13. Chapter 13

#

This assignment had turned out to be so dull. Lilith sighed, eyeing the human that stared at her until he was forced to look away. Mostly dull, she corrected. Opportunities to torment men were always welcome. Her gaze returned to the factory in front of her, checking for any signs of angelic activity or the soul of a mortal child – her speciality.

Nothing, just the echoes of broken dreams and disappointments scattered about the cracked concrete and looming buildings. Nevertheless, Lilith slipped out of the mortal plane and jumped over the chain-link fence to search physically. If Amenadiel had somehow gained the ability to hide from Lucifer himself, then he could hide from her too. This was a futile search but orders were orders.

That much, at least, hadn’t changed.

All of Hell had been curious about their Lord’s absence. He wasn’t in the habit of telling them where he was going or why, naturally, but a five-year absence had been abnormal to say the least. She had had such hopes when he called for them. For her.

An entire Legion.

Lilith had been sure that the rumours had been true, that Lucifer had been planning some grand new strategy in their eternal cold war against Heaven. She’d been excited; the thrill of battle to come had propelled her up to Earth.

Disappointment did not sit well with her.

Lucifer had not been busy with the war. There had been no clever trick, no new temptation and no grand plan.

Lucifer had spent the last five years partying.

Lamia had faithfully reported back with all of her findings and, well, Lilith was frustrated. A nightclub made a fine headquarters for their Lord, a den of iniquity like no other – but he hadn’t done anything. He’d blended in. He’d adapted. He consulted for an organisation of law and order, apparently, and Lamia had been just as confused as Lilith still was over that.

Lucifer was so much better than this.

Lilith growled softly as the Hellhounds tried to wander off, forcing them to slink back towards her, forms wavering from shadow to dog to shadow again. Damned things were always trying to hunt down the souls that were heavy with sin, especially when they were still wrapped in all of that pesky flesh.

“Drop that greyhound look,” Lilith told the biggest one firmly. You always had to be firm with them. They acknowledged only one Master, and were as stubborn as any other demon about being passed into a different command, no matter how temporary. “There will be absolutely no hunting without my express order. Are we clear?”

The hound sighed, loudly; sitting on its ever-shifting haunches with what Lilith could swear was a mocking air. But that was stupid. The beasts lacked intelligence, and nothing Lucifer said would persuade her otherwise.

A beep, and Lilith glanced down at the mortal contraption Mazikeen had given her, brightening to discover a message from Lucifer. These things were not as reliable as a good solid messenger imp, but they were certainly convenient when Hell was trying to limit the demonic presence on earth after such a big show of force.

She desperately wanted to know what Amenadiel had done.

Offsetting the Balance?

Heaven didn’t do that lightly. Lilith scoffed. Heaven didn’t do anything lightly. They needed signed and sealed orders from Above to flap their wings. Self-righteous peacocks the lot of them.

Still, Lucifer was always in a better mood when the Balance was in Hell’s favour, and Lilith concurred, especially when it allowed her the chance to play topside without a stuffy angel wielding a nasty holy blade getting up in her face about it.

666:- Lilith darling, take the Hellhounds to hunt a resurrected soul. Malcolm Graham. Expect celestial inference. Keep it contained.

Sending a quick acknowledgement, Lilith turned to the Hellhounds and swore vehemently. A nearby tree withered from the poison her words spewed forth.

Those blasted mutts had buggered off again. She whirled, searching them out with all of her senses - Lucifer would string her up by her tongue if she – oh, typical. Just typical.

Now in the mortal disguise of three fluffed and primped pugs, barely up to her ankle, pink bows and all – they had no shame – all three had managed to corner a mortal sinner. A female, Lilith noted as she sprinted, and a soul besmirched with grey streaks of sin.

Utterly blind and smiling like a simpleton, the woman was kneeling down to pet the tasteless beasts when Lilith slid to a graceful stop beside them and hauled them off. Idiot! She’d practically offered her throat bending down like that!

Humans.

“So sorry,” Lilith lied, smiling in a nice, kind human fashion as she gave the whimpering Hellhound a sharp pinch behind the neck. “They don’t react well to strangers, bad breeding and all.”

The woman paused, looking between Lilith and the infernal beasts with confusion and suspicion.

Cursing her luck – Lucifer had warned her of divine intervention after all – Lilith kept smiling, trying to ignore that her current outfit was a far cry from what she’d worn earlier to make a good impression on Lucifer.

Despite not being on Earth for a few decades, Lilith was pretty sure that a female in black combat leathers from head to toe and solid boots did not, in fact, blend well with three mewling toy dogs bedecked in lashes of pink ribbon, to say nothing of the knives.

“Right,” the woman said slowly, rising and brushing her clothes down. “No harm done. I’ll just be… off. Bye!”

She turned, finally showed the sense God gave a lamb, and started a brisk walk. Once she’d turned the corner, the sound of running footsteps reached Lilith’s ears and she had to give Before a firm smack to keep her from chasing after. Fool, didn’t she know better than to run?

“Stop drooling mongrel.” Lilith ordered sharply, letting the growling wash off of her. Lucifer had spoken. Perhaps this assignment would end up fun after all.

“We have new orders.”

#

“Well then,” Lucifer said, rising and clapping his hands together, “There’s just time for dinner before you’ll need to change.”

Chloe stared after him as he moved towards the kitchen, her head feeling muzzy and her thoughts slow as she tried to process all she’d learned.

“Change? Change for what?”

“Lux opens soon, Detective, we’ve got work to do.”

Chloe drew up short – she hadn’t spared a single thought for Lucifer’s business throughout all of this. Everything had just been so frantic. Lucifer had come when she called, and had barely left her side. She felt a little disturbed to realise she hadn’t expected anything else.

She’d known that he would come. Really known, as in hadn’t even thought that there might be another possible option, known. She’d interrupted him mid-playtime and known he wouldn’t hang up; known he wouldn’t say, ‘just give me ten minutes detective and I’m all yours.’

And he hadn’t. He’d come to the station at four in the morning for her; ready to help and… somehow, that had registered as normal in her mind.

The sense of vertigo was off-putting. Had she been well, a bit egotistic? Lucifer had many responsibilities. She knew that. He was effectively her partner, even if he was listed as only a civilian consultant, and that meant he worked two fulltime jobs, not including when he found the time to trade favours. Was it selfish to assume that Lux was a non-issue right now? Was it selfish that she’d assumed, like she always did apparently – and she’d freak over that later - that he would stay with her until this was over?

It was weird to feel guilty of all things, but she did. The world didn’t stop on her command – and it wasn’t like they had much of a lead to follow right now. The FBI would do a far better job of tracking Malcolm than they could, and she’d get the results of that interrogation anyway through Connor. They couldn’t keep her out of the loop anymore.

“Lucifer, I know you have a business to run, but I’m really not in the mood to party. I’ll just get an early night,” she said a little awkwardly. What was the right thing to do or think in this situation?

He better not bring a woman tonight. Or women. Or men. Not when she’d be able to hear them going at it. Chloe doubted she was getting any sleep tonight, with the clocks mocking her all night long, but she’d still kill him if he dared.

“Party? No no, detective, you’re going to be bait.”

Instantly she felt better.

Lucifer was callous to everybody else – not her. Not deliberately. She shouldn’t have doubted him, not when he came up with such interesting plans. He usually acted completely outside of procedure, driving her absolutely nuts, but her clearing rate had skyrocketed since he’d become her partner. It had done a lot to fix her reputation with the higher-ups.

Besides, she was technically on leave, so…

“Bait for who or what?” She asked, sitting down at the bar so she could watch him in the kitchen, utterly unsurprised to find him wearing a kiss the cook apron over his latest suit.

“I’ve told you before, Detective. These cretins like to watch. Weren’t you listening?”

“I was listening,” Chloe defended, watching intently as Lucifer started pulling out ingredients. “You cook?”

“You don’t?”

“I thought you lived on whisky, sex and condescension,” Chloe mused, eyeing the knife Lucifer fondled with a terrifyingly casual amount of skill. Who knew chopping vegetables could look so threatening?

Lucifer gave her a wicked grin.

“Bait,” Chloe interrupted hastily before he could say whatever it was that he was thinking.

“Hmm,” Lucifer agreed, cracking eggs into a pan and whisking. “Yes, well, by now everyone should know you’re staying with me. Lux’s doors will be wide open and I’ve already given the bouncers their orders. Someone will come, detective. The compulsion will be impossible to resist now that I’ve deprived them of their usual show.”

Chloe narrowed her eyes; ignoring the all-too-familiar eerie chill at the sheer knowing certainty that Lucifer managed to emanate, even with the apron. “How, precisely, does anyone know I’m staying with you? I didn’t exactly mention it at the water cooler.”

“I did,” Lucifer beamed, “Given your colleagues ability to keep a secret – well, we ought to have a devil of a time tonight. Not to worry, my dear. I’ve already seen to your dress.”

Before she could stab him with a fork, he put a plate down in front of her. The scent of food hit Chloe like a truck, reminding her that she couldn’t remember her last meal. That unfortunate phrase of thought meant she didn’t particularly want to eat anything again, ever, but she didn’t want to see the fuss Lucifer would make if she tried to refuse, so she found herself taking a bite, finding it settling irritatingly well into her twisting stomach.

It hadn’t escaped her notice that Lucifer had only cooked for one.

“What’s the plan?”

“I was thinking a short dress and high heels,” Lucifer gave her a once over before meeting her eyes head-on; smirk blinding with intent as he slowly peeled the apron off. Chloe met his gaze evenly. Lucifer’s regard never set off the warning bells in the back of her mind, like those of other men and despite his playboy attitude. Lucifer didn’t objectify – he revelled.

“Drowning my sorrows? Drunk and vulnerable?” The last thing she wanted to do was drink, but she could see where Lucifer was coming from. She’d be ordering water in a cocktail glass though – god help her if she started to drink before this was over.

“Quite. We’re going to have so much fun.”

Chloe paused, some old wound tugging at her mind until she spoke.

“Is that it?”

“Isn’t it enough?”

Chloe shook her head and quickly ate the rest of her omelette. Lucifer wasn’t always easy to work with, but he was certainly different. Her other colleagues, even Dan, would have kept on for ages, said not to worry – they’d be there to protect her. No one was getting close; she was just there to draw someone in. They’d take care of the rest, interspersed with advice she hadn’t needed in years.

Lucifer wasn’t like that. He’d thought of a plan, he’d told her, they’d discussed it, she’d agreed and it was done. He… trusted her? Her abilities? It was nice - something to think on another time, Chloe decided and put the matter out of her mind altogether.

When he grinned at her – the pleasure of the hunt clear in his eyes – she grinned back.

#

Vaguely wondering just how far Lucifer could plan ahead, Chloe eyed the lingerie in the dresser. The dress he’d just happened to have in her size, was blood red – his colour. Chloe didn’t bother to hide her rolling eyes when he pulled it out with much ado and flourishing, and she’d pushed him out the door to change, ignoring his protests.

I won’t peek indeed.

She wasn’t exactly hesitating. God knew she’d do whatever it took to get Trixie, and she’d already thrown her lot in with Lucifer. She wouldn’t back out now. She knew she was going to wear the lingerie that was kept ‘for storage’ in the guest room. She had to, as the dress wouldn’t work with her current one; Chloe was just… hesitating.

Self-loathing filled her. A wave of emotion so intense she had to sit down quickly on the bed, the dress scrunched beneath clenched fists. Trixie was suffering, and here she was primping and plumping for what was technically a night out. Thinking about make-up and if she had a matching lipstick when her daughter… It was wrong, so wrong, but it was a chance, and what sort of mother would she be if she couldn’t endure a few hours of pretence?

This was just another role.

Chloe changed with quiet deliberation. She brought out the lingerie, tugged it off the hanger without looking at any labels and eased it on like it was armour. It was armour. Because this was a costume for a role.

The dress… well, she was meant to be bait. She had to look the part, didn’t she?

Chloe focused on her hair, glad that she could get away with her current mess and make it look intentional. Then it was on the high heels she’d never be able to run in, and make-up.

She, guiltily, didn’t meet her reflection’s eye as she lined her eyes, brushing on primer and colour and accent and shadow.

Armour. Role. Costume.

#

When she walked out to the main living area, as graceful as a fawn on oiled ice, Connor took her in from head to toe in one long look, met her eye, went chalk white and then spun in his chair so fast that he made a full circle before he could grab the desk and stop his momentum.

“I can’t look that bad,” Chloe said, carefully making her way over to him. Ignoring the way his head drooped and his shoulders hunched high in resigned defeat.

Marble may look good, but it didn’t mix well with high-heeled shoes, and it mixed even worse with her in said high-heels. Mazikeen better be on duty tonight, because unless Chloe wanted to stab someone within two feet of her with a good kick, she was going to be useless in a fight.

There was a meaningful pause.

“You look fine,” Connor said flatly, “Beautiful, even,” he admitted as if it was dragged from the depths of his lungs with a rusty chain. “Not,” he added swiftly, managing his first darting glance at her, ‘That I am, in any way, hitting on you. I would,” he said, rushing as if to reassure her, “I’m not saying your ugly or anything.”

He cringed.

“I want to make myself very clear.” He tried again. “You are eminently desirable, but I am neither stupid enough nor suicidal enough to try anything with you, ever, and I don’t want any trouble.”

It was not the strangest compliment she’d ever received, Chloe reflected in the pursuing void of conversation and aura of social awkwardness, but it was up there.

“Thank you. I think.”

Connor just looked relieved that the moment had passed.

“Oh good – cause the Boss, you know?”

“We’re not together?” Chloe ventured cautiously. She barely knew the man but Connor seemed a bit fragile and she ought to set the record straight before she had to think about why someone would have to be suicidal to pay her a compliment.

“Sure,” said Connor weakly, “Right, because he’ll do all of this for anyone who asks. Because he’s such a good person.”

Prudently, Chloe decided she was going to disregard that, and quietly added it to the strong box of things in her mind to think about much later, or not think about at all, depending.

“What are you working on?” Changing the topic seemed like a good idea, and it was the first thing to come to mind. There were five separate screens in front of the hacker, and whilst Chloe could see that two of them were for monitoring a CCTV network, the other three she could only guess at.

“Oh those are a scan for facial recognition. I’ve got access to the Lux cameras and others nearby. Anyone comes in with a record – I’ll know.”

“What database are you matching them against?”

“The usual government ones,” Connor replied absently, clicking away and copying and pasting a whole section of code from a document onto another screen.

Hacker. Right. The clue was in the name. Chloe would bang her head against the table, but then she’d have to re-do her makeup and it wasn’t worth the effort.

“If you get caught you’ll go to prison,” Chloe warned. She knew she ought to be making a bigger deal of this, but she just couldn’t muster the energy. She’d already had that debate with herself and had made her decision. She’d see this through.

“I won’t get caught,” said Connor, arrogance giving him his colour back. “And even if I do, someone will press me into service so I’ll never see the inside of a cell.”

Well, she’d tried? Conscious squawking, Chloe moved on.

“What about those other screens?”

“Oh, those, er, don’t take this the wrong way but I’m not allowed to tell you.”

“Lucifer said that?”

Hurt was probably the wrong emotion to feel – but Chloe felt it anyway. Hadn’t she already proved that she trusted Lucifer? That he could trust her in turn? For gods sake Connor had just confessed crimes to her and she’d done nothing. If that wasn’t enough…

“It’s not about trust.”

She jumped, nearly falling on her arse when her shoes slipped out from under her. Lucifer caught her in his arms, because he was just that sort of a bastard. The floor would have been kinder.

"Why Detective," Lucifer gloried, his arms pillars of rock around and under her. "I knew you'd fall for me eventually."

“Talk." Ice could have learned colder tricks from her voice as she dared him to lie.

“If it doesn’t work out,” Lucifer replied with damning sincerity, “I didn’t want you to be upset. I still don’t. Let it go.”

The bastard was still supporting her, arms around her waist, and honest face with warm brown eyes within biting distance. Chloe looked long and hard into his eyes – and let it go, not even allowing herself to think about why.

He was right – it wasn’t about trust. It had never been about trust between them.

“Where are Mazikeen and Lilith?”

It wasn’t exactly a test, Chloe told herself, as she straightened, Lucifer arms reluctantly releasing her as she found her feet, but she’d noticed the absence of that pair, and alarms had started ringing inside her mind a while ago.

“Mazikeen is hunting Amenadiel,” Lucifer told her. Something hard, cold, and tight in her chest eased at the straightforward answer. Lucifer never lied. “Lilith is out with the hounds.”

“I thought they couldn’t find Trixie’s trail.”

“She’s not hunting for the spawn, detective.”

There was something in his voice, Chloe thought, some intonation or weight that had her backing off. She’d made her choice, after all, and she’d live with the consequences after she had her daughter in her arms once more.

For the second time that night, she let it go.

“Are we ready?”

Lucifer had changed too – a new suit, black as night with a deep red shirt that just happened to match her dress, the top few buttons left undone.

“We are,” Lucifer purred. “Show time, detective.”

#