I felt the warm sun reflecting on me as I lay there. For a few moments I lay there. The silk sheets felt so cool and comforting against my skin. Then I realized I was not in my own bed. I opened one eye. The sheets were black. I was in a room with black marble columns. Glass windows looked out over the whole of Los Angeles. I started to get up. I realized that I was not dressed. Then I noticed I was not alone in the room. My father stood over me.

"This is the second time you awoke in my bed, isn't it?"

I glared at him for a moment. He was wearing a black silk robe and holding a cup of tea or cappuccino. He was half smiling.

"How?"

"Oh don't you remember. You fell asleep."

"Oh." I tried sitting up again. Remembering I wasn't wearing any clothes. Just my bra. "Did you undress me?"

"Don't be absurd. Maze did that."

I shook my head. "Why?"

"Why don't you ask her?" He set a pink robe or night gown on the bed. "Get dressed. I'll be out on the balcony."

He left the room. I pulled back the covers and stood up putting on the robe. I hated pink. But I didn't have a choice at the moment. I turned towards the door and Maze stood there. She was wearing a tight black leather dress with knee high black leather boots. Her dark brown eyes were glaring at me.

I tried a smile. "Good morning Mazikeen."

She smiled slightly. "You can call me Maze."

"Why did you undress me Maze?"

She laughed. "I found you passed out on the couch. I put you in his bed. Thought you'd be more comfortable."

"Oh um thank you."

"I went and got your stuff from the motel."

How did she know what motel I was staying at? "Again thank you." She left the frame of the door and I followed her out to the balcony. The sun was just beginning to peak over the horizon. It was warm for April. I forgotten home much warmer Spring was in Los Angeles. New York could still have snow melting. I sat down just as my father appeared with a plate of food.

"Are you hungry?" He set it down in front of me. An omelet with bacon and cheese. It smelled like heaven. My mouther watered.

"You cook now?"

He shrugged and walked back inside. I took a bite of the food. It tasted wonderful. The Devil can cook. I had most of it finished by the time he returned. He was dressed in black suit with a purple shirt. He sat down in another chair. His dark eyes regarding me for a moment.

"I spoke to your husband last night."

I dropped my fork. Dang it. I had forgotten to call him last night. I had been so tired. I forgot.

"Don't worry I assured him you were fine. Think I may have scared him though."

I laughed. I remember the first time Bryan had learned that I was the daughter of the Devil. He didn't speak to me for a week. I was assigned a different partner. But he came around when I used my powers to get us out of a sticky situation.

"What did you say to him?"

He shrugged and laughed. "Nothing."

"Dad? What did you say to him?"

Nothing. I just had a nice conversation with him."

I shook my head. I needed to remember to call him later. The baby moved around for a bit. I shifted uncomfortably in the seat. I was done eating.

"Where did Maze put my stuff?"

We stood up and he lead me to a second bedroom. It wasn't as ornate as his was. But it was nicer than the hotel I had been at. My bag was sitting on the bed.

"Hurry up and get dressed. There is someone I think you should meet."

He left the room. I sighed and quickly got dressed. I walked back into the living room. He was sitting at the bar sipping on a drink. He looked over at me. "That's what you are wearing?"

I looked down. I was wearing a pair of maternity jeans and a blue buttoned up shirt. It hung loosely over my belly. Very little was comfortable lately. My black hair was pulled back in a ponytail. "Why what's wrong with it?"

"Everything. But we need to get going." He started for the elevator.

I waddled after him. I stood next to him in silence. Internally grumbling at his criticism of my outfit. Fashion was not something I cared about. I had more than enough money to afford designer clothes. But I did not care. I wore what was comfortable.

We walked out of the building to a black Corvette. I ran my hand over the door. "Bryan would die for this car."

My father chuckled. "Beauty isn't she?"

"Oh yes." MY husband was quite the car guy. He had grown up working on cars with his father and brother. He could name just about every brand and made of car that existed. Since marrying me he now had the money to buy just about every car he wanted.

The car roared to life and we headed into traffic. The wind blew my hair in every direction. The sun was warm but the breeze was cool enough. I was surprised that traffic was relatively calm. I watched everything pass by. It had been about ten years since I had seen Los Angeles. IT was where I was born and spent the first six years of my life.

We pulled up to a house in a decent part of town. Police tape was run across the front door. Police cars and an ambulance were parked out front. Cops were milling about. We stopped right in front. My father got out of the car. He looked at me. "Are you coming?"

I slowly got out and looked around. "This is a crime scene."

"Brilliant observation, detective." He said and walked towards the front door. I hurried after him. Still in complete confusion over why exactly we were here.

"But what are we doing here?"

He stopped and looked at me. "To solve a crime."

The officer at the door let us through. We walked into the living room. Forensics were milling about collecting evidence. I tried my best not to touch anything. I could see the body of a man sitting at a desk. He held a gun in his right hand. A bullet wound on his head. On first glance, most likely a suicide.

"There you are, Lucifer. I was wondering when you would show up." A thin woman with dark blonde hair with brown roots approached us. She stopped and glared at me. A badge was attached to her belt. A holstered gun on her hip. She was dressed like I often dressed at crime scenes.

"Ah, Detective. What fun do have today?" My father said to the woman.

"It's not fun, Lucifer." She again looked at me. "I'd appreciate it, if you didn't bring your dates to the crime scene."

I scoffed and shook my head. "Ew." I said quickly.

"She isn't my date. She's my- "

The detective cut him off. "Date. One-night stand. Whatever. She isn't supposed to be here." She looked me over. She stopped when she noticed my pregnant belly. "That isn't yours is it?"

I glared at the woman. "That's disgusting." I said to her. My father just laughed.

The detective looked a little shocked. "So what are you doing here?"

I looked at my father again. "That's what I would like to know."

He shrugged. "I thought you could help."

"How?" I looked around. There were plenty of people here. I doubted they needed me to help.

"Well, you are a detective aren't you?"

"Yes, in New York."

"So?" He said.

"So, I don't have jurisdiction here."

The female detective watched out exchange. Her expression was one of annoyance. I was still wondering why my father was here in the first place. My father looked at the woman. "I thought she could help." He said to her.

"Hey!" A male voice came from behind us. I turned to look at a man with tan skin and slicked back black hair. He had greenish blue eyes. He glared at my father. Then turned that glare on me. "You know Lucifer, it's bad enough we have to put up with you. But I don't appreciate you bringing your dates too."

I scoffed and shook my head. "I am not his date."

"Well, whatever you are." He folded his arms and looked at the female detective.

My father looked at the man with the same disdain. "Well, if it isn't Detective Douche." His English voice held a childlike mockery. I was wondering what was going on. I hated to be interrupting the scene.

"I'm sorry. I don't know why I am here." I said to them. I turned to walk out of the house.

My father put his hand on my shoulder. He used a bit of his devilish strength to hold me back. "Persephone."

I heard a snort form the male detective. "Persephone?"

I stopped and faced him. "Yes? You have a problem with it."

He shrugged and laughed again. "No. I do have a problem with Lucifer bringing his dates with him, though."

I glared at the man. "I am not his date. He is my father."

Their eyes widened. The female scoffed and looked at Lucifer. "Father?"

It would shock most people. After all I had a father that looked barely forty and I was in my mid-thirties. "Detective Chloe Decker. This is my daughter Persephone."

I tried to smile at her. There was a strange familiarity with the woman. I knew I had met her before. She was still looking at my father in shock. "Daughter?"

I shook my head. "Shocking. I know."

Chloe shook her head. "That's not possible." She glanced at my stomach.

"Trust me. He is a lot older than he looks. Lot older." I looked down at my stomach. The baby kicked and I cringed. "I don't know why he brought me here."

"To help solve the crime of course." My father's voice broke through.

"Dad, I told you I am a detective n New York. This is Los Angeles. I don't have jurisdiction here."

Chloe shook her head. She was still trying to process what had just happened. She started to say something then stopped. I knew I had met her before. Then it hit me. I looked at her. "Your mother is Penelope Decker, right?

Her eyes winded. "How did you know that?"

I remembered. Her mother had been in a movie with my mother many years ago. "Your mother was in a movie with mine."

Her eyes narrowed as she looked me over now. Then it was like a lightbulb lit up in her mind. "Wait. Your mom. Joanie Lynn Collins."

I nodded. "Yeah. I remember you. You stole my Barbie doll."

She laughed. "If I'm not mistaken you stole my bear."

My father stood a few feet away smiling. "Look at you two getting along so well."

We stopped for a moment and looked at my dad. I remembered we were at a crime scene. A dead man was a few feet away from us. Chloe looked at me. "We believe it's a suicide."

I regarded the body for a moment. Something was off. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, we are sure. Do you not seethe gun in his hand?" said the male detective.

"Let's hear her out Dan." Chloe said to him. He scoffed and walked away. My father glared at him. There was no love between them.

I was curious about the story there. But I turned my attention to the dead man. I took a few steps towards him and pointed. I was careful not to touch anything. "See the gun is the wrong caliber. It would have blasted a much larger hole in his head. Also do you notice how there is no blood spatter on the wall?"

Chloe's followed my hand. Her eyes widened. "You are right."

I nodded and pointed at the body. "Also it looks like the body was moved. The way he is sitting." The body was sitting awkwardly in the chair. Rigor mortis must have set in before they moved him. Chloe and Dan looked at the body. They then talked quietly to themselves.

My father bumped my arm. He had a wide grin on his face. "See, you are helping."

"Yeah. But why are you here, Dad?"

"He thinks he's a detective." Said Dan. The tone of his voice indicated he didn't like the arrangement.

"Oh, really. This from the man who freaked out when I decided to become a cop."

"I didn't freak out. I just felt you should do something else."

"Yeah, I know. Be a ditzy little actress." I scoffed and shook my head. That was the argument that had caused me to not see him for the last five years.

Chloe walked back to us. "You are right, Persephone." She said my name slowly. It wasn't always the easiest name to pronounce or remember.

"You can call me Persi if it's easier." I laughed. "You know how famous movie stars are. Giving their children goofy names. You got lucky."

"Excuse me." My father said. His voice was laced with annoyance and a tinge of anger. "Your name is not goofy. And your mother wasn't the one who named you."

"huh?" I looked at him. I let it drop. This wasn't the place to discuss my name. I turned my attention back to the case. "Do you see blood stains on the carpet leading to the kitchen?"

Chloe shook her head. "No." She picked up a luminal light from one of the forensics guys and shined it on the rug. Sure enough it glowed. "Now I do." We followed it to the kitchen. More blood all over the tile. I noticed a bullet hole in the wall. I pointed. She nodded.

Chloe and I put the picture together. The man had been shot in the kitchen and moved to the living room. They wanted it to appear to be a suicide. "I would talk to the wife again." I said to Chloe.

She nodded. "I agree."

An hour later I was riding in the car with my father. "See you helped out a lot back there." He said.

"Yeah." I looked at him. He didn't look old enough to be my father. But I knew he was older than time. He looked the same as he had all those years ago in Hell. "So, what's the deal with Chloe?"

He shrugged. "She's just a friend."

"Really? Just a friend."

"Yeah."

I didn't believe it for a minute. I knew my father liked her as more than just a friend. But I decided to drop the matter. We rode along the coast. The ocean was beautiful. Blue waves crashed upon white sand.

Author's Note: Yes that was quite long. But I had a lot to get out. I thought about breaking it up. Oh well. Enjoy.