Chloe wakes with a gasp.
In the murky pre-dawn light, her bedroom is a realm of still shadows and Chloe feels unsettled as she stares out into the dark. Not for the first time, she gets the distinct notion that she is being watched. With bated breath and icy fear coursing through her veins, she reaches to turn on her bedside lamp and is relieved to find herself alone. Chloe deflates with a heavy sigh, willing her heart to stop racing.
When she finally glances at the clock minutes later, she isn't surprised to find 3:45 AM glaring back at her in bright red. For months, Chloe had been sleeping poorly, waking up routinely around 3 AM and always to that same feeling of being watched.
The feeling usually dissipated as soon as she woke but it unnerved her all the same.
Pulling herself from the warmth of her bed, she heads out to check on Trixie, the floor cold beneath her feet. When she peeks in, she finds her daughter sound asleep, stuffed animal in her arms and blanket twisted at her feet. With a flick of her fingers, the blanket untwists and straightens, settling gently over Trixie once again.
Closing the door behind her, Chloe moves into the kitchen and sets about fixing herself a cup of tea. It'd become a routine at this point.
As she waits for the water to boil, she scans the open flat, catching sight of her tarot cards on one of the shelves across from Trixie's room. It'd been a while since she'd done a reading.
Perhaps, it could give her some insight on the presence she'd been feeling.
Mind made up, Chloe settles at the table once the water finishes boiling, steaming cup of tea and tarot cards before her. Taking a moment to clear her mind, she shuffles and cuts the deck. From the spread, she picks out ten cards and lays them out in the traditional Celtic cross spread.
The first card she sets down, representing the present, is the Five of Cups. Her lips purse at the sight, knowing all too well what it indicated. The divorce.
With a shake of her head, she forges on ahead and sets down her second card across the first. The Wheel of Fortune reversed. Her challenge lay in having fallen from the top of the wheel, hitting proverbial rock bottom. But like most reversed cards, especially one as cyclical as the Wheel, it meant a chance to start anew. It made sense. She was beginning a new stage of life now as a single mother.
The third card, signaling the subconscious influence, had her white knuckling the table in her grip. The Eight of Cups upright, often used to indicate disappointment, emotional setback, or betrayal.
For a brief moment, Palmetto flashes through Chloe's mind.
She'd been observing Malcolm's meeting with Nicholas Aoudi from the doorway when she first heard it. The ominous sound of a deathwatch beetle beginning to tick. In her family, it was said that anyone who dared fall in love with a Decker woman was fated to die once you heard the sound of the deathwatch beetle.
Leaning forward to get a better look at the exchange, Chloe stumbled, banging her foot into the door. She saw Malcolm turn and in her panic to duck away, Chloe almost missed it.
That unmistakable ticking.
She'd frozen at the sound, dread burrowing itself into the very marrow of her bones as she imagined that somewhere out in the world, Dan was dead. Or dying.
Beyond the glass, she could see Malcolm reaching for his gun.
But the first shot rings out unseen.
Aoudi and his bodyguard didn't have their guns in hand when that first shot went off, which meant someone else was in the warehouse. Chloe hadn't wanted to suspect Dan. He was the father of her child after all, her husband, her partner. But in the days following the shooting, Chloe couldn't help but hear the ticking of the deathwatch beetle in her mind.
She'd combed over the area with a fine tooth comb, looking for a secret entrance, anything that would have allowed Dan to sneak in and out undetected. Or someone else, offered the small part of her still in denial.
She found it eventually, a trap door built into one of the stages, leading down into a dark passageway. It was there she'd found the LAPD-issued key. When she confronted Dan, it didn't take long for him to confess, not once she pulled out the key. His key.
The realization that Dan was at Palmetto, that it was him who'd shot Malcolm, it burned at Chloe. She'd never felt such unspeakable rage in her life, not even when that slimeball paparazzo crashed her dad's funeral. She filed for divorce that very week, serving Dan the papers herself.
"I don't even know who you are," she'd hissed, barely able to keep herself from shaking.
The bitterness rises now in her throat and she has to take a moment to clear her mind. Taking a sip of her tea, she continues.
Her fourth card, to the left of the first three, is the Two of Wands, representing the near past. The Two of Wands indicates a time of decision-making, reflection. The choice between sticking with what you knew and taking a risk. Chloe had chosen to take that step into the unknown.
Clockwise, she continued. The fifth and sixth cards in the Celtic spread were always tricky ones. To a certain degree, they both represented the future but whereas the sixth card represented the near future - events that could potentially shift your current situation - the fifth card was more about the higher powers at play. Life lessons, themes, subconscious energies you could stand to pay attention to.
Chloe may as well have been struck by lightning the way she jolts in her seat at the sight of her fifth card. The Lovers. She knew of course that the card held far more romantic connotations now than it had in centuries past, given the way human understanding of sex and relationships had changed.
Still, it was a card about relationships, meaningful connections. Chloe didn't know how to feel about that, not with how fraught her relationship with Dan remained. On a more personal level however, the Lovers was also classically known as a card about values, choices, harmony. Being authentic to one's values and beliefs, making choices about who you want to be, how you want to connect with others.
Feeling a bit apprehensive, Chloe turns her attention to the next card. She regrets it immediately once she sees the skeletal frame of Death upon a horse.
It's not literal. It's not literal, Chloe reminds herself but there's a ringing in her ear that sounds a lot like the ticking she'd heard before.
The Death card was about endings, transformations, transitions. Just as harvests give way to rot in the winter time, life gives way to death. But the cycle could begin anew. Rebirth was possible.
It's a cold comfort to Chloe and though every fiber of her is screaming to end the reading, she steels herself and sets down the next card. Eight of Wands reversed. Acknowledging the changes in your surroundings, shaking off denial, frustration at roadblocks and challenges.
It makes sense, Chloe thinks. The seventh card signifies your internal state of mind. These were things she could address to keep moving forward, to keep progressing instead of stagnating or regressing.
The eighth card, on the other hand, was all external. How you interacted with those around you, how they in turn influenced you. Needless to say, it doesn't surprise her when the card she sets down is the Hierophant reversed. Challenging the status quo, a discarding of traditional beliefs and rigid dogma.
Thinking of the situation with Dan, how he'd turned his head to Malcolm's illegal dealings; it sickened her. Chloe knew corruption was far from uncommon when it came to law enforcement but Dan knew how highly she regarded the force. Allowing people like Malcolm to run rampant in positions of power, it diminished everything she believed in, everything her father stood for.
The betrayal cut deep but the backlash from the department when Chloe refused to stand down on investigating Malcolm… that was uglier. No one would work with her, they saw her as a traitor, a turncoat.
Palmetto was ground zero for the bombshell that shook the very foundations of Chloe's world.
Feeling her eyes sting with unshed tears, Chloe takes another sip of tea, the mug trembling in her grip. She shoves the complicated mess of emotions back into the box at the back of her head and resolves to deal with it later when things no longer felt as daunting as they seemed in the dark of night.
Her ninth card, the advice card, greets her with the Page of Pentacles. It counseled renewed dedication to one's chosen field or aspirations, seeking new skills and deeper understanding. It encouraged an open mind.
It's sensible advice, particularly in light of her last card: The Star. Also known as the Celestial Mandate, the Star was a card that spoke of transcension and our connection to the larger cosmos. Following the turmoil of the Tower, the Star signified a new sense of self, renewed hope and pure energy.
Somehow, seeing it eases the ball of tension nestled deep in her chest. It reminds her that all the turmoil, all the pain she felt was merely temporary. Things would get better, she had to believe that. For Trixie's sake, if not her own.
She could get through this. She would.
The scene of Delilah's murder is far from one of the grislier cases Chloe's seen over the years but the sight of the young starlet cuts at her in a way she doesn't expect.
Her body looks small lying on the sidewalk, pale and soaked with blood. The littered glass around her gleams in the darkness, rubies and diamonds alike.
Glancing down the street, she sees the wreck of the vehicle that pulled the hit and run. Catching Dan's eye from across the street, Chloe turns away. Her eyes land on the open door of the nightclub, where she knows her witness, the owner, has excused himself.
Inside, Lux is quiet and empty, save for the man sitting at the piano. He looks up as she approaches, dark eyes full of intensity even as the rest of his demeanor feigns casualness.
"Lucifer Morningstar?" she asks, flipping open her notepad. "Is that a stage name or something?"
She peeks at him from underneath her lashes, trying to pin what was so unsettling about him. She felt it from the moment she'd greeted him outside, a palpable aura of power around Lucifer. It bubbles up now, feather-light against her skin and leaves her feeling drunk with desire. Not a carnal desire, something else, something Chloe couldn't quite put her finger on.
She makes a mental reminder to stock up on herbs and fortify her mental shields. Chloe didn't come across the real thing very often, mostly wanna-be wiccans and New Age practitioners, but it didn't hurt to be cautious.
And Lucifer, whatever he was, was definitely the real thing.
A sardonic chuckle brings her back to the present. "God-given, I'm afraid."
Chloe narrows her eyes, unamused. "Talk to me about your relationship with the victim." She takes notes as he answers her questions, pausing only when he admits to having talked to the perp before he died.
"He wasn't quite dead," Lucifer corrects. "His soul hadn't crossed the threshold."
Chloe hums, curiosity growing. "I see. Did he tell you why he did it?"
"Why, money, of course. You humans, you love your money, don't you?"
Bemused, Chloe lowers her pen. "Okay, I'll bite. If not human, what are you supposed to be?"
"There's no supposition to it. I'm a celestial," he announces with a flourish. At her raised brow, he clarifies, "Angels, demons, handsome devils like yours truly."
"Riiight." Her voice drips with disbelief. Lucifer grins, fingers drifting across the keys as he plays a mellow, lazy tune. "Not a believer, detective?"
Chloe doesn't often divulge information about her family's inclinations but she couldn't deny her curiosity. This was her chance to learn more about Lucifer, understand that thrum of power she could feel radiating off him.
Leaning against the piano, she leans in closer and lowers her voice. She didn't want her colleagues overhearing her. "Are you familiar with the craft?"
A flicker of interest sparks in Lucifer's eyes and he gives her a once over as if re-evaluating her in his head. "A practitioner, are you?"
"I dabble." Chloe shrugs, fidgeting under his gaze. "You could say it runs in the family."
Lucifer hums in acknowledgement, dark eyes pinning her in place. Clearing her throat, Chloe straightens again, all business. "Is there anything else you can tell me about your conversation with the perp?"
Lucifer's face goes carefully blank then, his fingers stilling on the piano. "Yes. He also said, 'I just pulled the trigger.' Now, don't you think that's interesting?"
"Actually, what I find interesting is how she ended up dying in a hailstorm of bullets but somehow you walked away without a scratch. How is that?"
"Benefits of immortality," he replies blithely, taking a sip of his whiskey. Chloe narrows her eyes. "Come now. Surely you've come across the concept in those spellbooks of yours?"
"Yeah… And I've also come across plenty of hexes too, the kind you put on pompous club owners."
Ignoring her pointed comment, Lucifer sets down his whiskey, giving her his undivided attention. "What will your corrupt little organization do about this?"
Chloe's mouth drops in outrage. "Excuse me?"
"Will you find the person responsible? Will they be punished? Will this be a priority for you? Because it is for me."
Cold fury pricks at Chloe's skin, a sharp contrast to the soft hum of power she can still feel coming from the man seated before her.
"You've got some nerve on you, pal. We're done here."
Turning sharply on her heels, Chloe climbs the stairs and heads out of Lux, ignoring Lucifer's shouts.
Chloe hears the commotion as she pulls up to the house. Gunshots.
When she enters - gun in one hand, the other gripping the butler's shoulder - she's surprised to find Lucifer standing in the living room with 2Vile. 2Vile's men stand in a loose circle around them, their guns trained on the eccentric club owner. Lucifer looks unphased by the turn of events.
"LAPD! Guns down. On the floor now. You two against the wall."
She orders the butler to collect the guns, keeping her own weapon raised. From the corner of her eye, she sees Lucifer step towards her. He greets her with a pleased, "Detective! I see you made Delilah's case a priority."
With a roll of her eyes, Chloe lowers her gun. "It's called doing my job. I ran the dead guy's cellphone. 2Vile was the last person he called." She pauses, narrowing her eyes. "What I find highly interesting is how you made the connection on your own."
"Well, I did say it was a priority for me. I've been busy, my dear."
Shaking her head, Chloe ignores him and turns her attention towards the suspect. Or rather, she tries to ignore him but Lucifer's interference in the case cannot be overlooked. In the end, it's him she has to haul away handcuffed.
"I can get out of these, you know," he says as she opens the car door for him.
"Funny. Get in."
With a straight face, Lucifer dangles the cuffs before her. Chloe huffs."How did you cast without verbal incantation?"
Lucifer cocks his head, looking somewhat bemused. "Who says I was casting?" When Chloe fails to respond, he sighs. "Come on. We're wasting time. Delilah's killer is out there, we need to find them and punish them."
"You really like playing cop, huh," Chloe observes. Lucifer's face falls. "I like to play a lot of things, Detective, but cop isn't one of them."
She blinks at his tone, an undercurrent of anguish she doesn't quite understand. Her irritation melts away then, replaced with curiosity as she finds herself once again caught in his dark gaze. Her voice is soft when she asks, "Then why go through all this trouble for Delilah? What do you gain from it?"
"She deserves justice, one way or another." He pauses. "I can help you."
Against her better judgement, Chloe doesn't immediately shut him down. She regrets it once he starts talking about people's sins, their desires. "Lucifer, you don't have to keep up the act around me. I already know about witchcraft."
"Bloody hell. Look, I'll show you. Tell me, what do you desire more than anything else in this life?"
"Really? This is it? This is your big trick?" Chloe sighs. Undeterred, Lucifer leans in, catching her eye. Chloe feels the pull almost immediately but she fights against it, feeling like she's swimming against the current, a current that strikes at the very core of who she is.
She finds herself recalling her mother's teachings on how to defend the mind from psychics. But Chloe knows she's fighting a losing battle as Lucifer's brows wrinkle in concentration, his gaze searching hers. She must be imagining things because she swears she sees his eyes glow a faint red.
The pulling at her mind intensifies and Lucifer must sense she's about to break because he reaches out and tips her head towards his with a gentle touch to her chin. A hair's breadth separates his face from hers.
"I want to break the curse," Chloe blurts out. She curses when Lucifer breaks their gaze, releasing her from the influence of his power.
Interest piqued, Lucifer straightens. "Curse? What curse?"
Chloe glares. "Get in the car."
"Wait! No. I have a lead."
Chloe considers him for a moment, weighing her options. He had gotten to 2Vile before her so he was clearly resourceful and Chloe needed this case to go smoothly. She couldn't afford any missteps after Palmetto.
"Okay, fine. But if this little clue thing of yours doesn't pan out, these are going back on, and they're gonna stay on. Got it?"
Lucifer flicks open his lighter, lost in thought.
Over the centuries, he had come across many witches and warlocks but no one had ever come close to resisting his power. It's true that the detective had fallen subject to his mojo in the end but she'd fought his control, he felt it. It intrigued him, she intrigued him. At least, this curse she spoke of did.
"I don't think you're allowed to smoke in here."
Lucifer glances to his right. Beside him sits a little girl with dark hair and two missing front teeth.
"Oh dear, what will become of me."
"My mother is a police officer. She could arrest you."
Lucifer flicks his lighter shut, infinitely more interested now that he knows the little urchin beside him belongs to the detective. Well, as interested as Lucifer would ever be in children. He never did quite understand the appeal.
"I think I might know your mother."
"What's your name?" she asks with an air of exasperation about her that reminded him of the detective herself.
"Lucifer."
"Like the devil?" she whispers, wide-eyed. Lucifer grins. "Exactly."
"My name is Beatrice but everyone calls me Trixie."
Why on earth would anyone choose to call their child that? "That's a hooker's name," he informs her.
"What's a hooker?" she asks innocently.
"Ask your mother."
The detective chooses that moment to come out of the office, barely even pausing to register Lucifer sitting next to her daughter. He watches curiously as she kneels before Trixie, looking stern. She glances back at a girl sitting on a bench just a few feet from them down the hall. The girl's skin is full of red welts.
"Trixie! How many times do I have to tell you that we do not hex people?" Chloe hisses, voice low.
"But she was bullying me!" Trixie argues, bottom lip wobbling. Right then, Lucifer thinks, getting up.
"And that's not right. You didn't deserve that, monkey, but we can't go around using magic to hurt others," Chloe is saying when Lucifer steps away, towards the girl on the other bench.
"You know," Lucifer says, bending at the waist to catch the bully's attention, "there's a special place reserved in Hell for bullies. So have fun." He flashes an illusion over his eyes, a trick he'd picked up long ago, and is gratified to hear her scream.
"Lucifer!"
"What?" He turns, dropping the illusion. "I think someone's feeling a little guilty, that's all." He winks at Trixie when Chloe buries her face in her hands, groaning. Trixie beams.
He follows the two of them outside, grateful to be getting back on track. He'd signed on to solve a homicide after all. But as they head down the sidewalk, Trixie holding onto her mother's hand, Lucifer catches the way the detective suddenly tenses.
"Hi Daddy," Trixie greets as Chloe comes to a stop before a man in a cheap and badly-tailored suit. The detective's own greeting is less than pleasant. "Wow, shocker, you're late."
"Come on, give me a break. I'm putting a case to bed."
The detective looks as unimpressed as Lucifer feels. Her tone is acidic when she responds. "Right, like I'm not working a case, too."
Lucifer watches curiously from the sidelines as the detective and her ex-husband snipe back and forth at one another about the case, dismayed when he realizes the child is covering her ears. Lucifer may not have cared much for children but he knew a broken family when he saw one and no child deserved that.
"Chloe, Delilah's case is a simple one. The guy in the car was a low-level drug dealer. Delilah was found with drugs on her person, she probably owed him money and gave him the watch he had on as payment."
"I'm being diligent, Dan. This is my case and you don't get to come and tell me how to run it. Not after Palmetto."
That seems to strike a chord in the ex, a brief flash of guilt breaking through before he composes himself once again. Curiously enough, he doesn't argue with the detective about it. Instead, he turns to his daughter. "Ready to go, Trix? I'm dropping you off at your grandma's."
She nods and turns to say goodbye to her mother. She giggles when Chloe drops a kiss on her forehead, whispering to her about how proud she is Trixie stood up to that bully. "Thanks, mommy." She pauses then, glancing at Lucifer. "Mommy, what's a hooker?"
The detective glares at Lucifer, who simply smiles in turn, and responds, "Ask your father."
Satisfied with that, Trixie takes her father's hand and leaves, yelling goodbye at Lucifer with a wave. Chloe chuckles. "Think she likes you."
"Of course she does. What's not to like?"
Lucifer sticks with the detective for the rest of the day and finds he quite enjoys detective work. He promises Dr. Linda a trip to pound town and he's even more entertained by the fight that breaks out on set between Grey Cooper and his bodyguard - even if it is terribly cliche.
It's the detective however that really intrigues him. Every time he felt he was starting to understand her, he'd uncover a new layer, a new mystery to unravel. Her resistance to his mojo, the curse, her ex, Palmetto.
He'd tried asking her about it before but she'd dodged the question. Now, sitting here at Lux after a long day's hard work, she seems a little looser, more comfortable with him. As she talks, Lucifer finds himself leaning in, drawn to her like a moth to a flame.
Ironic really, given his own moniker as the Lightbringer.
This time, when he asks her about Palmetto, she answers. It's a rather torrid affair that only serves to convince him Detective Douche has rightly earned that name. The story ends with a quiet admission that Lucifer can only sympathize with, "Now no one wants to work with me."
Lucifer gives her a warm smile and a genuine offer. "Well, I'm available."
Chloe smiles, slow and shy, tucking her hair behind her ear as Lucifer's eyes flicker to her lips almost unconsciously. He hadn't been lying when he said he felt a connection between them. But it was different than most connections Lucifer had. He knew that much even if he couldn't understand why.
It only deepens when they confront Jimmy Barnes.
Lucifer feels strangely vulnerable seeing Chloe bleed out in front of him, a rush of protective instinct flooding into him as she gasps and wheezes for air, bright blue eyes struggling to focus.
"I don't want to die," she whispers.
"I won't let you," he promises, binding his words with celestial intent. "My father will just have to wait for you."
Jimmy's bullets sting and for the first time since he retired, Lucifer lets himself feel the pain, the anger, the burning self-hatred he's come to associate with his devil face.
Not everyone in the craft was a theist. Chloe knew that.
There were so many different groups and sects that practiced the craft; some with longstanding traditions rooted in history, others having grown from more contemporary forms of practice. Among those who believed in the Devil, interpretations ranged from the typical Abrahamic associations with evil to Stregheria, which saw Lucifer as a benevolent sun god, to Luciferianism. They saw Lucifer not as the Devil but rather as one of many morning stars, a symbol of enlightenment and independence, vital to human progression.
Chloe didn't consider herself much of a believer, at least not in the traditional sense. She believed in an afterlife, a veiled dimension separate from theirs where their ancestors resided. She believed in the forces of nature, the very elements from which witches derived their natural power from. But heaven and hell? Angels and devils? She didn't believe in that.
Sitting here now, watching Lucifer in his element at Lux however, Chloe wondered if maybe she'd been wrong.
The details from that day in the studio with Jimmy were hazy, Chloe's memories tinged with the searing pain she'd felt, but Jimmy had shot Lucifer. Multiple times. She knew that much, he'd confirmed that much.
Yet bullet-free, he sits here now, unphased and boisterous as ever.
Chloe jumps as Mazikeen, Lucifer's bartender, sets a drink before her. At Chloe's raised brow, she nods her head at Lucifer. "This is from Lucifer. He asked me to make you something you'd like."
Ignoring the drink, Chloe scoots to the edge of her seat. "You and Lucifer seem pretty close."
Unimpressed by this observation, Maze shrugs. "I followed him through the gates of Hell." Chloe stares at her. Maze stares back. Chloe sighs, giving up on the contest of wills, and gets up, making her way over to the piano where Lucifer sits, playing.
Lucifer greets her with a drawling, "Hello, Detective." He glances down at her arm in its sling but doesn't mention the injury, instead asking, "How has your undercover surveillance of my activities gone so far?"
Chloe purses her lips. "I've looked into you. Your name really is Lucifer Morningstar. And as far as I can tell, you didn't exist five years ago."
Unhelpful as ever, he replies, "On the earthly plane, no."
"People don't appear out of thin air. So, who were you? How did you survive getting shot six times by Jimmy Barnes?"
"You're really having a hard time with this immortality thing, aren't you?" Lucifer sighs. "I've told you who I am, detective. It's not my fault you won't accept it."
Slipping onto the bench beside him, Chloe gives in to the alluring siren call of his power, allowing herself into his personal space. Close enough to check for a bulletproof vest. Lucifer seems surprised by the proximity but that quickly melts away into the teasing flirting she's come to expect from him.
"Oh. Detective, I didn't know you cared."
His breath is warm on her face, smelling of whiskey. She's close enough that if she only leaned in a little further, she could kiss him. This close, she can see the freckles on his face, an unruly constellation that she itches to trace through with her fingers. Swallowing, she forces herself to lean back.
"No bulletproof vest," she concludes. "But I'm gonna figure out your secret, Lucifer."
"It's not a secret if I'm telling you the answer!"
True to her word, Chloe keeps digging. But, as it turns out, so does Lucifer.
He inserts himself at her crime scenes, he finds her home address somehow. He even gets her personal cell phone number - Chloe had to have a talk with Trixie about giving out her number after that. Still, Lucifer does make himself useful on the case despite an egregious level of impropriety. He'd smoked pot, evidence to boot, at a crime scene!
He's an enigma. At times, he acts like he couldn't care less about the case but then, just as with Jimmy, there's an impetus that drives him towards justice. Or rather, what he sees as justice. He speaks of punishment as if it is his duty, his burden, his right to inflict.
It's a twisted worldview but there's more to the story, Chloe is sure of that much. Those kinds of ideas don't become ingrained in a person without some sort of catalyst. Josh and Nick were a prime example.
It's by sheer luck that she arrives on the scene just as Lucifer is carrying out his insane plan. Weapon in hand, she begs Nick to put down the gun even as Lucifer urges him to embrace his desire, his true nature.
"Nick, you screwed up. But that's okay because you tried to change and that's what's important. So please don't do this," Chloe begs, eyes flickering between Nick and Lucifer. Lucifer is staring at her, mesmerized, as if she were the mystery.
The gun goes off, she knows it does, but from one second to next, Chloe blinks and Josh is still standing. Unharmed. No bullet wound despite Nick pointing the gun right at him. And Lucifer is gone.
"Looking for someone?"
Chloe gasps and whirls. Lucifer is standing beside her, looking pleased.
"But... you were just over there. That's... that's impossible."
Thoughts racing, Chloe tries to rationalize what she saw, what she heard. Lucifer doesn't help with his outlandish tale of an angelic brother slowing down time and plucking the bullet from mid-air.
Maybe that's why she seeks Jimmy out. Because that day at the studio, she'd seen the impossible too. She remembers his screams as the world faded to black.
Jimmy's reaction when she mentions Lucifer sends fear crawling down her spine. He's manic, screaming and crying and banging his head against the plexiglass until it's smeared with blood.
She tries to console him, tells him he's safe, that Lucifer's only a man, but Jimmy's too far gone.
"He's the Devil! He's the Devil! He's the Devil! He's the Devil! He's the Devil!"
His cries follow her into her dreams that night.
Author's Note: Hello! This being my first Lucifer fic, I want to give a massive shout-out to everyone in the FH server for their constant support and enthusiasm for this fic. It means the world to me. Additional shout-outs to drofeilrah and tellemonstar for beta-reading this!
Just some context for this fic: Chloe is not a miracle in this universe. Also, as the fic progresses, the story will gradually become more removed from canon events in S1. Thanks for reading! Until next time!