Chapter 7: Wicked Game

Chloe had arrived at the abbey in record time, gas economy and speed limits be damned in lieu of making the most out of their busy morning. She walked beside Mother Margaret through the main kitchen and into a large pantry, followed closely by Lucifer and Ella, who was already clad in her forensics attire. The Reverend Mother, visibly worn by recent events, directed them out the only door that led to a fenced-in backyard, where the incident had occurred in the early morning hours, but did not accompany them farther.

Detective Espinoza was already at the scene, squatting next to the dead body of a middle aged Hispanic male. The victim was sprawled face down on the ground with severe burn marks covering over ninety percent of his naked body. Uniformed officers wandered about like automats, cordoning off an area deemed a crime scene for investigation purposes. When Dan saw his colleagues emerge from the building, he stood up and placed his gloved hands on his hips.

"His name was Diego Hernandez," he said, bypassing any unnecessary greeting. "He was a handy man who did odd jobs here in the area. According to the abbess, they've known him for years. He was kind, discrete, deeply religious and never got into any trouble. It appears he was electrocuted while trying to fix a short near that power box over there." He pointed at a charred wall unit attached to the side of the building, and the clear culprit of the victim's untimely death. "All evidence points to an unfortunate accident, except…"

"Except?" Chloe prompted.

"Well, see for yourself," Dan said, crouching down to turn the body onto its back.

There they were again. Three sixes clearly visible through the scorched skin of the victim.

"Let me guess," Chloe said grimly, "his clothes are nowhere to be found."

"Which ought to make this a little quicker," Ella chimed in, holding a black lamp in her right hand as if it were a sacred weapon. "Would you mind turning him onto his stomach again?"

Dan did as Ella requested, allowing the black light to shine over the victim's back revealing yet another cryptic message. Though disturbing, it was not as big a shock to any of them this time around.

VENIAM PETIMUS

"Okay, again with the Latin," Ella groaned. "Any guesses as to what this means, or should we whip out a cell phone?"

Both women turned to Lucifer who, judging by his facial expression, had managed to translate it instantly and looked downright pissed.

"Beg for forgiveness?" he scowled. Tearing his eyes off the deceased, he kept his aggravation in check by pulling his hands into tight fists. "Well that's just…"

It wasn't just a conundrum. It was a provocation. He stormed away from the scene without any further comment and found a secluded corner at the edge of a nearby orange grove where he managed to, surprisingly enough, light up a cigarette. It was turning out to be a rather strange day, second victim notwithstanding. First, he had the misfortune to wake up to one of his overnight guests' raucous snoring. The lad had been a decent bedmate, perfectly malleable for a Devil's threesome, which was always a plus. Lucifer despised when other males tried to run the show on his turf, had no qualms putting them in their rightful place if they ever dared get out of hand, and this one had been flawlessly submissive. As for the lady, she had been a bit too demure for his taste. It often happened with first timers. They took a while to lose their inhibitions, and last night he had been in no mood for amateurs.

Maybe the problem wasn't them. His heart hadn't really been into it, and his mind… Well, his mind was elsewhere. In hindsight, he probably should've joined the Britneys in the Jacuzzi. They're apt enough at entertaining themselves, and he's always content with simply sitting back and enjoying the show.

Although, if he were to be completely honest, nobody was as sexually compatible with him as Maze. She was the only one he trusted implicitly. The only one who could push him to the limit without holding back for fear of harm or retaliation, and then bring him back from the brink of insanity. They would hold these private affairs on occasion, during which he could drop all pretenses and let his true self shine through. He had needed that last night. He had needed to give up that control, relinquish it for a while. He was desperate to ease that crushing feeling inside his chest that had settled there since the beginning of the case and that threatened to asphyxiate him.

Damned human emotions were a bloody nuisance and he was getting sick of them!

He took a long drag of the cigarette as his gaze trailed to where Chloe was standing nodding at something Dan was saying. A loose strand of hair blew across her face, and she pulled it back behind her ear, her attention never wavering from the case. Lucifer blew out a lungful of smoke, his lips curving into a mild grin. It crossed his mind on occasion how Detective Douche knew her way more intimately than he did and, perhaps, ever will. That thought alone would poison his mind and drive an invisible spear through his chest.

Lucifer wasn't quite sure what his fascination was with this particular human. Why did he want her so damn much? She couldn't possibly measure up to most of his sex partners, and yet…

"What is it about you, Detective?" he mused, eyes narrowing.

His mind traveled to the moment they'd shared earlier that morning in the basement of the L.A.P.D building. He was not one to get jittery over a stupid little kiss, much less with a lowly human. So, the fact that he had been pretty much a nervous wreck had given him pause. Maybe it was a mistake to pursue a sexual relationship with the detective. There was no need to step out of the comfort zone of professional partnership. If his earlier mental state was any indication as to what he was getting himself into, perhaps it was best to leave things between them well enough alone.

He huffed out a soft, humorless chuckle.

When did sex get this bloody complicated?

He kept watching his colleagues, unobserved. Professional detachment was a defense mechanism, something cops used to shield themselves against the horrors of their daily job. So it didn't surprise Lucifer to see Ella smirking at a flirtatious uniformed officer, an arched eyebrow her way of turning his advances down. He went about it all wrong, Lucifer absently mused, then turned his attention to Detective Douche. He had leaned into Chloe to tell her something near her ear. Lucifer saw him nudge her playfully in the arm, saw her looking up at him trying not to laugh. Dan smiled broadly at her reaction. Lucifer's blood boiled as it coursed through his supernatural veins.

Once he'd polished the cigarette down to the stub, he dropped it on the ground and crushed it under his raven black Louis Vuitton loafer.

On the other side of the courtyard, Ella was finishing up the preliminary forensic work on the corpse. She had already taken enough pictures from every angle as to be certain all data was properly recorded, and had collected and preserved all potential evidence found at or near the body. She was conducting a thorough search for trace evidence, when Mother Margaret stepped out into the courtyard and offered them some water and homemade lemonade for the third time that morning. By then, the boys in blue had already departed, and only the detectives remained at the scene.

"You're welcome to stay for lunch, if you wish," she offered kindly. "It's getting so late, and you've been here for a few hours now. You must be starving."

"That's very kind of you, Reverend Mother," Chloe answered, "but we should really get going. We won't be much longer."

"Please, detectives, I insist," the abbess said. "It's really no trouble and we always have more than enough to spare. Besides, it's almost an hour drive back to Los Angeles."

Chloe turned to Dan, who offered her a mild shrug. "I'm actually starving," he said sheepishly.

"So am I," Ella said, joining the group. "Somehow the vending machine Cinnabun I had this morning didn't quite fuel me past midmorning. Those things really are all empty calories."

"All right," Chloe conceded. "We'll wrap up here and… wait, where's Luc—Mr. Morningstar?"

"I saw him going back inside the abbey about twenty minutes ago," Ella said. "I figured he had to use the little boy's room or something."

Their answer came not five minutes later, when the sound of a pipe organ rose over the grounds and filled the air with the serene strain of Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah. They followed the melody inside the building, down the main corridor and into the chapel, where they found Lucifer surrounded by a small group of captivated nuns corralled at his back listening to his mellow rendering of the song. As for their presence, he seemed to be completely oblivious as he poured his soul into the music.

…it's not a cry that you can hear at night

It's not somebody who's seen the light

It's a cold, and it's a broken hallelujah

Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah

You say I took the name in vain
I don't even know the name
But if I did, well really, what's it to you?
There's a blaze of light in every word
It doesn't matter which you heard
The holy or the broken hallelujah

Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah

I did my best, it wasn't much
I couldn't feel, so I tried to touch
I've told the truth, I didn't come to fool you
And even though it all went wrong
I'll stand before the lord of song
With nothing on my tongue but hallelujah

Hallelujah
Hallelujah

Hallelujah
Hallelujah…

When the final chords finally died down in the empty hollow of the chapel, a chorus of applause made him turn around in surprise. Some of the nuns bowed their heads with approval, while others blinked away the moistness brought about by the surge of emotion.

"Oh, hello!" he said a bit perplexed looking at the crowd as if they had just materialized out of thin air. "I didn't realize I had an audience."

"Thank you so much for that beautiful performance," one of the nuns said.

"You have the voice of an angel, Mr. Morningstar," another one complimented.

"Well, I suppose that's not entirely surprising," he murmured turning back to the keybed.

As the crowd dispersed amongst whispers of appreciation, Chloe walked over to him, an amused grin playing on her lips. "Seems like you have a nice little bunch of groupies there," she teased.

"What can I say? Holy sites are the Devil's playground," he replied getting up from the bench. "Next time I won't be as reverent with the repertoire. Though, I have a feeling AC/DC's Highway to Hell will sound a tad ridiculous when played in this contraption." Then, addressing Mother Margaret who stood a few paces back, he asked, "It may need a bit of tuning, but overall it seems rather well maintained. Who does the upkeep?"

The abbess sent a reverent glance up the tall pipes with a wistful smile. "Mr. Hernandez used to. I do it myself on occasion when he's… not around."

"Oh, and what do you use to prevent the keys from jamming?" Lucifer asked, unfazed by the woman's grief. Mourning was a complete waste of emotion in his opinion.

Mother Margaret exhaled a shaky breath to compose herself. "We have WD-40 in the toolshed. I guess—"

Lucifer groaned, wincing with disapproval. "No, no, no," he berated. "That only prevents rusting, it does nothing to lubricate the keys properly. Have you ever heard of a product called Protek Prolube?"

The old woman frowned while Chloe and Ella exchanged a knowing glance.

"No. I don't believe I have," Mother Margaret said blankly. "Is that what you recommend we use, Mr. Morningstar?"

He nodded slowly, a dreadful realization washing over him. If the lubricant wasn't taken from the abbey, it was highly probable it had been taken from a place much closer to them, and used, like he had initially feared, as a warning.

"Yes," he finally whispered, his mind elsewhere. "It will extend the instrument's life exponentially."

"Thank you for the advice." The abbess offered him a kind smile. "And, please, feel welcome to come and play for us anytime. You do a delightful job." Gesturing down the hallway as they stepped out of the chapel, Mother Margaret told them how to get to the dining hall. Then, she excused herself and headed towards the kitchen to make sure everything was running smoothly.

"Well, well! Aren't we the next American Idol!" Dan taunted once the nun had disappeared around the corner. "Or is there a British equivalent?"

"Oh, dude! You should totally audition for that!" Ella said with barely contained excitement.

"Yeah, man," Dan laughed. "You shouldn't let a perfect stage name go to waste!"

"Yes, well. It's not as liberating as say, improv, Dan," Lucifer glared at him, "but it does help me unwind."

Dan's cocky smile ran away from his face in an instant. He cleared out the non-existent frog in his throat and walked the rest of the way in silence while Chloe and Ella discussed the merits and let downs of reality television. Lucifer, on his part, tuned them all out and turned his thoughts inwards.

The four of them shared one of the three long tables with ten other nuns. They sat at the far end, refraining from discussing the case while they waited for their meal to arrive, opting instead to talk about trivial things with their hosts, like the weather and how much recent rain showers had helped against the ongoing drought. Shortly into their conversation, the kitchen staff brought three big pots of stew, one for each table, and the nuns began to pour a generous scoop inside each bowl until everybody was served. Starving by then, Chloe, Dan and Lucifer were about to dig into their bowls when they heard Mother Margaret's voice from the other end of the dining hall.

"It's time to say grace for the wonderful meal Sister Lorraine has cooked for us," she said, standing at the head of the table. "Mr. Morningstar, why don't you do the honors and lead us into prayer?"

Lucifer stiffened in his chair. He felt the weight of every single stare in the crowded room focused on him. His mind ran over about a dozen pathetic excuses that even he was too ashamed to voice out. The dry chuckle that escaped his lips sounded more shy than reluctant, and completely defeated the purpose of his lack of enthusiasm.

"I couldn't possibly…" he began, hating being put on the spot for once.

"Please, I insist," Mother Margaret smiled. "It would mean a lot to us."

Chloe and Dan were trying their best not to look at each other for fear they might just lose it in front of their hosts, while Ella cheered him on, chanting her encouragement in a barely audible whisper.

"Very well," Lucifer said in the end. He stood up grudgingly and offered his audience a lukewarm grin. "Dad," he began to say through clenched teeth. "We thank you for this… humble meal before us. Not that You can tell from up there, but I assure You it smells delicious despite its plainness. I have a feeling once we can sit down and finally eat it, it will not disappoint. So, thank you so much for the riveting suspense." He sighed, looking skyward. His grin turned sour as he added, "I'm sure You're thoroughly enjoying this precious little moment. I can sense the divine gloating from here." Once he was done, he turned his attention to the stunned room of speechless nuns who regarded him like he had just stepped out of a spaceship. He smirked, and offered them a disarming smile. "Amen?"

"Thank you so much for that… unusual prayer," Mother Margaret said with a polite nod. Then, addressing the room as a whole, she added, "Please, enjoy your meal."

"Finally!" Lucifer grumbled under his breath as he sat down and dug into his bowl.

"That was one cool speech, Luce!" Ella told him, nudging him softly in the arm. "Very unique, very… personal."

"Yes, for a moment there I thought you were going to ask God for some truffle oil," Chloe guffawed.

"Ha, ha! Very funny. Can we please stop talking about Him now?" Lucifer growled. "I don't suppose they'd have a bottle of Bordeaux Supèrieur laying around here somewhere."

"Drinking while on duty is a no-no," Dan scolded, and immediately regretted his comment when Lucifer's derisive scoff reminded him of the reason why the nickname he detested so much stuck.

Lunch turned out to be a relaxing affair despite the gloomy ambiance brought about by the two recent deaths. At the very least, it gave them time to wind down and let the dust from the case settle a bit before their departure. They were already on dessert by the time the coroner arrived, which gave them the perfect reason to excuse themselves and escort him to the crime scene before heading back to Los Angeles. Dan, Chloe and Ella returned to police headquarters to sort through the mountain of recently collected evidence, while Lucifer took off in his convertible the moment they reached the parking garage.

The Devil wasn't used to waiting. That just simply never happened. On the contrary, it was humanity that waited to be graced by his favors, and then waited again until he requested his due payback. They waited for his torture, for the waiting game was often the cruelest form of punishment. They lingered in eternal hell awaiting for a redemption that was unlikely ever going to come. So, having had a taste of his own medicine put Lucifer in a foul mood. Sitting in the waiting area outside of Dr. Martin's office, he glanced over at his Cartier for the tenth time inside of five minutes. Her current session was running way past the top of the hour.

When her door finally opened and a stalky, balding man in thick nerdy glasses stepped out, Lucifer sent him a murderous glance that could have frozen Hell itself. The poor man scurried out into the hallway offering him a vague apology and, most likely, throwing months of therapy sessions down the toilet in one instant.

"I didn't expect to see you so soon," Dr. Martin said as she beckoned him in. Lucky for him, she didn't have another session for a couple of hours, and she was always happy to fit her least ordinary patient into her schedule. "Is everything okay?"

"No," he answered sitting on the couch and leaning forward. "There's this new case the detective's working on… I'm almost sure there are supernatural forces at work that..." He tried to put his thoughts into words, but it wasn't easy explaining certain things to a human.

It was a good thing that Linda had managed to digest the whole 'dealing with the Devil' drama. It was also a good thing that she was an excellent listener. She gave him time to voice what he wanted to say, and when he failed, she prompted him with a question.

"What kind of supernatural forces?"

"They're rather… ethereal," Lucifer said for a lack of a better description. "They have no gender. No form. They exist in between realms, feed off wishes, weaknesses, impulses... Everything that makes you humans, well, human!"

Linda tried to process what he was trying to tell her, but couldn't really wrap her head around it. "I don't quite understand..."

Lucifer nodded, thought about it for a moment, and tried a different approach. "Okay, have you ever looked down from the top of a tall building and felt the strange urge to jump just to feel what it'd be like?"

"Yes," Dr. Martin admitted. "But that's just the effects of cognitive dissonance. Your brain gets conflicting signals and tries to come up with a solution. When you look down from of one of these tall buildings, you expect to fall, and yet you're in no danger of falling, so your brain comes up with the only possible conclusion: you must want to jump. Fortunately, we can easily overcome those impulses."

"Except, that which you call 'cognitive dissonance' has more to do with these entities than with the human brain," Lucifer said, his voice low and deep. "And what holds you back, believe it or not, is what some of you refer to as a 'guardian angel'. Funny enough, sometimes it's your own free will at work." When he saw her expression morphing from interest to surprise, he rolled his eyes. "I know, it also shocked the hell out of me when I first got here, but I digress..." He waved a dismissive hand as if it was something he had gotten over long ago. When he met Linda's eyes again, she fell captive to his gaze, hanging onto his every word. "Of course, there are those times when a person does jump off a building, or a teenager summons up the courage to ask a high school crush out on a date, or a suicide bomber decides to pull that pesky, little string…"

"What are they?" Linda breathed out in a tight whisper.

"I told you. They're amorphous. They take control of your actions. All they need is an instant."

"Are they… evil?"

"No. Not always. Though, I believe this one in particular is no angel," he said darkly. "You have no idea what these things are capable of. I just wish there was a way I could warn the detective of the danger she might be facing, but she refuses to listen. She thinks I'm a nut job, that I'm playing a part in my own personal delusion… Well, you know the drill."

"Have you tried talking to her about it?"

"Yes, of course I've tried talking to her about it! I nearly end up wearing my bollocks as a bowtie trying to get through to her!"

Dr. Martin thought about it for a moment. "Maybe after a good night's rest you'll be able to tackle the talk from a different angle," she suggested.

"Oh, that's another thing," Lucifer frowned. "A good night's rest, you say. First I need for all these bloody dreams to stop!"

"Okay," Linda said adjusting her glasses while she pondered on which approach she ought to use to best get through to him. "I'm not sure you can make yourself stop dreaming. We talked about this. Dreams are totally beyond our control." When she saw the dismay in his eyes, she opted to switch gears. "Did you have another dream last night?"

"I did. Except this one was different. It was disturbing. In a scary way."

"So, you had a nightmare."

"I don't have—" he began to refute, but then his brows creased in realization. "I guess I did," he scoffed, incredulous. "It was. I had a… nightmare."

"Do you remember anything?"

He nodded, his stare lost in a hazy spot somewhere between her chair and the carpet. "I was walking around, meandering near the gates of Hell. Everything looked the same as when I left, except… It was different. I was lost. I mean, I knew my way around instinctively, I guess. I could hear the souls screaming, I could feel their anguish, their pleas for mercy. Demons smiled at me. They bowed before me. They called me Master. But something wasn't right. Something was… off." He exhaled, swallowed dryly a couple of times, his eyes haunted. "And then I saw her. The detective. I suppose it should've horrified me to see her there, an innocent soul about to cross that forsaken threshold, but instead I was…"

"What?" Linda prompted when his voice trailed.

"I was relieved," he breathed out. "I was glad she was there."

Dr. Martin tilted her head, trying to understand. "You were glad to see Chloe in Hell?"

"Well, it wasn't so much joy to see her in Hell," he began to explain, realizing that the more he tried to justify his reasoning, the less sense he made. "You don't understand, Doctor," he said hoarsely. "The detective… she is mortal."

At last, Linda began to understand. Her chest tightened when the depth of his words dawned on her. "You fear that one day she'll no longer be here. And when that happens…"

Lucifer clenched his jaw, then took in a shaky breath and exhaled it slowly.

"I'll never see her again," he finally whispered through a lump in his throat.

The silence that followed was only disturbed by the rush of traffic outside the building. Neither of them could argue against the reality of that simple fact.

"Lucifer, did something happen between you?"

He ran a hand up and down his stubbled cheek. "I shouldn't have… It was a mistake."

"What was?"

"It doesn't matter," he mumbled. "It can't happen again."

Dr. Martin knew him well enough by now to know when to push him and when to hold back. They were making a monumental breakthrough. In fact, it had already happened. He just hadn't realized it yet. She decided she could not let him hide behind his indifferent façade. Not this time.

"It's not about the thrill of the conquest anymore, is it?" she asked him.

Clearly puzzled, Lucifer met her gaze. "What do you mean?"

"I mean Chloe makes you vulnerable in more ways than one," she said, knowing she was treading dangerous waters. "She brings out a side of you that stands in stark contrast with the persona you have created for yourself here on Earth, whether by choice or by chance. And it scares you."

He sat very still, troubled eyes fixed on hers as he listened to her every word. Linda let out a deep breath filled with empathy, and finally spelled it out for him.

"Lucifer, I think somewhere along the way, you have fallen in love with Chloe."

A soft laughter of denial pushed past his lips. It was preposterous! The Devil was incapable of such emotion. Lust, desire, yearning… Those feelings he could relate to. Not…

He swallowed hard. It wasn't like he didn't long for that kind of closeness. He deeply enjoyed spending time with the detective. Hell, he'd given up countless nights of epic sex just to sit in a car with her waiting for some loser to make a move. It was all about those seemingly insignificant little moments with her. And, if what the doctor said was accurate, it might explain that exhilaration that rose inside his chest every time they inched closer to that forbidden line.

He wasn't quite sure how to handle it. One moment it made his heart swell with something he could only describe as joy, and the next it would tear it to pieces. Its intensity scared him way more than he cared to admit. As to what it did to his insides every time he pondered beyond the physicality of their relationship…

No. If what he was feeling happened to be that which humans called "love", he wanted nothing to do with it. It was just too damn confusing. Too damn… excruciating!

He left Dr. Martin's office feeling hollower and more disoriented than ever. Whipping out his cell, he pressed a familiar number on his speed dial. A female voice answered almost immediately.

"Come over to the penthouse tonight," Lucifer said with no small amount of self-loathing. The pressure in his chest intensified, became thick and heavy as he added, "No, Maze. Just you alone."

[ ~ To Be Continued ~ ]