Chloe handled the new sidearm in her hands, thinking it felt identical to her Smith & Wesson Bodyguard 380. She had traded in for a new pistol because she found laser sight essential to good aim and eagerness to try out the new pistol made her get up bright and early to get to the LAPS firing range. The pistol made of polymer and steel felt cool and balanced in her grasp, a natural extension of herself as she gripped the heavier the hilt. A day at the firing range was just the thing she needed to clear her mind.

Once there, she checked in and had several extended magazines. She wanted to see how it felt compared to her old carry. She slid in the first magazine, hearing that click of the magazine as it fit perfectly gave her a feeling of peace that she hadn't felt in some time. Ear protection in place, she aimed at the target. Two things always felt right to Chloe: solving a case and shooting a target.

Six shots per magazine at twenty-five hundreds of a second didn't seem too long. What surprised Chloe was how quickly the magazines left the 380 and a new one slipped in place. Several minutes and cartridges later, Chloe only found one hole in her target that she had shot at continuously. She counted the clips, six. She counted the cartridges on the ground: 36. She knew she hadn't missed 35 times; she'd shot bull's-eyes with all 36 bullets.

Dr. McCoy wanted a sample of Lucifer's blood for study, Chloe wanted answers. The connection was clear: somehow Lucifer's blood affected her and she wanted to know why and how. Chloe was an excellent shootist, but she'd never hit 36 bull's-eyes in a row. Chloe took out her notepad, scribbling notes on her findings.

Chloe spent the next hour online doing research about female weightlifters. Chloe had noticed subtle changes in her body frame such as more definition to her triceps, biceps and abdominal muscles. She did dead lifts and bench presses, coming stronger than 90% of women her age. Definitely a marked improvement. Chloe found an employee to time her at the track and she did a 75 yard run in less than 17.5 seconds. She had never ran that fast or had been that strong.

Now, she wanted to test the non-empirical things. Chloe remembered how Lucifer had done his "voodoo-hypnotism eye-thing" on more than one subject of interest in investigations, getting someone to spill their greatest desire, telling her more than once it worked best on uncomplicated, weak-willed individuals. Chloe closed her eyes, remembering how Lucifer moved in close to the unsuspecting target, stare that person directly in the eyes and asked him or her truest, secret desire in a calm, charming voice. She needed a test subject.

The local coffee shop was perfect.

Chloe went in and order her usual coffee, staring at the Barista and wondering how Lucifer did it. He looked innocent enough, maybe early twenties with sandy blonde hair and green eyes. She studied him carefully, waiting until he was ringing up her cappuccino when she zeroed in on her unsuspecting prey.

"How much do I owe you," Chloe looked at his name tag, then returned her gaze to him. "Michael?"

She thought, 'How would Lucifer do this? Smile, flirt, turn up the sex meter to eleven.' Chloe gave the younger man a slow smile and looked at him with large, innocent eyes.

"Uh-$2.10, Miss," he stuttered.

Chloe felt a small electric current similar to static electricity move along her skin and a tingling of anticipation as she leaned in a few inches closer. She asked Michael in a sultry voice. "If I asked you a question, would you answer it?"

"Ma'am?" his eyes widened, not sure what to say to the woman only a few inches from him.

"What is your innermost desire, Michael?" Chloe focused all of her energy into her voice as it were a bullet headed for a target. "What do you want most?"

"I-I," he stammered, at a loss for words. "I -"

"Yes?" Chloe's slow purr was meant only for his ears.

"I want to be a Chippendale's dancer!" Michael blurted, his hand shaking as he handed Chloe her cup of coffee. "I used to dance in front of the locker room mirror in high school and use a towel like a stage prop."

Chloe dropped her cup of coffee with hot liquid splattering everywhere on her and the Barista. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, Ma'am!" Michael blinked as if coming out of a deep trance. "I'm sorry."

"No, I dropped it," feeling guilty of having unsettled him that way. "Did you get burnt?"

"No, Ma'am, I'm good."

"Hey, I just need another cup and I'm good."

"On the house, Ma'am," he mumbled as his cheeks flamed bright red.

"No, that's okay!" Chloe held up her hand and in the other gave him a five-dollar bill. "Just take the cash and keep the change as a tip."

Chloe gave her next test subjects more thought. She struck up a conversation in a nearby park with an elderly woman whose deepest desire had been to have married her first love. Riding around the city, Chloe tried it from the backseat of a taxi while staring at the driver in the rear view mirror who admitted he wanted to play King Lear. Her last subject was a teller at her local bank who told her she wanted to marry Justin Bieber.

Chloe scribbled in her notes, "eye-contact, complete attention focused on subject, use of given name especially effective, physical contact enhances the effect."

Strength, agility, hand-to-eye coordination, persuasion: all improved and it wasn't mere a coincidence. Every time Chloe used the eye-to-eye desire technique, it became easier for her. She felt the tingle grow stronger and that warm rush of adrenaline course through her. Is this what it felt like for Lucifer whenever he did this to a person? If it worked on others, then why didn't it work on her? That was one of the answers that evaded her.

Chloe returned to the park, sitting alone on the bench reading her notes. Shaking her head in amazement, there was only one experiment left to try and it was the one she had dreaded doing all day. Pulling out a pocket knife, she nicked the end of her pinky finger, watching as a droplet of her blood formed on her fingertip.

"Hey, Ma'am," a deep, gravely voice greeted her, startling Chloe out of her silent reverie. "Don't you think that's a little dangerous what you're doing there?"

She looked up to see a man somewhere between thirty and sixty; his age indeterminable She noticed his salt and pepper hair, thick horseshoe mustache and his tall, lanky build. Somehow, this stranger seemed familiar, but Chloe couldn't place him, but she recognized that resonant voice with a Texas drawl."

"Oh," Chloe put the pocketknife inside her purse. "I was clumsy."

She studied the man who sat down beside her. Ruggedly handsome were the words that entered Chloe's mind as she studied him. 6'2", around 185 lbs. and all tall, lean muscle. Dressed in a simple black tee shirt, jeans and black motorcycle boots, he wasn't as imposing when he sat next to her.

"You're playin' with fire, Ma'am, and you don't know what you're dealing with," he said, leaning back against the park bench.

"I didn't catch your name," she said, cool and collected.

"Josh Johnson," he extended one large hand. Chloe noted the callused hands and the weathered skin as they shook hands. This was a man who wasn't afraid of hard work.

Where had she seen him before? He didn't invoke an instinct of fear or wariness. Chloe sensed he was very familiar and didn't know from where or how. "Josh Josephson?"

"No, Ma'am, only in your dreams" he chuckled. "Tried that name and too much of a mouthful. Johnson's easier."

"Have we met?"

"In a way," he mused, pulling out a familiar-looking fruit. He popped into his mouth a small morsel shaped like a weather balloon that had a sweet, spicy aroma. He offered on to her. "Would you like one?"

"What is it?" she asked, knowing she'd seen it recently.

"It's a fig," Josh answered, chewing on the fruit.

"Where's it grown?"

"As close to Heaven as I can get," he chuckled.

"Best in the universe?" she answered automatically. Those words chimed in her memory as she looked at the small, dark fruit in her hand. She remembered the sweet taste and chewy texture from recently eating one. She took the one he offered, but didn't eat it. Instead, she studied it, turning it over her hand.

"Yup," Josh eyed her as she studied the fig. "Sam offers Eve an apple and gets her to eat it. I offer you the fruit of heaven and you look at it like it's poisoned." Chloe asked. She considered the reference. Sam, Eve, Apple. Cowboy. Fig. Heavenly Fruit. Hmm.

Chloe's eyes widened as understanding flooded her thoughts. Sam, Eve, Apple. Lucifer. Dreams, Cowboy. Fig. Heavenly fruit. God. Lucifer's dad. Dreams. Silver City. Heaven. She tried wrapping her head around everything jumbled in her mind as multiple epiphanies exploded in a rapid-fire process. All the strange dreams over the past few months weren't only dreams. She wondered if she was learning to love Lucifer's crazy, projected world?

"You've been pushing some boundaries today, Young Lady," he said quietly, but with kindness. "You're dealing with something you're not used to dealing with."

"You can say that again," Chloe shook her head in quiet amazement. She pointed skyward. "So, you're...Him?"

"Pretty much," Josh answered, settling comfortably on the park bench, munching on a fig.

"Ma'am, I've been around since I was a kid. Sounds like you've got some new ammo for a pretty powerful sidearm."

"Yeah, I tested it on the range today. Very powerful for its size."

"Do you mind if I call you Chloe?"

"Not at all.

"Just a word of advice, Chloe," Josh's warmth made her think back to her own dad when she was a little girl. "I think anytime you can affect people in general, in a positive way, then you're a lucky individual. I don't mind you testing some things, Chloe, new things you've discovered about Sam- Lucifer. Darlin', you're messing with people's free will isn't one of them."

"I had to know -"

"You already know more than most, but you don't believe," Josh glanced at her finger and she looked down, seeing there was no cut or blood remaining. "Right now, in this world there are those who don't believe in themselves and need a little faith from others who matter to them. They're confused trying to find their way, wrapped up in their own egos, but trying to break out and be better that what they were the day before. You can't mess with will, Chloe, or you go against the laws of nature."

"No."

"You can tempt or inspire, but, you don't mess with other's free will. What they carry around in their heads is between them and Me. Only exception is when you can save an innocent or stop some evil.

"Kinda sounds like someone I know," Chloe looked downward, guilt settling in where the thrill of power had been.

"Don't feel too bad," Josh said with a baritone drawl. "It gets to most when they first try it. Just don't use it unless you have to. If it's any consolation, you're doing better with it than most. I have another boy who needs his ass whooped for going off the rails, so I plucked a few of his feathers so he can't do any more damage for awhile. Well, for Lucifer, you him pretty well, Chloe. He is someone who's trying to be a better man, but he's lost and you can help him. Don't let power get in the way of who you are, Chloe."

"The only help he wants is with what's in his pants," she scoffed, cynicism overtook her heart in that moment.

"Then, you show him what he's wearing on his sleeve and make sure he doesn't break it," Josh answered, then rose from the park bench and ambled to the Harley-Davidson parked near the street curb. "It's been a pleasure, Chloe."

"Wait," she called after him. "What do I do?"

"Ask, look for it, find it, accept it and it breaks wide open," he gave her a smile that she recognized. "You're a smart woman and I'm never too far away. Just ask."

"Will I see you again?"

"Oh, yeah. You know, you could talk to Me more often than you do," he started up the motorcycle before putting on his helmet. "I miss the talks we used to have. We'll have a few more, so catch up on your sleep."

She watched the biker-meets-cowboy ride away into the distance and she shook her head in disbelief.

The strange episode in the park with Josh Johnson stayed with her even into the next day when she and Lucifer were working a new case. They walked quickly to the murder scene, seeing it taped off ahead of them.

"Is it good to be back on a studio set, Detective?" Lucifer chimed.

"Not really, I have stuff on my mind, but I'll worry about that later," Chloe's brisk remarked warranted a brow quirk from Lucifer.

He chuckled, "It's bringing back memories of your acting days? If you're feeling nostalgic, Detective, I'm sure I can find some horny teenagers and a hot tub. 'Cause the movie you were in was -"

"Yeah, I got it. Not. Now. Lucifer."

"Is everything all right, Detective? Did you wake up on the wrong side of your gun this morning?" he asked, surprised by her lack of response. "You seem distracted. Usually, I get at least a glimmer of a smile from my remarks, the occasional eye roll. I think I got a snort once."

"Two days ago, you were shot point-blank and now you're healed," Chloe grabbed him by the arm, stopping him mid-stride. "How is that possible?"

"Ah, well, no need to thank me for my heroism. Well, maybe just a little, Detective. No one's stopping you."

"There was blood all over you.," Chloe motioned toward him. "You should be dead."

Lucifer gave a casual shrug, "Well, par for the course for our adventures, Detective. What's new?"

"I have a sample of your blood and I'm gonna take it, test it and find out exactly what you are once and for all." Chloe thought it sounded more like a self-dare than a promise to her partner.

"The Devil himself?"

"No, I'm guessing Larry Morningstar, the son of a plumber in Connecticut," she cut through his charm with sarcasm.

"Right, well, wrap that up, would you? 'Cause I could use your help on my end."

"This isn't over, Lucifer, not by a long shot," Chloe vowed. She made a mental note that she'd get to the bottom of this and one of three things could be the only possible conclusion.
1) Either she or Lucifer was insane
2) Lucifer was a liar.
3) Once the unlikely was eliminated, no matter how infeasible, what's left must be the truth.

TO BE CONTINUED….