A/N: Sorry for the long update time. This story is active. I'm gonna finish it eventually. Hope y'all are still interested! It focuses more on Lucifer than the Shadowhunters because I feel like I've been neglecting my favorite Devil. Also I can't remember when in the Shadowhunters timeline this story is set, so I'm going with a vague pre-season three vibe (so like, they defeated Valentine but no one knows Jace is the Owl or that Lilith is causing chaos). Enjoy! XOXOX
Devil in the Details
"Hello Nephilim!"
The doors of the Los Angeles Institute flew open and Lucifer sauntered inside. No sooner did the words leave his mouth and the Institute went up in Red Alert. People shouted, pointed weapons at him, and demanded he stay still. Annoying.
"Really, no need for all that. It's just your friendly neighborhood Devil, popping in for a little chat with the boss man."
On cue, the head honcho himself strode through the foyer. He was an older man, well out of his prime and now suited to the life of a politician. And, true to Nephilim form, looked like someone had pissed in his morning Cheerios. Lucifer knew his face but not his name, considering the name not worth the effort of committing to memory. For ease's sake, he'd call him Rob. Rob sounded right.
"Stand down," Rob ordered, and just like that, the adorable little warriors lowered their metal sticks and knives. Everyone stared at Lucifer, annoyed. "What are you doing here?"
"Rob Bob Shish-kabob, how's it hanging?" Lucifer rocked on his heels and reached out to slap the guy on the arm. Instead of letting go, Lucifer pulled him in closer and lowered his voice. "I have some very interesting news think you'd like to hear. Very demonic. Very wraith-ful."
The two shared a look and Rob made some vague hand gesture that had the Red Alert silenced. Together, they walked down the narrow, bleak halls of the Institute until they reached Rob's office. It wasn't cheery by any means; the stained glass windows and lack of light ensured that. But it was large with two sizable chairs in which to sit one's bottom and a serviceable bar cart.
Lucifer took advantage of the decanter of whiskey and poured two glasses. He wasn't surprised when Rob declined and added Rob's portion into his own. Rob sat behind his desk and didn't wait for Lucifer to sit before cutting straight to the point.
"You spoke of information."
"Come on Rob, you know I don't give things away for free."
Rob let out a long-suffering sigh. "What do you want?"
Lucifer gave Rob his most licentious grin. "I was hoping of a little tit for tat, I scratch your back you scratch mine."
"Fine." Rob looked like he would rather face the hoards of Hell himself than make a deal with the Devil. When, put that way, was reasonable. But Lucifer was anything but reasonable, and a deal with him didn't come at the steep price of eternal damnation. Rob pinched the bridge of his nose and reclined in his large leather chair. "What is it?"
"There's an LAPD detective snooping around your most recently deceased."
"Yes, our scouts have made us aware of the detective," Rob replied in a tone that implied that Lucifer needed to up his ante. Rob's eyes narrowed in accusation. "They said that you were with her."
"I work with the LAPD from time to time, consulting work, it's very rewarding." Rob's eyes bugged out of his balding head, but Lucifer waved that conversation away before his tiny human mind got too distracted. "Anyway, I have a unique relationship with the detective. I can get her to back off. Throw her off your angelic scent, so to speak. I could even go as far as to return the body."
"And why would you do that?"
"I know this may come as a shock, but I do care for her wellbeing. The last thing I want is for her to stick her nose in a literal demon's nest." The thought of Chloe getting tangled up in something so dangerous made bile rise in Lucifer's throat. How annoying it was to be so concerned with someone else's wellbeing, and a fragile human at that. Sometimes Lucifer had the urge to bubblewrap the Detective. "That, and I expect doing your dirty work comes with some sort of reward."
Rob leaned back in his seat and placed folded hands atop a growing beer belly. "Ask away, and I'll see if I can answer."
"The demon that killed your poor, unfortunate Nephilim...was it an isolated attack?"
If Rob was intrigued as to why Lucifer cared about demon attacks, he didn't show it. What a good politician.
"There has been an increase in demonic activity over the past few months." Lucifer cursed under his breath as Robert continued. "Including six known wraith attacks across the country, most of them focused on the east coast."
"Bugger all," Lucifer cursed. This was so much worse than he anticipated. "I had heard of wraiths cropping up, but I didn't realize it was quite this bad."
"Is there something you can do about that?"
"Oh, I plan to. Just as soon as I figure out which naughty boy or girl is behind all this," Lucifer grumbled, his mind swirling with the limitless options of torture awaiting the unlucky demon stupid enough to make a mess while Daddy was away. No, Lucifer shuddered, don't call yourself that, don't think about - "Wraiths don't act of their own volition. Someone is going to an awful lot of trouble."
Rob leaned forward, shrewd and knowing. "Wraiths aren't supposed to exist outside of Hell."
"A lot of things aren't supposed to exist outside of Hell. That doesn't mean anything."
"The more I live to see, the less I know," Rob sighed, rubbing at his eyes with a meaty fist. "First Lilith rising, now older evils are creeping from their hiding holes. At the New York Institute, a Shadowhunter is creating her own runes. The rules of this world are changing, and not all of them for the better. I fear to know what is next."
How about the second coming of the spawn of Satan? Lucifer thought sarcastically. He had to bite down on his tongue from letting that one slip.
"However, there is one thing I think we both know."
"Oh? Enlighten me."
"That these wraiths are only just the beginning." Of course Lucifer had entertained the idea, and then promptly threw it away. What it meant if that were true...Lucifer didn't want to think about it. He watched as Rob got a conspiratorial gleam to his eye, the kind of gleam that usually meant he was verging into coo-coo for cocoa puffs territory. "There are creatures lurking around Hell's basement. Creatures from a time before there was someone looking after it, followers of Beelzebub or Mephistopheles. Ancient evils."
Lucifer plastered on his least condescending smile. "I thought Shadowhunters didn't entertain fairytales. Most of those are just names for yours truly."
"It's possible, but compared to your Father's universe, Hell is young, and you are even younger. For millennia, Hell went unchecked, left as a breeding ground for the demons and damned." Rob's lips curled up at the edges, humor in his patronizing. "Not even you know all of what's down there."
Lucifer's feathers bristled both physically and metaphorically. That sounded like a challenge, and Lucifer didn't like being challenged. Especially by a glorified paperweight. Leave it to Raziel's spawn to inherit none of his good looks and ten times his superiority complex.
Lucifer straightened in his seat and pulled at the lapels of his Prada suit. The urge to flash fire through his eyes was strong. "Yes, well, only someone with angelic blood can sit upon the throne of Hell, and last I checked I was the only creature down there who ticked that box."
For now. His treacherous mind supplied images of a baby with tiny wings on its back seated on his throne and flanked by an army of bloodthirsty demons. But Rob didn't know about the baby. He could never know about the baby, nor could any other Shadowhunter with an itch to see all creatures of Hell bound and chained to the fiery pits of despair. Life would have been so much easier if Isabelle had chosen to rid herself of the baby. But Lucifer was a man of his word, and Isabelle was as woman not idly crossed. He would make do. He always did.
Rob smiled, sensing Lucifer's apprehension. "We can only pray that Greater Demons respect that claim."
"Trust me, Rob, they have no choice."
"Then we have nothing to fear." Rob laid his hands out in a less than sincere show of supplication. "Until then I will have the Institutes go on high alert and scan for additional signs of demonic activity. We can handle this without celestial intervention, just as we always have."
Honestly, the nerve of this man. Maybe Lucifer had gotten too soft on the mortals.
"Don't stress yourself out, Rob. Increased surveillance will just give you a headache, just like notification fatigue. You follow one pornstar on Twitter and suddenly you can't get your DMs to stop pinging."
Rather than stick around Rob's ridiculous office, Lucifer stood to make his exit. Removing himself from unpleasant situations was something that Linda had him working on, and Lucifer had to admit that it was having a positive impact on his mood and quality of life. It was definitely easier than replacing furniture or wiping out blood stains.
As he made his way to the door, Lucifer noticed a picture hanging on the wall. He hadn't seen it before, tucked behind the swing of the door like an unwanted souvenir: a photo of Rob and what had to be his stern-faced wife flanked by two boys and one eerily familiar girl, framed in sterling silver engraved with a very familiar name.
"Lightwood. You wouldn't happen to be related to an Isabelle Lightwood?"
Rob got up from his desk, suspicious and accusatory all over again. "How do you know my daughter?"
If Lucifer had his glass of whiskey, he would have spit it out.
"Lucky guess." Lucifer unbuttoned his suit jacket as he reached for the doorknob. It was suddenly incredibly hot. "You know me, never forget a face. Must have seen her in passing, who knows. You Nephilim all look alike - same dour faces."
"Lucifer - "
"Pleasure doing business with you, Rob Bob Shish-kabob." Lucifer took Rob's hand and shook it so strongly that he jerked forward. "Let's do this again in about six to twelve business months, shall we?"
More like nine.
Lucifer didn't wait for a response before he was out the door and made a bee-line for the exit. Unlike his entrance, no one tried to stop him as he left. In his haste, he managed to run into something that cut him off at the waist. Upon looking down, he realized it was not a something, but a someone.
"Child, please remove yourself. This is Prada." Lucifer insisted, shaking his leg where the child still clung to steady himself.
The child glared up at him through skewed glasses, tiny lips pursed. "You don't look like a Shadowhunter."
"Dad forbid," Lucifer replied and stepped over the child.
Maybe, Lucifer thought as he continued his way through the Institute, he should have stopped to see if the child was alright. Checked if he had skinned his knobby knees. Offered to repair the damage to his comic book. But the thought of returning to the presence of that unruly hair and freckled face made Lucifer shudder.
Maybe he really wasn't cut out to be a dad. Maybe Isabelle would be alright with a child support check and presents on birthdays. Lucifer could do that. Maybe.
The doors to the Institute slammed shut behind him. Finally, Lucifer could breathe. He needed a drink, or twelve. Maze was going to rip the ever-loving shit out of him when she found out.
What a disastrous way to meet the in-laws.