a suspicious expression. "Mercy, you all right? I didn't know you got here."
"I-I..." Mercy stammered before clearing her throat. "I'm fine. I uh... I just got here a few minutes ago."
"Why were you yelling?" Maze asked. "Something about guinea pigs?"
Lucifer pursed his lips. He did say he didn't lie. Mercy turned toward him, suddenly curious about what he would say. He saw her look and his brow twitched; he knew she was testing him.
"Um, just some... disagreements about the contract," Lucifer finally said.
"Jeez, what did you put in there?" Blake asked. "It takes quite a bit to make Mercy shout."
"I didn't like the time restraint," Mercy said, deciding to take pity on Lucifer and fib for him.
"And I agreed to remove it," Lucifer said. "Complete with pay, benefits, and the apartment."
Mercy nearly shot him a glare. Sure, he was open about being the Devil, but if Mercy told her bandmates she believed it and about her encounter with Amenadiel's powers, she had no idea how they'd react. Probably start with recommending she get counseling and medication.
Lucifer knew she didn't want to tell them about it, so now he was trying to talk her into a corner. He didn't lie, but he was good at twisting the truth. However, despite how angry Mercy was at him, she knew he had a point. An entirely new world had suddenly opened up to her, and she was connected to it whether she liked it or not. Sure, she could ditch town in order to keep safe from it, but...
In her mind's eye, she could see the wolf sticker on her guitar case. What if getting answers about this led her to answers about what drove her to LA in the first place? About all of Conor's insane warnings and the lengths he went to in order to keep her safe? What if this could help her find him again?
Mercy met Lucifer's eyes and took a deep breath. She gave him a stern look, one that said, I'm trusting you, but screw this up and I'm cutting off an ear.
"Yeah, all right, fine," Mercy said grumpily.
"Apartment?" Blake echoed with a raised brow.
"Yeah, I've been looking for a new place," Mercy explained quickly. "Uh, new neighbors. Total pricks. But as a neat little bonus, Lucifer says I can have one of Lux's apartments."
"Oh, so like where Maze is?" Blake raised her brows. "Dude, bitchin'."
"Can you call Hutch and Miles?" Mercy asked. "My, uh... my cell died while I was talking to Hutch."
"Maybe you should finally ditch that dinosaur and get a real phone," Blake teased as she pulled out her cell.
Mercy preferred her "dinosaur" because it wasn't even capable of GPS. Conor got it for her, promising that the only way to track location was to see the nearest cell phone tower, but even then it wasn't a lot to go on.
"Yeah, yeah, tell 'em to come up here so we can finalize this paperwork," Mercy said as she walked back toward the bar.
Maze was eyeing Lucifer quizzically as Blake wandered across the room with her phone to her ear.
"Long story," Lucifer explained. "I can explain when your girlfriend goes home."
Maze rolled her eyes. "Please, she's just good at what she does." She eyed Mercy for a moment longer before walking after Blake.
"Okay, so Amenadiel's your brother," Mercy whispered to Lucifer as they sat back down. "So what's Maze?"
"A demon," Lucifer replied casually.
Mercy almost choked on her own spit. "Oh. Oh, is that all?"
Oddly enough, demons had a rougher reputation than Lucifer. Of course, there was folklore on demons that were more trickster than evil monster from Hell. Japan had the Yokai, which varied from sucking people down toilets to eat their flesh to silly little sprites that liked to eat filth.
"I trust her with my life," Lucifer assured.
"Yeah, cool, but what about mine?" Mercy whispered.
"They're on their way," Blake said, walking back toward the bar.
"Great, grand, yeah," Mercy said absently.
Blake came to her side and flicked her ear. "What's up with you?"
"Nothing," Mercy replied too fast. She cleared her throat and faced Blake. "Sorry. Er, the... date, I suppose."
Blake's expression became understanding. "Oh, right, I almost forgot. It's all right, though, doll. You know you've got us." She smiled and hugged her briefly. "And our ever-growing fellowship." She gestured grandly toward Maze and Lucifer. "Together, we'll reach Mordor."
"Don't get all geeky on me," Maze said, folding her arms.
"Aw, I thought you liked it," Blake teased. "I'll let you have my bow if I get your axe."
"Wow," Mercy said, shaking her head and looking back at the papers.
Her entire life had just turned inside out in less than an hour. Now, all she could wonder was if she could survive what it had become.
A/N::: So full disclosure—this is kind of an experiment. I've been toying around with a lot of different fics as of late, and due to one of my original stories involving Hell, Heaven, Mythology, and basically all supernatural nonsense, I'm trying to decide how to make all of it mesh together. Therefore! This fic is probably going to float away from canon more than any of my others. There's going to be more original content scenes, and these two might not see every episode (or rather every case).
Just to clarify some things straight off the bat (since the description space is limited) I want to state that while Chloe Decker is in this story, she is NOT blessed. Don't get me wrong, I love her character, but this is meant to be a Luci/OC story, and her being immune to Lucifer and everything would complicate things (and I detest love triangles to no end). So think of this as an AU where Chloe is just a normal human... and Norse Mythology is a thing.
I'm nervous and excited about this one, so let me know what you guys think in the reviews, and of course if you like it, hit that follow button for future updates!