A/n: We are all in this together. You are not alone.

"Love and Peace!",

Mint Tea and Skulls

Chapter 40: Pawn to D4

Lux, before opening, was a much tenser place than it had been before. Only Maze seemed unfazed by the cruel silence between Lucifer and Natalie. It was a Tuesday, and Lucifer hadn't expected the lead choreographer to be there the next morning. His presence didn't even seem to register to her as she spoke with maze and left. His attention followed her.

He reasoned that he was on his way out anyway. Once he was through the exit, he spotted Natalie a little ways up the sidewalk. A black SUV with tinted windows pulled up next to her. Evan's small blue car was no where in sight. When she stepped into the car, her eyes swept up to meet his.

There was no surprise in her features. She had known he was there the whole time. She had just chosen to ignore him. There was still anger. An anger that drowned out the sounds of the street and flooded his senses with a sensation of warning.

The strong resurgence of that instinct caused him to sway for a moment. Most of the time, it was a feeling that he had all but ignored, like the never-ending breeze of L.A.. However, now he knew why. It was because of what she was, at least in part. He could probably ask Amenadiel, who had been in the war against the dragons.

Which Lucifer promptly dismissed. He was not going to give his brother any kind of ammunition relating to his personal life. After all, warnings or no, angered or not, Natalie couldn't truly hurt him with her tickling light-shows. What he didn't understand was why she was mad at him. He was the one who had been used, betrayed, and manipulated.

Regardless, he had work to do. Lucifer made his way to his convertible to meet up with the detective. The coffee at the station was always abysmal, but it was nothing his trusty flask couldn't fix. Before he could start on that first sip, the detective appeared by his side. After making up her own cup, the two returned to her desk.

"The address came in this morning," she opened with, "although, I can't say I'm surprised. It was the madam's personal assistant who made the call."

"Excellent, we can pick up proper coffee on the way." He retorted, abandoning the cup at the desk.

With a chuckle and a heavy rolling of eyes, they were on their way. The madam's estates were expansive. The standard iron wrought gate and call box hid the gardens and house from view. His normal charming smile in place, he rang the call box button.

"Madam von Ger's residence." A voice in the box buzzes back.

"Yes, Lucifer Morningstar to see the madam. Oh. And company."

"Mr. Morningstar! Of course, right away sir."

The detective rolled her eyes again as he leaned back and gave her a smug look. The small playful smile assured him that his humor hadn't been lost on her. The walk across the grounds was a short one, as Thomas Samson, the madam's personal attendant, met them half way.

"The madam is in the gardens this morning. Please follow me."

"Actually, we're not looking for the madam specifically. Someone called the police from this location with a tip on her safety. We're trying to follow up."

"Oh." His cheerful expression dropped.

Lucifer interjected to try to recollect the situation. "Mr. Samson, you are the head of the house in the madam's absence, do you know who called?"

"Well, I did. The trip was short notice, and the madam was concerned about something happening. So, I tried to protect her from whatever was bothering her. Didn't prevent her being robbed in customs, however, I did try."

The detective's disappointment settled over the air.

"So, can you tell us anything that can help us with catching her blackmailer?" She tried with a lightly frustrated tone.

The attendant paled, and shook his head, "I believe that it's time for you to go if you have nothing to speak with the madam about."

"Now, just a moment," Lucifer interjected again. "I believe we can come to an arrangement. Tell me, what do you truly desire?"

"I... want- I want to move to New York City."

"New York?" Lucifer questioned.

"I have a friend that can help me get into theatre, I just can't afford to physically relocate my life like that!"

With a knowing smirk toward the detective, he pulled a stack of bills from within his suit jacket.

"A deal then. Money to go to New York, and you tell me anything you think might help us get to the Sinner Man."

The silence only stretched on for a few moments before Mr. Samson cursed softly.

"Okay. Okay. There's this strange old woman called the 'Oracle'. The madam goes to her every few months for a fortune telling. But she's a big time figure in the criminal underworld. An untouchable paragon protected by some weird divine magic. She protects the weak who seek her for safety. Not even the great and terrible Natalie Varquez has ever attempted to challenge her. If anyone knows something about that mad-man, and will talk to a cop, it's her."

"And how do we find her?" The detective pushed.

"She has a booth down at the pier. Every quarter moon, she opens up shop."

0-0 0-0 0-0

Natalie's blood seemed to seethe in her veins. Her skin itched and stretched over her knuckles. Never had she been so calmly angry. It was a strange sensation. The look on his face was burned into the back of her eyelids.

The horror. As though he had expected some kind of a fairy tale. One where she did only slightly bad things. One where she saved everyone, not just him. He must have been a young immortal, or new to this plane. Either way, he was a naive fool.

Survival dictated that she should stay away from him. In her anger, she almost felt she could. However, under the anger and hurt, the idea of never seeing him again was unbearable. Although she had no idea how to even look at him with out the desire to slap a bit of sense into him threatening to overwhelm her. Stupid, beautiful, naive fool, that he was.

As she shifted against the faux leather seat, she attempted to reign in her temper. She couldn't be sure how her budding new abilities would be effected by strong emotions. Her legs crossed back and forth, until the other passenger in the car snapped at her.

"Would you stop fucking fidgeting?" 'Sinner Man' barked.

"Would you stop being a fucking tool?" She replied without thinking.

The sigh from beside her sounded completely exhausted. She grinned in victory.

"You are an amazing pain in the ass." He muttered, "I've got a small problem that needs solving."

He held up a folded piece of paper out to her.

"Standard clean out?" She asked, taking the paper.

He nodded. The car came to a stop outside her apartment building. Natalie hopped out before either of them could start another argument. There was a nap on her agenda that she wanted to get to. The next day was going to be a long one, and she needed some rest to reset.

Only her body had any rest. Her dreams were filled with a strong grip and a deep, rough, punishing voice. The rampant fantasies of her imagination refused to quiet themselves. A very different set of afternoon events played out in her mind. Sleep filled with glorious torment.

The hand around her wrist tugged her up, and spun her to face him. He still looked furious. His other hand took hold of her chin, as he moved her to maintain eye contact. "What do you desire?"

"You." She answered, without hesitation.

"Me?"

"Please."

Whispered. Begged. Trapped against him, and oh so weak for it. Her heart pounded against her chest and glorious warmth filled her knotting stomach. He still looked so angry.

His grin was almost cruel as he taunted her, "Do you even know what you're asking for?"

The hand holding her chin slid into her hair, a firm grip to hold her in place. The dark promise in that question brought a whimper to her lips. However, he wasn't done with his questions.

"Do you know what I could do to you? What I want to do to you?"

She tried to press her thighs together for some kind of relief from the pressure building in her core. Trapped between him and the bar-top, it caused her to press further into him.

"Try me," She challenged, "I'm still partially immortal. I won't break."

The growl that came out of him was nearly feral. A flick of his wrist returned her to the surface of the bar-top. This time both of her wrists were trapped in his grip at the small of her back. He stepped away from her, but before she could complain about the loss of his warmth, a swift strike landed across her backside. Sharp and stinging.

Natalie moaned outright. Another strike to her denim clad ass drew out a small whimpered "yes". Each pass became more powerful, leaving her panting and pleading.

"Won't break indeed." He muttered roughly, "Let's test those limits, shall we."

She quivered against the vibration of his voice against the shell of her ear. The hand holding her wrists hauled her back up and released her in favor of gripping the back of her neck. With a turn, and a couple steps, lips crashed against hers. Her freed hands clutched the disheveled collar of his shirt. Her only anchor.

It was the next sound that left her on the edge of purest pleasure. The soft clink of his belt buckle, and the slide of leather against cloth. She broke away to look up at him, her hands unfurled, and she offered them up. The pleased smirk he gave her, warmed and emboldened her. With that damned flush spreading across her face and down her neck, she kept her hands high and she sunk to her knees.

The smirk on his face dropped away. A deep moan came from him. The leather of the belt felt soft against her wrists, and –

"Natalie! You're phone! Get up!" Evan's voice cut through her nap.

The jazzy ringtone brought her fully back to the waking world. The flip-phone sat beside her bracelet. With a determined grimace, she stood up and collected both. Even if their argument lasted for years, she still took comfort from the lovely gift. Regardless what Lucifer may think at this moment, the night did mean something to her.

The ringing continued. Opting to face Maze rather than listen to Evan complain about the phone, Natalie opened and answered her phone.

"Whatever it is, the answer is no."

"Hahaha. You say that now, but you don't know why I'm calling."

"I don't know if you've noticed, but calls from you rarely end in my favor."

"Don't be a spoilsport, you have tonight off anyway, so let's-"

"I have plans. Whatever nonsense you're getting up to, you can take Decker, or the raging tantrum."

"Ha! Hahahaha! The Raging Tantrum! Hehehehe! I'm totally calling him that at the next floor meeting."

"Point stands, Maze."

"Okay, what's with you two? Another lover's tiff? You know you're never going to get to fuck him if you keep picking fights."

"I'm not the one picking fights!"

"That's not what he said."

"That's not ... I'm not having this discussion with you. What do you want?"

"Well, now I want to know what crawled up your ass and died."

For a moment, Natalie considered just hanging up. However, she knew from experience that would cause a fight that she didn't want at this moment. Instead, silence was her tool as she waited for Maze to get back to her point. It only took a few moments before an exaggerated sigh came from the other end of the connection.

"Okay fine, I'm trying to nab a bounty ad could use a pretty distraction to get the jump on them."

"Definitely sounds like a Decker job."

"Fine, I'll see if she wants to make easy money."

While Maze sounded slightly annoyed, the silence of the call ending was like a balm on Natalie's tired mind. With a quick check of the clock, she changing into a pair of sturdy jeans and a thick hoodie to block out the evening chill. She only had a couple hours to get across the city. However, as she made her way to the specified hideout, a sense of foreboding settled over her. There was no telling what just yet, but something was off about this job.

From the moment she pushed the double door of the dingy bar open, all sound (expect the radio) stopped. Natalie ignored everyone and walked up to the bar with her hands tucked in her pockets. The bartender gave her a once over like she had lost her mind. Maybe she had. She needed a fight.

"Rum? Neat?" She asked in mockingly sweet tone.

The bartender's face changed into angered disgusted.

"This is a private club."

The answer came from behind her, but she just pointedly ignored them, and stared at the bartender expectantly. After a few more moments of stillness, she pulled out the folded paper from her pocket. She made a show of unfolding it and finally looking about the room.

"Fine, if there's no rum, do you at least have the Sinner man's money?" She opted for a casual tone, but watched the tension roll through the room.

There was more silence. No one even seemed to breath. Natalie bobbed her head up and down. She sighed with exaggerated disappointment.

"I guess we have a problem."

That's the one that set them off. The clicking of pulled back hammers, the flick of switchblades, and the rustle of fabric exploded in the silence. The bartender pulled out a shortened, double-barreled shotgun from beneath the bar-top. A hateful smile split across her face as she turned to face the rest of the room.

"So, where's your boss's office?" She asked them.

On instinct, she dropped down. The blast behind her went off and the man standing in front of her flew backward. As she stood back up, she lifted the stool next to her. Taking a leg in each hand, she ripped it apart to give herself two solid "bats". Incoherent shouting sprang up, but clearly from the upstairs balcony came barking orders.

"Who ever brings me that bitch's head will be my new right-hand man!"

The laughter started deep in her chest. It bubbled and boiled, and made her very skin itch. As the sounds slipped past the clenched teeth of her smile, it sounded like madness in her own ears. However, she couldn't hold it back, and threw her head back to free it from her being. It was a setup.

There were too many people here. This was more than just one private club. That bastard knew they were up to something, and sent her into what should have been a death trap. The laughter died out, and her chin met her chest. When she raised her face again, a small malicious smirk had taken the smile's place. A hesitated murmur filled the silence.

"Fuck it!" Yelled an enthusiastic upstart.

Her challenger leaped from the crowd and raised a simple Glock toward her. With a swift side step, the bartender behind her went down from the shot.

"Oh fuck! You shot Jones!"

"I didn't mea-"

She sprang forward and slammed one chair leg across his face. Proper chaos broke out once again. Her focus stayed on keeping her steps light, with quick, weaving movements. It was crowded enough that any shot that missed her found a different target. The two "clubs" she had moved in a synchronized motion.

Each turn and strike, she carried through and circled the momentum around for the next strike. However, for each person that fell, it seemed two took their place. Interruptions to her path and rhythm stalled her long enough for a few shots and blows to land. She pushed the sensation and the pain to the back of her mind. Tingling bluish sparks came over her skin as she pushed herself to move faster.

As she fought her way through the crowd, she located the staircase. Taking the high ground was never a fun process, and the stairway was packed with gunners that opened on her when she looked around the corner. She looked up to the balcony railing of the next floor. Knocking out the person immediately in her way, Natalie took a running start and jumped against the wall.

The landing wasn't graceful. The thud when she landed jarred the injuries she had collected. She stood, and coughed air back into her body. Before she could fully regain her composure, another round of thugs turned on her. Bloodied, bruised, but still armed, Natalie swung hard.

She made it down the hallway before her improvised weapons finally broke. The now splintered wood was tossed aside and she took up a few of the scattered knives from the ground. When she rolled back up to her feet, she threw the first two into the gunner that had just step in at the end of the hall. The last she held fast and used for deflecting the knife strikes that came her way. She pace had slowed, so she tried to look around for a better weapon choice.

Her luck was looking up as a couple goons were swinging sturdy metal bats. She dipped under one swing and brought her fist up to strike him in the nose. Her time sparring with Maze was finally showing results. The reflexive speed that she used to move between blows was increasing. Each dodge was one less injury to patch up later.

Once both were struck down, Natalie picked up the two bats. She only had a moment to feel out the weight in her hands before another wave attempted to encircle her. Their numbers were dwindling, however they were still numbered enough to feel confident in their ability to kill her. Many of the survivors from the first floor were charging the stairs to rejoin the fray. She rolled her shoulders to loosen back up, before she charged on the one that was blocking her way forward.

The crunch of cartilage under her boot brought another cruel smirk to her face. Using the face under her foot as a spring board, she flipped over the growing crowd. The bats came down hard on the next few in her way. With a blown kiss over her shoulder, she ducked into the next section of the balcony. However, her victory was stopped short.

The crime bosses that had come to meet up were busy. Their attention focused on what appeared to be a interrogation of a thoroughly drugged Mazeikeen and Decker. Natalie paused, staring, momentarily horrified and frozen. A quick scan of the room that was still ignoring gave her a quick count.

Five. Five different groups had come together. The map on the table had a boundary showing the limits of the Sinner Man's territory. A setup indeed. Either way that manipulative bastard would have won.

However, that was a matter that could be handled later. One that she would handle, but she needed Decker alive for that plan. In the more immediate future, she needed to get them out of here. Foot fall from behind her pulled her mind back to the other problem at hand. She stepped into the room proper and shut the (surprisingly) large door.

The solid thud, and lose of ruckus, brought the room's attention to her. Seven sets of eyes feel on her. Pounding could be heard from the other side of the door. Natalie schooled her features and casually strolled into the center of the room. She made a show of picking up the map.

"Huh? Well, well. What a fortuitous day for me. I come to collect the money Winters owed, and uncover an entire plot. Looks like we're trying to eat a much bigger fish than you."

Despite the mocking tone, no one moved. The boss collective were painfully aware of the lack of muscle in the room. Natalie fished a lighter out of her pocket and caught the edge of the map on fire. She dropped the burning paper over the ashtray, the stubs catching fire.

"Shame, there are enough of you, that it might have even worked. Oh. Right. But you're not paying me."

One tried to run for the balcony. She threw one of the bats. The strike to the back of the head stopped the escape attempt, however the other four also began running. A couple quick swings took the two that charged the door down. She pegged another by throwing the other bat.

The last, poor fool took up a position behind Maze, holding a switchblade to her throat. Her eyes still had a hazy glaze, but there was rumblings of an anger. Natalie willed Maze's unbending nature to overcoming whatever they drugged her with.

"Stop right there! I know, you and this one, you two are friends. Another step, and I kill her. Hell, I'll kill them both."

Natalie turned her focus to the idiot holding the increasingly aware bounty-hunter. She let a mocking grin float to the surface. With open palms, she lifted her hands. The shocked look that she got gave her the entry way she needed. With their eyes locked, Natalie focused on the small black dots in the center of the last boss's eye.

She settled the storm within her, and focused on maintaining that connection. The discomfort began to show, before panic began to bleed into his eyes. She focused harder, trying to induce as much duress as she could. In her peripheral, she saw Maze's elbow swing up, clipping across her captor's face. The movement lacked her normal fluidity and restraint, followed by collapsing against the chair again.

With Decker on one shoulder and Maze on the other, Natalie checked for a second exit. The bright red gleam of building safety standards guided her to a back stair case. The blare of the fire alarm starting, and the downpour of sprinkles, were the only company, thankfully. Once she returned to street level, she sprinted for a couple block and found a side outlet to hide under. Technically safe, she set down the two women.

"How pretty." Came the muttered drug-induced mutterings of Decker, "Like one of those cute little... cute little bats."

Decker's hand tried to reach over Natalie's shoulder, and she grabbed the offending limb. A strange pulsing pushed back against Natalie's hand.

"Like a feathered..." She muttered before passing back out.

Natalie looked over at Maze, who was still out. She refocused on Decker, releasing her hand. Instead she stared at her own hand, trying to make sense of the strange feeling. Natalie had always assumed Decker was human. However, that was not a reaction a human could induce.

There was something sleeping within Decker. Something powerful. Volatile. Something that caused a primal part of Natalie's very being to recoil. Hesitantly, she touch Decker's hand again.

The feeling was gone. Only soft human flesh left in its wake. Natalie stood and put a bit of space between them.

She scrubbed a hand over her face and muttered, "I should just go be an island hermit. Find a nice atoll, and just never leave."