14. Fourteen

It’s not hard for Chloe to convince Ella to meet her at the club. 

Hell yes girl! Ella texts her back immediately. I am so there! Her confirmation is followed by a string of emojis that mostly consist of a dancing woman and pink hearts. 

After that, there’s nothing to do but wait. They kill some time talking. Chloe finds out how Zatanna and Lucifer met, which is a very funny story. She also finds out why Zatanna owes Lucifer three favors. The stories of the first two favors are just as amusing as the story about how they met. The third, though, apparently touches a nerve for Zatanna. 

Lucifer seems to recognize that she doesn’t want him to share any details.

“She wanted to protect someone she loves,” he tells Chloe vaguely.

Zatanna’s eyes flash. “Loved. Past tense.”

Lucifer smiles. “I know a lie when I see it, Zee.”

“Drop it, Lucifer.”

Lucifer tilts his head. “Very well.”

Chloe has about a million questions, but she doesn’t ask any of them. It’s none of her business. Zatanna’s friends appear at the top of the stairs, and she rises to greet them without another word. 

Lucifer turns toward Chloe. “I think I’d like to try Amenadiel again. If you have no objections, of course.”

Chloe shrugs. “Go for it.”

“You’ll be okay here?”

Chloe smiles. “I’ve been in clubs before, Lucifer. And I’m a cop. I’ll be fine.”

He doesn’t look convinced. “I suppose Zee won’t let anything happen to you,” he says, more to himself than to her. 

“Overprotective much?” Chloe teases.

“Guardian Devil, remember?” Lucifer replies. And then he bops her on the nose with his index finger and grins because he knows she hates that.

Chloe sighs at him.

“You should go downstairs with Zee and dance,” Lucifer suggests as he gets to his feet. “Have some fun.” And then he frowns. “Just not with any one too handsy, or I’ll have to fly into a jealous rage.”

“You?” Chloe says. “Jealous? Never.”

He gives her a look. She laughs. A smile tugs on his lips, and after giving her a fond once over and then kissing her on the top of the head, he turns away from her and heads toward a nearby door marked Exit.  

When he’s gone, Chloe gets to her feet and wanders over to the railing that outlines the lounge. She looks out over the club. In the distance, the pool is flickering with a purple and blue pattern of lights. Two shirtless guys are carrying a bikini clad woman toward the pool, and when they get to the edge, they toss her in and then fall over each other laughing. The dance floor is filled with a writhing mass of bodies. The music is still quieter up here, but Chloe can feel the beat thrumming through the metal railing beneath her hands. 

It’s much warmer in the club than it was on the beach, so she slips Lucifer’s jacket off and drapes it over the railing next to her. She’s watching a couple in the middle of the dance floor who are gazing into each other’s eyes like they’re the only two people in the world when Zatanna leans against the railing next to her. 

“I’m headed downstairs until your friend gets here,” she says. “I don’t suppose I could convince you to join us?”

Chloe smiles. “No, thank you.”

“Yeah I figured. Hell of a dress you’re wearing, and I’m really jealous of your shoes, but you don’t strike me as the clubbing type.”

“I’m not. It’s more Lucifer’s thing.”

Zatanna arches an eyebrow. “But you guys are together?”

Chloe lifts her shoulder. “Opposites attract, I guess.”

“Maybe. But I don’t think you guys are opposites.”

Chloe looks over at her in surprise. 

Zatanna smiles. “He likes to pretend he doesn’t care about doing the right thing, but it’s all for show. Don’t get me wrong, he’s immature and self-centered and reckless. But he’s not evil. Not even close.”

Chloe smiles. It’s nice to hear someone say something positive about Lucifer. All she’s heard all night is the opposite. 

“You’re right,” she says. “He’s a good man.”

“You’re in love with him.”

It’s more of an observation than a question, but Chloe answers it anyway. “Yeah.”

“And it doesn’t freak you out that he’s the Devil?”

Chloe looks out over the club as she considers the question. “He’s not,” she says at last. “Not to me. He’s just...Lucifer. He’s my best friend. My partner.” She looks at Zatanna. “He’s my soulmate.”

Zatanna studies her. “I’ve never seen anyone look at someone the way he looks at you,” she says quietly. “Like you’re…”

“A miracle?” Chloe suggests.  

Zatanna nods, and then she looks suddenly sad. “When you find something like that, you should hold onto it.”

Chloe wonders if the sadness in Zatanna’s eyes has something to do with whoever it is she claims she doesn’t love anymore, but she doesn’t ask. It’s still none of her business.

“I’m trying,” she says instead. 

Zatanna smiles and puts her hand on Chloe’s arm. “I’ll do whatever I can to help. Favor or not.”

It’s probably just the stress of the last few hours, but Chloe feels like bursting into tears at the gesture of solidarity. “Thank you,” she murmurs. 

Zatanna squeezes her arm, and then turns on her high heel and disappears down the spiral staircase. As soon as she’s gone, the volume of the music in the club returns full force. Chloe jumps in surprise—it’s really loud—and then exhales.  

Now that she’s alone, she can’t ignore the signals her body is sending her. The harsh beginning of a headache is pounding between her eyes. She’s exhausted. Her feet hurt, and her dress is uncomfortable. She wants to be in something soft and oversized and cozy. She wants to go home. She wants to read Trixie a bedtime story and then sleep for a week. 

The thought of Trixie makes her heart twist. Her daughter’s screams at the beach echo in the back of her mind. You left your kid, a familiar voice whispers. You abandoned her. 

Guilt gnaws at Chloe’s chest, sharp and awful. She leans her elbows on the railing and looks out over the club, trying to focus on something else, but she can’t. Everyone on the dance floor beneath her is having the time of their lives. They’re happy and carefree and she’s up here in agony, missing her daughter and drowning in guilt and terrified that whatever’s happened to all the people she loves isn’t fixable. What if it’s permanent? What if there’s nothing Zatanna can do for them? Everyone that she and Lucifer know is—

Her train of thought screeches to a halt. That’s not true, is it? It’s not everyone they know. It’s everyone she knows. Lucifer isn’t the one getting ultimatums. He’s not the one being forced to choose between his soulmate and everyone else he loves. She’s the only one who’s trapped. How is that fair? Why does she have to sacrifice everything and everyone just to be with him? When is it his turn to pay a price?

Except that’s not true either. He already paid a price, and he paid it more than once. She knows that—she knows it—and she knows the deep, dark rabbit hole her brain just tried to take her down is a lie just like everything else that’s happened tonight. Maze tried to kill him. Dan too. Trixie screamed that he was a liar, and Linda told him he wasn’t worthy, and there’s no mistaking the pain in his eyes even though he’s trying to hide it. She’s not the only one who’s suffering. 

He doesn’t deserve this.

For a moment after the door clicks shut behind him, all Lucifer can do is stand on the fire escape in the chilly night air and breathe. 

He’s not accustomed to feeling this helpless. He’s trying to put on a brave face for the Detective, but it’s more difficult than it used to be. Perhaps she was right when she told him that he’s starting to lower his walls and let her in. Maybe it’s harder for him to pretend with her because he doesn’t want to pretend with her. 

Or maybe it’s more than that. Maybe he feels helpless because for the first time in his very long life, he cares more about someone else than he cares about himself. 

He used to laugh at people who felt like this. He heard the Iliad for the first time and laughed. No one appreciated a beautiful face more than he, but there was no face on earth that would inspire him to launch a thousand ships. He sat in The Theatre when William’s company first performed Romeo and Juliet and scoffed. A beautiful piece of drama, to be sure, but that’s all it was. Drama. Fiction. Love like that didn’t exist. Time and again he listened to ballads and sat in theaters and visited hell loops where he was pummeled repeatedly by the human obsession with love. He scoffed and mocked and rolled his eyes and knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the Devil would never, ever be so foolish.

And then there was her. His miracle. Those eyes that seemed to stare straight into his soul. That smile that soothed the eternal ache in his chest. The sound of her laugh, and the way she said his name like no one else ever had. 

Lucifer. 

The first night they spent together is burned into his mind. A thousand years from now, he’ll close his eyes and still be able to remember every second of it. The warmth of her skin. The way she tasted. The softness of her hair, and the elegant curve of her hips beneath his hands, and the arch of her body above his, stunningly beautiful in the moonlight. He wore her out and she fell asleep sated and smiling, but he stared at the ceiling long afterward, stroking his fingers through her hair. He knew then, lying there with her breathing quietly in his arms, that there was no coming back from this. No way to undo what she’d done to him. He’d fight a thousand wars for her. Die a thousand deaths. She was—she is everything. The only thing. 

And he’s hurting her. 

This isn’t your fault, she whispers in his mind, but he huffs at the vision of her and she evaporates. He curls his hands around the railing of the fire escape and glares out at the city, clenching his jaw in frustration. He didn’t cast this spell, but it doesn’t matter. It’s magic, and magic belongs on his side of the aisle, not hers. He brought this into her life. He did this to her.

He hurt her.

He closes his eyes. “Brother,” he murmurs. “Amenadiel. Answer me.”

But just like before, there’s nothing. No response. No rush of air as Amenadiel arrives with his wings unfurled. Just...silence. 

Fear wraps around Lucifer’s throat and squeezes. He doesn’t want to think about why his brother might not be answering him, and he doesn’t want to think about what’s going to happen if Zatanna can’t fix this, so he does the only thing he can do. He keeps trying.

He leans forward to rest his elbows on the railing and bends his head in supplication.

“Please,” he whispers. “She doesn’t deserve this.”

Chloe isn’t sure how long Lucifer is gone.

Time stretches out like it did when she first arrived at the beach. She stands at the railing, looking out over the club and the oblivious revelers dancing their hearts out, and tries not to drown in the hurricane of emotion swirling in her chest. At some point, she starts to wonder if she should get a drink. Maybe it’ll help. Maybe, just for a minute, she can pretend that she and Lucifer are here because they want to be, and they can go back home whenever they want, and no one will hate them for being together. 

She’s lost in a fantasy of things being normal again when she senses someone coming up behind her. She straightens, but a large pair of hands wrap around her wrists before she can turn around. 

“It’s me, love,” Lucifer says in her ear over the roar of the music. 

The sound of his voice makes her relax, and the pet name makes her exhale. She closes her eyes. She’s going to be really disappointed if he ever stops calling her that. 

Lucifer presses into her, and she can feel the buttons of his vest against the bare skin of her back. His thumbs stroke gently over the insides of her wrists, and then she feels his lips brush over her shoulder. His breath is warm, but she shivers anyway.

“No answer from my brother,” he murmurs.

Chloe isn’t disappointed. She didn’t expect there to be. She’s not feeling very hopeful right now. She’s not feeling anything right now. She’s just...numb.

Lucifer lifts his head and nuzzles his nose into her hair. When he inhales deeply, she can feel his chest rise against her shoulder blades. She’s pretty sure he’s smelling her hair, but she’s too tired to tease him about it.

“Are you alright?” he says in her ear.

No, Chloe wants to say. I’ve never been less alright. But she’s afraid that admitting it will shred the very tenuous hold she has on her feelings, and she’d rather not collapse into tears in the middle of a club called Deep Throat. 

When she doesn't answer, Lucifer turns her around gently to face him. She glances up at him. He steps closer to her, pushing her gently backward until she feels the smooth edge of the railing press into her back. He lifts his hands and curls his fingers around the railing on either side of her body, and then leans forward so that he’s towering over her and she has to tilt her head back to look at him. Their faces are close. He’s not touching her, but she’s surrounded by him. He searches her gaze, and she can see the request in his eyes even though he doesn’t verbalize it. Tell me you’re okay.

Chloe drops her gaze from his. She strokes her hands over his vest and swallows. Lucifer bends forward so that his ear is next to her mouth. 

“What if she can’t fix it?” Chloe says in his ear.

He leans back to look at her. She feels immediately guilty because she knows he feels guilty—it’s written all over his face. 

“Then I will,” Lucifer tells her. She knows he’s nearly shouting over the music, but his voice is a low hum against the bass. “I’ll fix this for you, Detective. You have my word.”

There’s ironclad determination in his voice, and Chloe’s heart aches in her chest because she knows he means it. He’ll do whatever it takes. He always does. 

The music in the club is building toward a crescendo. Would you believe me if I said we are here for a reason? a voice sings over a techno beat. This is our life, this is what counts, this is for us. 

Lucifer lifts a hand to her face and strokes his thumb over her cheek. Chloe tilts her head into his palm. 

I will go anywhere for you, the singer croons. I will go anywhere for you.   

Chloe slides her hand up Lucifer’s chest to the back of his neck and pulls his face down to kiss him. If he’s surprised, he doesn’t act like it. He doesn’t hesitate to kiss her back. Chloe threads her fingers through the hair on the nape of his neck, and he slides his arms around her waist, and they sink into the kiss. It isn’t the best time, maybe, to get lost in each other. But Chloe doesn’t care. She needs this. They need this. 

She’s almost forgotten—almost—that her whole world has gone to hell when the volume of the music drops abruptly. She pulls back from Lucifer, surprised by the sudden quiet, and turns to see Zatanna standing at the top of the stairs. Lucifer loosens his arms from around Chloe’s waist, and she drops her hands to her sides.

“Sorry, guys,” Zatanna says. “But your friend is here.”

She steps aside. A moment later Ella climbs the last stair and steps into the lounge. She looks confused, but her entire face lights up when she sees Chloe. 

“Chloe!” she squeals. 

She scurries forward and throws herself at Chloe for a hug. She squeezes hard, and Chloe wraps her arms around Ella and squeezes back. She’s never needed an Ella hug more than she does right now.

“Hey Ella,” she says.

“Hey yourself!” Ella says brightly. She leans back and makes a show of looking Chloe up and down. “Damn, Decker. This dress is killer. And look at those heels! I bet you’ve had guys all over you tonight, huh? Girls too! I mean, shoot, I kind of want to kiss you myself. Haha, I’m just kidding. Or am I?” 

Ella wiggles her eyebrows suggestively, and Chloe laughs. “You look good too, Ella.”

“You think so?” Ella says, holding her arms out. “I wasn’t sure about the sequins.”

“You look great,” Chloe says. “Really.”

Ella grins. “Thanks. You know, I have to say, when you told me to meet you at a club called Deep Throat, I kind of…” She trails off because she’s finally noticed Lucifer. The smile drops off her face immediately.

“Good evening, Ms. Lopez,” Lucifer says politely. 

“Lucifer,” Ella greets in an uncharacteristically cold voice. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

Zatanna materializes behind Ella and mouths keep talking as she makes a circular motion with her hands.  

Chloe clears her throat. “I figured it went without saying,” she says, refocusing on Ella. “You know, because we’re together now.” She reaches her hand out to Lucifer, and he weaves his fingers through hers and steps up next to her.

“Yeah,” Ella says, glancing down at their hands with a frown. “About that.” She leans toward Chloe. “Can I talk to you for a second? In private?”

Chloe glances at Zatanna, who shakes her head. 

“No,” Chloe says. “Whatever you have to say to me, you can say in front of Lucifer.”

Ella frowns. “Please?”

“No.”

Ella’s frown deepens. She glances at Lucifer, and then back at Chloe, and then straightens. 

“All right. Fine. I think this,” she gestures between Lucifer and Chloe, “is a bad idea. Like, really bad. Catastrophically bad. Almost as bad as when I had a charity bake sale in the lobby of my apartment complex to raise money for the polar bears.”

“Why on earth would you do that?” Lucifer asks incredulously.

Ella glares at him. “Because some of us care about other stuff more than we care about ourselves.” 

Behind Ella, Zatanna lifts her hand so that it’s hovering a few inches behind Ella’s head. Chloe sees her mouth move, but she can’t hear anything. 

“I don’t understand,” Chloe says to Ella, trying to play dumb and stretch the argument out to give Zatanna time. “Why is this a bad idea?”

“You’re joking, right?” Ella says. “He thinks he’s the Devil, Decker. Like, literally thinks that. Even the most method actor would have broken character by now. But not Lucifer. You know why? Because he’s loco and he thinks it’s all real.”

“You’re a woman of faith, Ms. Lopez,” Lucifer says. “You also believe it’s real.”

“Nu uh, no way el Diablo,” Ella says, wagging her finger at him. “We are not the same. You don’t see me walking around claiming to be the Virgin Mary.” 

“Perhaps because you’re not the Virgin Mary,” Lucifer says dryly. 

Ella glares at him and then turns back to Chloe. “Chloe, come on. You’re smart. You’re, like, the best cop I know. You’re great at reading people. And I know he’s charming and rich and sexy and all that—”

“Oh, please, do go on,” Lucifer murmurs with a smirk.

“But he’s a walking red flag,” Ella finishes with a glare. “And I would know, because I specialize in red flags. I just recently broke up with one.”

“Surely you’re not suggesting I’m in the same league as your ex the serial killer?” Lucifer says. 

“I have no evidence that you kill people,” Ella replies, ever the scientist. She lifts her chin defiantly. “But I’ve got plenty of evidence that says you’re not boyfriend material for my girl.”

“You don’t mean that,” Chloe says, shaking her head. “You’ve been rooting for us since day one—”

“He’s slept with half the population of L.A.!” Ella cuts her off.

“Who cares?” Chloe challenges. “If he’s not sleeping with other people when he’s sleeping with me then it doesn’t matter.”

“Look, I’m not judging,” Ella says, holding her hands out. “If he wants to sleep with anything that breathes, that’s his business. But is this really the best you think you can do? Come on, girl. He has left you hanging so many times, including his recent months-long sabbatical, and he’s going to do it again.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“Yes you do,” Ella insists. “You know he’s not good for you. You’ve told me that. You told me he’s the reason you said yes to Pierce. You told me that he pisses you off all the time, and that there are a ton of things about him that are too hard for you to accept.”

Chloe glances up at Lucifer. He’s trying to keep his face impassive, but it’s impossible not to see the hurt in his eyes. Guilt wraps around her throat and squeezes. 

“That was a long time ago,” she says, forcing herself to look at Ella again. “Things are different now.”

“Why?” Ella demands. “Because you guys are getting naked now? Listen, Decker, I get it. Sex is great. I’m sure the dude who has slept with half of L.A. knows some really great tricks. But just because he’s good at the horizontal hula doesn’t mean he’s good at relationships.”

“Ella,” Chloe starts.

“You’re too good for him, Chloe,” Ella interrupts firmly. “He doesn’t deserve you.”

Lucifer stiffens at the words, and Chloe winces, and Ella doesn’t look even a little bit sorry. 

“Okay,” Zatanna says. “That’s enough of that.” 

She flicks her hand and mumbles some gibberish, and Ella’s eyes roll back into her head and her knees buckle. She collapses onto the floor in a heap. 

“Ella,” Chloe breathes, lunging forward to crouch next to her. She looks up at Zatanna. “What did you do?”

“She’s fine,” Zatanna answers. “Just taking a nap.” 

Chloe presses her fingers against Ella’s neck, and feels the unmistakably strong beat of a pulse. Her breathing is steady. She seems fine, other than the fact that she’s out cold. Chloe brushes Ella’s hair back from her face, mutters an apology under her breath, and then straightens.

Zatanna glances between Chloe and Lucifer. “You guys weren’t kidding,” she says softly. “That’s some awful shit she just said considering she’s your friend.”

“Wasn’t the worst we’ve heard this evening,” Lucifer mutters. 

Chloe turns toward him. “Lucifer—”

“No need, Detective,” he says, lifting his hand. “It’s quite alright.”

“It’s not alright,” Chloe says. “Nothing about this is alright.” She steps closer to him. “It was before,” she says quietly. “Before we were together, before you went back to Hell. Things were different.”

“I know, darling.” 

She steps even closer, and tilts her head back to look at him. “Do you?”

He gazes down at her. For a second, she can see it all on his face. How hard this is for him, and how much he’s struggling, and how desperately he wants to believe her. But then he smiles, and she can’t see it anymore.

“You needn’t worry,” he says, touching her arm. “It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

That’s not an answer. Chloe wants to call him on it, but he shifts his gaze to Zatanna before she can.

“Well?” he says. “What’s the verdict?”

Chloe turns to look at the magician, and immediately wishes she hadn’t. Zatanna looks grave. 

“It’s magic,” she says. “But not like mine. I’ve never seen anything like this up close. Her entire perception of reality has shifted. Her memories, her feelings, everything, all of it has been touched by whatever this is. It’s…”

“It’s what, Zee?” Lucifer presses when she doesn’t finish.

Zatanna exhales heavily. “This is ancient magic, Lucifer.”

“How ancient?”

“Let’s just say whoever cast this spell was probably around when your dad was trying to decide what to do with the primordial ooze.”

The color drains from Lucifer’s face. 

“What does that mean?” Chloe asks, glancing between them.

Zatanna meets her gaze apologetically. “I can’t fix it, Chloe. I’m sorry.”

Chloe’s heart shoots into her throat. This is exactly what she was afraid of. Now that it’s a reality, she’s finding it hard to breathe. What the hell are they supposed to do now?

“I’m calling in another favor,” Lucifer says, his voice hard.

Zatanna shakes her head. “You don’t need to, Lucifer. If I could help, I would. But I—”

“I want you to summon John.”

Zatanna stops talking abruptly. She stares at Lucifer, and he stares back. Chloe has a feeling they’re having an entire conversation without saying a word, but she doesn’t dare say anything.

“I know who did this,” Lucifer says eventually. “But I need confirmation and some information, and John is the only one who can provide both. Summon him.”

Zatanna’s expression hardens. “I can’t.”

“You can, and you will.”

“You’re celestial, Lucifer. You don’t need my help. You can find him yourself.”

“Not as quickly or as easily as you can. I’ve no idea which earth he’s even on at the moment, and I don’t have time to travel to them all and go in search of him.”

Chloe chokes on her breath. Which earth? There’s more than one? How many are there? 

“I can’t help you,” Zatanna repeats. “We haven’t spoken in months. I don’t know where he is.”

“That’s a lie,” Lucifer accuses. “The two of you are incapable of not keeping track of each other. He knows you’re here, just as you know where he is, and you’re going to summon him for me.”

“I’m not the only magician you know, Lucifer. Find someone else to summon him for you.”

“You’re the only person he’ll come running for with no questions asked. You know that. You’re the best option I have.”

Zatanna folds her arms over her chest. “And if I refuse?”

Lucifer’s eyes flare red. “I don’t believe that’s an option, Zatanna.”

Zatanna clenches her jaw, and Chloe is suddenly afraid that she’s about to find out what happens when an angel fights a magician. 

She steps between them before it can come to that. Zatanna looks at her. 

“You said you’d help,” Chloe reminds her. 

Zatanna’s expression softens slightly. She shakes her head. “Chloe…”

“Please,” Chloe murmurs. She told herself she wouldn’t cry in this club, but her eyes feel warm and her throat is tight. “I need my kid back. I need my life back.”

Zatanna looks torn. She glances at Lucifer, and then down at Ella’s unconscious form on the floor, and then back at Chloe. 

“Fine,” she says at last. She brandishes her finger at Lucifer. “But we’re even after this. I owe you nothing.”

“Deal,” Lucifer says without a moment’s hesitation. 

Zatanna sighs. “Give me a minute.”

She holds her hands out in front of her body, palms upward, and then closes her eyes and tips her head back. Before she can say or do anything else, though, one of her friends appears at the top of the stairs. He seems out of breath.

“Zee,” he calls, his voice sharp. “We have a problem.”

Zatanna frowns at him. “What do you mean?”

“There are cops at the front entrance.” He tips his head toward Chloe and Lucifer. “They’re asking about your friends. They’ve got a picture of them.”

Chloe’s stomach drops. Lucifer materializes by her side, his chest pressing against her shoulder. “Ms. Lopez played us for a fool.”

“Or they tracked Dan’s cruiser,” Chloe says. 

She crosses the lounge to stand at the railing and look out over the club toward the entrance. A moment later, the black curtains fly open and a dozen cops in tactical gear stream into the club. 

Zatanna appears at her side. “I can handle them. You guys go out the back exit.”

“And John?” Lucifer asks.

Zatanna gives him a look over her shoulder. “He’ll know how to find you. And if you’re smart, it’ll be somewhere outside the reach of the LAPD.”

“Zatanna—”

“You’re not the only one who knows how to keep your word, Lucifer,” Zatanna cuts him off. “I said I’d summon him. I will.” She looks at Chloe. “Go. Now.”

Chloe squeezes her arm. “Thank you,” she murmurs. 

Zatanna offers her a quick smile, and then she holds her hands out toward the dance floor and starts to chant words that sound completely foreign. Chloe wants to linger and see what, exactly, Zatanna means by I can handle them, but she knows she can’t. 

“Detective,” Lucifer calls. 

Chloe turns on her heel and heads toward him. He grabs her hand, and they stride together toward the exit he disappeared through earlier. 

Lucifer shoves the door open with a bang. Chloe follows him out onto the metal landing of a fire escape. They wind their way down several flights, their feet clanking on the metal. When they get to the final landing, Lucifer yanks on the ladder and it drops toward the ground with a clang. He starts the descent down to the ground and Chloe follows him. 

When Lucifer gets to the ground, he reaches up and grabs her hips. “Let go,” he commands. 

She lets go of the ladder, and her body lowers gently toward the ground in Lucifer’s grip. He grabs her hand once her feet are on the pavement, and they take off down a narrow alleyway. 

They’re ten yards or so from the end of the alley when half a dozen cops round the corner in full tactical gear. Chloe skids to a stop, reaches out to grab Lucifer’s arm to steady herself, and then they turn in unison and sprint the other way. 

“LAPD!” one of the cops behind them shouts. “Freeze!”

“Did they send half the bloody force?” Lucifer huffs. 

“It doesn’t make sense,” Chloe says, glancing over her shoulder at her colleagues who are now chasing after them. “We don’t send this many officers out for a domestic dispute.”

“I’ve a feeling we’ve moved past domestic dispute,” Lucifer says dryly. “Left up here.” 

They reach the other end of the alley and veer to the left, but immediately run into a second group of cops. Lucifer plows through the two officers he runs into, but Chloe bounces off the chest of a third and Lucifer’s hand is ripped from hers. 

The cop she ran into wraps his fingers around her arms to steady her, but then he glances down at her face and his eyes widen. “It’s her!” he shouts. 

Chloe shoves him hard in the chest. He stumbles a few steps away from her. She lunges toward Lucifer, but someone grabs her from behind and yanks her backward. She tries to twist free, but another pair of hands wrap around her arms and tug them behind her back.

“Stop resisting, Decker,” someone says in her ear. “You’re outnumbered.”

She hears the unmistakable sound of handcuffs and then feels cold metal snap around her wrists.

“Get your hands off her!” Lucifer snarls.

He sounds furious. Chloe glances in his direction. The two cops he bowled over are getting to their feet and blocking his path to her. Lucifer punches the first one who steps forward, and Chloe is pretty sure the officer is unconscious before he even hits the pavement. Lucifer grabs the second by his tactical gear and tosses him against the warehouse like a frisbee. He hits the bricks with a smack and lands in a heap on the ground. 

Lucifer strides toward Chloe. The look on his face is murderous, but he gets intercepted by the group of cops who were chasing them before he can reach her. They swarm him, grabbing at his arms and his shoulders and his waist like hungry piranhas. Chloe struggles to move toward him, trying desperately to pull free, but she can’t. There are at least three sets of hands on her now, and her own hands are cuffed behind her back.

“Get her down,” someone says. Something smacks into the back of Chloe’s legs and they buckle. She slams down onto the pavement on her knees. 

“We’ve got them on the back side,” another voice reports. “All units converge. We need backup.”

Chloe tries to get to her feet, but the cops behind her are pushing on her hard, trying to force her to lie face down on the pavement. 

“Lucifer,” she calls, struggling to stay upright. 

Lucifer looks up from the middle of the crowd of cops trying to take him down. Their eyes meet. 

“Detective,” he breathes. The desperation that’s clear in his eyes creeps into his voice. 

Chloe isn’t sure what, exactly, happens after that. One second she’s struggling not to get body slammed onto the concrete, watching as half a dozen cops hang and tug and yank on Lucifer. The next second Lucifer roars, shoots his arms out wide and rears back, and light seems to explode out of him. 

It’s as if the sun itself has suddenly appeared five feet in front of Chloe. It’s so bright that she has to close her eyes and turn her face away. A gust of hot air rushes past her like a gale force wind. She chokes as it sucks all the breath out of her lungs.

When the rush of air dissipates, she opens her eyes. All the cops who were struggling to contain Lucifer only seconds before are now sprawled on the pavement at his feet, completely still. Lucifer is towering above them, and he’s…

He’s glowing.  

It is simultaneously the most beautiful and terrifying thing Chloe has ever seen. Her heart feels like it’s going to beat straight out of her chest. Lucifer’s eyes aren’t the brown she’s accustomed to or the red she’s seen flickers of, but are twin flames instead. Flames appear to be licking along the edges of his body too, though he doesn’t seem to be burning and neither are his clothes. His body is luminous, a bright and brilliant contrast to the black nighttime sky. The only description Chloe’s stuttering brain can seem to conjure up is that he looks like an avenging angel. 

He acts like one too. He strides toward her, lifting his hands as he moves, and what appears to be a beam of light shoots from his palm and slams into the chest of the cop to Chloe’s right. The cop goes flying backward with a scream. Lucifer dispatches the officer to her left the same way, and then he bends over her and reaches down to grab two more cops by their vests. He hauls them into the air, snarls in their faces, and then flings them in opposite directions as if they weigh nothing. 

He turns in a half circle, scanning the area for more threats, but there are none. His hands are in fists. He’s on fire. 

Holy shit, he’s on fire.

Chloe stares up at him from her position on her knees, her mouth open wide. She thinks she’s forgotten how to breathe. Her brain is short circuiting. What the hell is happening right now?

Lucifer glances down at her. His eyes are still flickering flames, and his body is glowing so brightly that it’s making her eyes water. He doesn’t seem to recognize her.

“Lucifer,” she whispers. 

And just like that, it’s over. The flames on his body evaporate. His eyes go back to the same deep brown she’s always known. Whatever seemed to be lighting up his body from the inside out extinguishes. He’s not an avenging angel anymore. He’s just...Lucifer. 

“Detective,” he breathes. He drops to a crouch in front of her and lifts his hands to her face. She flinches a little, the flames still fresh in her mind, but his skin is no warmer than it always is. 

“Are you hurt?” he murmurs.

She shakes her head. She can’t seem to find any words. It’s like the ability to formulate a coherent thought has completely deserted her. She can’t...she doesn’t…

“What the hell was that? ” she blurts out. 

“I...don’t know,” Lucifer murmurs. He drops his hands from her face and stares down at them in what appears to be confusion, turning them over to glance at his knuckles before rotating them back to study his palms.

“You don’t know? ” Chloe demands. “You mean you’ve never done that before?”

He shakes his head. “Never.”

“Lucifer, you were...you were on fire.”

He looks up at her with a frown. “I was?”

“Yes. And you have laser beam hands!”

His frown deepens. “I beg your pardon?”

“Laser beam hands,” she repeats. She sounds a little hysterical, but he just shot light out of his damn hands. What else is she supposed to sound like? “You have laser beam hands!”

His frown turns into something disapproving. “I don’t have laser beam hands, Detective.”

“You shot light beams out of your hands. What the hell would you call it?”

He opens his mouth, but shuts it again. Sirens wail in the distance, and Chloe suddenly remembers where they are and what’s happening. They’ll have to discuss this later.

She struggles to get to her feet, which is a little harder than usual since her hands are handcuffed behind her back. Lucifer helps her, his fingers curling around her elbows. 

“I need to get out of these cuffs before we go,” she tells him. “We just need to...what are you doing?” 

“Hold still,” Lucifer says as he walks behind her.

She feels his fingers sliding over her wrists, and then she hears a faint snap, followed by another identical snap. The metal against her skin slips away. She pulls her arms forward, and stares down at her now bare wrists in surprise. 

She turns toward Lucifer, and finds him holding the handcuffs by the middle chain. Or, well, he’s holding what used to be handcuffs. They’re useless now. He snapped both of the cuffs clean in half. 

She stares at the broken metal in his hands. “Did you just…?”

“Indeed.”

She remembers the first time she put him in cuffs and how easily he got out of them without snapping anything in half. She glances up at him. “Can’t you get them off without breaking them?”

“Of course I can, darling,” he says, puffing out his chest a little. “I was making a statement. No one puts you in handcuffs but me.” 

Chloe rolls her eyes. “I never agreed to that.”

He smirks. “But you’ve thought about it. I know you have. Though I’ve a feeling your fantasies involve you handcuffing me rather than the alternative.”

“We are not talking about this right now,” Chloe says, brandishing her finger at him. “Let’s go.”

He holds his arm out. “After you, Detective.”

She strides past him with another eye roll. She doesn’t have to look at him over her shoulder to know that he’s staring at her ass. They’re being chased by her colleagues, everyone they care about is infected with ancient magic, they have no plan for how to fix any of it, and he’s still taking the time to stare at her ass. 

The temptation to turn the tables on him is too strong to ignore.

“Is it better in this dress than it is in jeans?” she asks when he falls in step next to her.

Lucifer frowns down at her. “Excuse me?”

“My ass,” she clarifies. 

He blinks in surprise, but only for a second. He grins. “I’m afraid I’ll need more time to study the terrain, Detective. Such decisions call for careful consideration.”

Chloe rolls her eyes yet again but can’t help a smile. They get out of the alley and onto the sidewalk, and Chloe immediately starts scanning for an escape route. She knows one of the cops called for backup before Lucifer spontaneously combusted, so they don’t have much time. They need to get out of here, and she can’t run very far in these heels, so they need a getaway car. 

In the distance, an engine revs. Chloe turns her head and spots a motorcycle racing toward them. The rider is wearing black leather and a matte black helmet, and he’s hunched over the handlebars and driving way faster than he should be. His bike is a brilliant shade of red, and Chloe can tell by the purr of the engine that it’s expensive. 

Yeah, that’ll do, she thinks. 

She dashes out into the road to intercept him. 

“Detective,” Lucifer calls after her in surprise. 

Chloe ignores him. She stops in the middle of the road and waves her hands frantically. The roar of the engine gets louder as the motorcycle gets closer. For a second, Chloe thinks the motorcyclist isn’t going to stop. But then he slows down, and he rolls to a stop about a foot away from her. 

He flicks the visor on his helmet up. He’s younger than Chloe expected, and his eyes are very, very green. He frowns at her. “Are you okay?”

“LAPD,” Chloe tells him. “I need your bike.”

He looks her up and down with raised eyebrows. “I didn’t know cops wore dresses like that.”

Chloe sighs. She is so sick of people commenting on her dress. She’s going to burn it as soon as she takes it off. She never wants to see it again.

“Well we do,” she snaps. “Now get off the damn bike.”

The guy scoffs. “Yeah right lady. Get your own bike.”

He reaches up to snap his visor back down, but he doesn’t get the chance. Lucifer suddenly appears next to him, grabs a fistful of his leather jacket, and plucks him straight off his bike. The motorcycle crashes onto its side in the road as Lucifer lifts the man high in the air. 

“Now that’s not very polite, is it?” Lucifer says, frowning up at his prisoner. “When a lady asks for something, you should give it to her. Especially when it’s this lady.”

“What the hell, man?!” the guy says, flailing in Lucifer’s grip. “Put me down!”

“As you wish,” Lucifer says dryly. He flings the motorcyclist down the street the same way someone might throw a garbage bag into a dumpster, and the guy lands in a leather-clad heap about twenty yards away. 

“If you’d like to file a formal complaint, my name is Detective Daniel Espinoza,” Lucifer calls out. 

Chloe snorts. She bends forward and grabs the bike, pulling it upright again, and then she swings her leg up and over so that she’s sitting astride the seat. She glances at the dials as she adjusts her grip on the handlebars, trying to quickly memorize where everything is. It’s not the first motorcycle she’s driven, but it’s been a while. Hopefully she remembers enough.

When she glances up at Lucifer to ask him why he’s just standing there like an idiot when they need to go, she finds him staring at her with his mouth open. He’s got that look on his face. Not the I-found-water-in-the-desert look she loves, but the other one. The I’m-going-to-rip-your-clothes-off-and-make-you-come-so-many-times-you’ll-forget-your-own-name look.

He tilts his head. “Well I just discovered a new fantasy,” he says with a smirk. 

“We don’t have time for this,” Chloe tells him. “Let’s go. Get on.” 

He frowns. “You mean behind you?”

“Yeah.”

“No.”

“What do you mean no? Since when do you have a problem with being behind me?”

He grins. “I’m not the only one who enjoys that particular position.” Chloe feels her face flush. “But I can’t possibly ride behind you on a motorcycle, Detective. You’ll have to let me drive.”

“What? Why?”

“Well I can’t cling to you like a Prada-clad barnacle while you drive us to safety,” he says, gesturing at the motorcycle. “I have a reputation to maintain. I’m the Devil. I don’t cling. People cling to me.”

“For god’s sake,” Chloe sighs.

Lucifer frowns. “Dad has nothing to do with this.”

The sound of wailing sirens goes from distant to deafening as four cop cars skid around the corner behind them and start to race in their direction. 

Chloe glances over her shoulder at them and then narrows her eyes at her boyfriend. “You better get your ass on this bike right now, Lucifer, because I swear to your dad if we get caught because of your stupid man ego I will kill you.”

Lucifer blinks at her for a moment in surprise, and then he climbs obediently onto the back of the bike. His chest presses against her back and his arms wrap around her waist. He’s warm. Not surprising, considering he was on fire not long ago.

Chloe smirks as she revs the engine to life. “Good Devil.”

“Oh, I am going to do unspeakable things to you when we’re finally alone,” Lucifer mutters in her ear.  

Chloe laughs and then flicks her wrist and sends the motorcycle shooting forward into the night. 

The four cop cars follow. The sirens are almost deafening, and when Chloe glances in the rearview mirror she can see the blinding flash of blue and red behind them. She leans forward on the bike and accelerates. 

They get out to Central Avenue, and Chloe hangs a left in front of an oncoming SUV that slams on its brakes and narrowly misses hitting them. The driver slams his palm on the horn, and the sound slices through the night over the squeal of the motorcycle’s tires skidding. Chloe straightens the bike and then whips it onto the right side of the street. She weaves through a pair of sedans and cuts one of them off and then glances at the mirror. All the cruisers made it through the turn and are in hot pursuit. She waits a few seconds until they’re gaining on her, and then yanks the handlebars into another hard left turn. The motorcycle darts in front of oncoming traffic and down another side street. A moment later, tires squeal and there’s a deafening crash. 

“Lost one,” Lucifer reports in her ear a second later. 

“Three now, yeah?” she asks. 

“Five,” he replies. “We seem to have picked up a few.”

Chloe curses under her breath and speeds up. She takes another right at a motorsports store, blowing through a stop sign in the process, and then guns it so the speedometer starts climbing fast. 

“You just ran a stop sign,” Lucifer says in disbelief. “I’ve never been so turned on in my life.”

Chloe laughs. The bike’s speedometer is still climbing as she weaves between slower traffic. There’s a parking lot up ahead on her right, and an idea suddenly strikes her. She darts into the right lane and jumps the curb. Lucifer’s arms tighten around her. She steers into the parking lot, and then whips the bike in a tight circle until they’ve done a complete 180 and are now racing toward the cops who are chasing them. 

The cops slam on their brakes, tires squealing and cars rocking with movement as they screech to a halt. Chloe can see one of them staring open mouthed at her from the driver’s seat. She grins at him as she guides the motorcycle between his cruiser and another, around a third, and then tears back out into the street.

Lucifer whoops behind her. “Well done, Detective.”

Chloe’s grin widens. Adrenaline is roaring through her veins. She merges the bike into traffic and then accelerates quickly, whipping around a delivery truck. She glances in her mirror and sees lights. 

Lucifer says in her ear, “Just two now.”

“I can lose them,” Chloe replies. She takes a left at the motorsports store she passed earlier, and then leans forward over the handlebars and guns it. The speedometer starts to climb again, and by the time she takes a left onto Central, she’s going so fast she nearly loses control of the bike. Lucifer’s left leg shoots outward, and he kicks off the pavement and straightens them out. 

Chloe lays off the accelerator, her heart shooting into her throat. They could’ve crashed because of her recklessness. They don't even have helmets on. What the hell is she—

“It’s all right, Detective,” Lucifer murmurs in her ear as if he can read her mind. “I’ve got you. Drive.”

Chloe swallows around the fear in her throat and accelerates again. They roar down Central until she takes another left. The two cruisers follow her. She glances in her rearview mirror at them. She was the best evasive driver in her class at the academy. If she drives smart and fast enough, she can probably lose them in the maze of side streets without getting her and Lucifer killed. 

She whips the bike through the side streets like her life depends on it. Lucifer only has to catch them once more. Chloe comes close, but every time she loses one cruiser, another appears as if out of nowhere. There are too many of them to shake. They’re outnumbered. 

And then the helicopter shows up. 

The whirring sound of helicopter blades drowns out the noise of skidding tires and wailing sirens. A spotlight shines down on them. 

“This is the LAPD,” a voice shouts through a megaphone. “Pull the bike over and surrender peacefully. We have you surrounded.”

Chloe ignores the command and turns left onto Central. She weaves in and out of traffic, narrowly avoiding a collision with a pickup truck. The spotlight follows her every move. The cruisers are still hot on their heels. 

“I have an idea,” Lucifer says in her ear. 

Chloe cuts off a Buick and gets an earful of car horn. 

“Turn right up here,” Lucifer says, pointing at the street up ahead. “Head for the bridge.”

Chloe slows the bike just enough to make the right turn onto 7th Street, and then accelerates again. “Where are we going?” she shouts at Lucifer over the roar of the engine.

“Do you trust me?”

Chloe frowns. That’s not an answer and it doesn’t give her much confidence in his plan, but she answers his question truthfully. “Yes.”

“When you get to the middle of the bridge, I want you to crash into the parapet.”

“You want me to do what? ”

They’re closing in on the middle of the bridge. Lucifer’s arms tighten around her. “Do you trust me or not?”

“Lucifer—”

“Yes or no, Detective.”

Chloe clenches her jaw. The wind is whipping through her hair and it’s cold as hell on her skin. There are at least five cop cars behind them and the helicopter is still overhead. Lucifer is warm and solid behind her, and his arms are like a vise around her body. 

“Now or never,” he says in her ear. 

Chloe takes a deep breath and then yanks the handlebars to the left. They cut across traffic and pass through the headlights of an oncoming delivery truck. Chloe tries to jump the curb, but she doesn’t quite make it. The front tire slams into the concrete. The bike starts to flip, and her body goes airborne above the handlebars. 

She can see the cement parapet looming beneath her. She’s going to land on it. She’s going to crack her head open and break her neck and shatter every bone in her body. This will kill her. There’s no way it won’t kill her.

She’s never going to see Trixie again. 

And then, just as she’s closing her eyes and sucking in a breath to prepare for impact, her body is forcibly twisted in midair. Lucifer’s arm is suddenly sliding beneath her knees, and his other arm is wrapping around her shoulders, and he’s holding her just like he did when he carried her out of that burning restaurant what seems like ages ago. This time, though, there are no flames. 

There’s just air.