9
Satan, M.D. - "Don't Tell Me Why"
Chapter One
The high was never enough.
Lucifer Morningstar had to inhale inhuman amounts of cocaine to even come close to feeling a buzz. Granted, if he didn't get everything comped to him free by Mazikeen with her hustle, even he'd be bankrupt by now, despite the rates he charged for his services. Curse of a Celestial metabolism. However, he had enough to get at least some fleeting high and more left currently. Spreading out the line of coke on his lovely guest's stomach, Lucifer rolled up one of the sheets from his prescription pads. He might not be able to catch human diseases, but dollar bills were filthy and using them instead was unfathomable. Bending low, he grinned up the redhead and snorted another line.
What a bloody brilliant Friday.
And then his mobile rang.
Groaning to himself, he wished he could ignore the ring, but he couldn't. The ring tone was from the original Star Trek, and he'd set it that way to let him know when his assistant-slash-personal secretary, Miss Lopez, was calling him. She knew he was taking off tonight. If she were calling, then it was a case that couldn't wait.
"Uh, sorry, darling," he offered. Damn, if he remembered the redhead's name. "Have to take this. Doctor's work is never done."
He excused himself and grabbed his mobile from the island in the kitchen and strode to the bedroom part of his presidential suite. Flicking his phone to answer, he breathed a long sigh of annoyance at Miss Lopez. "This better be good."
"Gee, like you too, Morningstar," she chirped. Miss Lopez was one of the only people on earth he'd let speak to him like this, and she both knew that and abused the fact. Cheeky woman. "You've got a huge case. It's Daniel Espinoza. He says he was following a lead with his suspended partner. She got shot, and he can't call it in officially or she'll end up losing her badge completely."
"Lucifer!" the redhead mewled from the living room. "I'm getting cold in here!"
He grumbled to himself. Of course, Detective Espinoza would be calling. That man had been nothing but trouble since he'd first agreed to help patch up his last partner at an abandoned boxing ring. Well, as much as even Lucifer could manage. As far as he knew that crooked bastard who'd clearly fucked with the wrong mobster out in the City of Angels was still on a ventilator. It didn't surprise him that Espinoza's current partner wasn't faring any better.
"Miss Lopez, I am not a miracle worker." Most of the time. "Did you explain to him for wounds that extensive, it would be best if he just called the ambulance and braced for the consequences."
"He promised fifty thousand in cash once he got to the evidence locker back at the precinct. It's a good night's haul, boss."
Lucifer sighed. The truth was, he'd have gone either way. With the characters he tended to treat as a concierge to those willing to pay upfront and in cash, well, he did tend to run afoul of the law occasionally. The more friends he had in blue, the easier it was to skate away from unseemly complications.
"Give me the address."
He memorized it as Miss Lopez recited it, and figured it was good for Det. Espinoza that it was at a recording studio of all places, only a few miles from his hotel. If his partner was in as bad shape as Espinoza said she was, then time was of the essence. Lucifer would have flown there, but he had a feeling he'd be needing the extensive amount of supplies in his Corvette to help with the case.
"Good then, I have a guest in my room."
"When don't you?" Miss Lopez chided on her end.
"Please help see her out. I'd rather she not assume I do overnight guest. Also, let Espinoza know I'm on the way. Oh, also remind him that this is an unusual service I'm doing, and he'd best pay me once he smuggles the bills from the evidence locker. No one wants to welch on the Devil."
Miss Lopez groaned on the other end. "Never get tired of that Schtick, boss. Just go, okay?"
"You have my word that the very hounds of Hell couldn't slow me down."
Lucifer had seen many things in his immortal life. He'd led a rebellion after all, and he'd spent eons torturing humans in Hell. Carnage wasn't foreign to him, so he knew when he dragged his medical bag and one of his biggest cases into the recording studio with him that he was walking into an utter shit show. In the far side of the room, a balding, fat man-was that Jimmy Barnes the record executive-was curled on his side with his arms handcuffed behind him. One of the glass walls of the recording booth had been shot through, and blood splattered the jagged edges of shattered glass. Before him on the floor, Espinoza had taken off his leather jacket and was desperately trying to staunch the flow of blood emanating from his partner's chest.
The Devil blinked, his eidetic memory filling in the details he'd squirreled away a few weeks ago when he'd been questioned as the last person to see Delilah alive. He hadn't had any faith that Espinoza-whom he secretly thought of as Detective Douche in his head-and the female cop with the stick up her ass would be able to find the real killer, to realize it had been more than part of the usual gang crimes in the city. She'd certainly not brooked to any of his charms, even if he'd found her rather breathtaking.
Prettiest detective he'd ever seen, even if also one of the most serious and uncompromising.
Right now, she was deathly pale, and her breathing was shallow.
Getting to his knees, Lucifer eyed Espinoza. "I need you to move."
"I have to keep pressure on it!"
"I can't bloody well stitch her up, if I can't reach her wounds, can I?"
"I…that's my wife!" Espinoza floundered. "I…she's the mother of my child. You can't let her die."
"And, Detective Espinoza, I can't do my job if you don't move," Lucifer reminded him and tried to keep his expression implacable as he regarded the fallen detective.
Odd, he could have sworn she'd gone by Decker during their interview. Maybe she'd kept her maiden name? Who knew? He swallowed hard, Adam's apple bobbing, as he regarded the wound. It was a miracle that she was even alive now. One of Barnes's bullets had gone wide and left no more than a flesh wound as it had grazed her left shoulder. The second was embedded deeply in her left chest and as Lucifer pulled on his gloves and then used surgical scissors to cut away her shirt and then her bra. He grabbed gauze after gauze to try and clear the area around the wound, and his heart sank when he analyzed the damage.
Fucking left ventricle.
The bullet seemed to be lodged there.
It really was a miracle-not that he believed in those; the Devil knew better-she wasn't dead by now.
"What…what should I do?" Espinoza asked, leaning over and crowding his light.
Lucifer took a steady breath and fervently wished he'd snorted a few more lines before rushing over. He was not energized enough for this mess. And he'd promised he wouldn't…
He was about to tell Espinoza that there was literally nothing anyone could do, and that it was best to call the ambulance to take her body to the morgue because she'd be dead soon enough, when Detective Decker coughed and blinked up at him. His breath caught in this throat because her eyes were even more lovely than he remembered, more striking even as they welled with tears.
"Please…my Trixie."
It was all she could get out before coughing up blood and passing out again.
"Her what?"
"Our daughter," Espinoza supplied.
Bloody hell, how exactly was he supposed to say no to that?
He'd promised he'd try. Lucifer hadn't sworn off this particular trick in his arsenal yet. "Get to my car."
"What?"
"I have cases of supplies there. If you want to save your wife, you need to start grabbing something heavy and hauling it in here. Go!"
Espinoza, even in his shock, mobilized at that command and hurried out the door and to the elevators. It would take him time to get back, especially weighed down with Lucifer's medical gear. That would be more than enough for what he needed. Rolling his shoulders, Lucifer let his wings out. The studio was fairly narrow, and the tips of each wing grazed the walls. No matter. Reaching up, he yanked a long primary from its place and set it over Detective Decker's chest. It wasn't something he was supposed to do, literally drawing a human back from death's door, but he'd gone to this well before. Perhaps too often over the span of his long life, and he'd never been one to heed Dad's rules before.
Obviously.
Pushing the feather tightly to her chest, Lucifer closed his eyes and Willed the healing to start. A flash of heavenly light engulfed the room, and he arched his back, shunting his wings away again. When he opened his eyes again, the feather had grown dull and grey, withered in on itself. He pushed it aside, and then reached for the iodine and more gauze to help clean the detective's former wound of blood. She was breathing more steadily now, which was a good sign, along with the lack of hole in her chest. Lucifer pulled out some thread and a needle and quickly started stitching her up. He needed the pretense of something to try and hide exactly how she'd healed. She'd been out of it for the duration, and he was wagering that Espinoza would be too grateful to question things any further.
Not that it mattered much. Even if Espinoza made such a leap, no other human would believe that the literal Devil had used the last of his divine powers to save Detective Decker. Hell, humans hadn't really believed in the Devil since the Salem Witch Trials. He'd know on that score.
Still, best to cover his tracks in the mortal realm just a bit. So, he continued to stitch and was halfway through a line about seven inches long across her sternum when Espinoza exploded back into the room, carrying at least three cases with him.
"I…you got the bullet?"
Lucifer nodded. "In a manner of speaking." Not technically a lie. "I can call an ambulance, know a guy who has his own private deal. You can take her anywhere. If you want a second opinion."
"She wasn't supposed to be my back-up," Espinoza admitted. "She only came because we thought it would be a quick set of questions with him. Then, he opened fire and the musicians here fled. I…she got caught in the crossfire. I explained to that Ella chick-"
"Yes, you don't want her to lose her badge," Lucifer replied as he finished careful stitching. "I would advise that after such trauma, she be seen by the types of doctors who reside in an actual hospital. I'm good; I'm not Jesus Christ here." Also couldn't be more true. "My man is quite discreet."
"No," Espinoza said. "I called you for a reason."
"That Malcolm chap went to the hospital after, right?" Lucifer said, standing up and peeling off his gloves. Rummaging through his case, he pulled out a mint green scrub tub and then set to helping shove back over the detective and preserving some sense of modesty between doctor and patient. "I really think it's best if she be under observation overnight."
His feathers had never failed before, and yet, this woman needed to be looked after. He could feel it in his bones. Lucifer was nervous he'd mucked a healing up this time. Odd that. He never got but so involved with his cases before. Well, except for Miss Lopez, but that was an exception.
"She'll lose her job, man."
Lucifer nodded and settled the detective back to the floor, her head nestled on Espinoza's leather jacket. "What's her first name?"
"Chloe."
Lucifer nodded and reaching out delicately stroked her cheek. "Chloe? Chloe, love, can you hear me?"
She sighed and stirred, blinking those wide blue eyes of hers back at him. "You're…you're that insufferable ex-plastic surgeon from the hotel bar."
"I am also a concierge," Lucifer said tightly. "And an excellent one. You, Detective Decker, had one Hell of a scare. You're stable, but your, ahem, partner says that you'd rather skip a visit in hospital. I'd rather advise against it, but you're stable. I can check in on you tomorrow as a house call if you prefer."
She glared over his shoulder at Espinoza. "You called this idiot?"
"Chloe, I didn't have a choice. If you went to the hospital, then the precinct and Monroe would know you were working without your badge. I…I was trying to think of your career."
Her stare become downright icy, and she spoke next in a clipped tone. "That would be novel for a change."
"I'm sorry about Palmetto and-"
Detective Decker tried to sit up too fast and grabbed her head, moaning a little. She shuddered and would have fallen back to the ground if Lucifer hadn't caught her and cradled her to his chest.
He offered her a grin and stroked her golden hair back from her face, "Well, darling, if you wanted an embrace, you only had to ask."
She swallowed and then pushed away. "Unbelievable. I…Dan, can you help me to my feet?"
Espinoza nodded, and Lucifer reluctantly passed her over to her husband. Why that word rankled him so, Lucifer couldn't tell. Shakily, Detective Douche helped Detective Decker to her feet. She wobbled again but blanched when she saw the bloodied shreds of her blouse.
"I…I didn't realize it had been that bad. I was pretty out of it."
He'd say, and that was fortunate enough. Lucifer didn't much care what humans thought of him one way or another, had outgrown that long ago and once human superstition had died out. If he had been bothered by it, of course, he'd have chosen any other moniker. But it was a pain in the arse to deal with a human rendered mute and drooling by the sight of his wings.
"Yes, Detective Decker, you came rather close to dying. You're lucky you had me here," he smirked at that. Easiest to tease a bit; it would break up the tension among them, get any suspicion away from him. "Most women find that they are."
She narrowed her eyes at him. "Thank you, Dr. Morningstar. Glad to see I was wrong about you, at least somewhat back at the hotel. I still think you're an egomaniacal idiot with quite a pair on you."
"Nope," he said, popping the p in the word. "They're still rather average."
Espinoza's jaw clenched. "Excuse me?"
"But you're a better doctor than I'd have thought, especially with the articles I found on you."
"I did keep my license and was cleared of all charges by the California Medical Board," Lucifer countered, his tone tight. He'd been an excellent doctor since any of the review board had even been born and then some.
"Yes, well, thank you. I'll take you up on that offer. You can house call me in a day or two, when this settles. I…" she bit her lower lip and looked at Espinoza. "I can't be here. I need to get home so there's plausible deniability before you call back up to get Barnes settled at the station."
Lucifer shrugged and then grinned like the cat who ate the canary. His megawatt smile tended to put most women and quite a few men at ease, make them putty in his hands. "Oh, darling, I brought my Corvette. I'd happily give you a ride home."
"I was thinking Uber," she snapped.
He frowned. Strange. His charm worked on almost everyone. Well, not Miss Lopez, but she'd been exposed to the divine by virtue of his sister Azrael since she was eight. It made her a bit of an oddball when it came to dealing with the supernatural. (Not that Miss Lopez was in on much of the Celestial comings and goings as Azrael was stubborn about pretending even now to be a so-called ghost around Ella.) Still, it was evident from her narrowed eyes and pinched expression that Detective Decker was not swayed by him at all.
How utterly baffling.
"You're still covered in blood, Detective. Do be reasonable. It's no bother, and it will give me a chance to observe you for a bit longer, ensure I did a bang up job stitching you up." He shrugged. "Probably impossible that I buggered it up. I'm one of the best surgeons in the country, I'll have you know."
He'd certainly been practicing the longest.
She sighed and looked over her top and the streaks of blood still on her neck. "Alright, but if you try and hit on me, I should let you know I still have my side arm."
Lucifer grinned wider. "Promise to use it on me then, darling?"
"Morningstar, just take her home. I'll make sure the rest of our arrangement is settled up after I take Barnes in," Espinoza said, gesturing with his head toward the passed out Barnes.
"Arrangement?" Detective Decker asked, frowning. It was clearly starting to occur to her that only the unsavory called on the likes of him for medical help ever. Wonder what that left her thinking of her sooty cop husband. "You need to tell me what's going on, Dan. What did you promise in return?"
"Money, assuredly. I enjoy cold hard cash, although the occasional trade is alluring too. Don't worry, the payment's been arranged. Now, why don't you get down to the car. The Corvette stands out quite obviously on its own. You and Detective Douche can make sure all my bags get down there." He straightened the lapels of his jacket. "I think I'd like a word with old Jimmy Barnes here, both on Delilah's account and on yours."
"Not happening," Detective Decker said.
"Agreed, you can't rough up a witness. That was not in the agreement," Espinoza echoed.
Lucifer shook his head. "You misunderstood me. I merely wanted a word. Delilah was a good employee before I called in a few I.O.U.'s and launched her career. She had promise in turning it all around as well. Besides, I give you my word that I won't touch a hair on Barnes's head, not that there are many left to ruffle. Merely a few remarks." He inclined his head toward Espinoza. "You called me tonight. I only ask for one small thing in return."
"Besides the money," Detective Douche snarked.
"Well, there is that," Lucifer replied. "I'll knock a bit off standard fee then, just for the moment. You really have no leverage here since this little birdie," he said, pointing to himself. "Could expose everything you two are hiding anyway."
Detective Decker glared at him. "You can't just take vigilante justice into your hands, Dr. Morningstar."
"Oh, just Lucifer, love."
"Doctor," she countered. "I don't trust you not to hurt him."
"You should thank me if I did. The homunculus tried to murder you not an hour ago."
"And he'll go to trial like he's supposed to."
Lucifer shrugged. This one was stubborn. How odd to also find a cop in Los Angeles who still believed in actual good and proper procedure. Eventually, those notions had to die out eventually. He'd seen idealists before; they rarely lasted.
"A few words. Just get things packed up. Besides, Detective. You don't know me well…yet, but I always keep my words. Not a scratch on him."
Detective Douche rolled his eyes even as he grabbed up a couple of cases in his arms. "You have till we get back to talk. You break anything man, your ass is grass."
"Quite," Lucifer said, amused a bit by how little Espinoza understood about what he was dealing with.
Detective Decker seemed to want to argue with everything, but her husband half-led, half-dragged her out before she could say more. Good. He needed to get to the Devil's business, after all.
When they were gone, Lucifer turned and strode to where Barnes lay at the far end of the room. He yanked the sorry miscreant up by his lapels and yelled at him. Pity he couldn't lay a hand on him, but he'd promised after all, and the Devil never reneged on a deal. "Wake up, Jimmy!"
The troll of a man blinked up at him and stilled. "It's you! I told you, you stay away from me, you freak!"
Lucifer let out a low whistle. "Would that I could, but you deserve to get a preview of the show my brother, Amenadiel, will be putting on for you when you finally get there. Oh, all the punishments you'll be reaping in."
"What? What crazy shit are you spewing now?"
The Devil turned toward the mirrored wall of the studio and forced Jimmy to look. "Delilah was a good woman. She lost her way, but you took her redemption from her. Detective Decker seems like a decent cop, a moral one, and one of a precious few out here. A rat like you shouldn't have been allowed to harm either of them. Deep down, you know you're nothing but an inveterate sinner. And," he said, his voice taking on a low growl. "You know exactly where you'll go."
His face flickered and the scarred visage that had been forced on him since his fall-complete with burning eyes and long, fearsome horns-came into view. Jimmy started to scream, but Lucifer held him tighter, forced him to look at the mirror before them.
"You know where you're going, Jimbo, and it's going to be one hot ride."
Barnes started to scream, an ear piercing wail that was painful enough to Lucifer's Celestial hearing that he almost wondered if it had been worth it to put the fear of, well, himself in the clod. "You're the Devil!"
He gave his horrid reflection a final glance and willed his glamor over it. Back to alabaster skin and only slightly ruffled dark hair. At his feet, Jimmy Barnes was curled into the fetal position and shaking almost as hard as he would if he were in flat out grand mal convulsions.
"That I am, Jimmy Barnes, and you're going to Hell."
Detective Douche arrived back up the stairs, just as Lucifer had settled his medicine bag over his shoulder and picked up his final case of equipment. The cop looked between him and the mewling mess who had once been Jimmy Barnes.
"Christ!" he screamed, as he rushed for the murderer. "What did you do?"
"Not a hair on his head. Can't be helped if the wretch went round the bend all on his own."
"Man, he's a gibbering mess!"
Lucifer shrugged and turned to the door. "He's lucky that's all he is. Detective Douche, don't forget my payment, make it forty thousand. Generous fellow that I am, I'm going to knock off ten grand for allowing me alone time with that homunculus. By the way, I'll be expecting the money handed off to my assistant at our office by tomorrow night. Ask Jimmy-boy over there. It won't end well for you if you welch on a deal with the Devil."