Well, here we go . . . . Chapter Two moves along with the story, while also giving some insight into Chloe's thoughts. Thanks for reading, favoriting and reviewing!

"Now, this part was a real stroke of luck. Apparently, our vic was super scrappy and managed to hang onto a pretty decent chunk of the guy's—or girl's—skin fragments." Ella narrowed her eyes, leaning in closer to the laptop as she zoomed in on a photo. "Actually, I'm pretty sure it was a dude. Those bruise marks are shaped like handprints, and there's no way they were made by 'lady hands.' Oh, and this is the best part. In our vic's right fist, she had three strands of hair that—wait for it—weren't hers. So, duh, they obviously belonged to her attacker. It's pretty sad that she's dead because she was a total fighter," Ella concluded, suddenly looking up from her laptop screen. "Um, Chloe? Are you with me?"

Chloe blinked several times, clearing the background noise from her thoughts. "Yeah, yeah, I'm with you. Skin fragments beneath the fingernails and a fistful of hair." Thankfully, the case was pretty basic, so her lack of focus wasn't a problem. In truth, this case—as was true of almost every case she'd worked during the past few months—was fairly unexceptional. Worse still was the fact that even if the case had been riveting, she probably wouldn't have been able to engage in it. Lately, Chloe had been doing a first-class job of going through the motions at work. It simply wasn't fun anymore, which was, of course, laughable. Since when had fun become a prerequisite to solving homicides?

"Are you sure you're with me? Because I know you just repeated what I said, but that doesn't mean you were really listening."

"Yes, Ella. I'm with you," Chloe groaned, doubling down on the pretense that she was fully engaged. The effort felt similar to slogging through several inches of mud, but even so, she insisted, "I'm here. I'm listening. Fire away."

"Okay. Time out," Ella said, forming a 'T' with her hands. "You may be here, but you're not here here. You haven't been here here for months."

"I don't know what you mean." That was a lie, of course. She knew exactly what Ella meant. Still, squaring her shoulders and straightening her spine, Chloe prepared to defend herself. She might be feeling melancholy and uninspired, but her numbers certainly weren't suffering. Hadn't she closed twelve cases in the past three months?

Ella raised an eyebrow. "Look, can I be frank with you? Wait . . . don't answer that because it doesn't matter. We're friends, so yes, I can be frank with you."

"Can we not talk about this right now? I know where you're going, and it has nothing to do with my focus or dedication to this, or any other case we may be working. I just can't do this right now."

"Sorry. Too late," Ella quipped. "We're doing it."

Chloe sighed as Ella circled around the table and gripped her lightly by the shoulders, forcing a face-to-face intervention of sorts. It wasn't the first. Chloe felt certain it wouldn't be the last. In fact, Ella's "check-in sessions," as she called them, had been a weekly standard for the better part of nine months.

"Just relax, okay?" Ella said. "He will be back . . . . Or you can go there!"

"He won't, and I can't. I mean, I wouldn't even know how to do a thing like that. Is it even possible?" Chloe wondered aloud without fully considering what she was saying and to whom she was saying it.

"Hello, it's just Europe. All you have to do is jump on a plane at LAX and in a matter of hours, you'll be jumping something else." Ella wagged her eyebrows at Chloe. Lowering her voice, she leaned in and whispered, "I meant that you'd be jumping his bones."

"Yeah, I got that," Chloe said, nodding her head dismissively. "Ella, I'm not going anywhere. And I'm fine. Everything is f—"

"Fine," Ella finished for her. "That's what you've been saying since Lucifer took off. And as we've all been reminding you, he'll be back. He's done this before, and he always comes back. I mean, granted, it's been nine months this time, which is a lit-tle long, if you ask me. But that doesn't mean he isn't coming back."

"Ella, Lucifer's not coming back," Chloe announced with resolve, trying not to flinch as she said it. Even after nine months, the truth still stung.

"Hey, he's your partner and then some. You guys are great together. There's no way he's not coming back. I refuse to lose hope, and you shouldn't either."

Chloe swallowed, feeling the familiar weight of despondency settling in around her shoulders. Mercifully, before she had the opportunity to truly sink into it and wallow, a text appeared on her phone, offering an escape route. Edging toward the door, she said, "Yeah, um, I need to go. Something's come up in another case. I'll check in with you later." Chloe pocketed her phone and called back over her shoulder, "Let me know if the lab comes back with a possible i.d. on our assailant."

As she slid into her cruiser, Chloe pressed Speed Dial 2 on her phone and switched over to speakerphone.

"Dispatch," the familiar voice echoed around the car. "This is Jen."

"Hi, Jen. It's Decker. Thanks for the text." The car roared to life, and Chloe whipped out of the parking spot, heading toward the garage exit. "I'm assuming LAPD and paramedics are already en route."

"Yeah, I called them first. It's protocol, you know. But as soon as the call came in, I thought of you. The victim's an elderly woman who's been stabbed in the chest, sounds like the injury is seriously life-threatening."

"Thanks, Jen," she said, wincing at the sound of squealing tires as she skidded around a corner. "I owe you a six-pack—maybe even a full case, depending on how it all pans out."

"Hey, do you mind me asking something?"

"Not at all. Ask away," Chloe told her. She knew what was coming next and was surprised it hadn't been asked long before now.

"Why are you so interested in these calls when they come in? Is there a pattern? A modus operandi? It's been months since I started flagging them for you, and I'm just wondering where it's all leading. Is there some big sting in the works?"

Chloe considered for half a second before snatching up the carrot Jen had dangled. It was a far more plausible explanation that the truth. How could she say that she was hoping to use the victim as a courier to send a message to Hell? Jen would never believe her, and Chloe would look ridiculous for even suggesting it. "Yep, that's it. You got it, Jen. It's a really big case. Pretty high profile. Otherwise, I could talk more about it, but unfortunately," she said, lowering her voice to a whisper, "it's all pretty confidential stuff."

"I can't even imagine how all these victims are connected. How many stabbing and shooting victims have I called you about, anyway? It's gotta' be close to a hundred by now."

"Well, they're not all related to our case, but it's nearly impossible to rule out anything until I arrive at the scene. We need to make sure we're following every lead if we're going to catch the person behind this."

"Makes sense, I guess," Jen said, and Chloe frowned. Lately, she had begun to question whether following these "leads" actually did make sense anymore—or whether it ever had. "I can see why you'd want to be on scene before the victims die—if they die," Jen concluded. "It's much easier to get information out of a breathing victim than one who's dead."

Chloe nodded. "Exactly. Thanks again."

"No problem. I'll call you when we get another one."

Chloe ended the call, chastising herself for continuing the charade. It was crazy. She was crazy. There wasn't even any proof that Lucifer was getting her messages. At some point, she knew she had to let it go. She had to break the connection and move on. She just couldn't seem to do it . . . .

For a couple of months, she'd actually stopped chasing the leads altogether, having convinced herself that Lucifer couldn't possibly be missing her as much as she was missing him. The distractions of Hell had to be considerable for an immortal being like Lucifer. Admittedly, Chloe didn't understand all the nuts and bolts, but she imagined that there must be sex—or something equivalent to it—and naturally, there would be parties. Plenty of parties . . . . Lucifer had never been one to deprive himself and amidst so many temptations, it was entirely possible that the now-distant Earthly connection they'd shared would suffer by comparison. And that was assuming, of course, that using dying humans as couriers was even a reliable way of passing "notes" to Lucifer in the first place. He might not even be receiving her messages. With all of that in mind, Chloe had convinced herself that it was unhealthy to hold onto so much false hope, and she'd pulled the plug. For two agonizingly long months, she'd stopped following up on the leads when they came in. Then, that guy at the Hollywood Palms had taken a bullet to the chest right in front of her, and the opportunity had almost literally fallen into her lap. How could she let him die without at least trying to send a message to Lucifer? And that was all it took for her to start chasing Jen's leads again because if nothing else, it offered the possibility of a connection with Lucifer. Even if he forgot about her, she hadn't forgotten about him.

Scanning the information from dispatch that appeared on the monitor, Chloe muttered, "Vic named Mary Louise Trager . . . in her late 70s or early 80s . . . stabbed in the chest with a knife . . . . Well, Mary Louise," she sighed, "I'm not exactly hoping that you're on your way to Hell. That would make me a bad person. However, if it turns out that you led a not-so-virtuous life and regret your poor choices, I might as well take advantage of the opportunity."

When Chloe got to Bluebird Street, Mary's house was easy enough to find without even looking at the address. A fire truck, an ambulance and a gaggle of curious neighbors swarmed the street in front of the house. She was pleased to note that the LAPD hadn't arrived yet. With any luck, they'd show up after she left, and no explanations would even be necessary.

As Chloe's cruiser collided with the curb, she was already shutting off the ignition and preparing to exit the car. One of the trickiest parts about the entire process—and there were certainly a few—was the timing. For obvious reasons, she needed to find the victim alive and conscious or there would be no hope of conveying a message to Lucifer.

The second hurdle, she reminded herself as she slipped into the small, yellow bungalow filled with a surfeit of feline-inspired bric-à-brac, hanging plants in macramé baskets and far too many doilies, was that the person had to be on a path to Hell and not going in the other direction. The contents of Mary's living room alone would seem to suggest that she was most likely Heaven-bound. With a passing glance at the room, Chloe's hopes plummeted all the way to the lemon-scented floorboards. Mary was a perky, flower-loving . . . nurse at a children's hospital, Chloe noted from the plaque hanging in the hallway to the kitchen. That pretty much sealed it. Mary was on the fast track to the Silver City, as Lucifer might say.

Still, it was worth a look, she supposed. Chloe followed the commotion to the back porch, a screened-in area with wicker furniture and floral-printed cushions juxtaposed against large crimson blood splatters. Mary lay on the floor in the center of the porch, a small grey-haired island in a sea of green exterior carpeting. Chloe watched as the paramedics crouched over their patient, preparing her for transport. Her arms were crossed serenely over her mid-section, and she seemed like she was ready to go—affirming Chloe's earlier assumption that Mary had led a virtuous life and probably wouldn't be moving into Lucifer's neighborhood any time soon.

But then, in true "don't judge a book by its cover" fashion, Mary's eyes sprang open, and the smaller of the two paramedics was knocked backwards by a string of profanity so vulgar that Chloe considered covering her own ears. "You!" Mary yelled, raising a crooked finger in Chloe's direction. "Call my son, and tell him to get the hell over here. He needs to make sure these halfwits don't screw up and kill me by accident. And get me my cigarettes!" From there, she dissolved into a fit of coughs and spasms that managed to silence any additional demands. So . . . maybe Heaven wasn't exactly a lock, Chloe thought as she sized up the woman.

Chloe flashed her badge at Keller and Bridges, a team of EMTs she recognized from other crime scenes, and reached down to offer a hand to the one who had fallen backwards. "Um, how is she?" she asked.

"How am I?" Mary shrieked instead, having apparently recovered from her coughing fit. "A strung-out crazy-haired junkie stumbled in from the backyard and rammed a knife through my chest! How do you think I'm doing?! Where'd you get your badge anyway?! The Dollar Tree?!"

Chloe exhaled slowly, ignoring Mary's glare as she leaned in closer to inspect the knife that was protruding from the space between the right shoulder and her heart. The blade looked similar to some of Maze's. The diamond-carved handle and gold inlay seemed almost otherworldly. Then again, what did Chloe know about celestial carving tools? She'd been "in the know" for less than a year. It was probably just a pretty knife the assailant picked up at a yard sale.

"You're Homicide, right?" Keller asked, glancing up at Chloe.

"Yeah, that's right. I guess we got the call prematurely. Must've been a mistake."

"Well, if I had to guess, we won't be needing you here today," he said. "She's really lucky the assailant missed the heart. An inch or two to the left, and it would definitely be a different story." With the help of his partner, he slid Mary onto a backboard, adding, "Just thought I'd let you know. LAPD may want to send a different detective to the hospital for questioning."

Chloe nodded. "I'll tell dispatch. Thanks for the heads up," she said, experiencing an odd mixture of disappointment and guilt. Chloe massaged her temples as she walked down the porch steps into the backyard, needing a moment to decompress before heading back to the station.

As Mary's body was carried out of the house, Chloe wandered through the sandy pathways of the tidy, compact garden, telling herself that this had to stop. Visiting crime scenes in the hopes of catching a victim on the way to Hell was beyond pathetic. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out what Linda might say if she knew. She would probably tell Chloe that it wasn't productive. She'd also definitely say that it was unhealthy. And Linda would be right, as Chloe well knew. It was just that she missed Lucifer so much. He had been her partner in more ways than one, and when it came to moving on without him, she was hitting a brick wall. On the work front, she'd experimented with new partners. With the exception of Dan, they'd all been utter failures. On the dating front, she'd dipped her toe in again, too, but those results had been even worse than the work disasters. Every person she'd encountered seemed boring, drab and entirely lacking in charisma. In short, none of them were Lucifer.

Weaving through the well-tended, verdant pathways of Mary's garden, Chloe considered how to take the next step and what that should be. She felt angry at the hand she'd been dealt—and at the hand Lucifer had been dealt. None of it seemed fair. Why did their burden have to be so heavy?

Worst of all was that she could see that her purpose in Lucifer's life had been clear from the start. She'd helped him to a point of self-realization that had resulted in growth and healing for him, and as a result, she'd lost him. That was some reward. Chloe felt like nothing more than a tool and a means to an end. To be honest, they were both tools—pawns that had been deployed for the safety and protection of a world that didn't even appreciate the sacrifice.

Feeling disheartened, Chloe turned away from the lush plantings, prepared to leave. And that was when something caught her eye. It was a mere flicker, but it was enough to give her pause.

Across the garden beneath a white-latticed arbor, a faint ripple disturbed the air. It reminded Chloe of the disruption caused by a fly landing on still waters. Approaching the arbor, Chloe slowed her pace and surveyed the area with as much caution as her curiosity would allow. The space around the arbor seemed perfectly normal. Beneath the archway, however, the air quivered like a platter of gelatin. Sliding her hand toward the disturbance, Chloe watched as her fingertips disappeared. Instantly, she recoiled, retrieving her hand from the space and inspecting it for any damage. Breathing heavily, she observed with immense amounts of relief, that all five fingers were still intact.

Two more attempts rendered the same results. She didn't know what to make of it. Looking around her, Chloe noted that she was alone. No one had seen her. That was probably a good thing, she concluded.

But what should she do? She needed to talk to someone who might know what this was. A year ago, Chloe would have been in a state of heavy confusion and possible disbelief. Her mind would have begun to rationalize what she had seen. More than likely, she would have looked to science for an explanation. Now, however, it didn't even occur to her to consider the possibility that the ripple was anything other than celestial in nature.

"You've come a long way, Decker," she commended herself, swiping through her Contact List until she found Amenadiel's number. Several rings later, and she was listening to his voicemail message. "Great, what now?" she asked herself.

Chloe knocked on the door to Linda's office, waited for half a second and then knocked again. Just as she was raising her hand to knock a third time, the door swung open and Linda was staring back at her with a quizzical expression on her face.

"Chloe? What's wrong?" As usual, Chloe immediately detected that sympathetic "how are you" tone in Linda's voice. It was always there, and as much as it was intended as a show of support, Chloe couldn't help but feel like a wounded bird every time she heard it. And Linda wasn't the only one who used "the tone." Amenadiel did it, too.

Chloe leaned her head into the office, surveying the room. "Are you in a session?"

"Nope, I'm actually between appointments. At the moment, I'm free as a bird. How are things going?" she asked, ushering Chloe toward the couch.

"Things are fine. Listen, I'm actually looking for Amenadiel. Do you know where he is?"

"Did you say Amenadiel?" Linda repeated, sounding perplexed.

"Yeah, Amenadiel. You know, Charlie's father? Have you seen him?"

"Sure, I've seen him lots of times." Linda emitted a short burst of inappropriate laughter. "Haven't we all?"

"Well, my calls are going to his voicemail, and I really need to see him. It's important."

"Chloe, what's going on?"

"I'm not sure yet. I just really need Amenadiel." Chloe considered explaining the situation to Linda, but without Amenadiel to tell them what was happening, it seemed somewhat premature to alarm Linda. Linda was a new Mom to a half-angel baby. She was holding down a full-time job, and although she would never admit it, Chloe knew she lived in a state of perpetual exhaustion. Because Linda worried. A LOT. She worried that someone might come down from the Silver City and take away Charlie. She worried about another demon uprising. She worried that her son would develop wings before he was ready and somehow expose himself to the world. Consequently, Chloe knew that many nights Linda stayed awake just watching Charlie in the nursery. Linda's worries were nothing that a new mother should have to endure, and the last thing Chloe wanted to do was tell her about a mystery hole in some garden in L.A.

"I don't know where Amenadiel is," Linda finally said.

Chloe tossed aside one of the pillows on the couch and sat down. "Where is he, Linda? I know you're holding something back."

"Okay, maybe I am," Linda conceded. "But why? Why is it so important to find Amenadiel?"

"I can't say. Just tell me where he is."

"Has something happened?" Linda asked, her voice climbing an entire octave. Turning to look at the bassinet in the corner, she made her concerns very clear. Charlie. Linda was worried that Chloe's secret might have something to do with Charlie.

"Fine," Chloe agreed. If she told Linda, she risked alarming her, and if she didn't tell her, she'd also risk alarming her. In was a no-win situation, so Chloe decided it was best to just come clean. "I didn't want to worry you, but clearly, you've already pulled the trigger on that, so I might as well tell you. I found something, okay? Something that probably doesn't belong here. It's got to be celestial, and I need Amenadiel to explain it to me."

"What is it?"

Chloe shrugged. "I honestly have no clue. If I had to guess, I'd say that it's some sort of hole—a disturbance in the air. It looked like a ripple, and when I touched it, my hand completely disappeared."

"It disappeared?" Linda closed her eyes, inhaling a few deep, therapeutic breaths. "You're right. We do need Amenadiel."

"Then, tell me where he is," Chloe insisted.

"Okay, okay . . . He went to see Lucifer," Linda blurted out, throwing out her arms in helpless resignation.

"He went to see Lucifer? Why? Is everything all right?"

"As far as I know, everything is fine. Amenadiel just went to check on him."

"Why didn't he let anyone know about his plans? I could've sent Lucifer a message," Chloe said, her temper flaring as she considered the missed opportunity. She could've sent a message that he might actually receive.

"I don't know," Linda admitted. "It was all so sudden, but it had been a while, you know. He hadn't been down there since that one time right after Lucifer left. He's been too worried about Charlie and me. He just kept saying he didn't want to leave us. I even accused him of hovering. So when he finally announced his decision to go, I didn't question it too much because we'd been having an ongoing dialog about it for months."

"Why would he suddenly decide to go now if you'd been urging him to do it for months?"

"I don't know. Brother bonding?" Linda suggested.

"Are you sure you don't know anything else that you're not telling me? Is Lucifer really okay? Because if he weren't, I would absolutely want to know."

"I know, I know," Linda sighed. "And I would tell you. I really don't know anything more than what I've told you. If something else prompted the visit, Amenadiel didn't mention it to me."

"It's just that the timing seems suspicious. Amenadiel disappears on a whim, saying he's going to visit Lucifer. And at the same time, I stumble upon some sort of celestial hole."

"I agree, but until he gets back, we can't ask him. We'll just have to wait. In the meantime, why don't you really tell me how you've been doing?"

"Pretty much the same," Chloe said. "No better, no worse. Everything is just very . . . status quo."

"Are you sure? Because you can talk to me," Linda reminded her.

"Well, obviously, I miss Lucifer, but I think that's a given considering our circumstances."

"Chloe, we've talked about this. It will get easier."

"You keep saying that, and I want to believe it, but it's been nine months. So far, that hasn't happened."

"It will," Linda assured her.

Chloe dropped her head against the back of the couch. "Do you think he's happy?"

"I really couldn't speak to Lucifer's happiness. It's not like I've been able to check in with him. Right now, I'm here for you."

"Do you think he's moved on? Do you think he's forgotten about me?"

"Absolutely not," Linda said, shaking her head for emphasis. "You're too important to him. And as to your question regarding his happiness, with Lucifer, I don't think it's so much of a question of his happiness. As long as he feels like you and the people he cares about are protected, I would guess that he's probably . . . content. And it's also important to realize that the reason he was able to make that sacrifice in the first place is because he had you in his life, Chloe."

"I just feel so incomplete without him. It's like I'm in a holding pattern waiting for him to come back—except that I know he's not," Chloe said, fully committing to a confessional as she spread herself out along the length of the couch. "And I feel sad. But most of all I feel angry. I'm so mad that we finally got to where we needed to be, and we didn't even get a chance to actually be together."

"I know. It sucks."

"Wow. Brutal honesty. Not always what I expect from a therapist . . . ."

"I'm not speaking as a therapist right now. I'm saying this as your friend. I get it, and it's crap."

"Maybe I'll never move on from this," Chloe predicted. "I know I don't even want to consider it right now. I just can't."

"I'm starting to think that 'moving on' is the wrong way to look at it, and we've probably scared you by hinting at it in past conversations. All you really need to do is reach a place of acceptance that allows you to lead a healthy, productive life."

"That sounds like code for 'moving on.'"

"It isn't really," Linda said. "Just give it some consideration. Think about how you can explore healthy avenues for experiencing life without constantly dwelling on your feelings for Lucifer and how much you miss him. Your feelings for Lucifer can still exist alongside the regular business of life. You just need to give yourself permission to have those new experiences without feeling the guilt that comes along with them."

"I really wish I could see him," Chloe mused. "Our goodbye went so fast that we never got any proper closure. And in the back of my mind, I'm constantly wondering if he's really gone for good or if he might actually be able to come back one day. I know he can't leave, but if I could just go there or—"

"Chloe, we've been over this. Amenadiel talked to you about why that's not possible, right?"

He most certainly had, Chloe thought, feeling the bitterness rise inside of her. She hadn't wanted to ask Amenadiel for help, and at first, she hadn't needed to ask him. But then, things had changed . . . .

Surprisingly, the first few months after Lucifer's departure had been the easiest for Chloe. Her resolve had been rock hard, and her memories of the two of them together had still been fresh. Like any good martyr, she'd been determined to accept her lot with a stoic sense of duty. With time, however, her resolve had weakened and the memories had become bittersweet. By the fifth month, her patience had grown razor thin to the point at which she'd actually broken down and begged Amenadiel to help her.

"Yeah, he talked to me about it," Chloe muttered, thinking back to the discussion she'd had with Amenadiel several months before.

"Tell me what I have to do to see him, Amenadiel. There has to be a way," Chloe had insisted.

"Sure there is. And it's actually pretty simple. You just have to die. That is, assuming that you're Hell-bound, of course, and I doubt very much that you are, Chloe."

"Let's assume that I don't want to do it that way. What about the other thing?"

"What other thing?"

Chloe looked pointedly at him until finally he glanced over his shoulder. "My wings?"

"Well, I felt awkward asking before now, but Amenadiel, I'm really starting to lose it. You know, desperate times and all that . . . . Can't you fly me down there? I saw Lucifer when he left, and I know that's how it's done. It's how he brought Maze here."

"Chloe, I can go because I'm an angel. Maze can go because she's a demon and technically, it's where she belongs. But you're human. I can't take you to Hell. At least, not if you ever want to come back to Earth."

"Okay, then. Some other way . . . . Amenadiel, I'm telling you. I need to see Lucifer."

Amenadiel offered her a pained look. "I know," he sighed. "Look, you know my brother, and I'm sure you realize that above all, he'd want you to move on and enjoy your life. He wouldn't like that you're pining for him. He'd encourage you to get out and meet new people. Even new men."

"Eh . . . I don't think he'd encourage me to do that," Chloe said. "To be honest, that doesn't sound like him at all. As much as I care about him, even I'm willing to acknowledge that sometimes Lucifer has a tendency to be all about Lucifer." Chloe rolled her eyes as a flicker of an unwitting smile crossed her lips. "It's actually kind of endearing."

"Okay, maybe he wouldn't exactly encourage you to date other men," Amenadiel conceded. "But deep down, it is what he'd want because he cares about you so much, Chloe. He returned to Hell because he was trying to protect you."

"And the rest of humanity," she pointed out. "I get it, okay? But I'm just so tired of not being able to do anything about it. I can't go on missing him like this for the rest of my life. And not just my Earthly life. We're talking about eternity, Amenadiel. It's been five months, and I'm just done. I have to see him. I need to know that he's all right."

"Chloe, if I could make that happen for you, believe me, I would. And even if it was possible, it wouldn't be right. You don't belong anywhere near Hell. Lucifer would agree with me on that. He wouldn't want you there."

"But—"

"I'm sorry," Amenadiel had said with finality, and Chloe absorbed an immediate surge of disappointment when she realized that she'd failed to convince him.

"Amenadiel has your best interests at heart," Linda reminded her gently. "And Lucifer's, too. He cares about you both."

"Ugh," Maze grunted from the doorway. "What are you two talking about? It sounds depressing." Kicking the door closed behind her, she walked into Linda's office as if it were her own living room.

"I thought you were out on an assignment," Chloe said, raising her head off of the couch.

"Just dropped the guy off at the station. He was a lot easier to find than I expected. Bail jumpers are stupid."

"Maze, I'm in a session," Linda complained.

Maze dropped onto the arm of the couch above Chloe's head. "It's just Chloe. She doesn't count."

"Yes, she does," Linda argued.

Chloe stood up. "Actually, I didn't come here for counseling, although it sort of evolved into that. It's gotta' be the couch," she laughed sheepishly. "It sucks me in every time."

"Yeah, me, too," Maze admitted. "You know, if you're done with it, I was thinking I might take a turn."

"Why? What's going on with you?" Chloe asked.

"Nothing. I was just hoping to get in a nap."

"Well, if that's all you've got going on, I could use your help with something. I actually came here looking for Amenadiel, but since he's not available, you're the next best thing."

"Did you tell her he went to Hell?" Maze asked Linda.

Chloe cocked her head at Maze. "You knew? Why does everyone get to know these things except me?"

"It's a pretty new development, okay? I mean, Amenadiel just left," Maze grumbled. "And besides, we didn't want to send you into a tailspin over Lucifer. You've gotten all sad and pitiful since he's been gone."

"Maze, that's not very sensitive," Linda chided her. "Try to remember what we've been talking about in our sessions. It's important to value the perspectives and opinions of others. Many times it helps to put yourself in the other person's shoes."

"It's fine, Linda," Chloe said, interrupting them. She didn't have time for a discussion regarding Maze's emotional shortcomings. An analysis like that could take weeks, and Chloe was eager to investigate the hole in Mary's garden. "I need to get going. Maze, are you coming?"

"Why not?" Maze pushed off of the couch arm and walking across the room to Charlie's bassinet. "After all, I am the next best thing to Amenadiel."

"Don't wake him up, Maze," Linda warned her, "or I promise you'll have Hell to pay."

Maze laughed softly. "Is that supposed to be a threat? You do remember that I'm a demon, right?" She tucked the blanket around Charlie with a tenderness Chloe never would have expected from her before the baby had been born.

"Just don't wake him up," Linda repeated, softening her voice. "Or else. I have two more appointments to get through, and they'll go much better if he's sleeping."

"Come on, Decker," Maze said, nudging Chloe out the door. "You can fill me in on the details in the car."

"So what's your assessment?" Chloe asked Maze after they'd had a few minutes to inspect the anomaly in Mary's garden. "Is it celestial?"

"Look, Decker, I know you're a novice at all of this Heaven and Hell stuff, but even you should recognize this for what it is."

Chloe crossed her arms, waiting for Maze to flesh out the details.

"It seems fairly obvious that it's a doorway to Hell," Maze explained in a bored tone.

"An actual door?"

Maze shrugged. "Actually, it's more like a tent flap. Or a tear in some fabric. I'm not sure how it got there, though. Hell's pretty air tight. It's not like you can just rip it open."

"Well, how do we know it leads to Hell?"

"Duh. How many residents of Heaven would march into someone's house and stab them?"

"Okay, so you think the opening and Mary's stabbing are related."

"Obviously. Sheesh, Decker. I thought you did this for a living."

"Then, we're supposed to assume that a demon or one of Hell's inhabitants has escaped?" Chloe asked.

"Something like that . . . ."

"Something like that?"

"I'm not entirely sure about the specifics, but it'll probably make more sense once I've tracked down whatever stabbed your vic."

"How do we know that more of them won't come marching through the hole?" Chloe asked, forcing herself to sound calmer than she felt.

Maze shrugged her shoulders. "Seems unlikely. For one, they'd have to know the exact spot, and this is only a small tear. It isn't obvious. And even then, a demon can only escape if it has a body to inhabit, and the former humans are so messed up that it would never occur to them to escape. Of course, there's a handful of others down there who might try to get out, but if you're worried about the residents of Hell overrunning the Earth, it's not going to happen. If there's a line forming on the other side of this hole, it's a really short one."

"So is it just the one hole? Are there two? Three? How many? What if Hell's sprung a leak?" Chloe asked, firing the questions at Maze in rapid succession. "Maybe you should go there to find out what's going on."

"It's not like I can just pop down to Hell any time I want. An angel would have to fly me there. You really do need to brush up on your demonlore."

"But what about this tear? Can you not pass through it to the other side?"

"Probably, but Hell's a big place, and we don't know where this thing leads. I kind of like my life here now that I've gotten used to it. I don't want to take a chance that I wouldn't be able to come back."

"So what should we do?" Chloe asked.

"I'm going to track down the person—or thing—that came through the hole. And I need to get going before the escapee is able to put any more distance between us."

"All right. My car's out front. Let's go."

"No. No way. I'm working this one alone. We don't know who or what this is. We only know where it came from. And since I'm a bounty hunter and a demon, I'm doubly-qualified to track it down. You'll just be in the way."

"Sorry, Maze. I'm coming with you. It's not negotiable," Chloe said as she followed Maze around the house in the direction of her cruiser.

"Decker, why do you have to be so stubborn? It makes sense for you to hang back here—or at the station. Someone needs to wait for Amenadiel to get back. In the meantime, you can poke around in the stabbing case to see if that lady knows anything that can help us i.d. who or what stabbed her."

"I suppose there's some sense to that," Chloe conceded. "Someone needs to try and keep the celestial stuff under wraps. We definitely don't want anyone else going near that hole. Hypothetically, if someone did go through the tear, what would happen?"

"Certain death."

"They'd die? Maze, I put my hand in there."

"Well, it's a good thing you brought it back out quickly." At Chloe's horrified expression, she laughed, "I'm kidding. Just pile up some stuff in front of the hole. It's the best we can do. If some human is stupid enough to willingly enter Hell through a back door, that person deserves what they get. See ya', Decker. Let me know if your stabbing victim offers up anything useful."

"Wait, Maze," Chloe called as an even chillier thought occurred to her. "What if something's wrong with Lucifer? This wouldn't be happening if it were business as usual down there, would it?"

"Look, Decker. I only know what you know. He's probably just napping on the job."

"So you don't think he's in trouble?"

"Maybe. But I doubt it. If something had happened to Lucifer, I'd know. I mean, he is my boss—on paper, that is. And besides, Amenadiel is down there with him. I'm sure they're fine."