After two days on the phone, Anne knew exactly where to take her newly discovered manuscript. The Philosophical Research Society Library held one of the finest collections of rare occult books around and was founded so people could explore 'wisdom traditions'. It held books covering religion, science and esoteric philosophies. Also among its great collections were rare volumes on mesmerism, theosophy and even a divination book once owned by Napoleon. Of course its notoriety didn't come solely from its compendiums, there were plenty of rumors and legends as well. Whispers about the library having books on black magic came up from time to time, but only those with special permission knew for certain if it was true. Another favorite tale is that all the tomes on Satan were stored safely beneath a Buddha statue. Why? What better place to balance out the energies of dark and light.

Anne Cranston felt completely out of her comfort zone stepping in there. She had visited libraries thousands of times since she was a child, but not one like this. The very aura of the place felt different. Although she wondered if that was mainly due to her perception rather than reality. Just to look at the place it didn't appear any different from any other library. She timidly stepped up to one of the desks and asked where she could find one of the librarians, a certain Warren Taylor. The woman gave her a sigh of annoyance then pointed to an unmarked door on the other side of the room. Despite the attitude, Anne gave her a polite thank-you then went down to the door.

Of all the experts she could have gone to, Warren Taylor was the best in his field. He looked every bit the part of a professor with his sweaters and bow ties. Long into his retirement, his distinguished face and coffee skin showed the lines of age and his pretty black curls showed a mix of grey and white, not that he had many. His hair had long since receded to the back of his head leaving him with more forehead now then he had started out with. His most outstanding feature was his eyes. They were dark and seemed to possess a deep wisdom with just a twinkle of mischief.

Warren had spent his entire life inside of libraries. He taught literary courses at a couple of different universities. His greatest love and the only mistress in life was the written word. Books had been his childhood escape from poverty, hate, bullies and yes even racism from time to time. The pictures in books meant nothing to him, why should they? They were only one person's interpretation. How many hours had he spent imagining himself as the great King Arthur (no doubt he would have been the best) or traveling to the future on his time machine. A particular favorite from childhood was 20,000 Leagues under the Sea. He liked to imagine himself sailing through the oceans as captain of the Nautilus. Perhaps it was because on that submarine Captain Nemo answered to no one. He was the authority and the law. There was no country, no bigotry . . . complete freedom.

Of course that was in his early life. Warren was now an old man in his seventies and when he read his beloved stories it was a momentary taste of the fountain of youth. With the turn of a each page his heart came alive and he felt young again. Living in the black and white print he didn't have aching joints, fading eye sight or wrinkles and thinning grey hair. Instead he was Sinbad the sailor battling monsters and sailing the seas, or he could be Frodo Baggins embarking on a dangerous journey to Mordor with the one ring.

Yes, Warren's greatest love in life was books and working at the Philosophical Research Society part-time was most advantageous. Within these walls were subjects he had never had the opportunity to experience and valuable books his hands ached to hold. Warren's lengthy career had made him the library's resident expert when it came to the authentication and history of various works and manuscripts. Whether he believed in the ideas written in the many volumes stored here was anyone's guess. He never spoke about anything personal, but did his work and was polite and friendly.

He was sitting in his office thumbing through a copy of Tennyson poetry he had brought with him from home, when Anne knocked on his door. He told her to come in then reverently placed his worn bookmark between the pages and laid his glasses on the desk in front of him. The lady of Shalott is simply going to have to continue to look through her mirror a bit longer, he mused to himself before greeting Anne. Politely he shook her hand then offered her a seat in front of his desk.

"Ah, Ms. Cranston. You said you had a book you wanted me to look at." He smiled warmly and the sparkle from his intelligent eyes made her feel far more comfortable in his office then she had in the rest of the building.

"I called several antique book dealers and all of them told me you were the one to talk to." She explained as she opened the laptop bag she had brought with her. From it she took out all six sections of the strange manuscript she had found and held it out to him, curious to know what he had to say about it. Warren put on his glasses, positioning them on the tip of his nose then slipped on a pair of archival gloves before carefully taking the manuscript. His eyes fell upon the leather cover with its embossed symbol and simple title causing his expression to become quite serious. For a moment he looked at her suspiciously then opened the book with great care and began to examine the pages. He was very thorough as he looked it over and seemed to be taking forever. He scrutinized everything, the material of the pages, the silver and gold gilding, the leatherwork of the cover, the binding, the artistry . . . it was endless. Several times he used a magnifying glass and Anne couldn't help wondering what he was looking for. Mostly he seemed very interested in what the book said. Whole spaces of time would pass with him doing nothing more than reading the text. All the while he never said a word, but furrowed his brow more and more with each passing page.

"Where did you get this?" He asked sitting back in his chair and looking at her gravely.

"I-I found it by accident. Is it worth anything?"

"The parchment is in excellent condition as is the lettering and illustrations. All of which were done by hand. The silver and gold gilding is intact and the cover is in good condition, but does show some wear. Of course it would be worth more with its original binding. As just an illuminated manuscript what you have is quite valuable, but its subject matter makes it beyond price." At his answer, Anne's jaw went slack. She was expecting to hear that she could auction it off for a few hundred dollars. The words 'beyond price' never occurred to her. "You are in possession of a legend, Ms. Cranston. Scholars, philosophers and theologians have been looking for Elijah's missing Lilith scrolls for many ages."

"But that's not a scroll and it doesn't say Lilith it says Lilit." She responded a bit confused.

"Lilit is the Hebrew version of the name Lilith and you're right, this no scroll. The original scrolls that were written by Elijah have disappeared with time, but records indicate that sometime around six-hundred or seven-hundred AD, the scroll was translated into an illuminated manuscript. Supposedly it was stored with other religious books during the early days of the Catholic Church. When Pope Nicholas V decided to establish a public library at the Vatican all the known collections were combined and catalogued, but this book was missing. Over the centuries many people have claimed to have seen it, or even been in possession of it, but the document always remained missing."

"Lilith." Anne whispered, fascinated. "W-who was she?"

"I take it you haven't read this." Warren answered with a gentle smile.

"I read the first page, but that's it so far."

"Lilith was the first woman God created, but she refused to be subservient to Adam. She left the garden and laid with the Archangel Samael. For her disobedience she was transformed into a demon and banished to Hell where she gave birth to the race of demons known as the Lilim. That's the abbreviated version."

"Samael?" She asked. Anne had heard of Michael, Gabriel and even Raphael, but not this one.

"You probably know his other names better. Devil, Satan . . . Lucifer."

"Lucifer." She echoed. For a moment she could picture her brother, Jimmy, screaming and carrying on as though the devil was truly at his heels. "It's a good thing we live in a more enlightened time." Anne gave a casual laugh at the thought without noticing that Warren didn't even smile at her assertion. "It's hard to imagine that people ever believed these stories or went to such lengths to tell them." She looked up and noticed he was staring at her rather skeptically. "Well, I mean, that's all this is, right? This book is all about the myth of her creation and downfall and was meant to be a lesson to others regarding the evils of not obeying some 'God'."

"This book is a great deal more than that, Ms. Cranston. This book details the rites by which someone can summon her . . . or stop her."

"Summon her?" Anne scooted a little closer to his desk. "Why . . . why would someone summon her? I mean . . . she's supposed to be a demon . . . right?"

"Probably one of the most powerful." He watched her face and there was a fascination in her eye that he found disturbing. "Supposedly those who summon her are taught the art of seduction. Her students have been rumored to be Delilah, Cleopatra and Agrippina, just to name a few. Of course whether there is any truth to the stories . . ."

"Each of them was able to manipulate a powerful man." She mumbled to herself, but not quite soft enough. Warren didn't like what he was beginning to see in her face. She seemed far too interested in the possibilities contained in the text then she did in simply owning such a valuable manuscript.

"You haven't asked for my opinion beyond authenticating this, but I will give it to you anyway. Do not underestimate books, Ms. Cranston. Most stories have the power to take a person away from their troubles, take them places and experience things they might not otherwise see or do. At least for a while. It is a gift we expect when we sit back in our favorite chair and gaze upon the typed print. There are other tomes that are different and possess an influence beyond anything we could even begin to comprehend. The Philosophical Research Society possesses many such volumes and it can be a dangerous thing to dabble in things you do not understand or appreciate. Do yourself a favor, Ms. Cranston, donate that book. Any number of museums would be happy to acquire it. This library would be eager to give it a place of honor. I'm sure even the Vatican would be happy to give it a home."

"I-it's just a book." She couldn't believe that such an object was being given so much importance.

"Perhaps, but such items should still he handled with great respect and not taken lightly."

"I think I can handle it." She sniffed, collecting her prize from his desk and hurriedly leaving.

With her departure Warren Tyler rose and stoically walked to his file cabinet. From around his neck he removed a chain from which hung a key and carefully stuck it into the lock opening the cabinet. Inside were a series of folders each marked with a blue label: Lucifer Morningstar, Amenadiel/Dr. Canaan, Mazikeen of the Lilim, Charlotte Richards, Lilit/Lilith Eden and Gaudium. These folders had been carefully and quietly removed from the office of Lt. Marcus Pierce shortly after his death. The original Sinnerman had his fingers in almost everything and that included putting together a band of eyes and ears that could watch for and keep track of celestials and demons. Now that the head of the snake had been removed, the organization was mostly gone. Only a few, like Warren, still remained to protect the knowledge and keep it from falling into the wrong hands.

Carefully he removed the file on Lilith Eden then returned to his desk and began to scan through it. Every aspect of her life since leaving Hell was laid bare in that file just as it was in all the others. There was documentation regarding The Green Lady bar from its original owner Christian Elam to its most recent purchase by a certain Lucifer Morningstar. There were photographs of Christian with his fiancé Lilith Eden as well as images of her standing outside his mausoleum at Rosedale cemetery. The file also contained pictures of the Preacher-man, aka Levi Sethos, as well as newspaper clippings regarding his sudden bout of insanity and his lengthy confession of adultery and misappropriation of funds within his church. Included with these documents was a detailed forensic analysis of his sudden death from the bite of an undetermined snake. Also among the newspaper articles was a singular obituary column regarding the sudden and mysterious suicide of an anesthesiologist named Matthew Willard. Accompanying this clipping was a series of photographs taken of the scene particularly of the body. One picture was a close up of his chest showing a mark burned into it. The mark was simple, just a waning crescent moon that had a cross emerging from the bottom. A red circle had been drawn on this photo and a notation that read: the mark of Lilith.

Warren placed the forensic photo back in the file and instead turned his attention to others that were more pleasing to the eye. The image of Lilith seated on a stool at Lux. Her long dark hair cascading down her back, her intense green eyes looking over the club scene. She was indeed a beauty and just a photograph of her stirred the librarian in ways he would have thought long since dead at his age. Quickly he put it back in the folder and closed it, forcing the image out of his mind.

"You are truly a dark seducer of men." He commented as he added a document regarding the recent purchase of a sugar cane plantation in Hawaii to the file. Carefully he put the folder back in the cabinet and locked it. "Sometimes I wonder if a man could serve you and still keep his soul."

Warren might not have asked this if he knew just how little interest the devil or Lilith had in obtaining souls. Lucifer cared nothing for them. Lilith had the ability to enslave a soul and had even done it once or twice. It had been her chosen punishment for Dr. Matthew Willard for daring to kidnap her eldest son. Having the ability, however, did not make it a pleasure. It was physically draining and she had no desire to be surrounded by souls eternally burning with desire and crying out for her attention. No, neither the devil nor demoness wanted to waste a moment of their time sitting on the shoulders of mankind tempting them into damnation. Lucifer could easily find more than enough drama in his own life without messing in the souls of humanity. As it was he felt like he had to walk on egg shells from time to time with Chloe because he didn't want her to be afraid of his uglier and darker side. There was also the issue of Lilith. He had really thought he had moved beyond that until he talked to Linda and saw Ella's t-shirt the other day. Lucifer didn't like having unfinished business and Lilith was definitely a loose end that needed to be woven back into her appointed place in the devil's life. The problem was that he had no idea how to do this since he no way of contacting her and he wasn't about to go to Hawaii and chase her down.

Lost in thought regarding the problem, he found himself driving to The Green Lady bar, rather than Lux after a long day with the LAPD. The entire building was locked up tight of course, but with the simple turn of a key Lucifer was inside. He turned on the lights and looked about. It was empty, exactly as it had been the last time he was there. He really didn't know why he was here. There was no music, no people, not even a single drink to be had. Silently he went up to the apartment just above the bar and once again flipped on the lights and looked around. All the furniture was still covered in sheets. He climbed the steps to the bedroom and looked out over the balcony at the apartment. It wasn't as spacious as his penthouse, but it was comfortable and inviting.

He laid down on the bed and closed his eyes. In the stillness he could just make out the faintest trace of her perfume. Where was it coming from? He grabbed the pillow next to him and smelled it. There is was! That fragrance that was undeniably Lilith was there in her pillow. It brought to mind the last time he had rested here, when Chloe had nearly died from poisoning. Once he was sure the detective would recover he had come to this place during the night looking for solace. At the time, his life had felt like a ship, lost and struggling in a terrible storm. His parents were waves batting him around without any thought to the damage it was causing him emotionally. Seeking refuge and a lighthouse in the storm, he had sought Lilith. Yes, Lucifer truly missed his friend. Not for any romantic, or sexual reasons, but for the laughter, the conversations. He missed having someone that he could feel safe confiding in and knowing that no matter what, she never judged him.

That all seemed to be over now and laying there Lucifer was suddenly struck by the sheer ridiculousness of him missing someone who could so easily walk out of his life. This was crazy. Refusing to waste another moment on her, he slapped Lilith's pillow back over on the other side of the bed and got up. This was the stupidest thing and a complete waste of time. There was no point in being here. If Lili wanted to run off to Hawaii or anywhere else in the world then so be it. She was master of herself and owed him nothing, right? A tropical beach was as good a place as any for her to pout and throw a spoiled tantrum. He straightened the bed and then went around turning off all the lights before descending back down to the bar. Enough was enough and he wasn't going to give her another second's consideration, not when there were drinks and lovers to be had all over LA. He emerged from the stairwell ready to embrace all the distraction he could handle, only to stop in his tracks at the sight of Maze seated on a stool at the counter, a nearly empty bottle of vodka in her hand.

"If you're looking for Mom, she's not here." Mazikeen explained looking up at the devil.

"Well thank you for that riveting and timely news report." Lucifer responded coolly. The two weren't exactly friendly since Maze's unfortunate betrayal. Trust, once lost can be very difficult to rebuild . . . if at all. "Now why are you here?"

"Just waiting for her punishment." She answered, staring at the bottle in her hand. "It's not the first time and it won't be the last. Mom warned me. 'Your temper is going to lead you into a whole lot of trouble' that's what she said." Maze took a drink from her bottle before continuing. "Why doesn't she just get it over with?"

He walked over and looked at the demoness as she sat there drinking. He could remember the way she had played him. Aligned herself with Pierce and tried to drive a wedge further between himself and the detective. Why? Because he wouldn't return her to Hell? He had no idea where the ideas about begin a consolation prize and no one putting her first came from and he really didn't care. What he did know was somewhere along the way, Mazikeen had allowed her anger over Linda and Amenadiel to go completely out of control until that rage was directed at everyone and everything.

""Maybe that's the punishment, Maze. Making you wonder . . . wait." He said, watching her carefully. "Allowing you to torture yourself with your own guilt. Sounds exactly like something a demon would do, doesn't it?"

Was he torturing her? Yes. He wasn't sorry for it either. Not after her games of manipulation. It was true, he had not quite understood her issue with Linda and Amenadiel. He was also aware that he may have been a tad neglectful when it came to Maze, but it was difficult to excuse the choices she had made. Her amusement at making him believe he was the angel of San Bernardino leading to days without sleep seemed like nothing compared to the torture of Charlotte's murder . . . particularly for Dan. There was much for her to atone for and he had no problem taking his time.

"Your right, that's exactly what mom would do. Lilith never forgives or forgets . . . and betrayal of any kind . . ." Maze's words gave the devil pause as he remembered why the Queen of the Lilim was absent from his life at the moment. She finished off her bottle of vodka then tossed it behind the bar. "Well, I'm not running from her. She wants to punish me then so be it."

"Bravo Maze," He commented as he gestured her to the door. "This could be turning point between you and your mother." He closed the door as the pair left the bar. "But . . . She is still out there somewhere . . . and she is stronger than you." He turned the key and the bolt locked with a loud click. Silently Lucifer got in his car and drove off leaving Maze to ponder the situation alone in the darkness of LA.