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As the lift descended into Lux, Lucifer was startled to feel the creeping presence of another celestial. For a moment he wondered why he was only feeling it now, before remembering the Stygian Iron that he and Maze had forged and then used to line the walls behind the faux Assyrian stonework. It covered the Penthouse, Maze’s apartment below that, and the saferooms on the floor below that. So it wasn’t surprising that the celestial shielding had worked as intended, blocking both Lucifer from this presence, and the presence from him, until the lift descended out of range.
That part of the mystery solved, Lucifer set himself to determining who was visiting. It wasn’t Amenadiel; for one, his brother tended to mask himself until he just appeared behind you. For another, Lucifer was annoyingly familiar with Meni’s celestial signature, as it was, and this celestial was foreign to him.
It was also, as best as Lucifer could tell, far weaker than himself or Meni, and it might even be weaker than Maze. If Luci hadn’t gone completely rusty, he could be assured that this wasn’t an archangel, or archdemon like Maze. It was more powerful than a lower demon, however, so probably of one of the lower tiers of angels. Cherubim emitted barely any presence, being the lowest of the Host, so Lucifer thought this was probably one of the Nephilim or Seraphim.(1)
There was definitely only one, however, so unless Amenadiel was nearby and masking himself, this wasn’t likely to be another trap or ploy to return Lucifer to Hell. That sorted, the remaining question was simply why one of the lesser Host was visiting him. There was the smallest possibility that his visitor didn’t know that Lucifer was here, but even diminished by Hell, his archangelic grace should have made any lesser celestial tremble from a mile away.
The lift doors opened, and Lucifer stepped to the railing to quickly survey the club. He sensed only humans below, and of course, Maze. She was prowling at the bar, hackles raised, and Lucifer could tell that she had sensed the same being as he. Their eyes met, and a quick non-verbal exchange followed.
Maze offered to track this being down and make them sorry for straying into his territory, but Lucifer shook his head slightly. He’d rather try to solve this puzzle with finesse first, before letting Maze beat it to death. Lucifer had always been a sucker for a puzzle, as his intrigue with the detective and his mortality could attest. Maze rolled her eyes in her typical ‘your funeral’ way, but didn’t move from the bar as Lucifer made his way to the exit.
Outside the doors, the presence became far clearer, and Lucifer was able to pin in down to the line of people waiting to get in to Lux. It was still early, the summer sun not yet set here despite it being after eight. Still, the line was around the corner, and Lucifer eyed it curiously.
There, the sheepish and worried young man with sandy blond hair, about ten places back. His hangdog expression was a direct contrast to the eager clubgoers around him. Lucifer focused his presence, and the young man flinched; definitely one of the lesser Host, his own grace clearly scolding him for drawing the attention of an archangel.
A quick word to his nearest bouncer saw the man drawn from the line and toward Lucifer. Some of the humans around him made little noises of outrage about him cutting the line, but these were halted the moment Lucifer led him towards the alley instead of the entrance. He wasn’t about to grant another celestial welcome into his domain on sight alone.
As soon as they were out of sight and hearing of the mortals around the entrance, Lucifer spun around and leaned nonchalantly against the wall of Lux. “Talk.” his words were a demand, but only in the human sense; he didn’t feel the need to use his grace to command the lesser celestial. Yet.
The man let out a breath of what appeared to be relief, and Lucifer raised an eyebrow. “You’re Lucifer, aren’t you? I mean really him? Not-”
“Oh, you were expecting Mikey dearest?” Lucifer drawled. It wouldn’t be the first time in his long history that he had been confused for his sanctimonious twin; though it hadn’t happened recently. Then he put on his fake American accent. “I can pretend to be him, if you’d like.”
The younger celestial froze, and a wave of panic rushed through his eyes, before he visibly calmed himself. It wasn’t the reaction of someone looking for Michael and finding Lucifer instead, but of someone who was terrified the other way ‘round.
“Well, that was an interesting reaction,” Lucifer noticed, slipping back to his own accent. “You’re not here under his orders, are you?” Technically Gabriel commanded the lesser Host, but Michael tended to commandeer them for his own needs, as often as not.
The man flinched back, and Lucifer noticed that his coat moved oddly. Lucifer took a closer look, trying to puzzle out what was out of place. A moment later he realized that the left arm of the coat was hanging oddly, and there was no hand emerging from the sleeve. “Coat off,” he said sharply.
The other man - and he really should get a name - looked pained, but shrugged out of his light coat. He was wearing a jewel-toned teal button down, but the left sleeve was rolled up and pinned midway down the bicep, where his arm ended. Without the bulk of the coat, Lucifer also noticed that the man was tilting ever so slightly, as though wearing a heavy backpack but only on one shoulder.
It was a lopsided stance he had seen more than once over the millennia, and Lucifer could kick himself for not recognizing it faster. “Oh you did piss him off, didn’t you?” he asked. “He usually takes slightly more care when cutting off a wing. You must have infuriated him if he wasn’t careful enough to avoid your arm. What’s your name, luv?”
The man seemed to crumple in on himself, confirming all of Lucifer’s guesses, before he managed a quiet, “Zephon.”
“Oh, a Seraph!(2) And what on earth- well, not on Earth, I assume. But whatever did you do to piss off Mikey that badly?”
“It’s a long story,” Zephon said.
“Short version,” Lucifer said, allowing a hint of steel into his voice.
Zephon shuddered, even though Lucifer hadn’t even called upon his grace. He was a twitchy little thing, Lucifer realized. “I was given a task on Earth, and I… lingered. Michael accused me of having Fallen, and to punish me he cut off… my-”
“Your wing,” Lucifer finished, allowing more compassion into his voice. Dad knew he knew how painful that was, and to have it done as punishment instead of defiant choice, well…
“And what are you doing here at Lux tonight?” Lucifer was fairly certain that Zephon wasn’t here at the orders of any of his family, not after having been declared Fallen, but Maze would kill him if he wasn’t thorough.
“I saw you in the paper, after the gang wars thing last week,” Zephon’s voice became a little sturdier when not recounting his tragic past. “I recognized you, of course, but when they said your name was Lucifer Morningstar…”
“You figured it was probably actually me and not my ponce of a twin.” Lucifer supplied.
“Yeah,” Zephon let out a harsh breath. “And I thought, you know, it couldn’t hurt, to come and see- see what you’re doing here, and…”
“Say no more,” Lucifer waved his hand. He really didn’t want to hear about how his own grace, tarnished as it was, felt like a warm and snuggly taste of home. “Well come on, let’s get you inside.”
Zephon’s head shot up, meeting Lucifer’s gaze for the first time that night. “What?”
“Well there’s no alcohol out here, luv,” Lucifer said brightly. “And Dad knows if we’re going to talk about our family we’re going to need more than usual for this. Come on.” Lucifer briskly led the way back to Lux’s entrance, giving a nod to Cliff, who was at the door, to assure him that the man trailing after him was allowed entrance.
Cliff, one of Lucifer’s many bouncers who was a vet - indeed most of his security forces were - and also happened to be one of the ones with a prosthetic leg, and Lucifer could tell the moment that Zephon’s own injury became visible. He nodded back at the Seraph in solidarity.
Ignoring that, Lucifer gazed down at the bar until he caught Maze’s eye. Giving her a grimace to let her know that things were fine, if not dandy, he held up 2 fingers. Once she nodded in agreement, Lucifer strode over to the lift, Zephon following along like a lost puppy. Using his code to unlock the doors, Lucifer pressed the button for the second floor, directly above the club’s entrance. Here were a variety of offices and two rather comfy lounge areas, where Lucifer generally handled the business side of things.
“There, that’s better,” he said, draping himself over one of the soft leather couches. “Far more comfortable, and we can actually hear ourselves talk.” Indeed, the thumping base from below them was low enough that they could be heard without raising their voices.
“I thought you wanted drinks,” Zephon said, a hint of a smile playing on his face.
“Maze’ll bring them up in a moment,” Lucifer waved away his concern. “I hope you don’t mind demons?”
Zephon blanched, but nodded gamely. “She came up in my research on you,” he admitted.
“Well don’t worry, I won’t let her off her leash around you,” Lucifer teased. It was hardwired into the lesser Host to fear demons, or to want to kill them, and as an archdemon Maze was far stronger than one Fallen angel.
“Unless, of course, you’re into that,” Maze purred, appearing from the silent lift behind Zephon and making him jump.
Lucifer resisted the urge to laugh, but he shared a smirk with Maze as she placed a whiskey bottle and three glasses on the coffee table between the couches.
“Now, in all seriousness,” Lucifer said to Zephon as Maze started pouring, “is your story, at any point, going to make me want to kill one of my siblings?”
“Er-” he clearly thought about that for a moment. “Maybe?”
“Right,” Lucifer sighed. “Then do you mind if Maze here sits in? Save me from repeating it all later?”
The Seraph looked between them warily, before finally nodding slightly. He jumped again when Maze shoved a full glass at him, but then he accepted it and took a quick sip.
“Excellent,” Lucifer said. Maze handed him his glass before curling up into his side with her own. She nipped his ear lightly as she did so, and Lucifer chuckled. “Naughty. But right now I’m afraid we need to focus.”
Maze pouted, but Lucifer knew it was all just for show. She was never one to turn down a fight with his siblings.
“Right, Zephon, time for the long version,” Lucifer said firmly.
Taking another fortifying sip, the Seraph launched into his story. “I was a historian, tasked with documenting advancements on Earth that could affect the Host.” Lucifer nodded in understanding; he had a team of demons with much the same function in Hell. It was hard to torture souls if you didn’t know what was happening in the world they had come from, and that was one of the original reasons for demonic possession - information gathering.
Zephon continued, “I was slightly North of here, roughly fifty, fifty-five Earth years ago. The humans were making advancements in their space travel, and I was one of several tracking their progress to see if there was any way they could affect the Silver City. There was a group near Los Angeles that was making rockets, and they were one of my main assignments.”(3)
“I spent a lot of time observing these particular humans, seeing their repeated failures, their occasional successes… I don't know how it happened, but as time passed, I found myself… impressed with their ingenuity.” he sounded bewildered, despite himself.
“Angels, as a whole, aren’t known for their creativity and innovation,” Lucifer agreed. Demons weren’t either, when it came to that. Even in torture, their innovations tended to come from humans themselves.
“Yes,” Zephon sighed. “At first, I thought it was a flaw, seeing them making so many mistakes. But, after watching them for so long, I realized that there was something impressive about the way that they kept trying until they found something that worked. Their perseverance, ingenuity, cooperation… I had never seen anything like it.”
And that, Lucifer knew, was the moment that he changed, just as a particular Archangel once had. The moment that humans became beings in their own right, instead of intelligent bacteria in a petri dish. That was the moment that Zephon had become dangerous to dear old Dad’s sense of order in the universe.
“Let me guess,” he drawled, “your assignment ended, but you didn’t race back to the Silver City like a good little dog.”
“I finished my job,” Zephon protested weakly. “I filed my report. I just, then…”
“Came back,” Lucifer said.
“Yes.” Zephon hung his head, but the words rushed out of him. “They were all aflutter over this new technology called a computer, and it sounded a little like how we store information in the Silver City, and I wanted to learn more. There were humans all along this area, from Los Angeles up to what they called Silicon Valley. They made huge advancements in such a relatively short amount of time. It was almost as though someone had given them help but none of us had! They were doing it all on their own!”
“I wasn’t interfering,” Zephon protested, and Lucifer had a feeling he knew what was coming. “I wasn’t nudging them at all, or giving them help. I wasn’t going back to the Silver City and singing their praises, or trying to change things. I was just watching!”
“I believe you,” Lucifer said, placatingly. “In my experience the court system back home doesn’t exactly run on logic or truth.”
Zephon drooped. “No, it doesn’t,” he muttered bitterly.
When a moment passed and he hadn’t continued, Lucifer prompted gently: “So they tracked you down…”
“I didn’t realize how much time had passed,” Zephon admitted. “It was the late seventies, and I guess someone noticed I was missing, or sensed me here, or something…”
Recalling a short trip of his own to San Francisco in the late seventies, Lucifer had a hunch who had spotted the little Seraph in passing. “Amenadiel and Michael?” he guessed.
“At first, but then Amenadiel said he had something more important to deal with,” Zephon said.
“Well that would have been me, then, probably,” Lucifer said. “And Maze, of course.”
“We should go back,” Maze murmured. “I miss The Mission. And you were quite popular in The Castro, if I recall,” she poked his side.(4)
“Next month, luv,” Lucifer promised. Maze scowled, but nodded, and both turned back to Zephon. He was staring off into space, clearly working through the knowledge that he had just been a side trip in yet another fight between Lucifer and his brothers. “So I’m guessing he didn’t drag you back home and do it properly?” Lucifer said, dragging his attention back to the present.
Zephon shook himself lightly. “Uh, no. No, Michael just said that I was guilty of interfering with human development, and betraying the Heavenly Host. He summoned others to bear witness, a squad of Nephilim, and told them the same thing. Then he used his grace to hold me… he pulled out his sword… and…”
“And cut off your wing, and your arm in the process,” Lucifer finished when he seemed unable to. “I’m afraid that bit’s on me. He was in a rush to come double team me, and got sloppy with you,” his lip curled in disgust.
“At least the flaming sword cauterizes its wounds,” Maze added. “He could have left you to bleed out,”
“Actually, my doctors said it was a clean enough cut that they could have tried to reattach my arm if it hadn’t been cauterized,” Zephon muttered bitterly.
“Oh, that sucks then,” Maze said, tipping her glass to him. “Trust Michael to always do it the most dickish way possible.”
“Do you want the name of a good Prosthetist?” Lucifer asked. “I know a few good sources.”
Zephon smirked. “Actually, I work in prosthetics in Silicon Valley now. I have a set of customs. I just, I wasn’t sure what kind of welcome I’d get here, so I left it in the hotel room where it would be safe.”
“Well, if that’s not it, then why are you here?” Lucifer asked curiously. “Come for a favor?”
Zephon shifted uncomfortably and then finished off his drink before gathering his courage. “Like I told you, I saw the article in the paper about the gang war and how it was solved by your Lieutenant. There was a picture of the scene, and there you were, next to some cops. I thought it was Michael at first, even though it would be interfering in human affairs. It just, it had to be an -” he cut himself off, and Lucifer easily filled in the blanks.
“An angel? Of course. After all, why would the Devil do something good!”
“I didn’t mean it like that!” Zephon protested. “I mean, yeah, you’re Public Enemy Number One upstairs, but I don't really know anything about you! I’d never even met you before you Fell. And after what happened to me… well let’s just say I don’t believe the propaganda unless I see it for myself.”
“What did you mean, then?” Maze said waspishly.
“Just that I thought you were in Hell! I didn’t know you could shift between the planes without wings! That’s why I thought it had to be an angel. But the paper said that a consultant called Lucifer Morningstar was involved, and there was no way that anyone from above would use that name…”
“I understand,” Lucifer said, and felt a little bad for the Seraph, because now he did know exactly what the guy wanted, and he wasn’t going to be able to give it to him. “I’m afraid that you’re under a misconception: probably Michael- no, probably Gabriel’s fault, come to think of it. What do they teach your kind about my Fall? I mean, other than me being the boogie man of every story: eat your veggies or you’ll go to Hell? What kind of cautionary tale am I?”
“Uh-” Zephon was caught off guard by Lucifer’s annoyance, and clearly scrambled to answer. “Y- you interfered with th- the human experiment, uh, destroyed several others… and then y-you tried to overthrow God and take the throne of Heaven for yourself. You tried to get others to join you, but none of the angels would listen, so you turned to the lower Hosts, an- and your siblings had to protect us from you. You refused to repent, and finally there was no choice but to punish you, a- and you F-Fell.”
Lucifer huffed. “Well, that was almost entirely wrong. I’d almost be impressed if I didn’t know what kind of bloody idiots were in charge up there.”
Zephon’s eyes grew wide and Lucifer realized how that had sounded. “Not Dad, obviously. From what I gather he’s become even more distant since I left, which is quite the feat. No, I meant Mikey and Gabe and those other featherbrains.”
This seemed to reassure the Seraph slightly, and he relaxed a little. “Now,” Lucifer continued, “I could spend most of the night correcting that mess of a story, but there’s no point. No, there’s really just one major point that needs fixing. And that, unfortunately, is where I’m going to disappoint you.”
“Now, when you ‘Fell’, that was a fall from grace. Mikey went chop chop to ground you, and then dumped you on Earth to serve your sentence. Eventually, when you die from a natural disaster or a human with a gun or whatever, you’ll pop back into existence in Hell, and I’d have to find something for you to do to keep busy.” Zephon looked a little green, but nodded that it was a fair assessment.
“Right, that’s how it's been for each of you I’ve encountered.” Lucifer took a long pull from his glass of whiskey to brace himself. “Now let you tell me about my Fall. My brothers dogpiled me, and wrapped me up in Adamant chains. Then, while Gabriel held his sword to my chin, just here,” Lucifer swiped his thumb across the scar on his chin, “Mikey went behind me and broke both of my wings; wrenched them out of their sockets.”
Zephon shivered instinctively at the thought, but Lucifer ignored it. “And then, they opened the gates and, without removing the chains, tossed me out. I fell. And when I say “fall”, I don’t mean metaphorically, like you. I fell past the planets and the stars. I fell through the layers and planes and the gates of Hell. I fell into the lake of sulfur and I burned in agony until finally I hit the bottom so hard that the hellfire around me evaporated from the impact.”
Lucifer knew that his eyes had flamed, but from the way that Zephon was staring into the middle distance in horror, he didn’t think the Seraph had even noticed. Too distracted by peeling back the layers of celestial metaphor and learning the truth. Lucifer didn’t even want to broach the theory that his own escapes from Hell might be the reason that Mikey had switched to punitive wing amputation.
Lucifer let Maze refill his glass and then cuddle with him comfortingly. When Zephon seemed to be coming back to reality, Lucifer cleared his throat. “So, sorry I can’t help you, luv. There’s no way to get wings back, short of divine intervention. I did indeed use mine to pop back up here, but that isn’t because I regrew them. Your wing… isn’t coming back.”
Thankfully, Zephon didn’t burst into tears, though it looked like a near thing. Lucifer barely knew what to do with humans who cried, and that was only because he could just tease their desires out of them and distract them. He already knew what the Seraph wanted and he couldn’t do a bloody thing about it. And there was no way in Hell that he could admit to this poor sod that he had asked Maze to cut his own wings off!
After wrestling with himself for a few minutes, Zephon clearly got his emotions back under control. “I… I understand.” he said quietly.
Lucifer was tempted to say ‘I doubt it,’ but he refrained. The truth was that, metaphorical or not, Fallen Angels were the ones who understood him the best since he became the Devil. At least, once they died and came to Hell and learned the truth when he kept the demons from harming them. Zephon was just getting that epiphany a little earlier than most.
“Right, that’s sorted…” he said instead.
Zephon let out a choked scoff, but he did offer a weak smile in return, which right now was a win. “I- I’m sorry to… bother you, I guess.”
“No, no, I don’t mind,” Lucifer waved his hand dismissively. “I’m used to cleaning up after m’family’s messes. You’re not the first poor sod Michael’s dumped on Earth with nothing. It sounds like you’ve landed on your feet, but, still…” Lucifer pulled one of his business cards out of his breast pocket and flicked it onto the table. “If you ever need anything…”
Zephon smirked slightly. “I’ll keep it in mind.” He fished around in his own pocket and pulled out a wallet, sliding his own business card out with his thumb. “Here’s one of mine… just in case…” He tucked away his wallet and then followed it with Lucifer’s card.
“Well cheers,” Lucifer tipped his glass to the Seraph. “And don’t be a stranger, cuz,”
“Cuz?” Zephon rolled the word around his tongue, and then smiled slightly. “Yes, I suppose we are cousins, of a sort, aren’t we?” He picked his glass back up and returned the toast. “Cheers, cuz.”