Chapter Six
"Is she telling the truth?" Chloe asked. "About the wards?"
She'd originally assumed the bumpy cement floor had just been hastily poured. Now that she was really looking, though, she could see small bits of metal protruding from the concrete. They didn't look to be in any specific pattern, though. At least not to her.
Lucifer, still standing a good twenty feet away, squatted down to inspect the floor. He ran his fingers delicately over the bits of iron, a frown of concentration forming on his face as he traced the symbols. It looked like he was reading a complex passage of Braille. After a moment, his gaze traveled to the corner nearest him, then the middle of the floor, then the far corner.
Lucifer sighed and stood back up. "It would appear so. I doubt even Amenadiel could hear my prayers through all this noise."
Chloe's eyes widened. "These little pieces of metal can block prayers? Like…even to your Dad?"
Her partner laughed, which quickly turned into a stifled cough. "No warding on earth is powerful enough to block prayers to Him. Even now, He's fully aware of our predicament. Just don't hold your breath waiting for Him to do something about it."
Chloe chewed her lip. Despite Lucifer's lack of faith in his Father, she still felt better knowing someone could hear them. Even if that someone was very, very far away. And, speaking of distance…she walked briskly to the overturned bench and picked up one of the broken-off, rusty bolts that had once held it to the floor.
"Here," she said, approaching Lucifer with the bolt.
Her partner backed away.
Chloe rolled her eyes. "Stop avoiding me. She already said you're not contagious."
"Right, and kidnappers are so well known for their trustworthiness."
Nonetheless, he held still long enough for her to hand him the jagged bolt. He clutched the stupid pocket square over his face like a surgical mask the whole time. Knowing he was only trying to protect her, she resisted the urge to roll her eyes again.
"Okay, now you can move away from me," Chloe instructed, shooing him backwards.
"Why is it that human women can never seem to make up their minds?" Lucifer asked, obediently retreating once again.
Chloe backed up, too. Soon they were in opposite corners of the warehouse, the farthest apart they could get given the confines of the space. "All right," she said, "now scratch yourself with that bolt."
"What, you want me to get Tetanus, as well?"
"You're not going to get full-blown Tetanus in twenty-four hours," Chloe countered. "We need to test if we're far enough apart to affect your mortality."
Lucifer sighed. "Very well." He pressed the sharp tip of the broken bolt against the inner part of his right forearm and dragged the metal across his skin with a force that made Chloe wince. A second later, he held up the arm, now sporting a bloody scratch.
"Damn," Chloe whispered. She'd known it was a long shot, but still. Feeling the seconds slipping away from them, she turned her attention back to the floor. "Can you knock some of these iron pieces out of the concrete? Maybe mess up the wards enough to get a message through to your brother?"
Lucifer dutifully retrieved the bench and set to work bashing it against the pavement, trying to dislodge some of the symbols. Chloe, meanwhile, went around to inspect the two doors Lucifer had dented earlier. She paid minimal attention to the smaller door—the kidnapper had told them she intended to open that one soon, anyway, which meant it did not lead to freedom.
The larger door had no knob or handle, and was obviously bolted from the outside. The hinges were on the other side as well, eliminating the possibility of simply removing the pins. Chloe took a few steps back, sizing up her opponent. Eyes narrowed in determination, she slid her arms into the sleeves of Lucifer's jacket. The silky lining tingled her skin, making the tiny hairs stand up. Without letting herself consider the futility of the action, she ran at the door and threw her shoulder into it, full-force.
Chloe just barely managed to swallow back her scream in time. She stumbled away from the door, hissing and rubbing her arm. Admittedly, it had been a stupid move. But she was desperate, and sometimes the two went hand-in-hand.
Across the warehouse, sparks shot up from where Lucifer was working on the floor—beautiful sprays of white light reflecting off the concrete fog already rising from his efforts. The clanking of metal against cement echoed through the whole building like a cold heartbeat.
Chloe circled the perimeter, searching for any pinpricks of illumination that might indicate hidden windows. Some tiny chink in the warehouse's apparently impenetrable armor. When the deafening pulse stopped abruptly, she looked over to find Lucifer, sweating and breathless, examining the results of his labor.
"It would appear that this iron runs several feet deep," he reported. "I'm afraid it would take hours to excavate even a few pieces. And I doubt that would be enough to significantly disrupt the wards…I can keep trying, though, if you like." He raised his eyebrows questioningly at her.
"No, that's okay. Just take it easy for a minute. We'll think of something else." Chloe tried not to let her voice betray her mounting sense of helplessness. How many minutes had it been so far? Five? Six? And they were no closer to escaping, or even sending out an SOS.
She looked back at the door she'd collided with. Her shoulder flashed with pain, warning her not to do it again. Instead, Chloe walked over and picked up a fist-sized chunk of concrete that Lucifer had dislodged. He shot her another questioning look.
"She put a lot of effort into reinforcing those doors," Chloe said. "Maybe she wasn't as careful when she did the walls."
Chloe started off along the perimeter again, this time pausing every few feet to strike the wall with the piece of concrete. She listened for any signs of hollowness or weakness, looked for any spots that dented in under her blows. Lucifer picked up his own hunk of cement and followed her lead, heading in the opposite direction. The noise of their combined effort was deafening. Like a construction site times ten.
Good, Chloe thought. The more racket we make, the more likely someone outside might hear us.
Sweat trickled down her back, and her ears felt like they were bleeding, but she didn't stop until the concrete in her hand literally crumbled to dust. Looking back at her handiwork, Chloe saw that she'd only managed to ding the walls in a few places, nothing more. Lucifer was having better luck, creating some good-sized dents in several spots, but in the end even he didn't come close to punching through.
He finally tossed what was left of his cement chunk—a handful of tiny pebbles—to the floor and glanced over at Chloe. A trickle of blood ran down his right arm, cutting a vivid red trail through the chalky concrete particles coating his skin.
"All right," he panted, "what's the next plan?"
Chloe bit her lip, not wanting to admit that she didn't have one. Well, she did, but he wasn't going to like it. At all. She slowly crossed the room to stand in front of him, her footsteps echoing in the hollow space between them.
"Well?" Lucifer asked. "Shall we try for the ceiling?"
She could tell he wasn't joking. He would pitch cement speedballs at the roof all day long if she told him to. Lucifer wouldn't care that their time was almost up—he had absolutely no intention of going along with the kidnapper's "itinerary." It was the fire of his nature—to rebel. To fight the inevitable. To rip the reins away from the rider trying to steer him, and gallop off in the opposite direction. Lucifer would rather incinerate himself in a blaze of defiant glory than submit—even an inch—to his enemy's demands.
Right now, their kidnapper was the enemy. She was in control, hauling hard on the bit, trying to make him to do something against his will. Somehow, Chloe had to convince him to see it another way. To go against his nature, just this once.
God help her.
She reached out and took Lucifer's dusty hand in hers. He tensed—probably still worried about giving her cooties—but he didn't pull away.
"Listen, Lucifer…I hate to say it, but I think at this point our best bet might be to just go along with what the kidnapper wants us to do—"
His eyes darkened before she even finished saying the words.
Swallowing, Chloe pressed on. "I know how much you hate when people try to force you to do things. When they try to take away your free will. I hate it, too. This woman has no right to do what she's done."
Lucifer's face had become a mask. Flat, expressionless. "But?"
"But what if she hadn't gone about it this way? What if she'd just come to us at the precinct and begged for our help in exonerating her son? I truly believe we would've helped her. I don't want an innocent person to die, and I know you don't either. So, if we help her now, it's really just choosing to do what we would've done anyway...isn't it?"
Lucifer said nothing, his eyes cold flecks of obsidian.
Chloe played her trump card: "What if it were my life on the line? Would you do as the kidnapper asked if it meant saving me?"
His face immediately softened. "Of course, Detective. I would never let anything happen to you."
"Then don't let this happen to me. Choose to help me with this case, so we can both walk out of here. Because I really, really don't want you to die." She didn't try to hide the way her voice shook. She wanted him to hear it. To feel it.
"So, what then? She just…gets away with this?" Lucifer asked, his own voice laced with bitterness.
Chloe shook her head. "No, she doesn't. Right now, we're gonna focus on saving Martin. And you. Later, when this is all over, then you and I will hunt her down—together—and make her pay for what she's done…" Chloe took a deep breath "…Deal?"
Lucifer's eyes gleamed, alight with thoughts of punishment. A hint of a feral smile touched his lips.
"Deal, Detective," he said, tightening his warm grip on Chloe's hand.
It might've just been her imagination, but Chloe swore she felt a tiny bolt of electricity pass between them, sealing her deal with the Devil. She shivered at the intensity of his gaze. His eyes had never looked deeper, darker…
A loud creeee-eak made her jump. Lucifer released her hand, breaking the connection as they both looked over at the small iron door, which had just swung open.
"Time to get to work," the kidnapper said.