Into the Desert and Back Again: The Travels of an angelic Devil (or devilish Angel)

Chapter 2: Brotherly memories, multi-miracle fears and a ghostly encounter

The sun had set and the glorious colours began to fade into turquois and blue. The east-facing velvet, dark blue sky sprinkled with the first emerging stars. As Lucifer descended the winding road towards Barlow, the air was getting cooler towards the bottom of the valley. He was satisfied with himself and how he had handled the art of distraction. Runner saved, bikers punished, a good Tuesday altogether! If only he could find himself an acceptable whiskey or three!

The runner must have had escaped down the steep trail long before he had finished his back-end ministrations on the "Devils Army" nutters. A pity, he thought, he would have loved to satisfy his curiosity about her. He recalled the fleeting moment when her wild, green-brown eyes had bored into his with an odd mixture of pledge, gratitude and determination. The next second she had whirled past him with these sweeping efficient strides. The encounter had left him with the strange awe-inspiring feeling of unexpectedly meeting a wild, untamed animal. It reminded him on an event some 15 millennia ago that he recalled as if it had been yesterday….

He and Maze had been hunting down an errand soul of a chief warlord killer and rapist from the eastern Mediterranean who had escaped Hell through one of the hell-mound cracks in the middle Rhine valley. Lucifer had been gliding low through the ice-age Rhine valley towards a stone abris overlooking the scenery to search the caves there. He had landed, folded his wings, sending out his senses towards the runaway soul. As he stepped around a large boulder close to the entrance, he had himself suddenly found eye to eye with a fully grown cave lioness who had just left her cave for hunting. She had stopped and stared at him with yellow-green eyes intensely without blinking, without fear nor thread, just high-alert. Eye to eye was quite literal in this case, because the cave lioness' head was, typical for her species, nearly as high as his, her shoulder height and length equalled that of a small Arabian horse. Of course the lioness had immediately recognized him as a divine being, so that his sudden, swooping unfurling of his wings, stretching them menacingly with the sharp pinions stretched out, was more of a show-off move than really necessary. The lioness had blinked, growled lowly, then moved gracefully out of his path to let him pass. Maze, who had arrived just at that moment by foot, rolled over with pearling laughter when she took in the scene – the Lord of Hell, wings outstretched, to scare away an animal! Hilarious! During the next half hour of their hunt she really gave him a hard time, until he was really miffed, while she burst into laughing each time she looked at him!

It was one of the few times where he had found it hard to explain to her why he had done it in the first place. His move had been reflexive, sparked by the wonder of the sudden encounter with the lioness. It was, he had noticed, an acknowledgement of the strength and beauty of the creature. It had somehow deserved a divine echo.

Yes, that moment of awe was exactly the feeling he had encountered during the brief glance of the runner into his eyes. Usually, it was exactly the feeling he inspired in others, particularly women, he knew that all too well. Thus it felt completely odd to have it bestowed upon him by a dirt-covered, bruised runner. He mused if, maybe, there were more miracle women in the world, besides Chloe…?

Then, all of a sudden, it struck him like a blow and exploded like fireworks in his chest: Had his father created even more miracles, maybe a whole bunch, just to make sure that he'd hit one of them? For him to become intrigued, attached, and then fall for her (or him) like he had fallen for Chloe…? Lucifer started to breath heavily, overwhelmed by a nauseating wave of fear – fear of being controlled endlessly, fear of being still imprisoned as if he were back in Hell, fear of being a puppet, and most of all fear of her being a puppet. It was driving him to the edge of paranoia. He panted, gripped the steering wheel tight, knuckles whitening. What the desert climate could not achieve, the agonizing fear of both of them being enslaved did: He started sweating and his head began to spin. He slowed down the Corvette as he approached the first solitary farm grounds to try and calm himself, to think, to get a grip. The engine died. A dog barked, but the lights in the house in a distance stayed off.

Lucifer buried his head in his hands, elbows on the steering wheel. He wanted to shout, cry and rage in frustration. A few dry sobs escaped him, shaking his long frame. Why could he not just be his own man? It was all he'd ever wanted! And for that he was punished in every way possible, be it in Heaven, Hell and now here, on earth, where he had sought refuge! Punished by being controlled through his feelings for her…. He tried to get a grip on himself, breathing down the onslaught of feelings. Finally, he rubbed his face, messed his hair and finally started to take in his surroundings.

The leaves of the nearby woods on the right rustled in the soft night-time breeze, dark tree silhouettes on the right, visible against the dark blue night sky. Animals snorted and chewed peacefully to the left. Cows, he recognized their sounds in his swirling brain. The sweet sound of burbling water pouring into an animal drinking through was audible. He heaved a sight and got out of the car, closing the door with a snap.

He tried to analyse the situation, as he'd learned so skilfully over the last year from the det…. Shit. There she was again. Chloe's beautiful face, smiling at him, encouraging him, swam into his view. "Let's review the facts first!" he heard her say in his memories. No more, no more, he had to distance himself… The pain cut through his heart like a lighting stroke, again. He scolded himself. He would never get over her if he did not stop remembering her at every little instance that popped up!

It took all his strength to bring himself back to the analysis he had to do: If there were, indeed, more miracles running around, HE must have used other siblings than Amenadiel to bring them to live, ordering blessings. Amenadiel had sworn to him that he'd never been sent to do a blessing before or after the one that had brought Chloe into existence. How likely was it that He had done that? Lucifer dug deeper into his memories. His only source of information was Amenadiel and what he might have said, involuntarily, or what he may have omitted.

A sunny day near the pier of Santa Monica swam back into his memories… he had left Hell just a few months ago, really started to have fun in L.A., but he had Amenadiel sticking to his heels like a wart plaster, the latter trying every method he could think of to get him to resign back to his former job. Lucifer recalled Amenadiel's mild "Big-Bro Heaven-gossiping" approach, to try to soften him up and get into his good books. They had sat in a beach Café, with him sipping a strong black double Espresso to complement his Whiskey, while Amenadiel sipped on the straw of an alcohol-free "sex-on-the-beach", with a little red umbrella in it. Back then, his big bro still had had his powers and was disgustingly full of himself (despite his girlish drinking habits). "…you know, Father is not interfering so much with mankind any more the last two or three centuries, anyway. Maybe HE's annoyed that mankind learned so much about his creations and the rules behind them, we don't know. Yeah, the humans call it science and they get better and better at it… all your doing with that apple, once, you know?" Amenadiel had flashed him a toothy grin, while Lucifer flirted and wiggled his eyebrows at the long-haird barista with the formidable backside who smiled back at him as if she saw the sun rising. "But them humans, they used their learnings and caused so much mayhem with all these awful wars over the last century…" Amenadiel had chatted on, not noticing Lucifers' flirty preparations for the next nights' desire-and-sex activities. "Hey, did the wars not really swamp you down there with sinner souls that deserved thorough punishment…? It was surely good that you were down there in charge and gave them their due…", at which Lucifer had growled and flashed his eyes at Amenadiel in annoyance.

No fond memories to be found there! Wars always filled the cells of Hell like nothing else did. And the crimes that had to be punished were sometimes so horrific that, even after eons in Hell, it still made his wings curl which was saying something. That malicious doctor who had conducted horrific medical experiments on helpless women and children; or the military responsible for ordering Napalm bombardment of peaceful villages; or the land-seeking raiders who, in the name of ethnic cleaning, had slaughtered entire families with machetes… Lucifer's memories swept over the long que of nefarious Nazis, genocide generals and all their cowardly compliant co-workers. They all justified their actions somehow in their rotten hearts, particularly during times of war. Many of them did not even see the cruelty of what they had done and thus self-guilt would not keep them in Hell. Thus they had to be locked up and they got special demon treatment. Although that was fun sometimes, particularly when he could make use of weak spots such as arachnophobia or cetophobia, Lucifer had hated those war times more than anything.

Sensing that he had hit a wrong track, Amenadiel had quickly changed gears, rambling on. "Dad got radio-silent on the humans lately and most of us work on auto-pilot, anyway. If someone answers prayers, it is more the kinder-hearted ones of our siblings, you know, Gabriel, for example, with an occasional blessing here and there. Dad gave him that freedom five centuries ago, as a bonus to his messenger skills, after he was really pleased with him… After Gabriel encouraged this extraordinary talented Michelangelo Buonarrotti towards finishing the pictures in the Sistine Chapel. Dad particularly liked the one depicting the creation of Adam by Him." Amenadiels tactics had worked, Lucifer had let himself get distracted. "You mean the one where Michel-A drew us as fat putty heads with wings, surrounding Dad who looked like Santa Claus? And where he drew Him and His Putty hordes in the shape of a cross-cut human brain?" Lucifer's grin had morphed into a mischievous smirk. "Mmh, that was all I managed to convince Michel-A to do, later, after Gabé's visit…"

Amenadiel looked briefly as if he'd bitten into a citron. "You did – what?" he inquired, taking in Lucifer's smirk. Amenadiel rolled his eyes at his mischievous younger brother who seemed so – unchanged. There was not one prank Samael hadn't concocted and carried out in Heaven in their younger days!

But as the stoic he was, Amenadiel went on, following his narrative "…or Raphael with his healing powers, he simply loves to help humans. He is the one who answers most prayers anyway and Dad allows him to do some healing or blessing, mostly. Occasionally Raph gets into some tight spot with Him when he has overstepped and done too much good, so that even the humans start to recognize that there's some divinity at work. Or Azrael, when someone has a nasty illness and wants to leave before their time has come, for the Silver City…. When they pray to her to get them, she sometimes does, if they suffer too much. You know her, she has a sweet heart. She's particularly gentle with children if they die premature." Amenadiel paused briefly. Both brothers silently remembered their younger sister. After Lucifer's fall she had immersed herself completely in the duty their Father had bestowed upon her as the Angel of Death(#). "Well, Michael never does anything of the sort, it's beneath him to answer prayers" Amenadiel had continued, in gossiping mode. "You know him, he's just Fathers loyal right-hand Sword, and proud as hell…"

Amenadiel had noticed his (literal) mistake of mentioning Michael, and fell silent. Lucifer's smile had frozen into a mask. Both brothers fell for the horrendous memory of the night the young, formerly carefree Archangel Samael had been condemned to Hell. Of their brother Michael, driving a spear mercilessly though both of Samael's wings who was kneeling before him, chained down, nailing them together in an odd angle. Samael had been completely unable to save himself when he fell: He burned so bright that it created the impression of a blinding-white, falling star heading downwards, like a comet, as the first morning light dawned. It was the very same day humans discovered how to use fire for the formation of steel tools. Of the plough, and of the sword.

Lucifer had closed-up, hiding behind his well-trained mask of indifference and arrogance. He snarled at Amenadiel that he did not care in the slightest about anything his bloody bastard of a Dad did to humanity, as long as he left him alone! And as he ranted at his Dad, he (skilfully he hoped) distracted Amenadiel from the insight that he had, secretly, enjoyed it a bit too much to hear about his favourite three siblings(*). Eons of not seeing them, of not enjoying each other's company as it used to be… joking around, playing pranks, grooming each other's wings… heavens lost. Which Amenadiel knew all too well, of course, and had used to soften him up. Although Raphael, Gabriel and Azrael had followed him in the rebellion for free will, Father had selected him as the main culprit and punished him, the flippant, unworthy and disappointing son, as an example to all of the angelic host. The worst of it all was that Michael, insisting that he carried out their Fathers' orders, had condemned his beloved siblings, particularly his little sister, to watch as he was tortured and then cast down to burn. Lucifer did not blame them for getting a pardon that he had never received. He simply missed them, badly. Still. After millennia.

Lucifer's resurfaced from his trip down memory lane to his current problem of looming multi-miracle fears. Amenadiel is neither a skilled nor a general liar. He's blunt, sometimes to proud and not questioning Dad's orders, but since he knows what an awful liar he is, he mostly keeps as close to the truth as he can. So that gossiping of his six years ago had likely been genuine, true Heaven-news, tossed out as a bait towards him to remember old times, sink back into the ranks, and obediently go back to Hell…. Lucifer snorted at the thought of his older brothers' illusions over his implied longing to obey or do what he was asked to do. Hell had thoroughly changed him, not only his skin and bone but also his once carefree being. Lucifer did not leave a doubt and made his point crystal clear, finally, when he had burned his wings, since cutting them off had not been enough to make his point.

Back to the multi-miracle thought, now: HE could have ordered different siblings to do his bidding, another one each time He ordered it. However, if the angel gossip machine was still working as it had, when he was there, sooner or later they would have known of each other's orders. Particularly some of his younger siblings, the lower-ranked angels, loved to brag about the tasks they were given by Him. And Amenadiel "The Faithful", in charge of law and order of the heavenly host, would have known it exactly. Analysing the situation, Lucifer gained more and more confidence that Amenadiel had not lied to him at any point. When he had pushed him up the wall in the interrogation room recently, when Chloe had been poisoned and they were chasing the antidote, Amenadiel had looked so shocked and in disbelief at the accusation that he might have been the one carrying out such a plan with Chloe on Dad's orders.

It logically followed that the runner woman was not very likely to be the outcome of a blessing, nor was there a high likelihood of multiple miracle humans. If so, the runner could just have been the result of a kind act of Gabé or Raph towards a couple. But not a blessing that was meant to interfere with him and put more miracles into his path. Lucifer heaved a sigh, run his fingers through his already dishevelled hair and leaned forwards on the window frame of his car, feeling exhausted, again.

He pushed himself up again, turned around and leaned against the corvette. He took his cigarettes out of his breast pocket, held one with the tip shielded against the soft night breeze, clicking the lighter. The damn thing refused to work and gave just feeble sparks. He snarled in frustration and threw the stupid thing away. It hit something furry with a muffled sound, followed by an offended "mooo!" Well, fine, now humans around: Lucifer ignited his cigarette by staring at its tip and sending out his powers instead, with the cigarette tip glowing orange-red immediately. He inhaled deeply and blew the smoke into the air. After a few more draws, he walked a few meters towards the woods and stared into the field to the left. Behind the fence the animals surrounded the through, chewing sleepily (except for a brown cow with one white ear who eyed him nervously). Their gentle breathing and snorting, the rustling woods and the dripping water and the cigarette combined slowly soothed his vibrating nerves.

He looked up at the sky. The milkyway stretched across the sky, glowing bright without the haze of L.A. Lucifer recognized every star like an old, comforting friend. He leaned onto the fence with his forearms. Head turned upward, he drank in the beauty of the clear starlight, inhaling softly with slightly opened lips, closing his eyes.

He heard her before he saw hear. From the distance towards the hillslope, light regular footsteps echoed, drawing nearer. Her silhouette came into view, slender, braid brushing her back. She seemed to run barefoot, touching the ground with her forefeet, not rolling over the heels which gave her pace something floating. She slowed down and walked. Silent as a cat, she approached the animals who seemed completely undisturbed, still rehashing, just lazily turning their heads towards the newcomer. She chuckled softly, then mimicked some low grumbling sounds the cows made in return and tiptoed closer. Lucifer moved ten meters backwards into the shadows of the woods to observe her. She moved her head in all directions and it seemed as if she proved the air with nose and ears. Then, satisfied, she knelt down before the through, scooped water up and drank. Of course! She had used her water bottle to knock out the Devils Army leader. She had to be thirsty, he thought. She had obviously run the last 5 miles without water. Impressive. As he watched her, still in the "wild animal observation" mode, she began to undress. Obviously she wanted to wash more than her face, hands and forearms. At that, he suddenly became aware that he was staring and that she was a person, not a wild deer or something. Although he did not mind seeing her naked in the slightest (if she decided to bathe in that through), he preferred such things to be consensual. Moreover, he wanted to learn more about her and her potential miracle status, which meant that he had to make himself known to her in some way that did not scare her away.

He decided on "I'm just, by coincidence, strolling around here" attitude and took some steps towards the fence again (he refrained from whistling a tune, too much of a cliché, he decided). Although she could not have heard him, due to the splashing noises she made she was upright in the blink of an eye as if she had known that he was there.

"Oh, it is you, then!", she said when she got a clear view of him in the starlight. Her voice was deep, a bit raspy and sounded vaguely familiar to him. She hesitated a moment, moved closer, but stopped in more than double the distance than normal people would to talk to each other. He recognized the silver-white streak of hair running from her left forehead into the long braid. She moved her head a bit from the left to right and back and eyed him intensely, then smiled. "I offer you my heart-felt gratitude for your generous help up there on the highway" she spoke in her slightly hoarse voice, earnest. "And I am grateful to see that you have not suffered any damage at the hands of these… criminals" Usually, he would now have thrown in a flirty remark about how they'd suffered at his hands, but he skipped it as she went on, "Without your interference, I would have lost my… physical integrity, probably my life and, worst of all, my freedom", she added, her raspy voice now filled with emotion. Then she put her hands together as if praying and bowed gracefully to him. As she straightened up, she slowly tilted her head from side to side and watched him, as if listening to something.

Her last remark touched him deeper than he had thought possible. Freedom, indeed… "Yes", he muttered in response, "yes, there is nothing worse than being denied freedom…" Then he added, louder "And you're welcome, it was my pleasure", falling back into his standard charming tones, stretching the word "pleasure" in a playful way. Only that his feeble attempt to distract from his own feelings was ruined by the burning cigarette which had finally reached his fingers. He hissed, threw it down and stomped it out. She chuckled a bit, and when he looked up he saw that she smiled at him in a knowing, almost motherly way. This puzzled and again worried him a bit: She was, obviously, not drawn to him in the way most women where. Was she really another miracle, then, or was she just exhausted from her long run, or was the distance still too large for his charms to work on her?

"May I ask you a question?" his curiosity was getting the better of him. She stood relaxed but still in a distance and opened her hands in an inviting gesture. "How did you know that I was there? You were splashing, I thought you would not be able to hear me. So, what was it: Did you see me, hear me or...", he hesitated, "…smell me…?" he added, a bit embarrassed. "And who the bloody hell are you?" he blurted out.

"That was definitely more than one question", she replied in her deep voice. "But no mysteries there. Just a medical explanation. I have a strange, undesired "gift" (she put the word in quotation marks with her index fingers) which is the result of a head injury 15 years ago. I am overly emphatic and can sense people's emotions and intentions, for the better or worse." She hesitated, then added: "More like a curse, to be honest, and overwhelming when I'm around larger crowds. The closer the person, the more intense their vibes get." Lucifer noticed that his mouth was a bit open at this strange explanation and closed it. Could it be all that simple? Or was she one of his younger siblings, maybe one who was born after he had fallen?

"And before you may ask: No, I'm not Jedi, can't read your mind like that," she added.The sentence flushed back memories of his first encounter with the detective and a sharp piercing pain seared through his heart at the thought of Chloe. "What…? Are you ok?" she asked, taking one step closer, involuntarily proving her words true, without intending to do so. Damn! What did she get from him…? "N… Nothing… for you to worry about" he croaked, taking a step backwards in return. As always, he had managed to phrase his response to be true, but still serving as a shield to hide behind them. She nodded, folded her arms and eyed him, likewise curious. "Nothing", she echoed. "Mmmh, I see". A pause.

"Since you saved me, I need to be honest with you: I sensed a persons' presence when I arrived, then I saw your figure when you stood there, with your arms on the fence." "Oh, nothing supernatural. Your cigarette glowed," she explained, a smile in her voice. "You were curious about me, but all in all, I could sense that your intentions were not evil. Not at all." And that your sadness kills you, she added to herself. She touched her left forehead, rubbing it and flattening her hair backwards, then looked up and smiled mischievously.

"You know, when I acted as if I wanted to undress, I actually checked out what kind of man you were ", she told him, matter of fact. "And I recognized that it was you, the one who stood between me and the bikers only after you spoke. Sorry about that move, but I had to check. Too many bad experiences. ….and I was curious as well", she added as an afterthought. She nodded, adjusted her running clothes. Lucifer chuckled. "Well, so glad I passed your little test! Although I would not have objected if you had… Wait, please! Hey!" She had started to turn around. The conversation was obviously finished for her and she cut his innuendos short by leaving. "Wait, who…" Lucifer was startled. She did not react to him at all! Damn, that was not normal!

She looked back over her shoulder, stopped, and sighed. "As to who I am…? I've been called many names, throughout my long life. I am just what people want to see in me. A ghost, a saintly saviour, a soul-doctor eremite, or a mad ultramarathon runner. Your choice." Before Lucifer could offer her a ride or throw another question at her, she had melted back into the shadows under the starry sky. But he could hear the soft thuds of her regular footsteps fading away as she left.

No ghost, then. But definitely a riddle. If divine or earthy remained to be seen.