Chapter Fourteen

Lucifer was awake, but he didn't want to open his eyes.

He didn't want to see that he was still in that cold alley, and not in his father's palace where he belonged. The sight of the alley was just going to piss him off. Starting off the day coming off the wrong side of bed – or no bed – doesn't mean much when he doesn't have his mother there to help him through his anger. A smile tugged at his lips, his mouth watering.

Lucifer could just taste his mother's chocolate chip cookies, which were baked with just the right amount of chocolate chips. They were gooey and soft, and smelt divine. Now that he thought about it, his father could grill the best ribs. Savory and chewy, with a bit of charring on one side giving it a bit of a crunch. They were always seasoned to perfection, not being too much and not too little. His father would always tell him that his ribs never tasted as good as they did now, and that it took him several years to do so after the first grill was made.

His parents never cooked often, but when they did, Lucifer would never pass up the option of eating their food.

Lucifer's ears perked up at the sound of footsteps echoing off of the brick walls. Faint whispers filled the alley, the few words that could be heard told the young god that the strangers were looking for him. The spark of hope that had been growing in his heart was quickly blown out when he didn't recognize the voices. They didn't belong to his mother, his father, his aunts and uncles, or his godfathers, Bob and Damasen.

Panic seeped into his veins, his fingers itching to encase the strangers in darkness. Lucifer stopped himself, doubting that he could even muster shadows the size of a Labrador. Not only that, but if the strangers were humans, he'd be sending himself on a one-way trip to a glass prison, where he's poked and prodded to appease a scientist's curiosity. He had to be smart.

Lucifer stayed curled up in the corner, keeping his eyes closed as the strangers got closer. He could hear them now.

"That's definitely him," one man says in a soft voice, a hint of affection in his tone. "Gods, he looks just like Doria."

Curiosity wells up inside the pit of Lucifer's stomach at the mention of his mother. These men knew his mother. How did they know his mother? Who are they? Are they friends of hers? Relatives? He felt an urge to look up and see their faces, but Lucifer pushed it aside. He couldn't give himself away. Surprising them would give him the upper hand, and he is not going to lose that upper hand.

It took everything for him to not move a single muscle in his body as the men got closer, the scent of the ocean and sweat filling Lucifer's nostrils. Opening his eyes halfway showed him a glass bottle laying in front of him. He studied it for a moment, guessing that the bottle was thick enough to not break easily. That's good. Even if it does break, a sharp weapon is better than a blunt one.

The moment a strong hand firmly grasped his shoulder, Lucifer's hand shot out and grabbed hold of the bottle, raising it and swinging it down. In one swift motion, the bottle connected with the man's head with a sickening crack – and he fell at Lucifer's feet, unconscious.

Lucifer looked up at the second man. He was shorter than him by about three or four inches, with blonde hair, stormy-gray eyes, and light skin. Lucifer recognized him. He was the man from the park a couple of days ago, the one in the orange shirt. What he was doing here the son of Tartarus didn't know and didn't care.

His eyes narrowed at the man, his grip tightening on the bottle as he crouched down slightly. Lucifer spotted the man's hand reach for the dagger hidden by his jacket. "I don't want to hurt you," the man said in a steady tone, his other hand reaching out in a 'Calm down' gesture.

Lucifer scoffs. "That's obvious."

The man smiled wistfully. "You have your mother's sarcasm."

A flicker of curiosity appeared in Lucifer's eyes. "How do you know my mother?" he asked, his voice taking on a hard edge.

The man slowly leaned up, raising his arms out on either side of him in an arrogant manner. "I dated her. I'm sure she's mentioned me, Adam Chase."

Lucifer raised a dark brow. "Who?"

Adam's face dropped, having not expected his ex-girlfriend's son to not know who he is. "I'm Adam," he repeated, getting the same confused expression. "Chase. Adam Chase. How do you not know me?"

"Oh, Adam!" Lucifer exclaims with a light chuckle, just now remembering the man who had hurt his mother. "Yeah, mom always called you a small dicked vermin who could never give her an orgasm."

The son of Athena glances down at his pants. "It - it's not that small."

Lucifer burst into laughter. "Mom told Aunt Nyx that it felt like she was getting poked in the ass with a stick every time she had sex with you." He clutched his stomach, doubling over and falling to the ground.

Adam's face turned red in embarrassment. "Stop laughing!" His lips curl into a sneer, grinding his teeth. "It's not funny!"

Lucifer sits up on his knees, taunting in a sing-songy voice, "Small dicked vermin. Small dicked vermin."

"Shut up!"

The son of Tartarus was laughing so hard that he didn't notice Poseidon waking up. Before he knew it, a rag dampened with chloroform pressed against his nose and an arm was wrapped around his neck. Lucifer's eyes widened in shock, his mind scolding him for getting distracted. His hands grabbed Poseidon's wrist and arm, desperately trying to remove them as his legs kicked out from under him. His head swished back and forth, mouth wide open as his screams for help were halted by the arm cutting off his air.

Lucifer's vision went blurry, then black, his body going limp in Poseidon's arms.