Chapter 7
Chloe checks her phone as Patrick guides her through the tunnels. No cell service… she slides it back into her pocket. She supposes she can't be surprised at that, being this far underground. Also unsurprisingly, Lucifer had been telling the truth about the Prohibition tunnels under Lux, but what he hadn't mentioned was that he'd renovated many of them into offices or even sleeping nooks (at least, that's what Chloe generously dubs them, deciding she doesn't want to know what they might actually be used for).
Patrick points them out to her as living quarters as they pass them, though, commenting casually that quite often new hires don't have a place to live in L.A. yet. He goes on to inform her that Lucifer allows them up to a month in one of these, rent-free, until they're able to get their feet under them and find their own place. If they aren't able to find a home within a month, he extends his offer for as long as the employee cares to stay, at a rate so low that Chloe isn't a bit surprised to find that over a half dozen people actually live down here in these catacombs… to Hell with the lack of windows.
When she wonders aloud at the lack of windows, Patrick laughs and opens one of the empty rooms to give her a brief tour. The furniture and fixtures are perfectly clean and maintained, and the apartment itself is well-lit and airy. Chloe's police academy dorm had been far worse than this as far as living conditions went. She shakes her head in amused disbelief as they continue down the hallway to the office she'll be occupying while Lucifer continues to heal.
They'd done their experiment, all right, and while Lucifer had still bled when Chloe was in the club level, apparently the tunnels were just far enough away that he became invulnerable again. She makes a mental note to look up just how tall Lux is, so they'll know for next time how far away she needs to be. A fleeting thought crosses her mind of how insane her life is that she's even contemplating the next time she needs to help keep the Devil safe, but it's quickly banished and held at bay by the burning questions still spinning in her mind. She settles herself comfortably in the luxuriously furnished office and plugs the laptop into the ethernet cable as she flips open the screen.
"This is without a doubt the most ridiculous thing I've ever done, Detective, and I rebelled against God," Lucifer's raspy voice sounds from the laptop speakers once she connects the video call, his burnt and distorted features appearing in high definition on her monitor. Are his eyebrows starting to grow in? She leans closer to the screen. No, that's ridiculous. Impossible.
But impossible seems to be the flavor of the week for Chloe. She's just discovered that her quirky, infuriating, handsome, lecherous, loyal, possibly-slightly-insane partner is The. Actual. Devil. And she has no idea what that means—for her, for… for Los Angeles, hell, for the fucking universe, even!
When she'd first met Lucifer, she'd told him that she wasn't an atheist—and that was mostly true. She believed in right and wrong, good and evil… but she hadn't believed in any kind of afterlife, let alone eternal reward or punishment. And now… Now? She hasn't had time to think about it, but the ever-expanding idea of everything behind the curtain she hadn't even known was there is threatening to yank her through, kicking and screaming and… she suddenly feels miniscule. Beyond insignificant. Because… if it's all real, what possible difference can she make in any of it? How is it, that of the 8 or 9 billion people on the planet, she winds up with the Devil at her side?
"Detective?" The concern evident in his voice is what brings her back from her existential crisis, and she finds that she's shivering, though the room is comfortably warm. Lucifer's waxy brow is creased in concern as he stares at his own laptop screen image of her face. "You've been staring for quite a long time now. Are you… are you quite all right? I'm still not certain exactly why you insisted on a video call for this conversation… surely seeing me this way is disturbing you?"
"I'm fine," she squeaks, then clears her throat in embarrassment. "I'm uh, just…" she sits back in the chair and buries her face in her hands. "I don't know how to deal with any of this! How am I supposed to handle this? I'm… I'm nobody."
"You most certainly are not," he growls, and the personal affront in his tone is so profound that Chloe actually pulls her hands from her face to gape at him. "You, Chloe Jane Decker, are without a doubt the most amazing, compassionate, bloody selfless human that I have ever had the pleasure to meet—and darling, I should know—I've met quite a lot of you."
Chloe can only blink at him for a long moment before she manages to pull enough of her thoughts together to say something coherent. "I insisted on the video call because I wouldn't put it past you to sneak out without me once you're healed up. Which isn't happening, by the way. At least this way, I can make sure you stay put. And you said you were going to answer my questions, and tell me what you know about the bomb."
"All right," he sighs gustily, crossing his right arm over his chest to scratch vigorously at his left shoulder blade with a pained grunt. "Let's get a wriggle on, then."
"I'm tellin' ya, Ramey, that lawyer knows something," Ryan seethes from the passenger seat. Theo sighs, patiently navigating traffic as they make their way back to the office after running down a dead-end lead from O'Neil, the bomber. "Why the Hell did we let her leave?"
"Because she's Charlotte Richards, one of the owners of Richards & Wheeler?" he reminds his partner dryly. "Also known as the top defender of nearly every high-profile scumbag in the city? Ringing a bell there, kid?"
"We bring her in, we send a message," Ryan asserts, crossing his arms over his chest belligerently. He glares out the window and Ramey glances over at him in exasperation.
"Yeah, we send a message all right, and you know what it'll say? D.O.A." Ramey snorts at his partner's naivete. "We might as well slap a target on our backs. Richards defends the hyenas, which means she can sic them on us if she wants to, and she's definitely not above that. Besides, any message we sent would get lost when she walks because we bring her in before we've got any evidence."
The interview had been an odd one, to say the least. The lawyer's story had matched Canaan's to the letter, but it felt… off. He's already tried to dig up information on Canaan, to see what motive he might have against his 'brother' the consultant, but so far all he's managed to find is a leased office space in Beverly Hills. There's not even an apartment leased in his name, a car, a bank account… It's like the guy barely exists, and it rings every bell in Ramey's brain. Add in appearing with the high-powered attorney and Ramey feels like he might as well move into the belltower with Quasimodo.
Unless they find some evidence, though, he's got no way to prove this guy is their Frollo. He grimaces, then smiles ruefully at himself. Clearly, he'd spent a few too many nights on the couch during his daughters' Disney phases.
So far they can link Richards to both O'Neil and Canaan, but without something more concrete than that, he's got nothing to go on. He needs to get O'Neil to talk, but Richards is always there. He knows the bomber didn't actually detonate the device, he was still in the holding cell the night of the incident. But his phone records and internet history have been examined and they haven't been able to turn up anything helpful. Dead end after dead end. He grips the steering wheel in frustration and heaves a sigh that Ryan echoes beside him.
"We gotta get this guy, Theo," Ryan mutters tersely, his partner nodding in agreement from the driver's seat. "When do you think we can talk to Morningstar and Decker?"
"Decker got discharged today, she was at the courthouse for the start of the Perry trial this afternoon. I've got a call in for her to call me back," Ramey takes a deep breath. "Morningstar got transferred to some burn recovery center, I guess in Las Vegas? The docs say he got hit hard, so he might be out of commission for a while."
Ryan is quiet for a while, appearing lost in thought as the lights of the city throw shadows across his face. Ramey thinks to himself that the younger man's reflection in the darkened window looks almost haunted.
"Have you ever talked to him?" The words are soft, but ring stridently in the silence of the car, and Ramey turns to his partner in surprise.
"Who, Morningstar? Not really. Just in passing. Why?"
"I dunno, he's a weird one." Ryan continues to glare out the window, keeping his face turned away, but Ramey thinks he looks pale. "You remember that time we tried to arrest him? When that street preacher was killed right before Decker proved the whole Palmetto thing?"
"I heard about it, but I wasn't there," Theo shrugs, "Why, something relevant there, you think? Dirty cop still looking for payback?"
"Nah, I mean… ah hell, maybe," Ryan shakes his head, threads his stubby fingers through his sandy hair. Ramey notices his fingers tightening on his opposite forearm, and a nervous bounce to his leg. "I was there. When Decker tried to arrest him. There were four of us, and her. This guy was her partner and she was just stone cold, man. Guns trained right on him and he… he wasn't even a little bit nervous. Just started laughing and going on about cosmic jokes and being blamed for people's sins. It was unnerving." He swallows hard, glancing at his partner from the corner of his eye before continuing. "He really seemed more concerned about the fact that Decker thought he'd killed that guy than the fact that there were five people aiming guns at him. Told her that her opinion was the only thing that mattered, then straight up goaded Cox into shooting at him."
"He tried to suicide by cop?" Ramey asks incredulously, "And he's still working with us? Where did Cox hit him?"
"That's the thing—he didn't. Morningstar disappeared, right in front of all of us. One second he's standing there in Cox's firing line as he pulls the trigger, the next there's some napkins flying around and the guy is just gone. The bullet shattered the mirror behind where he'd been standing."
"He must've had a trap door under him," Ramey scoffs, "or he just ducked behind that bar."
"He was in front of the bar, Ramey, and the floor was solid, we looked. Everyone looked. He disappeared." Ryan snorts softly to himself, shakes his head again. "I thought to myself, 'man, this guy really could be the devil if he's pulling shit like this.'"
"You aren't serious?"
"I know, it sounds nuts… but so does he," Ryan persists, "He gets more confessions from criminals than seasoned interrogators, and they're terrified of him, even if he never lays a finger on them. Practically everybody owes him a favor. I saw footage of him shoving a guy almost twice his bulk through a plate glass window, and he barely even moved."
"What are you saying, Ry? That you really think this guy's the Devil?" A smirk crosses Ramey's tired face, his eyes crinkling with humor. "That the Devil himself has been helping with solving murders in LA for over a year?"
"I just thought some background info on him would be handy. He goes around telling people he's the Devil. Maybe some extremist church group is after him. Decker's his partner, maybe they're trying to prevent the antichrist or something, I don't know." His tone is defensive now, and Ramey has mercy on the young detective.
"Okay, you've got a point. Extremist church groups are something we can look into while we're working on getting more info from O'Neil. It's kind of a long shot, but you're right that his Devil persona could draw the wrong kind of attention. You can start looking into it when we get back to the office. In the meantime, we'll also keep looking for crumbs on Canaan and Richards."
Ryan nods absently as Ramey pulls into the parking garage at the precinct. It's time to talk to the bomb techs and see if they have any new information.
"You'd think," Ramey adds, trying to lighten Ryan's mood a bit, "If he really is the Devil, that he'd have enough sense to steer clear of fire."
Lucifer sits back and crosses his bare right leg over his left with a huff. "Detective, I do know it's rather a lot to take in, but truly, this is the point you choose to get stuck on? We do have more important things we could be discussing." He scratches at his shoulder absently and Chloe watches in fascination as bits of skin flake away, revealing still more healing pink flesh beneath.
"I just don't understand why." Watching him literally healing before her eyes has been a surreal experience, and she's gotten lost in the swirl of emotions it stirs in her chest more than once during their conversation so far. "Why would me being nearby suddenly make you mortal?"
"Feel free to ask my dear old Dad, but I'm afraid I haven't the faintest idea," he sighs, lifting a now almost-present eyebrow. "When I first made the connection, I thought perhaps you'd been sent as… well, as a weapon or an agent against me."
"I would never—"
"I know, Detective," he reassures her quietly, leaning closer until his dark eyes seem to be truly looking into hers until he grimaces and resumes scratching at his shoulder. "I figured out that you're just an innocent in all this, and… Well. It's just as well, because I realized that I didn't want to stay away from you. Is that answer enough to allow us to move on to the actual issues, now?"
"Should you be scratching at that?"
"It itches," he growls, and she rolls her eyes in response. He reminds her of Trixie when she's got a peeling sunburn. "And I am the Devil. It's healing fine, now that you're out of range. Any other pressing questions before we continue?"
"So your mom, a literal Goddess tried to blow me up because she thinks you're dragging your feet about going back to Heaven to start a new war with your dad… who is God." Chloe sums it up slowly. She's trying not to be too terrified that she's apparently on God's wife's hit list. Or the fact that God himself also seems to be on that list… How is this my life? She can't even tell the investigation team where to start looking because… what would happen to them if they tried to arrest a Goddess?
"I'm not bloody dragging my feet—even if I was willing to go with her, we've no way to even get there!" He bursts out in frustration. He runs gnarled fingers over the fine fuzz on his scalp. "I just need to talk with her, Detective, I will not let her hurt you again."
"Lucifer, you can't always be right beside me, and as grateful as I am for you saving me… I certainly don't want you throwing yourself in between me and danger again," she shifts uncomfortably in the office chair. Watching him scratching is making her aware of her own discomfort under her bandages, her hands have been restlessly rubbing over them for the past hour. "What makes you think she'll stop just because you ask her to? And you said Amenadiel was there, too—"
"He was, but he was trying to stop her from pressing that trigger. I…" he falters, anguish twisting his already crooked features. "I am sorry, darling, this is entirely my fault."
"You aren't the one that planted the bomb and detonated my car, Lucifer," Chloe points out gently, wishing she could stroke his hand, or touch his cheek to make him meet her eyes. All she can do for now is stare earnestly at his downcast face on the monitor before her. "This wasn't you, this was all her."
"And yet you wouldn't have ever been a blip on her radar if not for me. If not for my presence here, in your life." He shakes his head slowly, sadly. "My presence at your side has placed you firmly in my family's crosshairs, and it is my duty to ensure your safety, even if it means agreeing to accompany her back to the Silver City to do so."
"I thought your dad kicked you out… didn't you say something about not being able to go back?" She vaguely recalls him saying something about that at some point… "What happens if you just show up there? And you said you don't have a way to get there, right?"
"Well, no, I'm not supposed to go back. Banned, you see." Lucifer admits reluctantly, "I've no idea what would happen if I did show up there. I didn't like the Silver City when I did live there, getting thrown out certainly didn't create any fond need to revisit it again. I do need to find out what her plan is, though. She must have some idea, or she wouldn't have targeted you to get me to agree. No point, you see, if there's no way to make the trip. If she's strong enough to lift Amenadiel, though, I need to make sure I'm at full strength before I confront her."
"Charlotte lifted Amenadiel?" Chloe gapes at him, trying to picture the leggy blonde—who is a Goddess— hefting Lucifer's burly brother – who is an angel. She hisses an indrawn breath and gently pinches her fingers over the bridge of her nose. "How is that even possible?"
"Well, she's still my Mum, Detective," he elaborates, "I thought being trapped in a human body would limit her powers, but if she's strong enough to lift my useless lump of a brother with one hand I can't help but wonder what else she might be physically capable of—not to mention her normal cunning and disturbingly steep learning curve." He pulls in a deep breath, his brows drawing together in concern until his eyes light up as he focuses on something above the camera. "Mazikeen! Have you got some information for me about our friends at the Alhambra Triad? I'm certain poor Daniel hasn't been able to crack the case so soon."
"Lucifer, what the Hell? I thought you'd be more healed by now?" the demon's voice sounds faintly over the video call, getting louder as she approaches. "Why are you on your laptop? Are you watching porn? Decker!"
Maze comes into view, leaning down next to Lucifer's face to see the laptop screen. Her kohl-lined eyes widen as Chloe sheepishly waves at her roommate. "Hey, Maze. Lucifer was just, uh, catching me up on his mom trying to blow me up and all…"
"That bitch did what now?" The demon narrows her eyes and whips around to glare at the devil, who doesn't flinch, but does eye her warily. "You were supposed to be laying low, not video chatting and showing off your healing!"
"Oh, bollocks." He takes a deep pull from his glass of whiskey before heaving a long-suffering sigh. "Yes, well, new development, Mazikeen, the Detective came to check up on me because she didn't believe I would actually seek treatment for my injuries… and my angelic healing abilities have apparently now convinced her that I am in fact exactly what I claim to be."
"Dammit, Lucifer, I only just fixed Linda from your little show-and-tell, now I'm gonna have to fix Chloe too?" Maze explodes, curved blades suddenly whirling in her hands. "I live with her, and you couldn't even give me a heads-up?"
"Maze, I only just—" Chloe tries to interject, but the screen has gone dark. Chloe's torn between rushing upstairs to help calm her roommate down, or keeping her distance so Lucifer is safer. She goes back and forth in her mind.
I make him vulnerable, so it stands to reason that if I just stay here, he should be fine, nothing she can do can hurt him. Right?
A vision of the enormous, roughly pebbled scars she'd seen on his back during the kidnapping case bubbles to forefront of her mind.
"That's where I cut my wings off. Well, I didn't. Maze did, I told her to."
Which means the demon has something that can hurt the devil. Chloe tries not to picture Maze, skin slick with blood, holding Lucifer down and sawing enormous wings off his back as he screams in agony. What would they have looked like? Black like a crow? He is the Devil, after all. Were they giant bat wings? Dragon wings? An absurd vision of Lucifer with enormous Blue Morpho butterfly wings surfaces, and suddenly a noise is emerging from her throat that she can't identify as a laugh or a sob. Either way, she spends the next brief eternity locked into a hysterical paroxysm as the tidal wave of new, terrifying information drags her into a vicious undertow and threatens to drown her completely.
Finally, as she hiccups herself into strained silence, she recalls the gorgeous set of white wings she'd seen at the auction where she'd first been introduced to Amenadiel. The ones Lucifer had been devastated to discover were fakes. The image of those attached to his back, fanning out in a display of heavenly beauty fills her mind and overwhelms her. Her whirling mind stills and sends her into a faint, collapsing bonelessly back into the office chair into blessed unconsciousness.
Chapter 8
"Decker!" A slap just a little too sharp to be considered light lands on the sensitive skin of her cheek and Chloe jolts up with a gasp and a groan, pain from the sudden flinch rolling over her like a cresting wave. A wicked smile curves over the demon's lips as she deftly draws back to avoid an inadvertent headbutt. "Hey! Good, you're awake, now turn this thing back on so Lucifer can see you or he's gonna be down here to check on you, and I can't have you slowing his damn healing down anymore. We've got shit to do."
"Maze!" Chloe's blue eyes narrow at her roommate. Her demon roommate. Her demon roommate baby-sitter. She swallows and makes a mental note to ask Lucifer exactly what the criteria are for entrance to Hell, because right now she's feeling like an utter failure as a Detective, as a friend, and as a mother. "You didn't hurt him, did you?"
"Did he scramble your brain when you figured it out?" Maze scoffs, actually managing to sound offended as she straightens up and glares at her. "Didn't you just hear me? Of course I didn't hurt him, I said I need him to heal so we can go track down the Alhambra Triad. I don't speak Chinese, and if I show up with my blades they just lock the doors and stare at me. It's boring." Chloe's buzzing brain takes a moment to process Maze's diatribe while the demon looks her over. "You look like shit, by the way. What's with the bandages?"
"The, uh… the burns weren't too bad, but they're… kind of oozy, and apparently they can get infected pretty easily?" Chloe clicks the mouse to reconnect the video call with Lucifer as she shakes her head, trying to clear the lingering wisps of fog from her mind. "I'm going to need to figure out how to change the wraps, I'm supposed to do it tonight."
"Mazikeen can help you with that, Detective," Lucifer's roughened voice emerges from the laptop as the video feed fades into view, his distorted, worried expression looming large in the frame. His anemic little sprouts of eyebrows are drawn together in the middle of his forehead, and she notices the dark beginnings of eyelashes starting to make themselves known as well. "Her bedside manner leaves something to be desired, but she's managed to patch me up a time or two since this whole mortality lark started up and I'm still kicking."
"Aren't you immortal?" Chloe responds automatically as Maze tosses her head with a dramatic eye roll. Chloe peers closely at the screen, trying to hide how pleased she is at the subtle signs of healing she can see just since she last saw him. His skin already appears smoother and healthier. "How long was I out anyway?"
"I'm afraid my little sex thug disconnected our call, Detective, so I'm unsure when exactly you started your little siesta." The shiny skin around his mouth pulls tight as he tries a smirk. "If you were that tired, darling, you could have used one of the empty staff quarters, they're regularly sanitized."
"I didn't—" She starts to argue that she hadn't fallen asleep, but then realizes that if she tells him she passed out he might…
Might what? Get worried? Am I seriously fretting about worrying the Devil by telling him I fainted in his office?
Something tickles her memory about the looming vulnerability in his eyes when he'd woken to find her hovering over him, about how tentative he'd been when he'd told her he understood that she would need some space, his sheer disbelief that she was refusing to leave despite her realization that he'd been telling her the truth from the beginning… How insistent he'd been that they go somewhere she felt safe before he would show her his… his other face. Another image of her partner with enormous, snowy white wings folding behind his shoulders fills her mind's eye, and she blinks repeatedly to fight off the tunneling blackness threatening her vision again. No. He doesn't need to know how overwhelmed I am about this. He'll take it the worst possible way and I'm not letting him push me away this time. I can handle this. I can.
"I… guess I didn't realize how tired I was," she offers unconvincingly, clenching her trembling hands in her lap, out of view. At Lucifer's furrowed brow, she quickly moves to distract him. "Maze, when did you go up to the penthouse?"
"About a half hour ago. I had to fill Himself there in on what I found out. Then he got worried when you weren't answering the video call, so here I am, stuck playing nursemaid." The demon throws her hands up in exasperation and glares at the laptop, while Lucifer scoffs in response.
"You've literally only slapped me to wake me up," Chloe chuckles, though the tight, tender skin of her cheek still stings a bit. "I'm not sure what nursing school you attended, but I hope you failed miserably."
"Mazikeen!" Lucifer protests, but the demon ignores him.
"Hey, it worked, didn't it?" Maze huffs, crossing her arms over her chest defensively. Chloe manages not to roll her eyes, but only just. "She's awake, and now you know she's okay and hasn't run off to Canada or wherever."
"Canada?" Chloe asks blankly, glancing back to the laptop monitor and her partner's chagrined expression.
"I… may have wondered aloud if you'd taken the opportunity of my distraction to… put some extra space between us." Her mouth thins as she strengthens her resolve to never let him see the degree of her unease with her new knowledge of his identity and all the looming implications. He mistakes her expression, though, and wilts under the fire in her eyes. "My apologies, Detective, I know you said you weren't leaving, but… but Linda had thought she was ready to handle the truth as well, and as it happened… she really wasn't. She still isn't quite back to herself."
"Yeah, you're just lucky I'm such an awesome friend and brought her around, or she'd still be twitching and barricaded in her office," Maze interjects brusquely.
"Linda knows?" Chloe asks, surprised and a little hurt that she wasn't the first he'd revealed himself to. "You told Linda?"
"I told you as well," he reminds her gently, and she can't argue the truth of that. It sounds as though the revelation had been fairly recent… and he'd been about to show her, before his hand was forced. She sighs.
"But… how… how did you make her believe?"
"I showed her something. My… other side," Lucifer's long fingers appear in the frame, running delicately along the healing surface of his face. Chloe notices that they're now covered in tight-looking bright pink skin, no more charred whorls and ridges. "It was against my better judgement, but the situation had become—untenable. She told me that she couldn't continue to help me if I hid my identity any longer, so I… but I nearly broke her in the process, Detective. I… I didn't want to do that to you. I had intended to try to prepare you better, but maybe now that you believe me, I won't… I mean, you already know now, so surely I don't need to prove myself any further?"
Chloe blinks at his earnest expression, his dark eyes beseeching her to release him from further proving his identity as the Devil. Her memory provides a flash of the aged burns and scars on the face she'd seen when he'd awakened, the glowing crimson eyes, and suddenly she remembers when she's seen flashes of them before—in the glass reflection in Jimmy Barnes' recording studio. In the steel machinery at the warehouse on the Jolson kidnapping case. She remembers how quickly that light in his eyes had dimmed when he'd found her standing horrified over him, how very different he'd looked only a moment later— moving from ancient injuries to half-healed wounds in the blink of a blood red eye. She doesn't need to be a detective to figure out that that was what he'd shown Linda, or to go a step further to realize that he has no idea he had been wearing that face when he woke, that she had seen it.
Should I tell him? She considers his worried expression, the tension drawing his fragile, healing skin even more tightly over his chiseled features, and she decides not to add any more stress to him right now. She doesn't regret her decision when she shakes her head and his face relaxes into a hesitant smile.
"Mazikeen, why don't you tell her what you've discovered about our friend Boris and Perry while we're waiting for my healing to catch up?" He suggests, fingernails rasping against the crispy skin at the back of his neck. "Perhaps I'll go take a shower whilst the two of you chat, then we can make our way to the Cultural Center to meet up with the Alhambra Triad."
"Yeah, go exfoliate, please," Maze taunts, "You're making me homesick for Hell. You look like you did after I yanked your deep-fried ass out of the Lake of Fire."
"As I recall, you rather enjoyed that look of mine, Mazikeen," he replies haughtily, "at least you seemed rather disappointed once I'd healed up."
"Of course I was disappointed, you turned into an angel," she sneers, pointedly taking in his appearance. "Totally boring compared to horrific disfiguration."
"Quite," he agrees wryly, before he notices Chloe's horrorstruck expression. "Er, shower it is, then. Maze will fill you in on what she's learned, Detective." He hurriedly leaves the frame and leaves the frame of the video call without disconnecting before she can formulate a reply, or ask anything further.
She stares blankly at the shelves of alcohol on the screen for a moment before turning to Maze with determination. "Tell me what you know about Boris, and then tell me what you know about Lucifer's mom."
"Why haven't we heard anything?" Goddess paces impatiently through Her expansive apartment. "Shouldn't they have cleared us by now?"
Amenadiel turns away so he can roll his eyes without consequence, holding his phone more tightly to his ear. The stilted hold music is far too cheery for a hospital, in his opinion, but perhaps the hospital administrators think that people desperate enough to wait on hold need the boost. Finally a disinterested voice comes back on the line. "Thanks for holding, Mr. Cannon—"
"It's Canaan," Amenadiel corrects automatically, but the voice talks over him without pausing.
"It appears your brother was transferred to a specialty burn recovery center. I'm afraid we don't have any further information about the name or location of the facility. We did not provide transfer. Was there anything else you needed?"
"Ah, no," Amenadiel says quickly, "Thank you for the information."
"Of course, Mr. Cannon. You have a great day." The abrupt click of the call ending rings in his ear as he looks at the phone in confusion.
"It's Canaan."
How did Lucifer manage to get discharged so quickly? If Chloe was close to him, he shouldn't be recovered already…
"What did the useless human care facility have to say?" Goddess demands, stopping in front of Her son and placing Her hands on slim hips. "Is My son still being forced to share a room with the human that cripples him?"
"No, Mom, they said he transferred to a burn recovery center," Amenadiel says absently. "If he woke up… then he's probably back at Lux. We need to call him."
"Forget calling, we need to get over there. The sooner I can explain what happened, the sooner we can all get home." She moves toward the door, looking back at Her son expectantly. He grits his teeth and follows, not looking forward to the confrontation ahead.
"What exactly are you planning on telling him, Mom?" he asks, curious as to what She could possibly say to excuse what She'd done. "He's going to be furious when he finds out you tried to kill Chloe."
"He'll forgive me when I point out that I did it for him," Goddess responds confidently, striding briskly down the hallway to the stairwell that leads to the parking garage of Amenadiel's building. "He has to realize that going home is far better for him in the long run than remaining here with these creatures. Especially with the effect that detective has on him. He'll see reason."
Amenadiel sincerely doubts that Lucifer's version of reason and their mother's will match up at all, but he wisely keeps his opinion to himself. They cross town mostly in silence broken only by the complaints that Goddess intersperses any time something annoys Her… which is often. They pull into Lux and Amenadiel finally speaks when they enter the elevator.
"Just remember Mom, it needs to be his choice to leave Chloe behind. The more we push, the more he's going to resist. Lucifer doesn't think of the Silver City as home anymore."
"That's absurd," Goddess hisses in frustration, "The Silver City is home, it's where our family is, where we belong."
"The family that hasn't spoken or interacted with him for eons, Mom, you know how he holds grudges. I'm just saying… we're going to have to be careful." The doors slide silently open with a quiet chime to announce their arrival. The scent of burnt flesh lingers faintly in the air, and Goddess wrinkles her nose as she looks around. The distant sound of running water comes from the direction of the bathroom. At least this time Amenadiel can be fairly certain that his brother is in there alone.
"What is that disgusting smell?"
Amenadiel inhales deeply and grimaces. He recognizes it from the explosion, as he was trying to douse the flames engulfing his brother's unconscious body. "That's… Lucifer."
"Don't be ridiculous, your brother smells nothing like that."
"I mean… Mom, that smell is what it smells like when, uh, something alive gets set on fire."
"You're telling me that he was injured badly enough that this… this stench is the result?" Goddess asks shrilly, glancing toward the sound of running water. "That cannot be right."
She turns and makes Her way to the bathroom, barging through the door with Amenadiel trailing reluctantly after. The sound of the glass door slamming open and Lucifer's surprised squawk of "Mum! What the hell are you doing?" emanates from the room.
Amenadiel arrives at the doorway, keeping his eyes glued to the stone floor as Lucifer scrabbles for a thick towel to cover himself. Goddess is making distressed noises when the water shuts off and Lucifer is making even more distressed noises when Amenadiel finally deems it safe to raise his gaze.
Lucifer is retreating in a panic from their mother, who is following him closely, running Her fingers across the still-significant burns and scarring covering the Lightbringer's body.
"Mum, will you bloody well get off me! Boundaries!" He dances out of Her reach, clutching his towel around his waist like a lifeline and dripping copious amounts of water all around the bathroom. "We've talked about this!"
"You can't stay here, son," She croons worriedly, "If you're getting hurt—"
"Yes, we need to have a conversation about that, Mother," Lucifer straightens up to his full height, catching her wrists firmly in his dexterous fingers and holding them away from him. His eyes flame red and his upper lip peels back into a feral snarl. "What on Earth were you thinking, trying to kill the Detective?"
"She's a danger to you!" Goddess bursts out, gesturing toward him within the restricted movement allowed Her by his iron grip. "You need to come home with us, before something terrible happens!"
"Oh, something terrible, like getting caught in a bomb blast detonated by my mother?" Lucifer growls furiously, "You know that harming humans isn't something we can do, and the Detective is absolutely off-limits. She has nothing to do with whatever you're plotting."
"She apparently has everything to do with your current condition," Goddess scolds, "Look at yourself, son, that blast shouldn't have done more than ruffled your hair, and yet here you are, twisted and mangled after throwing yourself between her and the fate that awaits all these… mortals."
The last word falls from her lips like an expletive, and she tugs her wrists from his loosened grasp. He lets her go and grabs another towel, running it gingerly over the fine peachfuzz of dark hair on his rippled scalp. He'd managed to slough off much of the remaining peeling, damaged skin under the pressured stream of water, leaving behind only tender pink, slightly spiderwebbed skin behind that hasn't quite evened out into his normal flawless complexion.
"Oh, please, Mother, I'm mostly healed by this point, your concern is noted, but unwelcome." His voice is cold, his dark eyes—still swathed in a field of healing scar tissue—are hard and emotionless. "In fact, I'll thank you to not only leave the Detective out of any of your future plans, but you will be maintaining your distance altogether, Mother, or I certainly won't be helping you return to the Silver City at all."
"Lucifer, you can't just-"
"I mean it, Mother, you will neither approach nor harm the Detective again during your time here. This is non-negotiable." Lucifer allows his fury and displeasure to bleed into his tone as his dark eyes meet his mother's unapologetic slate-blue gaze. "If I catch, if I even hear of you within her vicinity again, there will be quite literal Hell to pay. Am I clear?"
"Lucifer -"
"Am I clear, Mother?" Goddess nods reluctantly, and he regards her icily for a moment before turning away toward his closet. "Excellent. Kindly wait for me in the sitting room while I dress. I have places to be now that we've addressed your recklessness. If you've anything further to discuss, it can wait until I'm properly clothed."
"Lucifer's mom was in Hell, too?" Chloe parrots, baffled. Before today, she hadn't even been aware that there was an actual Goddess, certainly none of the few Google searches she'd done back when she'd trying to figure out Lucifer's 'metaphors' had hinted at the existence of God's wife, but now to find out that She'd been locked in Hell under Lucifer's guardianship, and is now escaped and loose on Earth? She pulls in a deep, steadying breath. Then another. It's fine. I'm fine. I can handle this. "And you were in charge of torturing Her?"
"I never could break her," Maze murmurs, gazing wistfully off into the distance, "and Lucifer won't let me try now that She has an actual, physical body. Oooh, maybe he will, now that she's got you in her sights…"
"What is that disgusting smell?" Chloe hisses in pain as she whips her head toward the new, vaguely familiar voice, trying to pinpoint the source—
"That's… Lucifer." Amenadiel. Her gaze flies to the laptop monitor, still attached to the unattended video call. There's no one on screen, but clearly he and Charlotte have entered Lucifer's penthouse.
"Don't be ridiculous, your brother smells nothing like that."
"I mean… Mom, that smell is what it smells like when, uh, something alive gets set on fire."
"You're telling me that he was injured badly enough that this… this stench is the result?"
"Maze!" Chloe whispers intently, "What if they hurt him?"
The demon shakes her head and rolls her eyes, "Lucifer's at full strength. Amenadiel is basically human now. As long as you keep your distance, that bitch won't—"
"Maze, he said She's strong enough to lift Amenadiel with one hand!" Worry flashes across Mazikeen's face, confirming Chloe's concerns. "We need to get up there, he's in the shower, they can sneak up on him easily!"
It takes nearly five minutes to make their way back up to the club level and fight their way through the early arrivals at Lux, with Chloe's security detail trailing them from the entrance to the tunnels back to the elevator, and take the lift to the penthouse level. Chloe emerges with her gun held stiffly at the ready, only to find Charlotte and Amenadiel gathered around Lucifer's bar, glancing up in surprise at their entrance.
"Hands up! Where is he?" Chloe presses urgently, as both Charlotte and Amenadiel glance at each other and slowly raise their hands in the air. Maze circles around to flank the pair of them, knives out and ready for action. "What have you done to him?"
"Detective?" Lucifer appears at the top of the stairs leading to his bedroom, smoothly buttoning up his waistcoat with a puzzled look on his mostly-healed face. In fact, aside from the still raspy voice, the military-style length of his hair and his lack of stubble, he looks nearly back to normal. The only visible remnants of the massive damage he'd taken from the blast are a few patches of tight, shiny skin scattered across his face and throat. "What are you doing?"
"Just to be clear," Charlotte says defensively, Her eyes narrowing, "this was not my doing, the human just barged in."