10. Chapter 10

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Lucifer eyed his ever-dubious Detective with a dawning sense of horror and self-disgust as he realised that he was fully prepared to tell her the truth.

How low could he fall?

When had he become so attached to her anyway? He grumbled silently to himself. He didn’t do attachment. Dreadful disease that. He was… he was Lucifer.

The Lightbringer. The Morningstar. The Devil.

He was passion, indulgence, and fun. He was beautiful, he was hedonistic, and yes, he confessed to a little pride, and he just adored the seven dastardly sins, but what didn’t he have to be proud about? He was the brightest of all of his siblings, he’d been first to Rebel, he’d created Rebellion, and he was the second most powerful being in all of Creation. (Or third, depending on the day; bloody Michael and his bloody flaming sword.)

Above everything else, he was Freedom.

He did not spill Divine secrets to a mayfly of a mortal. Particularly not one he hadn’t even slept with yet. And certainly not just because she asked it of him.

Mortals were supposed to suffer some dreadful Test to be granted Divine truths, or so Lucifer assumed after watching his Father’s examples. Of course, the Detective didn’t have a son to sacrifice or a magical sheep to offer. Then again, Lucifer had no wish to be anything like his Father so that was probably for the best.

Grimacing in remembrance, he poured himself a triple brandy, sipping at it slowly to prove he wasn’t bothered whatsoever by the Detective’s expectant look.

His gaze fell on his pet hacker.

Connor was tapping away at the desk, which groaned under the weight of technology, the epitome of industry. He’d been useful, Lucifer mused, deliberately ignoring Chloe’s tapping foot. However Amenadiel had warded the tiny human, he had not been thorough enough to prevent Brent from getting closer. Chloe’s request had been a good idea, smart and devious. Lucifer liked.

Naturally, he’d remember the tactic, when he and his siblings crossed swords again, and he’d guard his own plots far more carefully in his turn.

From the corner of his eye, Lucifer saw Chloe put her hands on her hips. He quickly downed his brandy and gave the rest of the bottle a mournful look.

Oh well, best to get it over with.

“Brent,” he said, calmly, really there was no reason for the damned soul to look at him so, didn’t he know what Chloe would think of those wide eyes? “Get out.”

Well, perhaps he could have phrased that better. The soul was too aware of Lucifer’s true nature and as such, was deeply sensitive to any sign of an ill temper. Once bitten, twice shy and all that nasty mortality business.

Not that that gave Brent the excuse to squeak, honestly, it wasn’t like a sharp word equated to the branding iron – although that was a favourite – or calling for another quarter turn on the rack – humans were so inventive - Brent had no need to leap for the elevator with quite so much alacrity.

Chloe pursed her lips in disapproval, but she didn’t comment until Brent and his laptop, trailing cords behind him, were out of sight and out of eavesdropping range.

Lucifer consoled himself with another brandy. He might be willing to tell her what she wanted to know, but he hadn’t lowered himself to letting all and sundry in on the celestial gossip.

“Amenadiel is my younger brother,” Lucifer began slowly, returning to his perch at the window, surveying his domain. “Younger in years and younger in power. He’s from a much lower order than I.”

****#

A lower order. Chloe accepted the news stoically. She hated thinking of Lucifer as some sort of Mafia Don, but the evidence had been building up and she had to know.

At this point, it was too late for anything but the truth. What was done was done, but she would have her answers. Kidnapping children certainly wasn’t beyond the criminal element, and it hurt her right down to her bones to know that Lucifer was so deeply involved, or had been.

“A lower order,” she repeated blandly. That said far too much about their level of organisation, and even more about Lucifer’s own former position. No wonder Agent Johnson was so interested in Lucifer, she thought, making the connection bitterly. She’d thought it had been some strange obsession born from Lucifer’s earlier flirting and mind whammy coupled with his shady past, but now she had to brood over whether the FBI knew more about Lucifer than she did.

What on earth was she going to do when her personal leave was over yet her oaths remained?

“He’s a seraph, one of many.” Lucifer sighed, pain clear in his eyes. “And I,” he paused. “I, am an Archangel. One of the seven who were Created by my Father in the Beginning.”

It was the height of irony to organise a crime syndicate after the heavenly ranks, but clearly, somebody had a sense of humour. The imaginary family feud was probably not so imaginary. She felt a flash of guilt for her earlier teasing and quickly squashed it, committing every word to memory. What she would do with the information… she didn’t want to think about that either.

“You left,” Chloe prompted.

He can’t have been so bad then, she told herself hopefully. Lucifer had left. He’d gotten out, or tried to anyway. Amenadiel must have tracked him down. Perhaps if she convinced him to make a deal with the authorities – he did like his deals – then he might stay out of jail and they could. Could what? She asked herself spitefully. Continuing working cases? Pretend nothing had changed? Get Lucifer to charm the police into letting him keep his job?

“Yes, twice,” he replied is a voice as hard as diamond. “For reasons I won’t tell anybody, not even you.” At that, he did turn to look at her and she almost wished he hadn’t. His eyes were so cold. She couldn’t meet that ageless gaze.

“Amenadiel found you,” she said to the floor. “And somehow that led to Trixie.”

Kidnapping children was common – but they were supposed to kidnap the children of the target. Lucifer must have at least a dozen the way he slept around – that wasn’t fair. She closed her eyes and took a long steadying breath, walking over to join Lucifer at the window.

Meeting his eyes was much easier through a reflection and the city looked peaceful from up here.

“No woman refuses me, Chloe,” Lucifer looked down at her fondly, picking up a lock of her hair and toying with it. She was growing far too used to his casual invasions of personal space since she let him with barely a narrowing of eyes for protest. “Amenadiel knows that.”

“I refused.”

“I know,” he sounded disgusted. “Masochist.”

She choked.

“You put up with Detective bloody Douche slobbering over you and panting, practically humping your leg but you turn down me. Me.” He shook his head in amazement. “You do know that I’d be the best you ever had, don’t you?” He gave her a questioning look, “I’d assumed it was obvious, but perhaps you just need it explaining – “ he actually sounded hopeful. The bastard.

“Trixie,” Chloe hissed. She would not be diverted.

Lucifer gave her a wounded look, like she’d stepped on a kitten. His kitten, new-born, fluffy and mewling and –

“Trixie.”

Mouth twisting wryly, eyes unchanging, he continued.

“Women, normal women, who enjoy sex and beg for a second night in my bed, even though they can’t stand from the after-shocks of orgasm number-“

She stepped on his foot.

“You aren’t gracing my bed, even though I’m ready for you at any time, detective,” Lucifer added as if she wasn’t well aware that he’d let her drag him into a car, a dusty storeroom, a filthy alleyway, a- “But I keep you around despite your strange freakishness anyway. That makes you special to anyone who knows what to look for. ”

“Excuse you,” Chloe grit her teeth. She kept him around no matter how annoying, how obnoxious, how utterly oblivious he was of his own appalling vanity, because he was her partner. And occasionally useful. And she was possibly a tiny bit fond of him. He’d grown on her. Like a fungus. Or cancer. But she was definitely the one putting up with him and not the other way around.

“Amenadiel was given an order to make me go back to Hell.”

Chloe rearranged that using what she now knew of Lucifer’s business. Amenadiel was sent to bring Lucifer back into the fold. No wonder he called it Hell, it was probably more fitting than she wanted to imagine.

“And so he immediately decided to kidnap Trixie? Some plan.”

It seemed too strange to be real. It was bright daylight outside, the sun was shining, birds were singing somewhere, and here they stood, discussing the psychology of criminals whilst Trixie was suffering somewhere, out there and alone and afraid and she wasn’t with her.

“You don’t understand detective,” Lucifer told her with unnerving gentleness. “My brother was given an order. How he accomplishes that order doesn’t matter. Obedience is everything upstairs.”

“Are you telling me he’s brainwashed?” Chloe asked sceptically, eyebrows climbing.

“No, I’m telling you that my family is absolute. Absolute in a way you cannot comprehend. Humans are so…” he trailed off, waving a hand like that explained anything at all. “Confused.” He beamed.

“Uh huh.” The fond, patronising tone was unbelievably aggravating.

“And how does your family feud link in with The Collector. You aren’t telling me that Amenadiel kidnapped and sold all of those children.”

Perhaps he had if this was part of some larger scheme. Who knew how much money some foul cretin could earn from the whole damned business?

Lucifer didn’t even pause. “Your sinner was in town already, Amenadiel just gave him the nudge. It’s easy enough to do, and you, my dear, certainly fit this one’s preferred tastes, it wouldn’t have taken much at all. Amenadiel might even have considered the convenience a sign.”

She felt a shiver of unease. It was disturbing how easily Lucifer plotted out everyone’s actions and reactions, like it was a game he’d made the rules for.

“My people know better than to fail me.” He proclaimed with casual disinterest, and it was very much a proclamation. “They’d have found your spawn - if it was possible for them to do so. That they have failed underscores Amenadiel’s particular brand of interference. Blasted pigeon.”

Lucifer didn’t lie.

Chloe knew that, and so, there was really only one thing left to ask.

“Why?” It came out much smaller than she’d have liked. “Why?” She asked again, but it came out so little stronger that she needn’t have bothered.

“Why do this for little old me?” His smile was kind.

She couldn’t speak, and gave a tiny jerk of her head instead.

“I disobeyed,” he replied simply.

“Lucifer, there isn’t a rule in existence you won’t break when it gets in your way,” she snapped. “Why did it matter this time?”

He looked shocked. At her.

“Obedience is everything, detective, weren’t you listening?” he eyed her as if baffled, “Oh, you’re not getting sick are you? Don’t you dare sneeze over me, this is Prada and I know you enjoy seeing me naked, but there’s no need to ruin this suit too, I can just take it off if you want, or you could -”

She gave him a long hard look, and he fell silent, a faint smirk on his lips.

“When I said that my family were absolute, I meant it. I disobeyed. I am unique,” the smirk wasn’t so faint anymore. He held out his hands, as if to demonstrate his physical perfection, with a little hip wiggle as if she could miss him flaunting himself right in front of her.

Then he was serious again. “My siblings cannot even conceive the notion of disobedience detective. It is an abomination, and thus so am I. Something truly lost and foul. I scare them, detective. And then, just to really terrify, I took myself out of the game entirely. Another new path, I really am quite the devilish trailblazer aren’t I?” He grinned, pleased with himself, before abruptly sobering.

He gave her another gentle smile.

“Why would they hesitate committing a mortal crime in comparison to that?”

With a sickening flash, a fragment of memory came to her. Lucifer and Amenadiel arguing in the station earlier – was it really only that morning – what was it they’d said?

“It worked, didn’t it?” Chloe asked, too shocked to stop her thoughts tumbling out of her mouth in a horrified rush. “You did go back. That’s where Lilith came from. Brent. Your searchers. All of your people.”

“Yes.”

He said it so easily, casually, as if it meant nothing at all. Yet Chloe knew it for an unspoken lie. The futile rage in his eyes told her everything. He despised going back to them. It was a surrender he loathed, and he hated even more that he’d needed it. Whatever favours and power he’d gathered since his leaving – they hadn’t been enough and that burned in him. Amenadiel had backed him into a corner – and it stung at his pride like nothing else.

All to help her. To fulfil his side of their bargain. Dear god, Chloe thought in amazement, Lucifer really was a man of his word. She could barely comprehend what it must have meant to him; admitting that he needed his former family after all of his moves towards independence. What had he lost, to help her?

“I’m sorry.”

It was the wrong thing to say. Chloe knew it the second the words were spoken. His spine stiffened like he was a cat whose tail had just been stepped on.

“Don’t you dare apologise.”

His voice was pure ice, and it cracked through the room like a cat o’ nine tails.

“I am not your servant.” He enunciated every word with sharp precision, drawing himself up sharply, mustering every inch of his considerable height, and glared down at her with eyes that looked like frozen stars.

It was easy to see what he’d been once and was again. A marble statue of implacable rage, merciless and oh so proud.

“It was my choice, and mine alone.”

Chloe looked at him silently. Really looked, and her lips curved softly into an achingly gentle smile. She took a single step towards him, until they were breathing the same air and rose to her tiptoes. She tilted his face with both of her hands until she could look straight into those pools of pitiless wrath.

“Thank you, Lucifer Morningstar,” she said quietly.

His response was just as quiet. His lips barely moved.

“You’re welcome, Detective.”#