16. Chapter 16

#

“Don’t I know it,” the mercenary chortled, his smile friendly and honest, he placed a warm hand on her wrist, “Another martini?” he asked, nodding his head toward her empty glass.

Chloe gave him a slow wicked smile, and hoped desperately that this wasn’t being recorded live.

“Isn’t it my round yet?”

The man gave her a look of exaggerated offence.

“A gentlemen never lets a lady pay,” he told her, putting on a posh accent with a grin.

Chloe laughed, “Well, if you insist, my good sir,” she matched his tone on the last three words.

He bought their second round, and took a hearty sip of his brandy whilst Chloe drank her vaguely olive-flavoured water.

What was she supposed to do? Get him down the back alley was all very well and good as a general plan but what was she supposed to say? She wasn’t a femme fatale in a Bond movie. She had no idea what subtle phrases; witty dialogue or double-entendres would work. What said ‘come hither’ and what said ‘slut?’ Or more accurately, what would he think said which? And for that matter which would get him to follow her out?

This was so stressful. Clearly, she was not cut out for a career in espionage.

... and that was when she noticed Lamia.

Lamia who had not returned to serving other customers; Lamia who had just been hovering unobtrusively; Lamia who was watching the mercenary far too closely.

Ah. Of course, she should have known. Lucifer’s plans certainly tended towards brutal pragmatism. Why jump a man in an alley when you own the bartender?

“Excuse me for a sec,” the mercenary said, slipping off his bar stool and heading for the bathroom.

Chloe watched him go, knowing he’d not come back, and trying not to be grateful for it.

#

The thrill of the hunt had never faded.

Back in the day, he used to ride out with the hounds himself. Mortals still told the stories of spectral beasts running through the skies or the woods and truth be told - as always - he missed it.

The modern hunt was with security cameras and computers. Lucifer was disappointed. Where was the fun in that? What happened to the exultation? The meaty goodness of pride, glory and triumph? The men and women of this age seemed positively terrified by their own humanity, trying to erase it wherever possible with all of this logic and reason and dull dull dull.

He hoped the Detective wasn’t disappointed. She might have grown up with all of these silly notions, but the Devil had standards. He’d be a poor host indeed if he couldn’t offer her any decent entertainment.

He watched the Detective in a reflection; she was smiling at the doomed fellow, one Amir Martin Lucifer knew after a quick peek at the man’s soul. It was hardly sporting, but this wasn’t a pleasure hunt so he texted the name up to Brent, who would have his life story in a few minutes.

No fun at all.

The Detective threw back her head, hair a golden halo, and laughed freely.

On the other hand, Lucifer thought narrowing his eyes, there was no reason to be sloppy; he pulled out his phone again and sent Lamia a change of orders.

“Mr Morningstar?”

“Millie, you’re tired,” he told her gently, guiding her by the shoulder to one of the waiting Lilim. “Wouldn’t you rather go home and sleep poppet? It’s a waste of your time to linger here; you’ve better things to do. This story is boring.”

He didn’t watch her go. Instead, he spied a lovely girl with delightful blue hair and danced with her until he was bored, very flexible that one, and moved on to a spry young man wearing a red shirt - rock solid abs - and from him there was an exceptionally leggy blonde in a red dress – and that was when he gave it up and retreated to the bar.

He looked to Lamia, she nodded once in confirmation and he grinned. Now for the real fun; the detective certainly wouldn’t be disappointed in him for this session.

“Ready for a bit of slap and tickle?” he asked her, cocking an eyebrow invitingly.

The Detective’s eyes dimmed a little, but she nodded. “I suppose I ought to see this through to the end,” she said.

Ah, Lucifer realised, those moral things again. Persistent little buggers weren’t they?

“You could turn in,” he suggested, feeling lost. He couldn’t imagine her really wanting to miss out on all the goodies, but he could read her well enough to know that she wasn’t anywhere near as excited as she should be for a bit of hanky panky; an odd duck, his Detective.

She glared at him, which was much better.

“I said I’d see it through.”

“Jolly good,” he bounced up, “Wait ten minutes or so and follow Lamia, she knows where to go.”

#

Chloe grimaced at the table, feeling a terrible combination of sick and resolute. She’d meant what she said. She’d started this, asked for it, even. She had to see it through. It was the least she could do, the least she owed the man.

She’d love to pretend this wasn’t happening, wait no. Her conscience wouldn’t let her lie to herself. She’d love it if this could all be undone – but it couldn’t. None of it could.

Trixie was gone. Worse, she’d never be the same after when – and it could only be when – they rescued her. Dan wasn’t the man she’d thought he was, and along the way, she’d changed too.

Changed enough that she’d just helped kidnapped a man she only had Lucifer’s word as evidence against. A man they were going to interrogate like vigilantes, and Chloe wasn’t going to stop it. In fact, she was going to help. What did that say about her?

Panic was for when the crisis was over.

Chloe waited the requisite ten minutes as she battled her queasy stomach then finished her drink and carefully eased herself off of the bar stool. Did she have time to change her shoes? Was it appropriate to attend an interrogation (and that’s absolutely all it would be) dressed like this? Was she just trying to distract her conscience or was she really worried about her clothes?

Chloe didn’t know, and she didn’t like that either.

Lamia guided her silently down some stairs, through a door marked as ‘Staff Only’, which Chloe had never seen before, and then down again. The walls went from painted plaster to rough brick, to even rougher brick with crumbling mortar stabilised by regular wooden beams that would have been at home down a mineshaft.

She’d had no idea this place existed, but some part of her noted, rather nettled, that it was perfect for activities of dubious legality.

How often had it been used?

The box at the back of her mind was getting rather full.

Doggedly she followed Lamia, and after only a handful of twists and turns, found herself in a room that could have come from any enforcement agency in the country.

Including the one-way mirror.

Chloe steeled herself and stepped up to the window.

The mercenary was still unconscious; he sat in a metal chair that had been bolted to the floor, cuffed at each wrist and ankle to the sturdy frame. The room was lit by a single light bulb dropped from a high ceiling. All it illuminated was the mercenary’s chair, a chair opposite him, and a table to the side. The rest of the room was ominously dark.

She made a noise like a strangled cat.

“Why is he naked?”

“Did you think I was going to ask nicely?” Lucifer appeared out of the shadows, unfastening the top few buttons of his shirt and running a hand through his hair.

“I-,” Chloe looked away. Shame rose like bile.

“Will it work?”

Lucifer did not hesitate. “Yes.”

Chloe closed her eyes, hating how comforted she felt.

“OK. ”

Warmth embraced her. Chloe’s eyes flew back open in surprise, but she hugged Lucifer back gratefully. So, so, horrendously grateful.

“Look away if you must,” he murmured into her hair, “I’ll understand.”

Then he was gone, and it was cold. She did not let herself think about what he’d really meant, and she did not look away.

#

“Wakey wakey, there’s a good chap.”

Lucifer beamed at Mr Martin as eyes obediently opened to peer blearily around the room. He gave the man some time to gather himself; it was only polite.

“Confused?”

The chair made an excellent squeal as he dragged it over and plonked down, crossing his legs. Nice and dramatic.

“That’d be the drug I expect. Should have watched your drink. Don’t you know what can happen to a man out alone? Still, never you mind, it’ll wear off in a minute.”

Mr Martin began to struggle as alarm dawned in those murky depths. Lucifer let him do that too, because it made for a lovely view. Those abs were ripped and really quite pleasant to watch as they heaved and contorted and strained.

“I’ve had bigger men than you, Mr Martin,” Lucifer measured the man with his eyes just to be sure, “languishing here at my pleasure. Save your strength for the fun and games, pet.”

He consoled the poor fellow with a friendly pat, on the thigh.

The mercenary stared down at the hand, and then at Lucifer.

“When I get out of here,” the man hissed, “I am going to fuck you up so badly you’ll be shitting teeth for a decade.”

“That’s the spirit,” Lucifer cheered, and then he rose, knowing he had Mr Martin’s full attention, and wondered over to the table.

Lamia wasn’t Mazikeen, but she had at least remembered the whisky.

“Drink?”

“Fuck you.”

“Maybe later,” Lucifer replied evenly, “are you sure?” He tilted the extra glass towards his prisoner, “It’s an excellent year, just a faint hint of apple, really kicks it off.”

Mr Martin groaned, and banged his head against the finial.

“Fuck. You.”

Lucifer retook his seat and eyed him over the rim of his glass.

“I’m sure you know why you’re here.”

“Not a fucking clue,” the man grinned through his teeth.

“Mr Martin, I am prepared to be reasonable. You are aware that a bounty has been posted for the girl’s life. Lead me to your employer and it’s yours.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“And yet you have not panicked on finding yourself within my grasp. You do not ask why you’re here, or what I want with you. You have made no threats about calling the police or any other nominal guardian of society. Hardly the actions of a normal citizen.”

“I’m fuck-ing ser-ene,” he drawled.

“Mr Martin, my schedule is rather tight. This evening will go far better for you if you cooperate.”

“Do you think I’m scared of a fucking paper pusher? The only reason you got me is ‘cause one of your bitches drugged me. When I get out of here, you’re guna’ be regretting that.”

Lucifer set down the glass.

“When?”

Martin rolled his eyes. “You work for the cops. You’re not going to kill me, or torture me, or anything else this little set up wants me to believe. Do you think I’m stupid? I’ve done this before.”

“What a coincidence. So have I.”