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Chapter Text

“Everything you want is on the other side of fear.”

— Jack Canfield

“You know how I hate to see you fight.”

As Dad descended the stairs, Lucifer felt his heart climbing up into his throat. Anger and fear and some third undefined sensation boiled and bubbled up inside him and threatened to rage out through his mouth. If he were in Hell, they’d be in danger of fire erupting from his throat.

Instead, Lucifer’s lips curled back and spat out: “Oh! Now, He returns!” He clapped his hands and then turned to his brothers. “Right, then. Let’s all bow down. Bow down, everyone! We’ve been graced with His presence!”

“Luci!” Amenadiel hissed, grabbing Lucifer’s arm and jerking him back.

“You aren’t glad to see me?” Dad said in a voice that managed to be superficially warm yet unaffected.

“Time hasn’t erased anything. No one is fooled by that ridiculous cozy sweater,” Lucifer snapped.

“I would have thought you’d be looking to thank me.” Dad took an unhurried step toward them. “Both of you, really. You aren’t enjoying my gifts?” He shrugged. “I suppose I could find something else—“

“No, Father,” Amenadiel said, holding up a hand. “I am so incredibly grateful. You have no idea.”

“I may have some idea. It seemed appropriate that my first son be the first to enjoy fatherhood.”

Amenadiel and Dad exchanged a smile, and Lucifer’s heart dropped into his stomach. They all fell under the sway of The Presence, no matter what He’d done. All of Amenadiel’s growth over the past few years, wiped away by one smile from Dad. He followed Dad to the side of the crib, where Dad leaned over to grin down on Charlie.

What a blessing it all was. The Holy Grandfather, who art wherever the hell He wanted to be.

Instinctively, Lucifer found himself glancing toward Michael, who was holding his crooked shoulders very stiff and staring hard at the stairs where Dad had appeared. As though he sensed Lucifer’s eyes on him, Michael looked up and twisted his lips in a vaguely displeased expression. In response, Lucifer made a face before turning his attention back to Dad and the first Angel fawning over the first Nephilim.

Did Dad have a hand in that? Would anyone admit it, if it were true?

“Everything seems so new and precarious with your first,” Dad said, caressing Charlie’s still cheek. “You want to change the world to make everything perfect for him… And yet, I do think you’ve outdone yourself. All of time has stopped. On Earth. Off of Earth…”

Lucifer shook his head. “Ah, well done, brother.”

“I didn’t mean to, Father, really. I just…” Amenadiel shrugged haplessly.

Dad patted his shoulder and squeezed. “The life of a child means everything to a father. But you must never let fear overtake you. Be aware of your fear, acknowledge it, and give it due attention. Then, let it go.”

“I don’t know how, Dad,” Amenadiel said softly.

“You will.”

The timbre of His voice reverberated through the air, sending out waves of reassurance. Lucifer steeled himself and resisted with everything he had. Behind him, he could feel Maze shuddering. Dad didn’t make demons feel so warm and fuzzy, clearly.

His divine, soporific calm threatened to drop Lucifer to his knees. That unrelenting force, exercised against them caused anger to win over whatever other emotions were churning around inside of him.

“You manipulative bastard!”

“Luci, no—“ Amenadiel warned.

“Oh, go hide behind your baby!” Lucifer watched Dad’s placid face and beatific smile. “You come down here, after all this time, after everything that’s happened? Because, what? We disrupted your soap opera?”

“A father can’t be concerned about his sons?”

“Not when He never was before!” Lucifer felt his skin beginning to prickle. Red, twisted scarred flesh was only seconds away. “Demons literally walking the Earth? Cain trying to murder your Miracle? Mum about to burst and spew light all over Los Angeles?”

“You had all of those situations under control,” Dad replied, creasing His brows slightly. He glanced back at Amenadiel. “That will come later, although much sooner than you think. At some point, your child will be capable of handling things on his own. You’ll have to know when to let him do so.”

Flames flickered in Lucifer's eyes.

“And sometimes, you can’t win.” Dad looked to Lucifer. “If I intervene, I’m controlling you. If I don’t, I’m neglecting you.” He tilted His head to the side. “My Samael.”

Red began to creep up Lucifer’s neck. Not here. Not in front of Dad.

“So hard to please,” Dad continued. “So special.”

“So above it all,” Lucifer shot back. “So condescending.”

“I did condescend to be here. Quite literally.” Dad put His hands on His hips and shook His head slowly. “I know you have a question for me. Ask.”

“I…” He meant to deny that he wanted anything from this bastard, but… “Why did you send her here?”

Lucifer hated his voice in that moment. He sounded like such a pathetic child.

“Can you blame a father for wanting his son to be happy?”

“That isn’t an answer,” Lucifer growled.

“You will understand. In time.”

Lucifer opened his mouth to object, but found that his Father’s influence had wormed its way inside of him while he’d mustered the will to fight. He stumbled back as Dad strolled across the distance to Michael. He was done with the older brothers, and they knew it. Lucifer sagged back against a desk. He needed to conserve his strength if he was going to demand any more of the old man.

“And Michael.”

Dad leveled His gaze on Lucifer’s ever patient twin. He’d waited silently as Dad had spoken to each of them in turn, and now, his smug and bitter twin was looking up at Dad with eyes filled with the helplessness that Lucifer felt.

Dad’s fingers touched Michael’s cheek. “You’re just getting to be more like your mother every day.”

“I needed to talk to you,” Michael explained, looking defensive and maybe a bit hurt. “I took no lives to do so. I was very careful about that.”

“Just… wound your brother up so well that he stopped all time?” Dad fought a smile.

“I mean, it worked better than I ever thought it would,” Michael admitted, laughing a little.

“And what happened to your beautiful face?” Dad’s voice oozed with concern. “I made that face.”

“It was an accident?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?”

Michael looked off to the left.

“He’s not going to get in trouble, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Dad sounded almost amused. He sighed, then crossed his arms. “Alright then. Talk.”

Michael glanced at Lucifer, who wrinkled his nose at him, and then back to Dad. “Can’t we talk alone?”

“I’m comfortable here,” Dad said simply.

No arguing with that. Lucifer pursed his lips, knowing that changing their father’s mind about anything was like demanding the laws of physics alter themselves to your needs. Michael needn’t have bothered with all of this, if his purpose was to just tattle to Dad.

Michael took a deep breath. “Things have been happening, and I can never contact you anymore. Dad, the Vortex is coming, and we have no idea where he is.”

“You don’t need to worry about that.”

“All life in the universe could be extinguished!”

Wait, what? Lucifer frowned and looked to Amenadiel, who shook his head and shrugged.

“Be that as it may. You trust me, don’t you?”

“Of course, I do, Father, but…”

“But that isn’t really what you want me to weigh in on.”  Dad stepped closer to Michael. “Is it?”

Michael opened his mouth to speak, but then said nothing.  Dad stared deep into Michael’s eyes. The air between them seemed to come to life, and Lucifer rose again, feeling like he needed to do something. Interrupt this. Demand Dad answer something directly. For once.

After a few moments, Dad spoke again: “No.”

Michael raised a brow. “Just no?”

“Yes,” Dad said calmly. With a smile. “Just. No.”

Lucifer felt his insides turning to ice water. He’d been here before. He’d seen what happened when you asked for something when Dad was in a mood. Usually, Michael bowed over to whatever their father’s whims were. And that sickened Lucifer.

Today, though, Michael’s lips twisted, and his nose wrinkled. “Amenadiel ripped a soul from Hell and tried to kill Lucifer, and he gets a family. Lucifer rebelled, and he killed Uriel, and he gets a made-to-order girlfriend. And I get ‘Just no?’”

Dad looked around the precinct and raised his hands. “You’ve certainly made your displeasure known, haven’t you? You think you deserve more?”

Michael’s eyes widened, and he immediately lowered his gaze. “I know I don’t deserve anything, but… We can never contact you if we need to, and it seemed like you’d relaxed your policies a bit, and I was running out of time—“

“You are out of time.”

“I… But you could change that.”

“There are some things not even Daddy can fix, I’m afraid.”

Michael’s hands clenched so tightly that blood was beginning to bead on his palm. Lucifer winced.

Dad drew closer to him and sighed. “You get so worked up, Michael. It just kills me to see you so stressed like this.”

“But…”

“You have nothing to worry about, my son.” Dad entered Michael’s space and locked eyes with him. He took both of his hands. “You need not fear the Vortex. You need not fear who is running Hell, or what lies beneath it. I have a plan.”

“However…” Dad moved his hand over Michael’s face and then his palms, removing redness but not the scar across his features. “You have been a good and faithful servant.”

Michael raised his brow, his eyes full of hope and trust. Lucifer hated that expression. He hated it even more coming from his own stupid face.

“I think you need a rest.”

“A-a rest?” Michael said. His expression slowly, slowly fell, and then his eyes drifted to his wrist. Lucifer spotted a glint of silver.

Oh, dear. Well. Couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy.

“A vacation,” Dad said, his voice cheerful. “Here on Earth. You’ve envied the time your brothers have been able to spend here, and I think you’ll find it extremely… recuperative.”

His hand gripped on Michael’s shoulder, causing him to wince and nearly stumble backward. “You should enjoy your vacation. No need for you to go to Hell. Even if you could step foot in there, which you know you cannot, that matter is not for you to worry about.”

Michael said nothing. He was breathing slowly through his teeth. Trembling. Was Dad hurting him? Michael deserved it. Of course, he did. But…

“Dad,” Amenadiel said finally.

“You and Lucifer will keep an eye on him, won’t you?” Dad looked back at them and fixed his gaze on Amenadiel.

“Of course, Father,” Amenadiel said at once.

“What, we’re supposed to babysit him?” Lucifer snapped.

Dad stepped away from Michael, who crumpled to the floor, stunned but stubborn. “You do owe him one.”

“How?” Lucifer scoffed. “The blessing of kidnapping my girlfriend?”

“The blessing of sending Azrael to retrieve your Pentecostal coin when you asked me for a favor.” Dad tilted his head forward and raised his brows.

Lucifer gaped. “No, that was…”

“Not my doing. But since Michael had already set your rescue into motion…” Dad shrugged. “I thought you would prefer the task of taking care of your mother over following my orders. I hardly needed your obeisance at that time.” Dad smiled widely at Michael. “That’s what I have you for, don’t I?”

He bent over and pinched Michael’s cheek. Michael fixed his eyes on the floor.

“Get your head straight, Michael,” Dad advised. Or ordered.

There was absolutely no need to glide up the stairs in a wash of glowy-light like a lust-fantasy for a beauty school dropout, and yet Dad just had to be dramatic. Making for the stairs, Lucifer tried to corral his thoughts into a single coherent barb that would follow Him for the next few centuries.

“Dad, wait,” Amenadiel begged. “I don’t know how to unfreeze time.”

“You know. You’ve done it thousands of times,” Dad reassured him as he faded into a blinding white light.

Lucifer covered his eyes. “Bloody—Urgh!”

When he looked up, the precinct had been restored to order. No broken desks or glass or scattered papers. Maze had crept closer to Michael, who remained crumpled on the floor. No chance Lucifer would be letting her skirt off after this.

“Luci, I don’t know what to do,” Amenadiel said quietly.

“Well, I don’t know how to use your CW-level time magic,” Lucifer said. “What do you normally do?”

“It doesn’t work that way anymore!” Amenadiel shouted.

“Dad just told you how to fix it,” Michael grumbled, pushing himself up a little. Maze touched his shoulder, frowning as she looked over him.

“Don’t start with me, Michael,” Amenadiel snapped.

Michael lifted his head, his brows screwed together and his jaw tense. “You’re afraid your child is going to die. You and almost every other parent on this frozen planet. Acknowledge that the thought of losing him scares you. Plan to circumvent whatever danger you can. And then, make like a Disney princess and let it go!”

Amenadiel lunged toward Michael, and at once, Maze stepped in front of him and Lucifer grabbed Amenadiel.

“Don’t let him bait you!” Lucifer sighed. He pressed his lips together and patted Amenadiel’s back. “But… Can you? We can protect him, can’t we? Dad told you that Hell was taken care of. No one’s going to take him again.”

“Yeah…” Amenadiel nodded. He closed his eyes. “It’s not working.”

“For the love of…” Michael groaned and grabbed the desk behind him with his left hand and, wobbling, rose to his feet. “It’s a cold, brother. He’s not going to die of it. And he has the freakin’ Hand of God acting as his stay-at-home dad and full-time guardian. It’s fine to worry about him, but you’ve got to keep it in proportion. He can’t live life if you won’t let him.”

“I’m not stopping him!” Amenadiel argued.

“You literally are. Because you stopped time.” Michael tented his eyebrows and pursed his lips. “They grow up. That’s the point of children. Even if they’re immortal like us, they change and grow up.” He tilted his head to the side. “Don’t you want to see Charlie take his first steps? Have his first birthday?” He shrugged. “Pee on Lucifer’s Armani? Sit in your lap as he learns to read? Go trick or treating?”

“I do…” Amenadiel thought about that for a moment. He looked to Lucifer and smiled. “I saw this little bee costume online—“

Charlie let out a hearty wail, and around them, people started moving again. Linda, wide-eyed, started toward them with Charlie.

“What just happened? When did Maze get here?” She looked over to Michael and narrowed her eyes.

“Mornin’, Doc.” Michael lifted his right hand slightly to give a little wave.

“I’ll explain later,” Amenadiel said. “We have a lot to talk about.”

“Daddy came down to give the boys a spanking,” Maze said simply.

“You’re lucky he didn’t pay you any attention,” Lucifer snapped. “You and I need to have a serious—“

“Shouldn’t you be checking on your girlfriend?” Michael drawled.

Lucifer started to snap back, but… “Oh, sh—“

He broke into a run. He’d just left Chloe there in the evidence room, poised and listening and hoping for those three words she’d offered him months ago. He was still shaky about what it would mean to say them, but at this point, it hurt more to hold back than to let go and pull her close to him.

Chloe met him at the door. Her eyes were red and uncertain. “Where did you go? You were there and then you just… weren’t. I didn’t know you could teleport, too.”

“I can’t. It’s… a long story.” Lucifer took her hand. “Let me catch you up, and we’ll get a Team Celestial meeting going.”

* * *

Plenty of cases demanded Ella’s attention. She could just go home and sleep. It had been a really, really long 72 hours. Her mind, however, was so stuffed full. She couldn’t concentrate, and she really didn’t want to let her mind wander. Everything Pete had said. Everything he’d done. Red flags she’d ignored because he was the “right kind of guy.” How could she work with the police solving cases for so long and not pick up any of the clues that he was actually a psycho killer?

How was that possible? Was she just… a magnet for douchebags? She’d been attracted to Pierce, after all. Had sex with a drug dealer. What was wrong with her?

“What the hell is he doing here?” Dan bellowed out in the precinct.

Ella bolted from her lab to see Dan pressed up against Lucifer, poking him in the chest while Amenadiel held him back.

“Dude! Calm down!” Ella ran out to him. “It’s not his fault!”

“What did he tell you?” Dan demanded, turning on her.

“What?” Ella frowned. Her brows shot up as she looked up at Lucifer. A scar snaked across his forehead and right cheek. “Whoa, what happened? That looks bad… God, you scared me. Is that a prosthetic scar?”

She reached up to touch his face, but Lucifer caught her hand, giving her an oddly anxious look.

“Don’t,” he said. “Please.”

“Oh, are you doing a new role? I didn’t think you’d be taking one right now.” Ella grimaced. “The last couple of days have been super intense—“

“This isn’t Lucifer,” Maze said flatly.

Ella narrowed her eyes in disbelief.

“I’m his twin, Michael.” He shrugged, and Ella noticed that his shoulders seemed…  uneven. He stood against the wall, pressing his hand against it as he gingerly kept his weight on his left foot. “Not identical, obviously.”

Was that a joke? But Dan seemed to believe it and was looking at “Michael” like he was the actual devil. Behind them, Charlie cried fitfully in Linda’s arms.

“No really.” Ella turned to Amenadiel for confirmation. He nodded. “Whaaat? Lucifer never mentioned having a twin!”

“That’s a shocker,” Michael deadpanned. “Considering how close we are.” He held out his hand. “Michael.”

“I’m Ella!” She went in immediately for a hug.

Michael didn’t stop her, and she didn’t feel him stiffening up, like Lucifer did sometimes. Instead, he sort of leaned into her and brought up his left arm to squeeze her back. His shaky posture was obvious, but he clung to her in a way that almost seemed grateful for the contact.

“Two brothers, two great huggers,” she said, bobbing her head and grinning. He smiled back a little, and suddenly, Ella felt a stab of fear rip up from her stomach and through her ribcage. It caused her throat to seize.

Pete had smiled so warmly. Hugged so effortlessly. She’d never suspected…

“What is it?” Michael stumbled backward and with one hand, gripped her shoulder and put distance between them. “Why are you so afraid? I didn’t mean to…”

Ella stepped back shaking her head.  “It’s totally not you. I just…” She retreated away from all of them. “Good to meet you!”

She barely kept it together as she hurried back to the safety of her lab. Closing the door behind her, she squeezed her arms around herself, shaking. When the door burst open, she jumped back and let out an undignified squeak.

“What did he do to you?” Dan demanded.

“Geez! Are you trying to give me a heart attack? He didn’t do anything.” Ella clenched her jaw, blinking fast as her eyes started to sting.

“I saw him,” Dan said. “He put his hands on you and—“

“I was just… “ Ella pushed one hand over her cheek where a stray tear had fallen. “I was thinking about Pete.”

Dan seemed to deflate. “Oh.” He hung his head and then nodded. “Hey, do you want a ride home?”

“I can’t. Not right now. I just…”

“It’s fine. You just let me know, okay? Anything I can do?” Dan took a deep breath. “Do you want me to stay?”

Ella shook her head. “Nah. I’m gonna try to put in a little more time here, and then, I dunno.” She shrugged. “Can you tell Michael it wasn’t his fault?”

“I don’t think he cares.” Dan rolled his eyes.

“He looked like he cared.” She paused and bit her lip. “Do you know what happened to him?”

“Just now, or—?”

“No, dude. His face. His back. He looks like he’s in pain. Do you know how he got injured?”

Dan seemed torn on that question. “Y’know, I really don’t.”

Ella bobbed her head and, after he’d left, went back to the set of tests she’d been working on. She needed to just push this all out of her mind. She needed to get back to work. She needed to get back to being herself. But being herself had drawn a monster to her. A monster she’d started to have feelings for. One that she’d let into her heart and her bed.

She was stuck. And she didn’t know how to move forward or backward from this. So she just stayed there, doing her job, late into the night.

Chapter Text

“Fear is pain arising from the anticipation of evil.”

— Aristotle

Not that Michael was eager to lean on anyone, just to move less than 15 feet, but he was grateful Maze had stuck around so he hadn’t been forced to lean on Amenadiel instead. At this point, it helped to have one person in the room who didn’t utterly hate him, even if he was essentially bribing her for her loyalty.

Sinking into a rolling chair, Michael breathed a sigh of relief. From the moment his father had touched his shoulder, Michael had known what a crashing failure this all had been. Granted, it had been a risk to begin with, but fortune favored the bold, or so people said. In reality, fortune seemed to always favor his twin and his self-righteous elder brother, and it always would.

His ask hadn’t been so great, nor had his methods been so destructive. Comparatively. And yet, the pain between his shoulder blades, the throbbing weakness in his right side, which he’d come to ignore during the eons he’d endured them, had come roaring back to life. He could scarcely stand on his own. He could scarcely think through it. It was as though he’d been transported back to the day he’d been broken.

In essence, his Father had removed his strength, that Celestial resilience that all of his siblings had been gifted, and now Michael felt his injuries anew. How kind of Him to offer a vacation as a punishment.

Michael watched his brothers arguing over who would have to take him, as if debating who would be watching a troublesome dog, and said nothing.

“It’s a good thing Lucifer talked you down,” Linda said to Amenadiel. “But how do we know this won’t happen again?”

“Once you’ve gone over the edge and pulled back…” Lucifer bobbed his head from side to side. “Well, it’s always there, but so is the way back. It isn’t the worst risk we have to deal with.”

Lucifer really had no idea. Of course, he didn’t. That would require him to think something through.

“He can stay with me,” Maze said.

“As if I would trust you not to just let him go!” Lucifer snapped.

“Yep. I’m a huuuge flight risk,” Michael muttered.

“I mean, he could just fly off, couldn’t he?” Chloe said.

“Nooope,” Michael said slowly, letting the ‘p’ pop.

“Dad pretty clearly grounded him,” Amenadiel said. “Can you access your wings at all?”

The first to address him directly since Maze had ordered him to stop being an ass and let her help him walk. Michael would remember that. He just shook his head.

“And what’s…” Chloe gestured to her shoulders as she looked at Lucifer.

“He’s always been like that,” Lucifer said with a dismissive flip of his hand.

“Let’s put this cute little custody battle to rest, hm?” Michael snapped. “You know I won’t leave because Dad told me not to. My wings won’t manifest, not just because of this snazzy bit of Celestial bling, but because it’s how Dad works. I have to figure out what he wants me to before they come back.”

Chloe narrowed her eyes and unsheathed her gun. “So… you’re vulnerable, too?”

Michael locked eyes with her. “You gonna shoot me again?”

“Only if you piss me off again.”

He blew air out of the side of his mouth. “That seems… inevitable.”

“Hm. Something to look forward to.” Chloe exchanged a glance with Lucifer.

“Not that I’m dying to be grounded at Lucifer’s lounge/sex dungeon, but it would probably be wise for me not to stay under the same roof as poor little Chuck.” Michael answered their questioning looks by pushing himself away from the table with his left leg. The chair rolled back until he hit the wall.

Charlie stopped crying.

“Oh!” Linda cradled the back of Charlie’s head. “What’s that about, huh?” she asked the baby.

“Infants don’t like me.” Michael shrugged. “I remind them of the scary sound of the coffeemaker. Or what it’s like when they wake up alone.”

Amenadiel glared at him, hands on his hips.

“Gosh, I didn’t even think about that,” Linda murmured. “Do you hate the sound of the coffeemaker, Charlie?”

Michael blinked slowly at Linda’s non-reaction. He’d expected her to glare at him with a ferocity equal to Amenadiel’s. Lucifer grimaced, probably imagining having his twin hobbling around underfoot at his sex pad.

“Or I could just go back to hanging out at the zoo,” Michael suggested.

“I’ll vote for that one. There’s a very lovely cave that just opened up,” Chloe said with a tight smile.

“Sounds peachy. Will you bring me coffee?” Michael smirked.

Chloe narrowed her eyes and turned away from him.

“This isn’t a problem,” Maze argued. “None of you want him. Let me—“

Chloe spread her hands in frustration. “I know you think you were only lashing out at Lucifer, but how are we supposed to trust you right now?”

“Forget that,” Lucifer snapped. “How do we know she wasn’t working with Michael to kidnap Chloe?”

“Because that plan would be stupid,” Michael said. “Maze wouldn’t help me hurt Chloe. And why would I want Chloe there for more than a day or so? I’m not going to wait around for the B-Team to do the detective work. Keeping someone fed in L.A. is expensive. I expected Maze to be the one to find her.”

Maze smirked a little.

Lucifer rounded on Michael and loomed over his chair. “You psychotic, slope-shouldered—“

“I don’t think it’s wise, right now, to let our emotions lead our decisions,” Linda interjected.

“He kidnapped Chloe!” Lucifer roared.

Linda didn’t even flinch. “Yes. And he’s been depowered, at least, to a degree.” She raised a brow at him.

“I was surprised, too,” Michael admitted. “I’d assumed Dad would take it all back.”

If He didn’t just smite him out of existence. And considering that thought… Michael reached into his pocket and tossed a keychain to Maze.

“What’s this?” Maze inspected the little rubber frog, with a single key attached to it.

“It’s what the great and terrible Oz promised you.” Michael shifted in his chair uncomfortably. “I figured I’d whip it up before the big showdown, in case I didn’t make it out.”

Maze let it dangle in front of her, wide-eyed and on edge. She seemed at once so alarmed and excited. Funny how she looked both nothing and exactly like her mother.

“You should go get it,” Michael advised. “I can’t promise no one else would want it, and… I doubt I’ll be in a state where I can make another for a very long time.”

Maze lowered her gaze to him and knit her brows together. “You made it for me?”

“They don’t grow on trees, kiddo. Dad wouldn’t have done it for a demon. And...” Michael offered her half a smile. “You have helped me, thrice.”

“Nuh-uh. You telling me about my mom was helping me. Not you.”

“Hmm…” He pushed his lower lip up as he looked at her. “It got you to help me today.”

“Maze,” Linda said, likely voicing the concerns of the rest of them. “What is that?”

“It’s my soul,” Maze murmured, eyes on the keychain again.

“It’s a frog,” Amenadiel said.

Michael pinched the bridge of his nose. “The frog leads to the soul, you incredible genius.”

“It’s a trick,” Lucifer said. “That leads to a trap.”

Michael thought he might sprain his eyes rolling them. But there was a bit of a time crunch, so he’d had to give Maze the key right away.

“Go,” Michael told her, as gently as he was capable.

“But what about…” Maze looked up at the others.

“But nothing.” Lucifer swept past Chloe. “You’re not following that bloody frog anywhere.”

“You’re not my boss anymore,” Maze sneered. “Right? I’ll go where I please.”

Michael raised his brows and pushed his chair a bit farther from them.

“That doesn’t give you leave to be a complete idiot!”

“I can’t help it. I’m just a demon!”

“Enough!” Amenadiel stepped between them. “You two have been friends for thousands of years. Are you really going to let him come between you?”

The barb stung, but Michael rewarded Amenadiel with a luridly smug smile when he glared at him. Might as well take credit where he could get it.

“Why not? She let Cain come between us,” Lucifer growled.

Maze’s lips wrapped around each icy word, baring her teeth: “We are not friends. Lucifer was my god, and I was his servant—“

Lucifer recoiled at the comparison, and Michael stifled a laugh. If only he’d planned this one!

“Friends don’t use each other. Friends don’t leave each other. Friends consider, at least once, how their behavior affects other people!” Maze’s voice raised from a calm tenor to a shrill shout. “You don’t care about anyone but yourself!”

Chloe stepped up. “Maze, please, take a breath! I know how you feel, but—“

“But what? He came back for you.” Maze shook her head and squeezed the little frog keychain.

It squeaked.

Michael snorted in laughter.

“What, you’re going to pledge your loyalty to him now?” Lucifer said. “You think he cares about you? That he ever thinks about anything but what he wants? He tied you up and left you in a closet!”

Maze looked over to Michael. Her keen eyes raked over him, assessing. Probably noting every inch of him lacking, compared to Lucifer.

“I hate to agree with my twin… Ever. But you shouldn’t give out your loyalty so easily.” Michael lifted a palm haplessly. “I don’t deserve it.” He huffed a near laugh. “He doesn’t either. Obviously. Just… don’t wait around for me to disappoint you. And get that soul while you can.”

“Why are you so honest with me when you lie like a rug to everyone else?” Maze demanded.

“I dunno.”

Maze glowered at him. He really didn’t. It wasn’t logical, or easily explainable. She probably sensed there was more to it than that, but if so, she chose not to press it. Instead, she headed for the door. When Lucifer moved to stop her, she let out a growl.

“I’m not letting you hop along to your doom alone,” Lucifer argued.

“Like I would go with you.”

Lucifer’s eyes flashed. “Did I not just remind you out there who I am?”

“She can go with me,” Amenadiel suggested. “Just to be careful, Maze.”

“You won’t try to stop me?” She eyed him uncertainly.

“I’ll let you know if it really is a soul.” Amenadiel put his hands on his hips. “I have my doubts that any one angel could make one.”

“Fine.” Maze pointed to Lucifer. “If you use any of my knives on him again, when I get back I’m gonna do some carving on you in places Chloe wouldn’t appreciate.”

She and Amenadiel left, and Michael let his head fall back against the chair and stared at the ceiling. Dad really could have sent him to Hell. How had he earned the fealty of a Lilim? And why wouldn’t she drop it even after he’d told her he wasn’t worth it? She knew he wasn’t lying. She should have just walked away to get her prize. None of this silly worry that he’d be alright.

“You really did a number on her,” Chloe said sharply.

Knowing she was addressing him, Michael grumbled, “As if I was the first one to use her.”

“You broke her, you loathsome, twisted, manipulative wanker!” Lucifer snapped. “You broke my Maze!”

“She doesn’t belong to you, asshole!”

“Maze feels very strongly from moment to moment.” Linda’s soft voice provided a balm to the tension in the room. “And Lucifer, you hurt her when you left. You hurt her when you didn’t tell her about her mother.” She held her hand up to Lucifer’s protestations. “I know that you were just keeping a promise, but that doesn’t negate her feelings. You and Maze have a lot to work out, if you want to salvage your relationship.”

“Not if he poisons her beyond repair!” Lucifer said, with a bit of a whine in his voice.

“I trust that Amenadiel will help her keep her head, if what they find is dangerous.” Linda settled Charlie back into his stroller. “Now, I think we’d all better find somewhere else to be. Chloe, you especially could really use some rest.”

The look that Chloe and Lucifer exchanged told Michael everything he didn’t want to know about what they’d been planning to do to “rest.” He really wished he could enjoy the truly epic cock-blocking of his twin tonight. With the alternative, tomorrow perhaps, of Amenadiel not getting any sleep while Charlie screamed at the reflections of his worst fears (aka, the coffeemaker and that weird bird that hung out outside his nursery window).

Michael should have known Dad would find a way to punish all three of them at once.

* * *

Limping back into the penthouse for the first time since Lucifer had carved up his face, Michael felt an odd pang of anxiety. It wasn’t like Lucifer was dumb enough, in all his self-proclaimed honesty, to attack him unprovoked in front of one of his followers. Still, Michael’s stomach clenched as he stepped out of the elevator and steadied himself against the bar.

Chloe’s eyes were on him. He greatly preferred her distrust and distain to the pity that came in brief flickers whenever he stumbled getting up or hung back and said he’d prefer the elevator to the majestic flared staircase in the precinct. When her hand lifted, almost unconsciously, to help him, Michael moved quickly as he could across the bar and started taking down glasses.

“What’s your poison? Besides overly complicated coffee orders?” Michael prepped two glasses of scotch and slid one down to the end of the bar where Lucifer caught it. He thought a moment and added a cherry to the other glass before offering it to Chloe with a sneer.

“Just make yourself at home,” Lucifer grumbled sarcastically.

“Already did.” He poured himself a drink to avoid looking at the two of them.

They whispered, conspicuously, about whether Michael would try to make a break for it. Lucifer grumbled about their plans for the night being ruined and more quietly insinuated that they still needed to talk. When Chloe agreed they’d have a “moment” later, Lucifer seemed to calm, and Michael leaned back on the bar to face them.

“So. Slumber party. Are we gonna braid each other’s hair? Get mani-pedis while we watch Hocus Pocus?”

“The zoo is still an option,” Chloe warned.

“Might be preferable to listening to the two of you panting in the other room for fifteen minutes.”

“Fifteen minutes?!” Lucifer said. “How dare you?”

Chloe pressed her hand against Lucifer’s chest and gave him a chastising look. “Focus,” she hissed. Looking back to Michael, she said flatly, “I have handcuffs. I’m sure there’s a gag around here somewhere, clean or not. Are we gonna have to make sure you don’t leave?”

The temptation to answer sarcastically had never been so strong. Especially with Chloe putting on her Disappointed Mom face. He wouldn’t have had a comfortable night either way. Regardless, it probably wasn’t wise.

“No.” Michael shrugged. “I don’t have anywhere to be.”

“Shocking,” Lucifer drawled. “My drip brother has no one to stay with, even if Dad hadn’t asked us to babysit him.”

“Dad tends to ask a lot.” Michael sipped the scotch. It burned as it slid down his throat and caused his eyes to water. He would have to be careful with this stuff now. “Doesn’t answer much, though, does He?”

“Never does,” Lucifer conceded.

Chloe raised a brow at Lucifer.

“I may have tried to pin Dad down regarding his intentions with this ‘Miracle’ sitch.” Lucifer’s hand touched Chloe’s shoulder.

“Well, at least we know you will understand.” Michael let his voice drop into a deep bass. “In time.”

Lucifer’s lips twitched in a near grin, but then turned downward sourly.

“Thank you for trying, anyway.” Chloe pushed her hands back through her hair. “Look, I’m exhausted. If he’s going to behave himself, I think I just want to go to bed.”

“Aw, no board games and face painting?” Michael gave a fake pout.

Chloe glared at him on her way to the bedroom. Good. Lucifer stared at him for a long moment before following her. Michael supposed he was on his own now. Also good.

Setting his drink on the island counter, Michael steadied himself before venturing a step between counters. He grabbed onto the island and slowly made his way in uneven steps around the island, then around the piano. Before trying for the sofa, he drew in a deep breath. Right leg first, he quickly followed with his left leg. The second attempt went less well, and he stumbled toward the sofa, hitting the floor hard, just in front of the cushions.

Fine. Michael glared at Lucifer’s gaudy Italian marble floor as if it had deliberately bruised his knees. He fallen close enough, though, to pull himself up with his good arm and finally fall back on the sofa. Panting for a few seconds, he closed his eyes and let his right arm fall limp. Crossing a room shouldn’t be this fucking hard.

But this was how Dad wanted it. There was no point in wondering why. Dad would never tell them what his plan was. The barest scraps of The Plan that Michael knew came from bits Uri had guessed and what Michael had sussed out, back when Dad used to confide in him.

Now, Uri was dead. Dad was off playing with his realities. And Michael had been left here, just a broken, discarded, toy soldier. Maybe it was time to stop pretending that this hadn’t been true for a long, long time.

Chapter Text

“Fear makes strangers of people who would be friends.”

— Shirley Maclaine

The address written on the bottom of the little frog led to an apartment building out in Mission Hills that looked like it had seen better days. Maze could’ve gotten there without an angel escort. Regardless, it had been faster with Amenadiel’s help, and he wasn’t chattering endlessly about himself as she stalked around the property and extended her senses to pick up trouble.

Maze didn’t trust Michael, per se, but he’d suggested that others might be interested in the same thing she was. And she could imagine that whoever, or whatever, was in search of a soul, wasn’t to be trifled with.

Each side of the building rose in a circular brick tower. Between them and behind a large, rusted metal gate, stood a worn but fairly homey courtyard and standard orangy-red apartments. Maze flared her nostrils as she took in the scents and sounds around the building. Someone had been barbequing. Someone owned a chicken. She smelled one woman over 70. Weed. Several instances of stale sex. Nothing inhuman, except…

It wasn’t a scent. Just a feeling in the air. A palpable energy that almost felt familiar. Her skin prickled in anticipation. Maze held out her key. It couldn’t be this easy, could it? Just walk into the place and come out with a soul?

“What is it?” Amenadiel asked.

“Nothing. Shut up.”

Maze unlocked the gate and stepped inside. The courtyard was deserted, and apart from the elderly woman rocking on the far side of the porch, no one appeared to be home. Letting her eyes fall half-closed, Maze lowered herself into a crouch on the weathered stones. It felt like her bones were being touched by something powerful. Something close…

“You’re very tall!” the old woman called out suddenly.

Amenadiel smiled and walked toward the porch. “Good afternoon, ma’am.”

“Are you searching for the Dream King, too?” she said. “He’s not here.”

“I… Uh, no, we aren’t.”

Maze rose to her feet. “Do you know Michael?”

“Oh, that sweet boy? Poor thing.”

Amenadiel frowned and crossed his arms. He looked to Maze and muttered, “Probably a different Michael.”

Maze lifted her chin. “You know which apartment is his?”

The woman closed her eyes as she rocked. “Oh, that’s not a question.”

What? Crazy, old woman. Maze pinched her lips together and turned, scanning around the area. Michael could’ve given her better directions. But then again, that would’ve required getting Lucifer to shut the hell up for five minutes to let Michael talk. She’d sensed his feeling of urgency. Along with an utter, crushing feeling of despair.

She needed to find this thing and get back.

Amenadiel had stepped up onto the porch with the woman, who was now beaming at him and professing the greatness of God. Maze left them there and started walking from door to door. There were a few tenants home, but not many. The old boards of the porch creaked under her boots. After circling around to the far side of the building, she spotted a door ajar.

It was a maintenance closet. Boxes of tools. A white sheet draped over the handle of a shovel, and a pair of battered sandals had been tossed against the wall. Maze scowled. She could sense something here, but there was no definitive source. Trailing her fingers along the shelves, Maze wondered if Lucifer weren’t right. Michael could have been toying with her. He was clever enough. Her foot hit a shaky board, and her eyes widened. Kneeling down to investigate, she moved a beaten up rug to reveal a door with a heavy metal handle.

It led underneath the house into a basement. Maze descended slowly, her heart racing faster and faster as she went. The source of the difference was getting closer. It was definitely down here. There was no light in the basement, but Maze didn’t need it. Her eyes had already adjusted, and she picked her way through equipment, junk, and books. The volumes looked as though they came from another time and place and bore strange scripts that glowed suspiciously in the absence of light. The basement smelled mostly of must and earth, with a tinge of old Celestial blood. Near a desk pressed into the corner of the room, on the back of a battered chair lay spread out a lacey sweater, and she went over to it and picked it up, pressing it to her nose. Her heart throbbed painfully and she dropped it, turning away from it to keep searching.

There it was. A nondescript, dusty box. It didn’t look like anything important.

It just felt like… It was hers.

Maze picked it up and headed back up the stairs. Amenadiel met her on the stairs.

“Where did you go?”

“Basement.” Maze held the box tightly. “Let’s go.”

“Don’t have to ask twice. This place is creepy.”

As they hurried into the courtyard, out of the corner of her eye, Maze spotted something lurching toward them in jerky movements. She hadn’t seen something move like that since she’d left Hell.

“Don’t look,” Maze warned.

Predictably, Amenadiel started to turn his head, and Maze punched him.

“Don’t. I said don’t,” Maze snapped. “I don’t know what that is, but it should not be here.”

Amenadiel frowned. “Then, we stop it.”

Maze retreated back into the courtyard and opened up the box. Precious seconds were wasted as she stared inside. She could sense the soul there. If it weren’t for that, she would have chucked it aside. But there was no time, so she plucked it out—a crystal unicorn head—and tucked it snuggly into her top.

“Is that—?”

“Shut up,” Maze snapped. “Let’s just kill this thing before it comes in and eats granny over there.”

* * *

That morning Chloe woke before Lucifer. He lay on his side, mouth open and snoring. Chloe was perfectly aware that she snored. Lucifer had been pretty clear about that. It was just impossibly funny that the actual devil snored and muttered in his sleep.

Quietly, she slipped out of bed, checked her messages to make sure Trixie was okay at Penelope’s, and pulled on a pair of pajama bottoms that had never made it on last night. They hadn’t been able to fool around. It was too awkward knowing that Michael was in the other room and could definitely hear them. Regardless, in spite of her exhaustion, Chloe had curled up into him and they’d talked for quite a long time.

Chloe checked the buttons of Lucifer’s shirt before peering out around the marble doorway to see where her former captor was. On the sofa, as she’d expected. He hadn’t changed his clothes, either. Just lay there staring at the ceiling.

She didn’t feel sorry for him. She didn’t. At all.

Except… seeing his face in pain was like seeing Lucifer’s face in pain. Seeing his exhaustion—because he clearly hadn’t slept—just reminded her of seeing Lucifer when he’d been, for some reason, refusing to sleep. It hurt her to see Lucifer hurt, and it was just strange to watch Michael do it. Stranger still, because Michael refuse to let her forget that she was supposed to be hating him. Every time she felt a stab of sympathy, watching him struggle, watching him reviled by his brothers, he snapped back at her.

FYI: I’m the evil twin. Remember? I’m bad.

It honestly reminded her of how Lucifer lashed out sometimes, whenever he was too stressed or drained. How he jumped in front of guns, laughing. Not that she would ever share that observation with Lucifer.

“What’s for breakfast?” Michael called from the sofa.

Chloe jumped. His arm draped over his eyes; he lay unmoving. She hadn’t expected he’d seen or sensed her. He slung his arm back and looked at her, only one eye open.

“So. How did it go?” he asked in a low, sing-song voice.

“What?”

“Anything beyond the gooey exchanges of devotion?” His lips curved joylessly.

Chloe rolled her eyes. “Don’t be gross.”

Michael rolled his eyes in return and looked away. Chloe retreated back into the bedroom and stood there with her back to the wall. Assyrian carvings pressed against her shoulder blades. Twenty-four hours ago, she’d been captive in a zoo, unable to imagine what Lucifer’s lunatic twin had planned for her. With his benign appearing maliciousness, Chloe’s instincts had been on edge the whole time. She’d dealt with plenty of perps in her lifetime. Plenty of people she had to be wary of.

There was something about Michael that put her off, beyond the bare facts of their relationship, built on tricks and abduction. She suspected it was simply her fear reflected back on her. If she could control her fear, he was absolutely no threat to her.

It was just going to take more than a day for Chloe to get there.

* * *

Ella stepped up to the precinct’s coffee cart, rubbing her eyes. She was gonna need a lot of this stuff to get through today. Her night had consisted of a long, hot shower and staring at the ceiling while her brain refused to shut up. Every time her eyelids got too heavy, the image of Pete’s earnest, too-perfect face jolted her awake. So she’d gone out into her living room to sort through all of the piles of unopened mail that she let go when she didn’t feel like shredding it.

At this rate, at least her apartment would get clean.

Having something to do with her hands as Ella headed into work helped a little, and she rubbed her fingers up and down the side of her latte. She had this feeling that people were staring at her. But that was crazy, wasn’t it? Chloe was the one who had been kidnapped. Everyone would be thinking about her more, wouldn’t they?

Ella chewed the inside of her lip as she headed down the stairs. She sighed as she spotted Lucifer and Chloe at her desk. They stood so close, and this little fond smile curved Lucifer’s lips as he looked at her like she’d hung the stars. At least the two of them were happy and safe now. At least they’d finally worked things out, with no more freaking out and running for either of them. At least…

She’d been standing there just staring for a few minutes when a hand touched her shoulder, and Ella jumped a freakin’ mile.

“Dammit, Dan!” Ella glared at him.

“Sorry. I said your name three times.” Dan looked over her for a moment and grimaced. “Look, should you be here today? Maybe you should take some time off.”

“No way. Chloe got cop-napped by some weirdo, and she’s still here.” Ella struggled to swallow. “And I’m not going back to my apartment, so.”

Dan bit his lower lip and nodded. “How about… I mean, you could go to Linda’s, couldn’t you? I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.”

“Yeah… Maybe.” Ella rubbed over her forehead.

“No one is going to judge you for this.” Dan touched her shoulder. “More of us should have the sense to take a step back.”

Ella pinched her lips together. Being along at Linda’s house couldn’t be worse than being alone at her apartment. Plus, Charlie was cute. And Pete had never been there.

“Fine. Okay? I’ll text Linda.”                                                                                                 

Dan rubbed her back. But the gesture only made her feel more creeped out. Maybe she did need a break from all of this. It started to get to you. Get inside you. Ella loved solving the puzzles, helping real detectives bring people to justice, but… rubbing elbows with a crime boss who’d killed a friend of hers? Being the next in line for a serial killer?

Ella had barely gotten her sense of self back together when she’d started dating probably the worst human being on the planet.

Although she should have said something to Chloe on the way out, Ella found it too hard to face her. Chloe would be sympathetic. She would understand. It was just… so hard to interact with anyone normally. In spite of traffic, she arrived at Linda’s in less than half an hour and let herself in since Linda texted she could.

The house was empty and quiet. Odd, because Linda had clients that morning. Where was Charlie? Maybe out with Amenadiel?

“You sure left all your junk around, kid,” Ella muttered, picking up some kind of disco rattle. When she shook it, the head lit up, and lively music started to play.

“Huh?”

Ella jumped again and stumbled back over a rolling play station. From the floor, she looked up with wide eyes for where the voice had come from. Blinking back at her in confusion from one of the chairs sat Michael. He’d twisted around to see her, since the chair was facing the kitchen and not the front door. Ella put the rattle on the play station, got to her feet, and started to approach him.

He tensed and leaned away from her. “Didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“You didn’t. I just didn’t expect you to be here.” Ella rubbed her arms. “Are you staying with Amenadiel here?”

Michael rolled his eyes. “Apparently I am today. Lucifer didn’t want me lurking around his sex pad while he wasn’t there.”

“I don’t know if you’d want to lurk around there. Without some hand sanitizer.” Ella laughed softly. “I’ve honestly never been around that place much. Not under good circumstances, anyway.”

Ella noted the large tome in Michael’s lap. One of Linda’s, no doubt: The Neuropsychology of Anxiety: An Enquiry into the Functions of the Septo-Hippocampal System. Uh. Fascinating reading there.

“Linda isn’t here,” Michael said. “Were you expecting to see her?”

“Nah. I just… didn’t have anywhere else to be.” Ella sank into the couch. “I’d rather be at work, but I’m not gonna be much use to anyone for a while.”

“I know the feeling,” Michael drawled.

“Aw.” Ella kicked off her shoes and flopped longways on the couch. Her legs barely reached two-thirds of the length, but she stretched as far as her toes would go. “How come?”

“What?” Michael cocked his head back, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Why would you feel useless?” Ella clicked her tongue. “Oh, nosy question, right? Sorry, you gotta tell me if I’m talking too much. Everyone thinks I’m… a real gasbag.”

Michael’s brows knitted into a deep scowl. “What does that mean?”

Ella shrugged her head to the side. “I talk too much.”

“You’re fine. I mean, Lucifer talks a lot more than you do.”

 “No waaaay,” Ella said. “He does love the sound of his own voice, though.”

“Yes.” His lips curved lightly. “That is accurate.”

His expression softened. His fingers moved over the cover of the book. “You look tired. Wouldn’t you be more comfortable in Linda’s guest room?”

“Maybe. I’m not getting up, though. Too lazy.” Ella closed her eyes and sighed.

“…Would you like me to leave?”

Pushing herself up, Ella looked at him skeptically. “Huh?”

“You seem… unnerved.” Michael gave a single brusque nod and pushed against the left arm of the chair. “I’ll go read in the study.”

“You don’t have to do that.” Ella crossed her legs underneath her and sat up. “My ‘unnerved-ness’ has nothing to do with you. Why would it?” She waited a moment as he wobbled, standing with his weight on his left leg. “Sit, dude.”

“You aren’t going to get any sleep,” he warned.

“What, do you read really loud? I didn’t even notice you when I came in.”

Michael opened his mouth slightly and fixed another suspicious look on her.

“Are you gonna be able to read with me sleeping on the couch?” she asked.

“Do you snore louder than Chloe and Lucifer?” he shot back.

“No. I do talk in my sleep, though.” Ella bit her lip. “Because of course I do.”

Michael scoffed. “Sleep-talkers are at least amusing.”

Ella lay back down. “I don’t know if I can sleep anyway.”

Michael nodded slowly and dropped back into his chair. About a thousand questions filled Ella’s head but none of them reached her lips. She didn’t know Lucifer’s brother at all, but he seemed to be in a bad mood. And chattering on and on had already attracted one psycho to her. The whole thing made a girl want to literally stuff a sock in her mouth.

The two of them remained there in silence for quite a while. Every so often, Michael turned a page. Or Ella sighed. She hoped it wasn’t bothering him, but he didn’t seem to even notice her. After she’d stopped sighing and closed her eyes for a few minutes, she heard Michael move again.

There was a soft grunt as he got to his feet, and then she felt the sofa move just slightly as he gripped it, took a step, and gripped it again. A nervous, silly part of her panicked and completely froze. But he moved past her and into the kitchen. She could hear him stumble, and then the sigh of relief as he reached the kitchen island.

Ella martialed all the grit she had in her and turned her head to look. Michael leaned heavily on the counter as he filled up a teakettle. God, how dumb was she? How had she not noticed the huge limp when she’d met him in the precinct?

After putting the kettle on the stove, Michael made a noise in his throat and looked right at her.

“You should see the other guy,” he drawled.

“Sorry.” Ella pushed herself up. “Sorry, man. I just—“

“Whatever.” Michael started looking in the cabinets for mugs.

Ella cringed as she rose and went into the kitchen. No need to be rude.  She opened the cabinet with the cups. “She keeps the tea over there.”

Michael nodded and opened the cupboard to reveal a rainbow of tea varieties. “Good grief.”

“I know, right? It’s like Amenadiel collects different kinds of tea.”

“These are his?” Michael’s eyes lit up with a wicked glee.

“Most of ‘em. Do you really think that Linda’s buying cocoa mint maté or ‘Acai You There’?” Ella leaned back against the island. “Not gonna lie, I’ve got a weakness for the sweet stuff, but Amenadiel does, big time.”

“How much do each of these boxes cost? There are like twenty of them.” Michael perused the cupboard.

“Um, depends. Maybe four to seven dollars?”

“Geeze.”

“Well, Linda’s not exactly hurting for grocery money.”

“Do you know which one he likes the most?” Michael examined the back of one of the boxes. “Maybe we could slip in some ghost pepper powder.”

Ella let out a burst of laughter. “Oh, you guys are like that, huh? Two of my older brothers used to prank each other all the time when we were kids. Drove Jay crazy trying to keep them from sticking goop everywhere or swapping out the marshmallow fluff for mayo.”

“Amenadiel’s sense of humor is practically nonexistent. He’d be more likely to follow up a joke with a beating.”

Ella’s eyes widened. “No way. He wouldn’t… Did he…?”

 “No.” Michael raised a brow. “Amenadiel didn’t cripple me.”

“I meant did he beat you up after you, um…?”

“Sometimes. But I can hold my own.” Michael selected some lavender vanilla chamomile. “Do you want some?”

“I’ll go for it. It can’t make things worse.”

“Oh? Maybe I’ll hit you with the pepper tea.”

Ella opened her mouth in a mock gasp. “Are you kidding? Estas loco, gringo? My abuela’s cooking would melt your pretty face off.”

Michael’s eyes softened as he looked at her before his expression twisted again, and he rolled his eyes irritably as he prepped the tea. That was… odd. Lucifer could be temperamental, but Ella knew his sore spots. Michael had a host of his own, and she didn’t know how to avoid them.

“Sorry,” she said instinctively.

“Sorry for my face?” Michael held his hand out over the kettle.

“Sorry for whatever I said that hurt your feelings.”

Michael scoffed. “My feelings are fine.”

“Oh, yeah,” Ella said. “You’re just beaming with joy. I’m blinded by how happy you are.”

Michael snorted.

“Lucifer tries that bluffing ‘everything is fine’ bullshit with me, too. Ask me how shocked I am when he starts spinning out and giving himself a rash?”

Michael’s eyes burned with intensity. “I’m nothing like Lucifer.”

“If you say so.” Ella shrugged her head to the side. “I’m still sorry.”

“Okay,” he grumbled.

“Okay.” Ella clicked her tongue. “I’m breaking out the cookies. I think today needs cookies.”

Michael said nothing for a moment, but then: “I thought you were about to say you were breaking out the liquor.”

“Not before noon, buddy. Mmm. Cookies.” Ella opened up the package. “Have you had breakfast?”

“No. I figured tea would do it.”

Ella scoffed. “How about just add some toast to that?”

Michael pinched his mouth to the side. Shoving a shortbread cookie in her face, Ella went to the fridge to get the bread and started some toast for them both. After a few minutes, tea was poured and toast plated. Ella took the plates over to Linda’s table and waited, careful not to watch Michael as he made his way over. Her brain told her not to say anything, but her mouth never listened anyway.

“Do you have a cane I could get for you, or something?”

Michael eased himself into a seat. “It broke. The new one won’t be in for a while.”

“That sucks.” Ella pushed some toast toward him.

He looked down at the plate and started pinching the crust. “If I tell you what happened, will you stop staring at me?”

Ella groaned. “I was really trying not to think about it, and especially not say anything, because I told you, I have this mouth, and I dunno, I guess I just never learned to shut up ‘cause my mama, abuela, and tias all go on and on and if you don’t keep up you never get a word in…”

She sighed and dunked a cookie. “And I know it’s stupid. It’s what made being at work so hard today. I didn’t want people staring at me. So. I’m really sorry.”

Michael rubbed his thumb around the rim of his mug. “Why would anyone be staring at you? Unless they were trying to read that ironically adorable t-shirt of yours.”

Ella tried but failed to smile. “How about I tell you mine, and you tell me yours?”

“That’s fair, I guess.” Michael dunked his teabag a few times and set it on his plate. The water spread out and started to soak his uneaten toast. “You first. I’ve been wondering why you’re so afraid of me.”

“Dude, it’s so not you. I promise. Don’t feel bad because I’m screwed up!” Ella sucked in her lips and took a deep breath. “Right. So. A little while ago, I met this guy at a crime scene.”

“As you do.”

Ella laughed. She laughed, then choked, then covered her mouth and realized she couldn’t breathe.

“Okay, maybe I go first?” He sounded so uncomfortable that Ella could only laugh again.

“No, no. I can do it. I…”

Michael’s right hand touched her arm very gently.

“His name was Pete,” Ella managed.

Chapter Text

“Nothing in life is to be feared, it is only to be understood. Now is the time to understand more, so that we may fear less.”

― Marie Curie

Linda unstrapped Charlie from his car seat and tried to juggle him and her purse and his diaper bag. She much preferred this co-parenting thing with Amenadiel when he was actually around. He’d texted her the night before to let her know that he and Maze wouldn’t be back that evening… Now, with Charlie in her arms and starting to whimper as she approached the house, Linda was starting to worry. Michael must still be inside. Linda knew she was lucky Amenadiel had remembered to text at all, since Amenadiel had a tendency to break or lose phones.

“Shhh…” Linda bounced Charlie on her hip as she headed inside.

There on her sofa, Ella slumped against Michael, dead asleep. Charlie’s fussing started to get louder, and Michael looked anxiously between the baby and Ella. When he glanced back to Linda, his brows knit together and he shrugged.

“It’s okay,” Linda mouthed as she shut the door. Cupping the back of Charlie’s head, she kissed his brow and made sure he was pressed close to her, enough that he could feel her heartbeat. Hopefully, that would be enough until he could be distracted.

She headed straight for the kitchen and started preparing a bottle. A few minutes later, with a nipple in his mouth, Charlie didn’t seem to care about Michael’s presence. Good. For now.

Drawing closer, Linda caught Michael’s eye again. He had a pile of psychology books beside him. Had he read all of those today? Some of them had taken her weeks to get through.

“Have you heard from Amenadiel?” she whispered.

Michael pushed his lower lip up and frowned. “Nope. Have you prayed to him?”

“I… Prayed?”

“Prayed.” Michael closed his book and pressed his hands together in front of him. “Usually, it only works between angels, honestly, but sometimes if someone has a strong connection with an angel, we’ll hear.”

Linda sat and adjusted Charlie in her arms. “Oh. I never really thought about that.”

“I think bearing his child should more than count. Letting a life form you don’t even know mooch off your insides? People die doing that.” Michael glanced down at the books and fussed with the pages. “He won’t be able to answer you, but he can send a message back through Lucifer.”

“He can’t send one to you?”

“He won’t send one to me. He’s still pissed at me for telling him poor Chucky is mortal.”

Linda grimaced. “Please do not call my son that.”

“Lucifer calls your children all kinds of awful things. Chucky is where you draw the line?”

“Chucky is a creepy, evil doll,” Linda answered flatly.

“Heh.” Michael shook his head. “A whole generation of humans, all creeped out by dolls and clowns.”

“Clowns I don’t mind.” Linda watched Charlie with his bottle and repositioned it. Almost done. It would be a test to see if he could stay settled near Michael.

Michael’s eyes moved up and down Linda critically. “I see.”

“Is it something you see?” Linda asked. “I know Lucifer usually needs eye contact to pull out desires. You don’t seem to need that.”

“Hn. It’s less seeing than feeling. Sometimes, I get full images, but…” He shrugged.

“So they don’t have to tell you? You can get it straight from them? That’s very interesting.” Linda readjusted Charlie so he was over her shoulder. “Even Amenadiel has to ask when… Oh, I don’t even know how to describe this…”

“The faith whammy?” Michael said wryly.

“Yes!” Linda gasped. “That’s exactly it. I don’t know how we never saw it before.”

“L.A. truly is a godless place.”

Linda chuckled softly. “Anyway. You’re very skilled.” She paused and swallowed. She didn’t know how well Michael would take this, but… “I’ve been meaning to thank you for what you said.”

Michael’s brows screwed up. It was possibly the most intimidating look he’d ever worn around her. She’d taken for granted that in his weakened state, he wasn’t much of a threat to them, but his eyes, suddenly so guarded and fierce… Linda bullied on.

“I realized that I was overdoing things with Charlie because of my unresolved issues with Adrianna. That’s um, my daughter’s name.” Linda patted Charlie’s back. “I should have done something about this years ago, and it was weighing on my heart, holding me back. As a psychiatrist, I should know how important it is to work these things out, but if you hadn’t confronted me, I wouldn’t have admitted what I did to Maze, and Maze wouldn’t have found her for me.”

“You talked to her? Your daughter?”

“I did. But… I didn’t tell her who I was.” Linda cradled Charlie in her arms again. “And I am still afraid of how she’ll react. Still, I really feel it’s important that Adrianna has the opportunity to decide for herself that she wants to seek me out, and I was able to set things up so she could do so. I’ll just have to live with the anxiety of that potential confrontation.”

“You’re seriously thanking me?” Michael said in disbelief.

“I seriously am.”

Charlie let out a little whine.

“I guess I can’t expect Charlie to approach fear from the same place as a grown adult with years of psychiatric training.” Linda smiled and rose. “So I’m going to get him ready for bed and get cleaned up, and then we’ll decide what to do with Ella.”

Michael stared after her, still disoriented, as she left.

Raising Charlie was definitely giving Linda some upper body definition. However, a few rooms away, Charlie seemed unfazed by whatever fear vibes Michael was unconsciously giving off. What a burden, to live life having other people’s fears offloaded onto you.

Once Charlie was settled into his crib, Linda sat by him, waiting for him to get sleepy, and checked her phone. No messages. Either Amenadiel was out of range, or busy, or the phone was in a toilet somewhere. So she put her hands together. It couldn’t hurt to try.

“Amenadiel, I hope you are safe. If you can get a message to Lucifer about where you are, or what’s happening with Maze, I’d really appreciate it. I’m… I’m worried. Michael’s here with me right now, and he’s doing as okay as can be expected.” Linda sighed heavily. “Okay. Goodnight.”

Letting her hands fall between her legs, Linda felt anxiety sweeping over her. She cared about Amenadiel. He wasn’t her lover anymore, but he was one of her closest friends, and he was Charlie’s father. She could do this without him. But… she didn’t want to. She wanted Charlie to have everything, and that included his doting father.

She set up the baby monitor and went into the bathroom to get a quick shower. She needed to get some rest and food herself, if she was going to be dealing with a semi-permanent houseguest. It really was in everyone’s best interests to keep the twins apart. At least for the time being.

* * *

Ella blinked sluggishly and realized she was leaning on a strong, green arm. The green was from a dully-colored turtleneck, and the arm belonged to the guy she’d vomited her trauma all over that afternoon before crying so hard she couldn’t breathe.

Wow. Just… Excellent chill there, Ella.

When she’d calmed down, Michael had gone back into the kitchen to get her more tea and then sat on the couch with her to tell her, in a much more controlled (and vague) way, about how he’d spent time in the service, and how he’d been injured in the line of duty. The end.

Poor guy.

She wasn’t sure when she’d dozed off, but it had been some time after finishing her tea, after babbling apologies for staring at him and for talking so much about Pete and how terrified she’d been about everything for the past two days, and after scrolling on her phone through cute animal memes, while Michael read. Now he had a pile of books next to him. He must have gotten up to get more while she was sleeping. Before she’d slumped over and… started to drool on him.

“Ugh. Gross.” Ella sat up.

Michael looked at her, concerned but guarded.

“Sorry.” Ella gestured to his damp sleeve.

Michael raised a brow and opened his mouth, but didn’t seem to know what to say as he brushed his hand over the wet spot.

“What time is it?” she asked.

“No idea. Linda’s off work. Afternoon?”

Ella checked her phone. “Yeah.” She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. “Hey, ya make a good pillow.”

He said nothing.

“Are you okay? Do you need anything?” she asked, rising to clear away their empty mugs.

“No.”

“Sorry again about dumping all that stuff about my ex on you,” Ella said, cringing. “That was… a lot.”

“It’s fine.” He was silent for a moment, then said, “Exes can get you all twisted up. Even the ones who don’t have a trail of dead bodies behind them.”

Ella shivered as she refilled the kettle. Maybe she could encourage him to ingest something besides tea and a triangle of toast. “Okay. Fair. I take it murder wasn’t your ex’s particular flaw?”

“What?” Michael jerked his head up and forced a laugh. “What ex?”

“Just… What you said. Sounded like maybe you had experience with an ex twisting you up.” Ella set the kettle on. “You don’t have to talk about it.”

“I won’t.” Michael swallowed and pressed his hands down on either side of him. He took a moment and rocked himself onto his feet. Then, shakily, he picked up two of the books and made his way back over to the shelf by way of leaning on things along the way. Finally, he said, “There was an ex, but she died. I’m not…” He sighed deeply. “Not ready to talk about it yet.”

“Oh. Oh, shit, man. I’m so sorry.” Ella pressed her fingers to her lips. Not helpful. “Well, when you are, I owe you.”

“I don’t do that tit-for-tat bullshit that Lucifer does. You don’t owe me anything.” Michael continued to stare at the bookcase, examining the titles of the books carefully.

Ella could feel a wall coming up around him again. It had only come down halfway as he’d told her, guardedly, about getting ambushed. Short, clipped sentences. But his eyes had been wider, more vulnerable. It made a lot of sense that he was defensive all the time. Especially if he was really sensitive under the layers of snark and grumpiness.

“Maybe I wanna help. Maybe it’s easier to help with someone else’s mess than handle your own.” Ella rinsed out the mugs and looked over Amenadiel’s stash for what to try next. “So the offer is open, whether you like it or not.”

A short little laugh sounded in his throat, and it made Ella smile. It shouldn’t have. It wasn’t much. But it was something to start with. And so had been that nap on his shoulder. If he didn’t turn out to be a psychopath, maybe this could be a first step to getting back to normal. Ella liked connecting with people, helping people... talking to people. Michael was a good listener, even if he was cranky and withholding about himself. She didn’t want to be this person who was scared. She wanted to be herself again.

Though that was gonna take a long, long time.

* * *

Lucifer swept into Linda’s house without preamble. His eyes zeroed on Michael, who sat at the table beside Ella, sipping from a mug. Casually. As if nothing was wrong, and he hadn’t wreaked all kinds of havoc in his life. Like he hadn’t come into L.A. like a surly tornado with nothing on his mind but ruining the life Lucifer had built for himself.

“What are you doing?” he demanded, navigating through the debris of baby toys.

Michael looked at his mug. “Drinking miso soup.”

“Amenadiel just contacted me and said you needed to get out of his house,” Lucifer snapped. “Did you hurt Charlie? Are you messing with Linda?”

“No, and no,” Michael said flatly.

Ella twisted around in her chair. “No way. He’s been here with me all afternoon.”

“What did he say to you?” Lucifer came up close to her and put his hand on her shoulder. “You can tell me what he did to you.”

“You got a doll so I can point to where?” Ella scoffed. “Dude, I’m fine. I was having a rough day, and he let me hang with him while he drank tea and put a dent in Linda’s library. And I, uh, talked his ear off.”

“And I told her it was nothing like when you really get going,” Michael drawled.

Lucifer put a hand on his hip. “Then, why did Linda reach out to Amenadiel?”

“Maybe because he’s late, and she’s worried. And I told her how to contact him.”

“Oh.” Lucifer pushed his lower lip out and crossed his arms. “Amenadiel made it out like you were in here…” He waved a hand around. “Poisoning Charlie’s formula or stealing big brother's head wax.”

Michael let out a huff of air. “I didn’t get near that kid.”

“Aw. Why not?” Ella asked. “Are you a child-phobe like Lucifer?”

“I don’t fear children,” Lucifer protested.

“I like kids fine.” Michael shrugged. “They just don’t like me.”

Lucifer paced for a moment. “Then where is Amenadiel?”

“I have no idea. You’re the one who talked to him,” Michael said. “But my guess is that he’s still with Maze, and they hit a… delay.”

Michael raised his brows and tilted his head forward. Lucifer nodded and sighed.

“Do we need to put a BOLO out?” Ella asked. “Though, if he’s with Maze, he’s probably safe.”

“Eh, it’ll be fine,” Michael told her. “She had to pick something up, and I think they may have gotten followed to the pickup location, since it’s unlikely anyone would have been able to find it on their own.”

Ella’s eyes rounded. “What is it? Like, drugs?”

Michael clicked his tongue. “No. Just an art piece. Apparently in higher demand in L.A. than anyone thought.”

“People cover drug deals with paintings here. And hide papers or other goods in the frames themselves,” Ella pointed out. “Things are shady out here. You don’t even know. Where are you from? Northeast? You sound like you’re from New York.”

Lucifer narrowed his eyes at them.

“I do? Good ear.” Michael shook his head a little. “I spent some time up there.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know a New Yorker a mile away.” Ella flashed a hand sign against her chest. “East coast represent!”

Michael chuckled.

What was that? Lucifer glared at Michael. “Anyway, Amenadiel wants you out of his house.”

“What?” Ella’s face fell. “He didn’t do anything.”

“Dee-Dee’s still pissed I reminded him his son’s human.” Michael pushed his mug away from him. “Where am I supposed to go? Back to your place?”

“The zoo,” Lucifer snapped. “If you’re good along the way, I’ll toss a futon in there before we lock the cage.”

“Oh, come on.” Ella rolled her eyes. “You’re not serious.”

“I don’t lie, Miss Lopez.”

Michael met his eye, expression dark but oddly lacking in spirit, as he said, “He’s kidding. He’s just tired of me being on his couch. I’m sure there’s a nice room at a crackhouse with my name on it.”

“You two are too much!” Ella took her and Michael’s mugs, frowned, and went back to the stove to refill both.

Lucifer came to Michael’s side and put his hand on the back of Michael’s chair, and whispered, “I don’t know what you’ve done to twist her around your little finger, but if you hurt her in any way—“

“I think she’s just like that,” Michael said quietly. “She hugged me in the precinct.”

Before Lucifer could respond, Ella was back, pushing a steaming mug of broth in front of Michael, and Linda came padding in from the hallway with wet hair and baby monitor in hand.

“Lucifer!” Linda hurried up to him. “Did you talk to Amenadiel? Is he okay?”

“He really didn’t say,” Lucifer said. “But… if he needed help, he would’ve called me, so no need to worry.”

“Oh, thank goodness.” Linda pressed her hand to her chest. “It’s just so difficult when he’s gone. I know it won’t be long, but—“

“He’s the size of a Mack truck,” Michael said. “Not much is getting through him.”

“Still. I…” Linda spread her hands and closed her eyes. “I’m sure it’s no surprise that the idea of going it alone unnerves me.”

“As far as children go, Charlie is probably one of the most tolerable,” Lucifer assured her. “I can always come over and make faces at him for you.”

Linda smiled. “I’d appreciate that.”

Michael made an impatient noise. “What would you tell your patients if they said that? About being unnerved?”

“Probably…” Linda considered that. “That it isn’t uncommon for a new mother to feel incapable, especially with my history, and that I need to, yes, learn to lean on my support network.”

She tapped the baby monitor against her palm. “Thank you. Would you and Ella mind sticking around?”

“Michael’s leaving,” Lucifer said. “Amenadiel made it pretty clear that he didn’t want Mikey in the house.”

“Oh?” Linda raised her brows. “Well, Amenadiel isn’t here, and this isn’t his house. So I say who stays here.”

Lucifer’s shoulders went slack. How was his snake of a brother swaying all of his friends? And Linda knew everything that Michael had done!

“If you want to stay, that is,” Linda added.

Michael rested his chin on his hand. “I’m not particular either way.”

“Doctor!” Lucifer said.

“Lucifer.” Linda pursed her lips. “I’ll check to see if the guest room is in order.”

Lucifer shot Michael a fierce look, earning himself a stuck out tongue, and followed Linda down the hall.

“Doctor, he’s dangerous!”

“I’m aware of what he’s done, but you didn’t have a problem with him staying here this morning.” Linda went into the hall closet and started looking through linens.

“You weren’t going to be home. And I’d no idea Ella would be here!” Lucifer hissed. “How could you let her stay here? He kidnapped Chloe!”

“He can barely walk, Lucifer,” Linda said, her voice low but forceful. “What is he going to do?”

For a moment, Lucifer felt breathless. He didn’t want to dwell on what had happened in the precinct. Dad’s hand on Michael’s shoulder. The pangs deep in Lucifer’s gut as he’d known, just known Dad had hurt Michael deliberately, and that his idiot twin would continue to love and serve the bastard anyway.

 But Lucifer pushed the thought away and managed, “Michael can do plenty.”

“I know his gifts are… potent. I’ll talk with Ella,” Linda said gently, “and ask that she keep her distance. But, honestly, I thought your father was fairly clear that He wanted you and Amenadiel to look after him.” Linda clicked her tongue. “You can’t have Michael couch surfing the entire time he’s in L.A. That’s ridiculous. And frankly, the two of you have such a tense relationship. I think you could both use a little space.”

“I… Well, yes. But…”

“Lucifer, I’m not your therapist anymore. But I am your friend.” Linda hugged some sheets to her and looked up at him. “Don’t you and Chloe need the time alone? Chloe cannot be comfortable with him sleeping in the next room.”

“I don’t know.” Lucifer considered that. “I suppose not.”

“You’re in a relationship now, so you do need to try to anticipate those things a bit.” Linda frowned. “You don’t need to get worked up about it, but it’s good to check in with your partner and make sure she’s okay.”

“Right. Like ask her what she wants.”

“What she wants. How she feels. What she’s thinking…”

“That’s a lot.”

“It is. Relationships are hard work. But compared to Hell, it can’t be that difficult.”

Lucifer pursed his lips. “Hell never changes. She changes every day. Moment to moment.”

“Yep.” Linda patted his arm. “People do that.”

“Hell’s got nothing on relationships,” Lucifer said flippantly. “You have to be careful with Michael, though. He’s twisty. He gets inside you, and he can plant ideas—“

“With me, he didn’t plant anything that wasn’t already there.” Linda went into the guest room and set the bedding down. “And I don’t think he’ll try it with me again.”

Linda indicated that he should grab the far side of the sheet, so he did so. “How can you be sure?”

“Just trust me, for now, alright?”

Lucifer blew air out of his lips slowly. He wasn’t about to trust his brother with any of his friends. Even with Michael partially depowered, he would find a way to make himself a force to be reckoned with. Michael had not been created to be a benign presence.

However, maybe Lucifer could trust Linda with his brother. She’d handled multiple Celestials so far.

“Just… after what Ella’s been through. She’s… fragile.” Lucifer tucked in the sheet. “I don’t even know what to say.”

“You don’t have to. Just listen. Be there if she needs it.” Linda smoothed her hand over the bed. “She asked for a place to stay today. Sometimes, you just need a stable place to land. You know?”

Lucifer nodded slowly.

“And I’ll keep an eye on them. Maybe tomorrow, or after, Ella could stay in Chloe’s extra room?” She raised her brows. “And I can handle Maze.”

“Right.” Lucifer swallowed. “Maze. I’ll be in contact, then. And I’ll let you know if Amenadiel has anything useful to say.”

“Thank you so much.” Linda bit her lip and sighed.

Lucifer exited the way he came, pausing to check in with Ella on the way out. Her smile was just a bit too forced. Her light dimmed. He knew Michael hadn’t caused it. He knew the cause, and a few months ago, he would be dragging Pete out of his holding cell to enact some deliciously ironic punishment on him.

Perhaps pulling out his tongue? Perhaps let him know exactly what it felt like to be paralyzed and helpless as someone moved in to start carving on you with a scalpel…

But he knew what that kind of vengeance did to him. He knew what Chloe’s face would look like when she found out. It was the only thing holding his clawed hand at bay.

“Get out of here,” Ella said finally as she gave him a playful shove. “Isn’t Chloe waiting for you? Maybe in her nothing but a lacy little number and her sensible brown shoes…?”

“Ha! You wicked little nerd! She would. Hm…” Lucifer grinned. “But we’re at her place tonight. The offspring needs some time with her mum after all that.” He eyed Michael. “Gave her a good scare, not knowing where her mum was.”

“Yeah, I bet. God, I feel so bad for Trix.” Ella shook her head. “We’ll all get together with the Tribe soon. She’ll feel better when she has both Maze and Chloe in the house.”

Lucifer nodded and let Ella give him a hug. He squirmed a bit, but it was good to have her little arms around him. In short order, both she and Chloe had nearly been taken out of his life. The ever-present danger of connecting with mortals.

He left without saying another word to Michael. It was enough that he understood what Lucifer would do to him if he harmed Ella in any way, and Linda, well… If anyone could handle Michael, it would be her. She’d handled Amenadiel at his worst, she’d seen Lucifer’s face and come back in two weeks with nothing but questions, and she didn’t seem to be at all afraid of Michael.

* * *

Trixie stood inside a large, clear dome. As she walked through the wide open space, she felt as though someone was walking behind her. Part of her knew that someone was Maze, and so she was safe, even though she didn’t know where she was.

There was nothing here. She knelt down to the ground and felt her fingers over the grass, which felt more like velvet than a plant. Looking up again, Trixie spotted a castle in the background and began walking toward it. Although she didn’t seem to be getting any closer, with every step, she seemed to understand more: The castle rotated, upside down somehow, with its base obscured by a fluffy swirl of clouds. In the courtyard, she could see giants playing like they were little children.

A bony hand clasped her shoulder, and Trixie looked up, unafraid. Maze stood there looking down on her, one eye warm and brown and the other a hollow socket. Her hand, skinless but tough muscle, caressed the side of Trixie’s face.

Beside them, a unicorn trotted up. Trixie frowned. She could see through it. It bowed its head and started to chew up the velvet grass. Maze stepped back and hid behind Trixie.

“What’s wrong?” Trixie asked.

“Ish ‘ine,” she said, her half-lips trying to form the words.

“How did you get it?”

“Ish a gif.”

Trixie leaned over to pet the unicorn. She’d expected it be cold to the touch, but it wasn’t. The clear crystal felt soft and warm.

“Why don’t you use it?” she asked.

Trixie looked back at Maze, who was watching the unicorn with terrified eyes. Maze took a few steps back, and the unicorn followed her.

“Ish too rate.” Maze turned and broke into a run.

“It’s too late,” Trixie echoed as she watched her go.

A shadow came over Trixie, and she looked up at the top of the dome, where the clouds grew dark and menacing. Trixie ran after Maze, her heart pounding, pounding, pounding. Her fingers grasped at the unicorn’s back, but she couldn’t get a grip. She was falling farther behind.

“Wait for me!” she cried. “Maze! Wait!”

Maze half turned, and just as their fingers touched…

Trixie woke up to a chorus of buzz saws from upstairs. She sat up in her bed and rubbed her eyes, scowling at the dumb dream. Slipping out of bed, she went into the kitchen to get some water. A little smirk appeared on her lips at the sounds of snoring from above. Lucifer was staying over. Finally! She’d known her mom liked him since practically the start. Well, since her mom had shot him, anyway.

Trixie sat at the kitchen counter, sipping her water and picking at her cuticles. She’d dreamed of that dome and that castle like four times now. What was that about? She’d seen Maze in her dreams lots. But the unicorn was new.

Rubbing her fingers over her temples, Trixie let her eyes go unfocused as she stared down at the counter. It seemed like her mom was less upset than Trixie was that she’d been taken. She’d even told Trixie she’d never really been in danger, but… she always tried to downplay stuff to keep Trixie from being scared.

Trixie hadn’t even found out what happened with Marcus until after they’d gotten back from Europe.

She put the glass in the sink and went back to her room, wishing Maze were back from wherever she’d gone this time. Someday, she’d be old enough for people to tell her things. And she’d be old enough to go with Maze.

Trixie sat cross-legged on her bed, playing with her phone. Her mom didn’t want her to have one yet, but her dad had gotten it for her a few months ago. “Just in case.” He hadn’t said what the just in case was. He’d probably put a tracker on it, since he gave it to her not long after those crazy guys with the guns had busted into Lucifer’s place.

She had just been about to brave her weird dreams again when she got a message. The screen lit up with the picture of a shiny metal lock and a “you awake?”

Trixie bit her lip and glanced out to her door. She hopped up and closed it, and turned off her light, before getting back on the bed to answer. If anyone knew about weird dreams, or weird anything, it was Locke. She didn’t even blink when Trixie told her that she knew a demon. Locke had just asked what kind of demon Maze was.

After telling Locke all about her dream, and venting about all the stuff everyone was keeping from her, and joking back and forth for over an hour, Trixie felt way better. She wasn’t any less worried about her mom, but… Lucifer was here. It would probably be okay.

Probably no one would come take her or her mom from their home while he was here.

Chapter Text

“It is not death that a man should fear, but he should fear never beginning to live.”

― Marcus Aurelius

Maze’s soul, still safely ensconced in a child’s bauble and tucked against her chest, throbbed as she climbed the walkway to Chloe’s apartment. It had barely been two days, but she and Amenadiel had been skirting here and there all over the county, trying to avoid the notice of those looking to claim a fresh soul.

She hoped they’d taken care of them all. Some had simply been annoying. Human witches and warlocks, hunting something to help empower them, or solve their problems. Easily sent on their way when they realized they’d just crossed paths with a real demon.

The creatures though, desiccated husks of whatever they had once been, had been more tenacious. Their wrists were bound with some kind of stringy, mystical adhesive that restricted their movements, but not enough to keep them from following Amenadiel and Maze. They continued to appear almost out of nowhere and jerk here and there with truncated limbs and skin flaking off of them, before disappearing, and then emerging again. Maze couldn’t sense them anywhere when they’d gone. Impossible to scent. Impossible to track.

There had been at least two of them. Maze had even been uncertain of how many there had been. They were that washed out and that indistinguishable. After hours of the (roughly) four of them chasing each other around, Maze had decided to lead them out into the desert where it was flat and broad and arid. Their already dry flesh had moved stiffly, and Maze was on them at once. Flesh rent, brittle bones exposed. They became dust among the burning hot sand.

She’d sent Amenadiel home to his child. He wanted a word with Michael, but Maze needed to speak to Michael first. This soul seemed to be burning a hole in her, and she just… She had to be sure.

The space remained dark and cool as the nascent light of the new day’s sun peered tentatively through the windows. Maze entered silently and cast a glance around. She could hear Lucifer and Chloe sleeping upstairs, and Trixie’s soft breathing in her room, but there was no one else here. Swiftly, Maze checked her room. The bed, the sex swing, and everything else were undisturbed. Odd. Wouldn’t they have stashed Michael here if Lucifer had also slept here? Where Lucifer could easily threaten him as he wished?

Michael was clever, but not so clever that he could get them to trust him in such a short time. So where was he?

Maze returned to the main room of the apartment and perched on a kitchen stool. Fishing the unicorn head out of her bra, she took it in both of her palms, feeling its warmth. Never had she wanted and feared something so much. It would change everything.

But… it would change everything.

Maze heard the light steps on the stairs before Chloe had reached halfway. Even though the woman was trying to be quiet, it was as apparent as if she’d been stomping down in 9-inch heeled boots. Maze didn’t look up. It helped, sometimes, to let the humans think that they could sneak up on her, have the upper hand. Be safe.

Michael knew that, too. Clever bastard. When they’d first met, he’d folded immediately, let her think he was weak. Vulnerable. And he’d leveraged that vulnerability like a weapon. Maze admired the skill and determination it had taken to play her. Oddly, though, she didn’t want to do anything of the kind with Chloe or Trixie. She just didn’t want them to run from what she was. Was it the same?

Why was she thinking like this?

“Did you find what you were looking for?” Chloe said quietly as she approached.

“Yup.” Maze’s fingers curled around the crystal protectively.

“Is that… uh…”

“I assume he wanted to put it in something that looked like nothing. Something normal humans wouldn’t notice.” Maze sighed heavily. Her hands trembled, and she gripped it tighter. She didn’t want to drop it.

“I didn’t even know you wanted a soul.” Chloe’s voice seemed distant, and she walked over to the refrigerator and started pulling out eggs and milk. “I guess I could have asked.”

“Linda didn’t even know until it came up that time we killed Lucifer.”

Chloe turned and stared at her. “What?”

“He needed to get back to Hell, but he didn’t have his wings— Basically, without them, he can’t travel between planes of existence. But I couldn’t come after him when he got in trouble, because—“ Maze shrugged. “—no soul. If I die, I die. There’s nothing else for me. But with a soul… Souls give you privileges. Without a soul, no one even thinks of you as a real person, you know?”

“I’m sure Linda does,” Chloe pointed out as she broke eggs into a large bowl. “I always did.”

Maze scoffed. “You didn’t even know until last year that I was a demon. And you lied to my face about Trixie hating me.”

“Well, you lied to my face about being with Lucifer.” Chloe pushed the bowl aside and leaned on the counter. “Do you think of me as a real person?”

Maze wrested her gaze from her soul and turned to Chloe. “What?”

“Look.” Chloe sighed. “I know you don’t say you’re sorry. That’s hard to deal with, but frankly, my mother never said she was sorry in her life. So I get it.” She straightened up and twisted her shirt in her hands. “And I know you worked with him the first time because I hurt your feelings, so for you, that means it’s okay to hurt me. And I get passive-aggressive behavior, too.”

Her lips pressed into a line. “Still. I need to know. When did you start working for Michael again? Was it before or after he kidnapped me?”

“After. Obviously, it was after,” Maze snapped. “I helped Lucifer find you!”

“Which would be easy to do, if you were managing Lucifer for Michael and keeping him away long enough that he could wheedle my fears about our relationship out of me.” Chloe’s eyes pinned Maze down with a mix of anger and fear. “I’m a cop. I’m trained to think that way, coming up with scenarios, and it would be a lot easier for him to arrange these things if he had you in his pocket all along. I know Michael said he didn’t use you for that, but he lies about everything, so I have to ask you one-on-one.”

“I wouldn’t do that to you,” Maze objected. “Yeah, it would work for him, but I only agreed to help him even up the numbers for the fight against Lucifer and Amenadiel.”

Chloe pushed her lower lip out and nodded as she looked away.

“You don’t believe me?” Maze asked.

“No, I do. I think I do.”

Pain seized Maze’s chest and prickled over her skin. Her throat grew so tight that it was difficult to breathe.

“Again, I know you don’t say—“

“I’m sorry, I—“

Chloe met Maze’s eye, looking as shocked as Maze felt.

“I…” Maze stood, shaking her head. “I just…  I got wrapped up in getting back at Lucifer. I didn’t see it as having anything to do with you.”

“But you see…” Chloe pursed her lips for a moment and gestured forward with a stiff hand. “—how for me that feels like… like you don’t care?”

“I care!”

A quiver of something worked its way through Maze, and panicked, she set the unicorn head on the counter.

“What’s happening to me?” Maze muttered. Even as she distanced herself from it, Maze’s hands wanted to grab the soul back.

Chloe let out a soft laugh. “You’re asking the wrong person. I never had to strike a deal to get my soul. It came as part of the deal, I guess. Being a miracle.”

Maze could barely look up at Chloe. Her friend. The one she’d made afraid of her, not through her strength, not through her face, but through forgetting about her.

“Fuck. I’m as bad as Lucifer,” Maze growled. “He always pulls this shit.”

“Yeah. Well. He’s been in therapy for a few years.” Chloe rolled her tongue in her cheek. “He’s gotten a little better, I think. Maybe I just think that because…”

“Maybe. He’s a lot.” Maze covered her eyes. “There’s a reason everyone back in Hell follows him around like… like a puppy.”

A moment later, when Chloe touched her shoulder, Maze jumped back, startled. Chloe held her hands up.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” she said.

“I’m not scared, I’m just… You don’t know everything that’s been going on.” Maze swallowed hard. There was one way to push this pain away. She knew it. She could bear it, if she had to. “Did Lucifer tell you about my mom?”

Chloe shook her head.

“She died. Not too long ago.”

“Oh. I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah. I don’t know if I am.” Maze shrugged. “I didn’t get the chance to… really deal with knowing she was here. What that meant. What we were to each other, if anything. And Lucifer knew. He keeps these huuuuge secrets. From me. From you. And… he goes on and on about how he doesn’t lie but…” She heaved an angry sigh. “And it doesn’t have anything to do with you. Not what he did to me. Lilim don’t apologize because how you feel doesn’t matter. What you do matters. So, Michael and I have something like an alliance, because he at least told me about my mom when Lucifer wouldn’t and treated me like a person when Lucifer wouldn’t. Whatever happens, I’ll keep Michael away from you.”

“I don’t think you have to worry about that now. I do appreciate it, though. Sometimes… It feels like you and I are always walking on glass with each other,” Chloe said. “I don’t want it to be that way. I want it to be how it is when you and me are working a case, you know? Or pretending to be a lesbian couple to get one over on snooty, rich moms.”

Maze managed a lopsided grin. “That was fun. It’s always fun, messing with the normals. Humans are so weird about sex and who has it when.”

“True. But this is L.A. Fewer chances to do that.”

Chloe reached over and clasped Maze’s hand. Maze felt her heart swelling, even though her soul was over on the counter. It was connected to her now. It was tugging on her, and she was terrified.

“And look, when you get this sorted out, I want us to have another Tribe night. I think we could all use it.”

“Yeah, I…”

“How are you dealing with your mom now?”

“Um…” Maze shook her head. “I’m not. It’s like, I didn’t really have a relationship with her. And now I never will. Lilith is gone. And I don’t want to end up pathetic and alone like she was because she couldn’t let a single damn person in. I… I just don’t know that stupid toy over there will do anything.”

Chloe glanced at the unicorn head. It was throbbing now, eerily glowing in time with Maze’s heartbeat. “Again, not the person to ask, but… I think you’re better at connecting with people than you think. You always connected fine with Trixie.”

“That’s her, though. She’s special.”

Chloe let go of Maze’s hand and tilted her head to the side. “I’m not telling you not to use it. It sounds like it’s better to have a soul than not, but… Is this because of Eve?”

Maze clicked her tongue and looked away.

“You know, I don’t think she left because there’s anything wrong with you. God made her to be a ready-to-order wife.” Chloe grimaced. “I think if I’d know that growing up, I would be completely screwed up. Eve needs to get herself together if she wants to be there for you in the way she should be.”

Maze shook her head and crossed her arms. “I gotta talk to Michael. I don’t know what to do with that thing. And I’ll tell him to behave while I’m at it.”

“Good luck with that.” Chloe touched Maze’s shoulder gently as she went back to the kitchen, and part of Maze’s soul settled, just a bit. “He’s acting like he wants us to hate him.”

“Do you know where he is?”

“At Linda’s.”

Maze’s brows shot up. “Oh, that’s not good.”

“You don’t think Linda can deal with him?”

“Oh, she can. But Amenadiel’s headed that way. I’d better go while Michael and Lucifer have an equal number of limbs.”

Chloe stifled a laugh. “I’m still dying to shoot him.”

Maze snorted as she picked up her cheap crystal soul container. “I’m sure we can work something out.”

***

Staring up at the ceiling from a bed was slightly more comfortable than doing so from Lucifer’s couch, but Michael had only gotten a bit more sleep. Granted, since he’d had none the night before, the difference didn’t get him quite in the black, but at the very least, he’d found a position where everything didn’t seem to ache.

All through both nights, the events at the precinct played through his mind. The events leading up to it. A tense night in a dusty apartment complex in the midst of a railing fight with a stubborn old woman who refused to budge an iota on anything. Most obstinate sentient creature in all the universe.

By morning, Michael's stomach had balled into a knot, taking up the work of providing him with his well-deserved agony. Rising would send little bolts of lightning through his spine. He could already feel the tightness in his shoulder and neck. The injury itself hadn’t involved his leg, but the misalignment of spine and shoulder and wings ricocheted down his side, leaving his leg with little strength to work with. If he focused hard enough, he could imagine where the nerves were damaged, how they impacted the rest of him.

And if he felt like causing more trouble, he could realign his back, sooth those nerves, smooth away the thick scar tissue that had reappeared between his shoulder blades… Instead, feeling a cramp moving from his lower back down his right leg, he shifted in bed and tried to stretch his leg. No point in testing out the limits of self-actualization now. He might not even be able to do it, now that Dad had grounded him.

Just as his lids started to, despite the malicious glare of the morning light leaching through the windows, droop closed… the door to the guest room burst open and Amenadiel was looming over him, barking and pointing, like a big, grumpy gundog. Michael draped his arm over his eyes and made a noise in his throat.

Abruptly, Amenadiel pulled his arm back. “Answer me! What are you doing here? I told Lucifer—“

“Ask your babymama about it. It was her decision, Dee-Dee.”

“Stop it.” Amenadiel pulled on his arm. “Get out of that bed, and get out of my house.”

“It’s Linda’s house,” Michael grumbled, jerking his arm back. Setting his weight on his other arm, gingerly, he rolled over to the other side of the bed, pushed himself up, and ruffled his hair.

“Get up,” Amenadiel ordered.

“I was just taking in this amazing hospitality.” A light spinning sensation swirled around him as he closed his eyes, knowing Amenadiel’s eyes were still on him. With a slight rock, he pushed himself to his feet, leaning into his left leg, and moved as quickly as he could manage around the bed without toppling to the ground.

Amenadiel’s eyes softened, slightly.

Michael glared at him. “I take it living on Earth is pretty easy these days.”

“I don’t know what would possibly lead you to that assumption,” Amenadiel said warily.

“Well, you’ve seemed to manage.” Michael stopped by the edge of the bed, knowing he would have to grab the wall to pick up his shoes. “And what do you do for a living?”

Amenadiel’s brows furrowed.

“Ohhh, right. Nothing. You’ve never had a job on Earth.” Michael shrugged and risked the step to the wall. When his hand pressed against the cool wood, he bent over stiffly to grab them. “Lucifer pays your bills… Linda pays your bills… Good thing you locked the Mr. Mom gig down. It would be awful if you really had no purpose here at all.”

Amenadiel swiped the shoes easily. “This won’t work, Michael. Why are you still trying to get under my skin?”

“Eh. For old time’s sake? Give me my shoes.”

“You can’t put them on from there.”

Michael pursed his lips. “Enjoying this? I bet you are. After all, Dad didn’t intervene when you racked up pile of five dead humans trying to murder Lucifer.”

Oh, that one struck. Some residual guilt on that account.

“Oh, and Lucifer’s heart stopped as well, so that’s six lives.” Michael clicked his tongue. “Must be nice to be the favorite.”

“You brought this on yourself,” Amenadiel replied. He tossed the shoes on the bed. “Put them on and get out. I won’t have you here where you can hurt my family.”

Amenadiel stepped out of the bedroom, likely to go check on Charlie, so Michael returned to the bed to put his shoes on. He could use a change of clothes and a shower, but managing either of those right now seemed beyond him. Nor did he have an extra outfit.

Still, if Amenadiel threw him out, there would be no more uncomfortable moments with the humans in this house. He had no understanding of what was wrong with them. Ella’s terror was palpable. It ought to be a steady stream, between what she’d been through and the forced proximity to him, but it seemed to wax and wane regardless of his presence. But Linda… She wasn’t at all afraid of him. She had ached with fear when he’d first come face to face with her, but now…?

Maybe she really had worked through it. The eternal mutability of humans. Regardless, she would have other fears. They always did, after discarding another one. Every human had an endless supply of them.

He had reached the porch when he heard Linda and Amenadiel behind him in the house. There would be some small pleasure in turning around to continue to sow discord for his older brother. Amenadiel had always been a pure force of arrogance and threat in their lives. He got on with some of his siblings well enough, but he’d never been close with one of them until now, here on Earth. With the brother he’d tried to kill.

Michael didn’t think he’d ever be over that.

Now, though, he had a bigger problem. And that was the fact that the railing ended at the bottom of the stairs right as the walkway to the street started. Michael stood there, gripping the railing, and breathed deep as he tried to figure out how he was going to get anywhere.

Around the side of the house it was. Someone had to have a fence. People had cars. Maybe he could coerce some human to give him a ride to the Mission Hills.

Amenadiel’s voice came from the porch. “What do you think you’re doing?”           

Refusing to answer, Michael pressed his weight into the siding as he balanced each step and tried not to stomp on Linda’s flowers.

“What are you doing, Michael?” Amenadiel demanded again.

“I’m doing what you told me to. I’m leaving.”

Amenadiel sighed.

“What, are you disappointed I’m not crawling?”

As if fate had enough of his smart mouth, just then his foot caught an uneven spot on the ground and he went tumbling into the grass. Michael made a halfhearted push against the ground to get back to his face, then gave up and pressed his forehead into the ground.

“Fuck.”

Michael was an archangel. He had tangled with the writhing abominations of the abyss, fought gods older than human memory, and led his siblings to victory more than once. And he lay in the dirt like he was nothing.

Well. He was nothing. He’d failed in his aims, failed to even substantially inconvenience Lucifer. Probably disappointed his Father beyond forgiveness. In a way, He was possibly more disappointed in what Michael had wanted from Him than in his behavior. But that was Dad. He’d never concerned himself with the wants of those below him. He’d given that domain over to Lucifer.

“Get up,” Amenadiel said quietly.

“No.” Michael’s words were muffled by the grass.

“Are you going to just lie there and let it rain on you?”

Damn. It probably was going to rain today. That seemed about right.

Amenadiel’s strong hands gripped Michael’s sides. Ineffectually, Michael tried to pull away from him, glaring with a ferocity that normally sent the younger host and even Gabriel straight out of the room. Amenadiel, completely unfazed, made another move to grab him.

“What is wrong with you?” he demanded.

“You have done nothing but tell me to get out of your presence for hundreds of years,” Michael snapped. “Don’t go soft on me now, just because a human shamed you.”

Amenadiel’s expression softened. “That’s not it.”

“I will be fine. I’ll figure it out on my own. I always have.”

His breaths came a little too fast, just like his heartbeat. Heat rising through Michael’s face, he didn’t even know how he wanted this stare-off to end. He didn’t want to be stuck with his brothers, living under their pity. But he had no direction out in the world now, either.

“I saw Charlie,” Amenadiel said. “He’s fine. I’m not rational about him. I admit it. Not after those demons kidnapped him.” He sighed and held out his hand, raising his brows. “Now, let me help you back inside, before I bridal carry you back through those doors. Because you know I will.”

Michael sighed and rolled his eyes, looking up at the sky. Amenadiel smiled a little and took Michael’s arm. Barely, Michael let Amenadiel lift him to his feet and steady him as they walked back inside.

“This is as bad as it was right after—“

“It isn’t.” Michael said. “That hurt more. Can’t even feel my wings right now.”

Amenadiel nodded solemnly.

Once inside, Linda fixed a look on them both that reminded Michael a little bit of their mother. Less comfortable than ever, Michael let himself be deposited onto the sofa, just to let the contact between him and his brother end. He couldn’t stand the gentleness toward him.

“I’m glad you decided to stay,” Linda said simply. She had a brush in her hand. “Now that Amenadiel’s back, he’ll have Charlie for the day, so you don’t need to worry about him, okay? He’ll be perfectly calm with his father here.”

She set down her brush and started going through her bag. “I’ll be back around lunch, though. Oh, and I left some clothes on your bed, if you’d like to get changed, later. There’s a stability bar in the shower. I had it put in when my mother came to visit.”

Michael said nothing. He pinched his lips to the side as he brushed the grass off his slacks. Amenadiel stood there, hands on his hips and staring at the floor.

“I’d like it if my house were in one piece when I get back,” Linda added.

“We’re not going to fight,” Amenadiel scoffed.

“Mostly because Daddy said not to,” Michael drawled.

“It has to start somewhere.” Linda came over to Michael and frowned slightly. “Did you sleep alright?”

“Fine.”

“Well, let me know if you need anything. Okay?” Linda hefted her purse onto her shoulder. “It’s always a little rocky in a new place, but at least you’re with family.”

Michael raised a brow at that concept. Amenadiel certainly didn’t seem to think he qualified.

* * *

Trixie sat crouched by the door, her fingers at her lips, as she heard her mom and Maze talk.

She’d known it. She’d known there was more going on than her mom had said. Now she was confused, because Maze had said Michael had helped her, way back when Trixie went to Lucifer’s on a fact-finding mission. But Michael had kidnapped her mother? Was that why her mom said she hadn’t been scared? Or had she just lied so Trixie wouldn’t worry. Maze wouldn’t lie to her. Not about what she’d done or about what she thought about Michael, but… even if other people didn’t think so, Maze was a person. People could be wrong.

On the nightstand, Trixie’s phone buzzed. The little lock picture appeared, along with a row of wave emojis. Trixie bit her lip.

Can’t! she replied. Algebra test.

Locke sent another emoji… a ghost. Meaning, boo.

Trixie grinned and shifted her weight. Right now, more than anything, she wanted things to be normal. Dad had been distant for a long while, and Mom had been upset about Lucifer, and then then super stressed and angry about something, and now she was doing her whole stiff upper lip thing when Trixie was around. Maze had been so sad lately, and Lucifer was just grumpy.

More waves came at her.

Ok ok. But I gotta get back by 7^th period.

Chapter Text

"Fear keeps us focused on the past or worried about the future.”

--Thich Nhat Hanh

Locke always liked to walk along the Santa Monica Pier. It wasn’t the only place Trixie went with her, but she knew that Locke would come around even when they weren’t together. It wasn’t about the rides, or even about people watching—which was Joey’s thing when he came along, like today. Trixie didn’t quite get the appeal.   

“Look at that guy!”

Trixie grabbed Joey’s hand. “Man, don’t point.”

“He’s huge. And he’s wearing Mickey ears.” Joey chuckled. “You don’t think he wants to be noticed?”

“Were you raised by wolves? It doesn’t matter.” Trixie rolled her eyes and glanced Locke, who had drifted over to the railing overlooking the beach. Inevitably, that was where she always ended up. Locke leaned her forearms against the damp wood and stared intently over the sand. Who knew what she was looking at. Or for?

Trixie sure didn’t. There was a lot about Locke that she didn’t get. But the girl didn’t lie. Not to Trixie, anyway. She’d seen her lie plenty to her foster parents and the teachers at school. To her friends, never. Even if Joey never believed the crazier stuff that she said. Trixie did, though. The stuff Locke talked about didn’t seem any stranger than having demons and angels hanging around a police precinct in LA.

“Anyone weird-looking down there?” Joey leaned over the railing next to Locke.

“Nope,” Locke said, popping the “P” sound. Her plump, pouty lips remained impassive as she stared. The wind lifted her dark, wavy hair from her broad forehead.

Joey frowned and pointed. “That guy looks weird.”

Trixie rolled her eyes and joined them. If they gave Locke a moment to brood, they’d be able to spend the rest of the day having fun.

A few minutes later, Locke let out a heavy sigh, then turned to Trixie with a smirk. “Sorry. Shark Frenzy?”

“No way,” Joey complained. “I’ll barf.”

“Wester Coaster,” Trixie declared, already leading the way. “C’mon, Nguyen. Stop gawking at the freaks.”

“Look, I’m trying, but there are so many of them!” Joey gave a little hop trying to catch up with her and Locke. “Why do you both have to be so tall?”

“Girls develop faster,” Locke said. “That’s what Chaz always said. Boy brains don’t even reach maturity until like 25 or something.”

“That’s sexist,” Joey complained. “I’m plenty smart. Both my parents are doctors.”

“That’s just biology.” Locke shoved her hands in her jacket pockets. “If it makes you feel better, girl brains only develop by 21. Maybe sometimes faster, but humans vary. I don’t know about in between gender brains. On a hormone level, periods attack anywhere from age 9 to 16.”

“Attack?” Joey choked laughing.

“Am I wrong??”

“No, but girl!”

“Your parents’ jobs also don’t count for how smart you are,” Trixie said, looping back to Joey’s previous comment. He and Locke tended to bounce between topics at random, so they probably didn’t even notice the change. “It’s not a straight line between two smart parents and a smart kid…”

Trixie trailed off as she spotted a tall, white-haired man wearing sunglasses. He wore tight-fitting jeans and an even tighter white shirt that stretched over his muscles. As he strolled by, he stared directly at them, at Joey, and he smiled. Toothily. Her heart jumped, and a familiar feeling washed over her. Her steps faltered, and Locke ran into her, then turned to look at the man. Her eyes narrowed into intense slits.

“Ohhh, look at that guy!” Joey’s hand started to rise, and Locke caught it fast.

“Don’t go near him.” Locke gave him a jerk forward. “You two need to learn the difference between regular weird and monster weird. I can’t be beside you all the time to protect you.”

“I don’t need to be protected!” Joey plucked his arm back. “And he’s not a monster. He’s hot.”

“Just don’t go off alone,” Trixie said. “For real. When some greasy, mustached walnut grabs you, you won’t be expecting it.”

Joey started to snap back, but then pressed his lips together. “Sorry. I forgot.”

“Whatever. That’s why we go places in a group.” Trixie shook out her shoulders and caught up with Locke. “More eyes to spot creepos. The Coaster is over there.”

Locke possessively took Trixie’s hand and grabbed Joey’s again. This time he let her hold onto him, like some kind of petite, large-featured bodyguard determined to protect them from the scary, scary daytime crowd on the pier.

Except Trixie was pretty sure that if Locke thought that guy was dangerous, she was probably right. She had that kind of awareness of her surroundings that Maze always had, and sometimes, that fierce look like she was hunting something. Trixie glanced back and clocked the man’s easy gate, his physique, and his grin. He was an attractive man. But attractive guys could be even worse. Marcus had an attractive face, and he’d definitely tried to get too close to her family.

Until Lucifer had killed him.

“Locke, have you ever killed someone?” The question leapt from Trixie’s lips before she could stop herself. It wasn’t a judgment. Maybe she’d been seeking some kind of security.

Luckily, Locke just tsked a laugh. “No. Not yet. Not unless you include people who died just from having the bad luck of being around me.”

Trixie bit her lip and wished she hadn’t asked. Only now it was because she didn’t want to remind Locke of some of the crappy things that had happened to her.

“But if I’m guilty of that, so was John.” Locke shrugged. “I killed a demon once. Not by myself.”

Trixie frowned. Hopefully, not one of Maze’s siblings.

Joey snorted. “Yeah. Sure, you did.”

“It’s easier usually just to exorcise them. You know, if they’re taking up shop in a dead human. But it wasn’t one like you friend.” Locke shot Trixie a look, as if pleading for understanding.

“No, I get it. I can’t imagine you fighting Maze.”

“I’d kind of like to avoid fighting any of your and your mom’s Celestial and Infernal friends.” Locke rolled her shoulders back. “The only Angels I’ve ever met are orange-eyed crazypants.”

Locke finally let go of their hands as they got in line for the Wester Coaster. Truth be told, Locke didn’t come around Trixie’s apartment at all. If she’d spent a chunk of her childhood fighting demons with some weird British guy, maybe avoiding Maze and Lucifer without backup from a warlock was second nature.

Maybe she’d be more comfortable when Maze had her soul? Trixie smiled at Locke as she took her hand and helped Trixie into the seat on the far side and then made sure Joey got in the middle. Sandwiching their small friend in between them.

Safety in numbers. In the pack. Trixie drew in a deep breath as the buzz bar locked into place over their laps and a rush of anticipation began to prickle her skin.

She freakin’ loved roller coasters.

* * *

Linda had half-peeled a boiled egg when Maze came in and sat on her sofa.

“Hey.”

“Oh, there you are! I was wondering when I’d see you again!” Linda set down her egg and came to sit closer by Maze. “How is it? The soul? Amenadiel said the two of you found it.”

Maze rolled her eyes. “I found it, yeah. But… I’m just not sure what to do with it.”

Linda tilted her head and studied Maze. “What do you mean? Is there something you else you have to do? I’m sure Michael would know. He… made it. I suppose.”

“No, I just came from your house. To make sure Amenadiel didn’t try to beat on him and to check on Charlie.” Maze reached into her shirt and pulled out what looked to be a glowing crystal night light. “And I asked Michael. He acted like I just had to… take it.”

“Oh.” Linda folded her hands. “Then… um…”

“I know, okay?”

“Well, I certainly don’t. This isn’t something people come into my office to talk about. So, tell me?” Linda waited for a moment and continued, “You wanted this very intensely. Has that changed?”

Maze pinched her lips to the side. “No. I still want it. I need it. I can’t just have things keep on going the way they are. I just…”

Linda nodded. “Change can be difficult.”

Maze twisted her fingers. “I… yeah. But this wasn’t difficult. Not for me.” She shook her head and looked out the window. “Michael drained himself making it. You could tell by how he fought in the precinct that it was hard on him. But he did it. And then he did the hiding of it, to protect it.” Her fingertips brushed over the crystal. “It should’ve been harder.”

“So…” Linda hesitated. It wasn’t in her nature to give answers outright, but… “You know, I didn’t do anything to help resolve what I did to my daughter.”

Maze looked up at her with a perplexed frown.

“I’d always felt bad about it. But how deeply that affected me… Michael handed that to me on a silver platter.” She held up a hand. “I know he didn’t do it to help me, but it did. It was given to me. And then when I talked to you, you were the one to find her and help me meet her.”

“Yeah, but you never told her who you really were.” Maze sunk back into the sofa and crossed her arms.

“I still feel that needs to be on her terms. My point is that I wasn’t the one to help myself in that situation.” Linda sighed. “I’m old enough to have done it. I have a soul. An education in psychology. It’s hard, sometimes, to reach out and get the help you need. To do what needs to be done, even when you know very well that something has to change.”

She tapped her finger on the arm of her chair and continued. “Moving from fear into action isn’t an easy choice, and it’s even harder to actually do. It doesn’t mean that you don’t deserve the help to get there. Whatever his reasons were for making a soul for you, if it is real, and you want it, what you deserve is beside the point.”

Maze stared down at the unicorn head. “I talked to Chloe this morning. I think I’m going to hate myself.”

“There’s plenty to like about you, too. We’ll get you through it.” Linda moved to Maze’s side and took her hand.

Maze’s wide and determined eyes met Linda’s.  Without letting her go, Maze lifted the crystal bauble to her chest and closed her eyes. Her hand tightened on Linda’s, and Linda could feel the warmth coming through her. Light swelled through Maze’s chest, violet and eerie and utterly beautiful, and it worked its way in a slow spread, burning underneath the skin of her limbs. Finally, it stretched upward, enlivening her face as it seeped through her eyelids and lips.

“Linda…” Maze gasped as her eyes popped open.

“I’m here. I’m here, Maze.”

* * *

Lucifer strolled up to Chloe’s desk, checking his cuffs, and caught a wary glance from Dan as he passed. Ignoring him resolutely, Lucifer presented himself with a puffed chest and a smile. Chloe didn’t look up. She scowled at her notepad and tapped her finger impatiently on the side of her phone.

“Yeah, Mom. It’s me again. Give me a call whenever you have a moment. Nothing’s wrong. I’m alright, and Trixie’s great. I just wanted to talk… and to thank you for taking Trixie while Dan and I were working things out on the job.” Chloe put the phone down and made a disgruntled noise deep in her throat. “Oh. Hey. Sorry.”

“Nothing to worry about, I trust?” Lucifer took his seat.

“No. I’m just…” Chloe rubbed her forehead. “I just heard about Maze’s mom today.”

Lucifer scowled.

 “Maybe this is just a human thing, but when you hear someone else’s parent died, you just—” Chloe shrugged. “I don’t know, want to connect with your own? Even if they drive you crazy. Maybe especially if they drive you crazy.”

“It isn’t like Maze ever cared about her mother before a week ago,” Lucifer scoffed.

Chloe raised a brow. “She obviously did. Maze loses her mind at the slightest hint of rejection.” Her head tilted. “I thought you’d get that.”

“Why would I? She’s never mentioned it. What am I, John Edward?”

“No, no.” Chloe reached over and touched his hand. “I meant, because of your problems with your mother. I mean—“ She bobbed her head from side to side. “—I don’t know if this is possible, but if she were to die, with everything unresolved? I remember how hard it was for you dealing with the possibility of her coming back because she’d abandoned you.”

“I suppose.” Lucifer pulled his hand back. “Well, she’s gone now.”

“But that’s not really my experience. I’ve fought with my mom, and we’ve had our problems, but she didn’t leave me.”

“Lilith’s choice to leave her children had nothing to do with me,” Lucifer objected.

“That’s still not what I’m saying. I am not blaming you for what she did. I’m just saying, you know how they feel, don’t you?” Chloe shook her head. “Never mind. I can’t expect an immortal to react to death the same way a human would. The point is, it’s all a lot more immediate for me, and I’ve already lost the one parent, so I’m just gonna pester my mom until she gets on the phone.”

“Ah.” Lucifer nodded. He tensed his lips then stood abruptly. “Do we have a case?”

“Unfortunately nothing fresh. Lieutenant Lu isn’t sanguine about putting me back in the field so soon after…” Chloe shrugged. “If you want to stick around and do paperwork?”

Lucifer lifted his chin suspiciously. “Is this a test? Wherein I become the bad boyfriend for not doing the boring part with you?”

“Pfft. No.” Chloe came over and touched his shoulder. “You went all the way back to your penthouse to get dressed, and I could’ve messaged you, if I hadn’t been distracted all morning.”

“It’s alright.” Lucifer smoothed his hand down the front of his suit. “Tell me what you need me to do.”

Chloe smiled. “Sit. I promise we’ll go out to lunch when it gets too boring.”

“You do spoil me so.” Lucifer took his seat once again and watched as Chloe pulled out a few files. “Tell me, er. Chloe. Apart from tensions about your mother…. Are you doing alright? I know the past few weeks have been trying.”

“To say the least.” Chloe tugged on her suit jacket. “I’m okay. At first, I admit, I was a little shaken over Dan shooting you—“

“I can’t say I enjoyed that much.”

“But I talked to him this morning, and… He’s calming down, I think. It’ll take time. It took time with me.”

“You didn’t shoot me. Not after you saw my face, anyway.” Lucifer huffed. “We can thank my mangled twin for that.”

Chloe pressed her lips together in a line.

“Anything else do you, er, need?”

“Are you trying to mojo me?” Chloe raised a brow and leaned forward. “What do you desire?”

“I want to not screw this up with you because Dad screwed all of us up,” Lucifer answered automatically. He blinked and sat back, pulling his flask out. “Ugh. Bugger. Well. At least we’ve got that.”

“You’re not screwing it up.” Chloe reached out and squeezed his hand. “But thanks for checking in with me.”

“I’m not… good at that. I don’t think I’ve ever really had to try to get people to… talk about things, other than what they want in the moment,” Lucifer admitted. “I know we tried that, before. With me asking you what you needed from me—”

“Well, then, I didn’t know. The situation was so crazy. I just needed, I think, to figure out what it meant for me. And sometimes, we can’t really help each other do that.” Chloe tapped her pen against her desk. “Kind of like when you found out about the whole Miracle situation and ran off to Vegas.”

“Or when you ran off to Rome,” Lucifer said, trying to keep his tone teasing and light.

“Lucky for us, Dan is terrified of heights, so he won’t be flying to Europe any time soon.” Chloe looked at her computer screen and started typing.

“So, is it okay that I haven’t…?”

“That never makes a girl feel good, but… I think I’ve just gotten in my head about it.”

“Michael got in your head about it.”

Chloe looked up and shook her head firmly. “No. If I’m honest, and since you have to be, I should be too, I was feeling antsy about it already. Ella was telling me how fast things were going with Pete, and how he was about to tell her he loved her, and it made me feel, I don’t know. Insecure about where we were going with this? It’s irrational, but not completely irrational. I mean…”

She spread her hands. “You are going to live so much longer than I am. And I’m not young—”

“You’re not old,” Lucifer objected.

“I’m a single mom nearing forty,” Chloe said firmly. “One of us has to be realistic. It makes me feel like we have this crazy pressure to get all of our happiness at once, and I know myself. I do this thing where I hold off until I’m totally sure I want something, and then I start to rush towards the ending. I did it with Dan, and we were happy, for a while. Then, I tried to do it with Marcus, and that was ugh. Wrong.”

Lucifer chuckled. “For so many reasons. Not the least of which involve possible crushing injuries.”

Chloe eyed him.

“Because he was a behemoth.”

“I got that.” She smirked a little, then continued, “I don’t want to try to fast forward to the end of this. We’ve waited so long that I don’t want to wait anymore, but I also don’t want to miss out on what we have right now. Does that make sense?”

“It does.” Lucifer trailed his hand down the front of his shirt.

“Is there anything you need?”

“I’m not sure, actually. I’ve only done this the once. With Eve. And I buggered that up good and proper.”

“I think that was just because you were trying so hard to please her that you lost yourself.” Chloe leaned on her hand. “You both do that. You and Eve. I think you two might have been too much alike. You and I are very different people. And that makes things hard in a different way, but if we’re careful, we can match each other. Plus… I can mojo you if you ever get skittish about asking for your own desires.”

“I’m no shrinking flower.” Lucifer huffed. “You think there’s anything I haven’t done?”

“I think when we dragged your sexual partners in here for questioning, it was all about what you do for them.” Chloe gestured forward with one hand. “You don’t always get that give and take in your relations. Apart from me, and well, Eve… You haven’t really had a partner.”

Somehow, her phrasing struck his memories oddly, and Lucifer opened his mouth, hesitating to agree or disagree. Was it a lie to say he’d not had a partner before the two of them?

“Was there some one else?” Chloe asked uncertainly.

“Not… Like you’re thinking.” Lucifer shook his head. “Not romantically. Or sexually. No, it’s just been the two of you.”

“Then, we get to explore new territory together.” Chloe folded her fingers together and rested her chin on them with a smile. “That part of a relationship is always a rush. It’s always exciting, and maybe a little scary. But no matter what you say, I’m a detective, and I have eyes. You’ve gone to Hell for me twice. You’ve taken bullets for me. You nearly took an axe for me.”

“Always, Detective.”

“Then words don’t matter. Things don’t matter. Actions matter.”

Chloe sucked on her lower lip, and the two of them stared at each other, smiling goofily until she looked away, her cheeks red.

“Well then.” Lucifer stood. “Let me prove my devotion by getting you your favorite coffee order.”

“Um… Why don’t we switch it up?” Chloe worried her lip for a moment. “I’ve been meaning to try the dirty chai latte at that café, you know, two blocks over that way…”

“Say no more. I remember.” Lucifer chuckled. “Dirty chai? I like the sound of that. I assume still with your almond milk? And hot as, well… Home.”

“Definitely.” Chloe bit the back of her pen and watched him as he turned.

Something quite flattering about how she watched him saunter away.

Chapter Text

"True compassion means not only feeling another's pain but also being moved to help relieve it." -- Daniel Goleman

“Heeeeey, guys!”

Michael looked up from reading War and the Soul to see Ella beaming as she entered Linda’s house carrying a tray of coffees. The woman was like a walking human rainbow. Linda looked up from the bag she’d been organizing on the dining table while Amenadiel bounced Charlie on his hip, ever Mr. Dad.

“Good morning, Ella,” Amenadiel said.

She bounced on her toes as she held out the tray for Linda to take one.

 “That’s so thoughtful,” Linda said. “I wondered where you’d gone to!”

“Well, Michael tipped me off yesterday that the coffeemaker was a no-go for a while. Y’know, because of Charlie.” Ella bobbed her head from side to side. “And I gotta earn my keep.”

Ella’s face fell. “Man, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were back already! I didn’t get you one. I’m not even sure what kind of coffee you like. You could take mine? It’s um, really sweet, though.”

“That’s fine,” he assured her. “I’ll get some tea and nap when Charlie does.”

“Riiiight. You’re the tea guy.” Ella nodded and turned to Michael. “I may have gotten something else for you, too.” She clenched her teeth tight and said through them, “Don’t be maaaad?”

Michael glanced up from his book with narrowed eyes. “What did you do?”

“It isn’t bad!”

“No one says ‘don’t be mad’ unless they did somethin’ crazy.”

“Okay, maybe. Hang on.” Ella handed him one of the coffees, bounded back out the door, and returned holding a long, brown stick.

“Um…” Michael tilted his head in confusion. On one end, something round had been carved atop a small, black patterned section and a ring of silver.

“So, I got a lot of friends who are into cosplay, and this guy left this at my apartment, and he said he was going to pick it up, but that was two years ago, so it basically just lives at my place. Anyway, it’s cute, but I thought maybe, since you’re waiting on your new one to come in—“

“It’s a cane,” Michael said unnecessarily. Ella wiggled it in front of him until he set the coffee aside and took the it. “Is this a cat curled on top?”

“Yeah, uh… I mean, it is for cosplay, but I don’t think anyone would notice when you were using it. Your hand would be covering it.”

“That’s okay. I like cats.”

Michael moved his fingers over the “fluffy” tail that curled around the top of the cane. Of course, he didn’t have a mobility device on the way. He’d never had one, and nothing on Earth was free. But Ella had brought him one. What a simple, obvious solution. Michael pushed himself up from his seat and set the cane forward, staring at it for a moment before leaning his weight into it.

“It’s pretty sturdy,” Ella said. “Guillermo used it all weekend, and he’s like 300 pounds… Um, other- It’s the other leg, right?”

“Huh?” Michael looked up.

“You hold it with your left, don’t you? Because you need to support your right side?”

Michael nodded quickly. “Right. I was just seeing if it would hold.”

“Oh! Of course.” Ella held her hands out and shook her head. “You’ve been doing this forever. You don’t need me to explain it to you.”

He actually did, but he moved the cane to his left hand and experimentally leaned on it as he stepped forward with his right leg. Adrenaline threatened to tremble his limbs as he realized he would be able to get around the house on his own without having to hide. He could leave the house if he chose. He wouldn’t perpetually feel on the verge of falling and shaming himself. Needing to beg for a hand up or someone to lean on.

“I don’t know what to say,” Michael said, looking up at Ella.

“Uh, duh.” She grinned. “Say something sarcastic.”

Michael laughed in spite of himself. Ella grabbed her coffee and took a swig.

“Awesome. I was afraid you’d be a dog person or something.”

“No. Well… In general, I prefer animals to people.” Michael shook his head. He took his coffee and sipped it. It was a hazelnut, no sugar, no milk, and a pinch of cinnamon. “Hm, nice. Dark and bitter. Like my soul.”

“There, you go,” Ella said proudly. “I knew you’d find something to say.”

Michael could practically feel Amenadiel exchanging a look with Linda as Ella sat on the sofa and encouraged him to take a turn around the room. His brother’s trepidation was palpable, and much louder than the soft, sweetly unsettled pain humming within Ella. Her ex had hurt her. Damaged her deeply. Michael understood that kind of hurt… The kind of hurt that reshaped the way your body moved on an atomic level.

So he indulged her. He ignored Ella’s stupid, brilliant smile as he tried a few experimental steps, expecting any minute for the cane to break under his weight and drop him to the ground. It didn’t, though, and he returned to the sofa and stared down at Ella, once again at a loss for words.

“Medical stuff sucks sometimes,” she said. “And it always costs too much.” She glanced over her shoulder at Linda. “Sorry!”

“I don’t disagree. Most insurance companies refuse to cover therapy, or dental. Which, considering how fundamental both can be to overall health…” Linda shrugged and zipped up her purse before heading into the kitchen. “It’s just a shame.”

“Insurance doesn’t make any sense,” Michael said. “Necessary treatment shouldn’t cost anything.”

Linda frowned slightly.

“I think that, too!” Ella laughed. “So many countries can manage to support basic healthcare. Why are there even insurance companies to begin with?”

“Because people are greedy and evil,” Michael replied flatly, “and they use their money to get greedy and corrupt politicians to support their feasting on the vulnerable.”

“I hear ya, man!”

“People aren’t that bad,” Amenadiel objected. “People, in general, are good.”

Michael pursed his lips and raised a brow at him.

“Yup. That’s true, too.” Ella pulled her legs up cross-legged under her.

Amenadiel chuckled and gave them a nod on his way out of the room. Probably to put Charlie down for a nap.

“How?” Michael demanded. “People can’t be both generally good and evil.”

“Can so. Because people are complicated. You have darkness and still try really hard.”

“Having darkness doesn’t make you evil,” he objected.

Ella’s head drooped slightly, and Michael could feel the fear swelling in her chest, growing more vivid with each passing second. He moved over to the chair next to her and sat. Then, he prodded her knee with his cane. She smiled slightly.

“In my experience, you shouldn’t take life advice from psychopaths,” Michael deadpanned.

“I guess.” Ella twisted her fingers. “You had many psychopaths in your life? Did your ex count as one?”

Michael felt his face growing hot, and he fought the urge to look around and silence Linda on the topic forever with a fearsome look.

As much as he wanted to ease the reverberations of fear, some flavored with that man who had hurt her, and some with a deeper, more personal ache, Michael couldn’t bring himself to open up any more on the matter. Instead, he managed, “I couldn’t really speak to that. I’d call the guy who gave me this—” He pointed to the scar zagging over his nose and forehead. “—a certified psychopath. But you’d have to ask his therapist. Regardless, Pete’s narrative about himself probably means that no matter what he did to you, or to other people, he’s still the victim. He needs it to be your fault he chose you, and your fault things didn’t work out.”

“He did blame me for finding the orchids,” Ella murmured. “I don’t know. I think he was right about some things.”

“Broken clock’s right twice a day,” Michael said flatly. “But I don’t attribute intelligence to yet another human male justifying his hobby of cutting up women.”

Another ghost of a smile flickered over Ella’s lips, but then died. At least her fear had lessened, just a little. An awkward little laugh escaped from Michael’s lips. Immediately, he bit it back and looked away. Of course, he’d find other ways to embarrass himself. At least he could stand on his own feet again.

* * *

It had been a long, boring day at the precinct. Lucifer could have come back to Lux to do a bit of managing, but frankly, he’d take any amount of time, however boring, with Chloe over wild, raucous excitement.

He could practically feel himself turning into a shoe.

As his elevator rose up to his penthouse, he could hear soft plucking on his piano, and he furrowed his brow. He didn’t know who would be there during the day. His former lovers had for the most part given up on getting another ride on Mount Lucifer, and his staff knew better than to come up without good reason. He really ought to have some kind of lock on this place.

As the doors opened, his frown deepened. A throaty, steady voice filled the open space, singing softly:

“Y’know, sometimes, baby, I'm so carefree… With a joy that's hard to hide…” Lithe fingers more suited to bruising and pleasing found their way unsteadily along the keys. “And then sometimes again it seems that all I have is worry, and then you're bound to see my other side. But I'm just a soul whose intentions are good… Oh, please don't let me be misunderstood.”

“I’m not sure whether I’d prefer you to destroy it again or not,” Lucifer said loudly and pointedly as he strolled over to his bar.

Maze stopped playing and looked up from the piano. Surely, she’d sensed him coming. She seemed unfocused, though. Softer around the eyes than he was used to.

“Do you need a drink, or have you had too many?” he drawled.

“Neither,” she said bluntly, standing and hooking her thumbs into the beltloops of her obscenely tight pants. “We need to talk.”

“Apparently. Though it seems you’ve been talking to Chloe already,” Lucifer replied dryly.

Maze rolled her eyes. “I didn’t plan on talking to her first, but I owed it to her.”

“Did you now?” Lucifer lifted his scotch to his lips and tilted his head to the side. “For assisting her kidnapper? Is that what you owed it to her for? Or for assisting Michael when he tried to sleep with her?”

“I tried to stop him from that one,” Maze insisted. “He was being stupid, okay? And Chloe and I talked this out already.”

“Oh, then all forgiven, I suppose.”

“You’re not supposed to lie.” Maze didn’t come any closer. She paced a bit near the piano and then stopped. “I’m not here to talk about Chloe. I’m here to talk about us.”

Lucifer tightened his lips and raked his eyes over her. “I think you had it right before. There is no us anymore, is there?”

“You don’t get to be the only one mad here,” Maze snapped. “I didn’t break this on my own. I’m just trying to apologize for the parts I’ve screwed up.”

“You don’t apologize.”

Maze threw her hands up. “Apparently, I do now.”

Lucifer set his drink down and took a step closer as he examined her. “You used it. You took the soul.”

“It wasn’t like doing drugs. I just… accepted it. He made it for me, after all.” Maze crossed her arms, looking uncomfortable.

“Well, I would’ve suggested you enjoy one last night soul-free as it were.” Lucifer smiled lasciviously. “Souls tarnish pretty quick. Might as well make the most of the time you have left.”

Maze narrowed her eyes. “Did you know Michael could give me a soul? You said it was impossible.”

“I’d forgotten he could Create.” Lucifer shrugged. “It’s been forever since he was called on to do anything like that.”

Maze considered that, then nodded.

“Oh, you believe me? Not going to come flying at me, knives in hand?”

“If you don’t stop being such a little bitch, I might.” Maze curled her upper lip. “I should have talked to you about what was bothering me. But you’re so damn condescending about demons. You think of me like I’m not even a person. You never consider my feelings, and I’m not sure that you can for anyone.”

“I’ll have you know that the Detective and I had a very evolved heart to heart this morning,” Lucifer said proudly. “Your theory is incorrect, Maze.”

“Then, just her. You have just barely enough empathy for you and your girlfriend.” Maze shook her head. “You just don’t get it. You can’t expect people to side with you all the time when you hurt them. It hurts me when you act like I don’t have feelings. It hurts me when I’m just a tool for you to get things done. It hurts me when you say I’m ‘just a demon,’ like that means I don’t count, and it hurt me that you cared more about your image as ‘never lying’ than telling me that my mother was alive.”

“You ungrateful—”

“She’s dead, Lucifer!” Maze swept her arm around and knocked a glass to the ground. “Dead. I managed to talk to her once but only because Michael tipped me off about that damned ring. You’re wearing my mother’s immortality on your hand, and you never even considered telling me?”

Lucifer touched his ring unconsciously, then caught himself and looked at it. “I didn’t realize she’d passed. But it was what she wanted. And I promised her, Maze.”

“I don’t know why I’m here. It’s like talking to your own armpit.” Maze huffed and headed for the elevator. She stopped abruptly and turned. “You know, people exist outside of your little love bubble. They have their own thoughts and desires. I know you know that part because you’re so good at ripping it out of them. But you don’t care about people. And sooner or later, Chloe’s going to notice that and stop giving you passes because she’s a better person than you or me will ever be. You only care about your wants and your plans, and everyone else is just a toy for you to manipulate—"

“Careful, Maze,” Lucifer growled. Heat sprang to the surface of his skin.

“What do you want me to say?” Maze taunted. “That you don’t use people? Like you used me? And Eve? Or that you’re not cruel and vindictive when you feel like it? Breaking a guy’s spine to feel better about yourself, or ruthlessly mocking your twin’s injuries, and then carving a snake across his face for fun?”

Anger came to life in his eyes, burning so hot that the room seemed to come into a fierce clarity as she added:

“Don’t tell me that you aren’t just like your old man in his Old Testament Phase.”

Even as the words left her lips, Lucifer was on her. Having so recently felt God’s overwhelming power holding him in place, dampening his will, a cut like this was too much to be borne. He swept toward her with such speed that she only had time to drop down, and his fingers snatched the wig right off her head. She rolled, putting distance between them as he tossed the red hairpiece aside, and hopped to her feet. Her hands were empty, but ready, waiting.

Mazikeen. His demon. The one who had clung to his side since her adolescence and never left. Not until she decided to start betraying him at every turn.

“Still defending him?” he said, his voice rumbling so low that he knew if his face hadn’t sunken into a dark, bloody red, it soon would. “Michael kidnapped her. Terrified her. Impersonated me!”

“This isn’t about him!” Maze set her jaw and spread her feet ever so slightly. She would be ready for him this time. “It’s about you! What is wrong with you lately?”

“Nothing wrong with me. Seems as though for a demon a soul just can’t take,” he sneered. “Lucky for Eve that she left you. Smart, anyway. Neither of us ever deserved her. Even now, everything you are would make her miserable, and utterly ruin her life.”

Maze clenched her teeth. “You will never change!”

“And neither will you!” Lucifer shot back. “Why would she ever want you?”

He’d expected anger, but before the fury overtook her face, a flicker of violet energy enlivened her eyes, and the half of her face that she hid fell away. Stricken. Raw. Desolate.

Then the fury came over her with a guttural roar as she rushed at him. In one motion, she caught him around the waist, and he lifted her up and slammed her into the marble floor so hard that it cracked. Her resentment flashed up at him in spite of her obvious dizziness, and she rose faster than he’d anticipated, tangling herself around his legs and causing him to fall.

“Everyone! Everyone leaves me, and you think it’s funny? Did you laugh when Lilith said she didn’t want us? Do you get off on having an army of fucking orphans?”

Maze gripped the back of his head and knocked his face into the floor. Lucifer propelled himself backward, sending her flying. She slid until she hit the bar, causing glass to crash around her.

“You insidious, faithless wretch!” he growled.

The anger just kept rising up inside him. It was a fountain of rage, and it was endless. Moreover, as he gripped her neck in his hand, part of him deep inside went ice cold in terror. As if one side were watching horrified as the other crushed her airway and stared into her eyes with all the maddening power at his disposal.

“What do you desire, demon?”

“I-I want… My family…” she gasped.

His wings unfolded in a gust of air, and he could see from the expression in her eyes which abominable wings had been summoned this day. Gripping her even tighter, Lucifer launched himself upward.  Up, up, up, and then…

Down. Moving between the planes as easily as gliding through cool waters. But the waters began to boil, and around him ash began to collect. The air filled with the sounds of screams and the stench of blood and boil and excrement.

Maze’s hands clung tightly to his wrist, and her eyes rolled wildly as she caught sight of Dis. The city of demons. With a dismissive toss, he flung her inside, and then swooped upward again, not bothering to see where she landed, now that he’d granted her desire.

Lucifer returned to the loft, landing beside his piano. His head wouldn’t stop spinning, and as he shrugged his shoulders… his wings… wouldn’t go back in.

He collapsed to the floor again, removing the shreds of his shirt as his insides whirled between hot and cold, anger and shame, despair and confusion. On the bar, his phone buzzed. Likely the Detective.

He didn’t move.

He’d just cast Maze back into Hell.

Chapter Text

“Fear makes us feel our humanity.”

— Benjamin Disraeli

After a few days off hanging out with Linda and Amenadiel and Charlie and the grumpypants twin, Ella had decided it was time to get back to the station. Linda had been cautious to avoid turning her psychoanalytical eye on Ella while she was under her roof, which was helpful. Amenadiel had always provided this incredible presence that made her feel secure, sort of like when she felt especially close to the Big Guy.

And Michael?

What an odd little guy. It was hard to believe he was even brothers with a cocky guy like Lucifer, let alone his twin. Still, under all that grumpiness and pain, Ella spotted it. That little spot of sweetness that just wanted to be accepted. That responded in kind to kindness.  

And man, he really loved that cane. It was like no one had ever tried to make his life easier since his injury. He didn’t know what to do with himself. He kept stroking the back of the wood cat on top. Freaken adorable.

“Hey! Welcome back, hermanita!”

Ella jumped slightly as Dan came up behind her. “Seriously, dude. I’m gonna hand you a ball-tap the next time you do that.”

“Sorry.” Dan chuckled as he followed her into her lab. “I heard you’ve been at Casa de Linda.”

“Yeah. It’s been… I dunno. I’m thinking of getting a new apartment. It’s just so weird being around there.” Ella shrugged. “It’s been nice in Linda’s pool house, though. I sent Margaret off to live at a rescue place because she grossed out He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named, but if I found somewhere that had a yard? A place for Margaret? A couple hundred guard dogs?”

Dan smiled and squeezed her shoulder.

Ella bit her lip and went over to her stool. “So uh… What have we got today?”

Settling back into her work helped calm her mind. At least a little. Collecting details, analyzing bits and pieces. Even with the constant hum of nervousness that had become part of her since her eyes had taken in those orchids. Why had he invited her in? Had he wanted to be caught?

Just hurrying the inevitable along? Her hands moving automatically preparing slides, Ella imagined what it would be like to be paralyzed and helpless like those girls…

The rap on her doorframe caused Ella to drop the slide she was holding.

“God, I’m so sorry.” Chloe swept in and moved to help her clean up.

“No, no. Let me do it. I’ve got gloves on.” Ella grabbed a dustpan and got on the floor. “Did you need something?”

“No, I…” Chloe shook her head. “I was wondering if you’d talked to Lucifer? He was supposed come over last night, but he didn’t, and he hasn’t called…”

“Oh.” Ella put the pan on the counter and frowned. “You think he went back to Florida?”

“What?” Chloe crossed her arms. “No. He wouldn’t...” She looked up, then down at the floor, her eyes bugging out. “Maybe… No, he’d at least tell me if he went back.”

“Then, he’s just being a flake, right?” Ella pinched her lips to the side. “I love the guy, but he can be really self-involved. Just keep at him. Make sure he knows he can’t get away with this crap now that you’re together.”

Chloe let out a soft laugh. “It’s not just him being self-involved. He does really get in his head sometimes, though.”

“Is having his twin around messing with him?” Ella emptied the pan and went over to wash her hands so she could restart the slide. “It must be weird. It doesn’t seem like they get along, and Michael… I dunno. The guy has a ten-foot wall around him. That must suck for Mr. Favors.”

“I don’t think that’s it. Not for Lucifer, anyway.” Chloe tilted her head to the side. “I haven’t figured them out yet, but I have to believe it has something to do with their father.”

Ella wrinkled her nose. “Yeah, that guy seems like he’s the worst.”

“The absolute worst.” Chloe leaned against the counter. “The thing is, whenever I’m around Michael, he tries really hard to get me not to like him.”

“Huh. I think he was trying that with me that first day at Linda’s.” She set her new slide under the microscope. “But then I cried on him and drooled on him. So there’s a tip for ya.”

Chloe opened her mouth and let out a huff of a laugh. Then, she sucked in both lips as she considered something. “Look, I don’t know him that well, but… I know you have a thing about being attracted to ‘bad boys’—”

“He’s not a bad boy, Chloe.”

“He’s not a good one.”

“Is Lucifer?” Ella teased.

Chloe rolled her eyes and snorted. “When he wants to be. When he controls himself.” She furrowed her brow. “Seriously, though. Be careful?”

“Ever bone in my body makes me want to be careful.” Ella exhaled slowly. “I can’t walk into a room with someone male-presenting without feeling like… Like… I mean, you know, right? After what happened?”

Chloe looked away. She stroked one thumb over the other.

“Sorry. God, I shouldn’t have even mentioned it—”

“No, it’s just… I’m actually feeling a lot better about it.” She looked up and nodded. “The guy who took me… I’m not going to say it wasn’t kind of scary at the time, but he didn’t hurt me, and I know apart from the actual kidnapping itself, he never meant to. I’m fine. I promise. So don’t use your energy worrying too much about me, okay? And tell me if you need anything?”

“Yeah. Of course.” Ella bobbed her head. “Of course. And I’ll, y’know, be careful around the guy who can barely walk or even admit that he has mobility problems.”

Chloe opened her mouth, but then closed it and nodded again.

“Maybe we can get him and Lucifer on a couch together at Linda’s,” Ella suggested. “It might help.”

“Maybe we should lock them a padded room together,” Chloe muttered. “I mean, if they wouldn’t tear each other apart in there.”

“That’s so sad. Siblings should be there for each other.”

Chloe rubbed her forehead. “It’s all a little above me.”

“Don’t say that. You’re one of the smartest, strongest people I know.” Ella gripped the table and pulled away from the microscope. “You’ve been through so much, and you’re fine. I… I’m not fine. I don’t know if I ever will be.”

Chloe touched her mouth for a moment, then came around to wrap Ella up in a hug. Ella felt her breath catching inside her, and she pressed her cheek into Chloe’s stiff suit jacket. Chloe’s arms were strong. Much stronger than the dozens of times Ella had grabbed her into a secure embrace.

“Maybe not now,” Chloe whispered to her, “but you will be. You just have to let yourself heal, okay? And be nice to yourself about it. There’s nothing wrong with needing the time to process everything. It’s okay not to be okay. That doesn’t make you weak, or it doesn’t make you not brave. It just makes you human.”

Ella nodded a little and closed her eyes. Weak, yes. Brave, maybe. Human… sometimes, Ella wondered.

* * *

At lunch, Chloe dropped by the penthouse to check in on Lucifer, but he wasn’t there. It looked like there’d been a fight, but since there were no stray feathers or blood around, Lucifer was probably okay. She left another message and finished out her day, still stuck in paperwork, before heading out to pick up Trixie from school.

He’d turn up. She’d seen him spin out for less. Granted, it was annoying for him to do it after they’d just had a serious and surprisingly adult discussion about their relationship, but odds were 50/50 that he was reacting to something strange and supernatural as much as he was feeling insecure about their relationship after having talked to her. He’d always projected onto their cases about a host of things, from his family to his personal image of himself.

Chloe pulled into the pickup line, where she spotted Trixie by the stairs with two other students. Joey she’d seen plenty. They’d been in the same classes since Trixie had started in this district. The other one Chloe didn’t recognize. The girl seemed familiar, but Trixie had never had her over. From Chloe’s understanding, Trixie got along well enough with her peers, but didn’t tend to have many close friends. Chloe thought she’d met anyone who was important to her daughter.

The familiarity flickered in and out. One moment, Chloe was sure she’d seen this kid before. The next, she knew she didn’t know her. She was tall, possibly in eighth grade? Her complexion was a bit darker than Trixie’s, and she was wearing what Chloe suspected was a short, pastel purple wig. Joey laughed and hopped onto the railing as he talked in an unending string, with Trixie and the other girl chiming in off and on.

Then, the girl moved. Trixie tried to grab her wrist, but the girl had spotted something across the lawn and in a few moments, she was standing by a boy a head taller than her and twisting his arm behind his back. A small boy leapt up from the ground and sprinted to the sidewalk away from the other boys.

Swiftly, Chloe pulled her car into park and sprinted over to the group of boys surrounding the girl. To her surprise, the boy’s friends hadn’t moved in to pull her off. They’d all jumped back to keep their distance.

“Okay, break it up!” Chloe barked.

The girl looked up at Chloe, pinching her lips together and giving the boy’s arm another firm twist, causing him to yelp, before she let him go and stepped back. She stared up at Chloe, saying nothing.

“Dude, you got your ass beat by a girl,” one of the boys laughed.

The girl shot a censorious glance at them, and he and two of his friends started to inch away.

“Did you see what he was doing, Mom?” Trixie said as she ran up. “You can’t just rub a kid’s face in the dirt, Dillon!”

“I’m sorry!” Dillon, apparently, dragged his sleeve under his nose.

Mr. Jenkins and Ms. Hernandez hurried up to them, and Dillon started making pitiful noises.

“She broke my arm!” he whined.

“You need a lot more pressure than that to break a human bone,” the girl said, rolling her eyes. “Even an arm bone.”

“Still, Locke, we’ve talked about this. You can’t go around bullying the boys,” Ms. Hernandez scolded. “We’re going to have to bring your foster mom into the office.”

“C’mon, Dillon,” Mr. Jenkins said. “Let’s have the nurse check you out before practice.”

“She was defending that younger kid over there,” Chloe informed Ms. Hernandez. “I saw it from my car. Maybe she took it too far after she got him in the hold, but it could’ve been a lot worse. You should have the younger boy he was hurting checked out, too. And I expect you plan on disciplining Dillon as well?”

“It wasn’t my fault!” Dillon complained. “That kid fell on his own. I was just helping him up.”

“That’s your story?” Chloe gestured to the line of cars. “Are you willing to bet that no one else saw exactly what happened? Because there’s a whole courtyard full of witnesses here.”

Dillon screwed up his brows at her. Trixie smirked.

Mr. Jenkins scowled and patted Dillon on the back. “We’ll have it sorted out tomorrow,” he said before heading into the building.

Chloe looked to Ms. Hernandez and raised a brow.

“I know, but this is not the first time Locke has gotten in trouble.” Hernandez looked to Locke. “You can wait for your foster mom in the front office.”

“She’s not coming today,” Locke said.

“You aren’t supposed to leave campus on your own!” Hernandez said exasperatedly. “Locke, there are rules in place, and they aren’t just to annoy you!”

“I can take her home,” Chloe offered.

“I wish we could do that, but with foster kids, only adults on a list in our office can take them off of campus,” Hernandez explained. “It’s in case divorced parents or exes decide to kidnap the child.”

Chloe sighed. Dammit. She’d known that.

“My parents are dead. No one is going to come looking for me,” Locke said in a tone so flat that Chloe’s heart seized in her chest a little.

“Look, why don’t I park the car, and then I can come in and see if we can’t get one of your foster parents on the phone, hm?” Chloe moved to touch Locke’s shoulder, but the girl’s eyes widened and she shank away.

Good god.

A few minutes later, Chloe found herself sitting with her daughter and her daughter’s new little friend just outside the principal’s office.

“So how long have you known Trixie?” Chloe asked.

“A couple of years.” Locke sat back in the chair in a state of relaxation that was truly unnatural for any kid outside of the principal’s office.

Chloe gave Trixie a questioning look, only to receive a shrug in return. Why wouldn’t Trixie have mentioned this girl?

“I’ve had a couple of different foster parents. They moved me in and out of the school district.” Locke picked at her cuticles. “So I wasn’t always around. Plus, we’re not in the same grade. So.”

“Okay.” Chloe nodded. “But you two are close now?”

“Yeah,” Trixie said.

Locke shrugged and looked away from Chloe at the window outside. Her brows shot up, and she sat up a little and swallowed.

What an odd kid.

Chloe found them all called in a moment later, and she debriefed them on what had happened while the principal let Locke’s foster mom Carole listen on the speakerphone.

“I know it’s not right for those boys to hurt the younger kids, but you should just get an adult to deal with it,” Carole said. “Mr. Sherman, I understand the problem, but I’m curious why she’s in this conference, but those boys weren’t.”

“I promise you, Mrs. Day, we’ll deal with him tomorrow when we can bring in his parents.” He hesitated. “For now, though, we do need you to come in to pick her up.”

“I’m really sorry about this. I thought my husband would be doing it today,” Carole said. “Locke, sweetie, just wait there, and we’ll work something out.”

“But you have work,” Locke objected. “I don’t want you to have to go out of your way—”

“Honey! It’s my job to make sure you’re safe.”

Locke crossed her arms and leaned back again. Her expression had turned brutally skeptical.

“Mom?” Trixie looked to Chloe expectantly.

“I can meet with Mrs. Day later to talk about this,” Chloe told her. “They need CPS to clear me to pick her up or even have her over for the night. It’ll be okay, though.” She looked to Sherman. “Locke isn’t in trouble, is she?”

“I think we can have a real meeting with the Days later,” he said firmly. “But I promise, Detective Decker, we won’t be singling Locke out.”

“Alright.” Chloe nodded. “It was good to meet you, Locke… um, what’s your last name?”

“Constantine.”

“We can’t just leave her here,” Trixie objected.

“I’m fine. I’ve faced a lot worse stuff than boredom in a tacky office.” Locke looked to Mr. Sherman. “Your secretary’s, not yours. You’re so good at interior design, you could be on the new Queer Eye.”

Mr. Sherman looked at her sourly. Locke gave him a nod and headed back out into the waiting room of the office. She sat on the arm of an abusively bright sofa and looked up at them.

“Thanks, Detective,” Locke said with a salute.

“Do you have a phone?” Chloe asked. “Let me give you my number, just in case you ever need help.”

Locke seemed amused by this but handed over her phone. She curled her finger over to bring Trixie closer and whispered something in her ear.  Trixie looked back at the window and frowned.

“I’ll contact your foster parents to set up a meeting. I promise.” Chloe handed her phone back.

“Okay.” Locke shifted to straddle the arm and bit her lower lip. “See ya later, Trix.”

Trixie huffed a sigh and followed Chloe out of the office. “It sucks that Locke can’t just go back to her foster parents’ house. Most days she sees herself home.”

“That’s not good, Trixie. The state has these rules because it’s so easy for foster kids to get overlooked or abused,” Chloe explained.

“I’m pretty sure if some jerk tried to hurt her, she could take him,” Trixie said.

“You’re probably right.” Chloe put her hand on Trixie’s shoulder. “Good for her.”

On the way to the car, Trixie kept looking around, and when they got buckled in, she finally said, “Locke said some huge guy who looked like he’d been burned all over was staring at you through the window in the office.”

“What?” Chloe stopped just as she was about to turn the key. “A man who’d been burned?”

At once, she could practically feel the rough, hot, painfully twisted skin of Lucifer’s other face.

“Burned and had sharp teeth? And no hair? And that he was watching us in the outer office, and he followed to watch us in Mr. Sherman’s office.”

Chloe blinked dumbly for a minute and then looked around the parking lot. “Why didn’t you say anything until now?”

“Because it sounds kind of crazy. But Locke doesn’t lie about that stuff.” Trixie put her backpack down on her feet. “She’s really good at clocking people. If she says he’s dangerous, I believe her.”

“No, I…”

Chloe had the urge to just call out, but instead, she just took her phone and texted Lucifer: Where are you? Call me. Or come to the apartment. I don’t care what happened. I need to see you.

Trixie narrowed her eyes. “You know what Locke’s talking about.”

Chloe bobbed her head from side to side. “Well, yes. I do. And he won’t hurt us, but… I really need to talk to him, if…”

Burned skin. She knew that Lucifer would have a relapse sooner or later. Why couldn’t he just come to her with things like this?

“Let’s get home, okay, monkey?”

* * *

Ella was awake.

She’d no idea when she’d woken up, or any recollection of falling asleep. She had simply lain in bed, listening to true crime podcasts, and then she must have slept, because she was awake again. Awake, and frozen solid.

She couldn’t move. Her limbs lay by her sides utterly unresponsive. Her eyelids fluttered unevenly, opening to darkness all around her. She was in the pool house. Wasn’t she? It was so dark. Had Pete finally gotten her? Had he escaped and stuck her in her sleep?

Ella tried to drag in a breath but found her lungs uncooperative. As her eyes slowly began to adjust, she became aware of the mumbling of someone in the room with her, standing in the left corner of the room near the nightstand. His voice was deep, but shaky, and his words tumbled out one after the other rapidly.

“You breath out the sunshine and speak the unwitting truth, my girl, you are the beginning and end, you will one day walk in the shoes of death and wear her pendant, open the flesh and caress the organs, my love, and understand that birth is for us all, but death is a gift…”

The more he spoke, the more she could sense the boundaries of his smudge-like form. Roughly nine feet tall, his ribcage seemed to bulge out, overhanging his spindly legs.

Slowly, to her horror, the figure’s desiccated face turned toward her, and set a pair of eyes on her that glowed a whitish-green that she somehow knew belonged to the space between planes of existence. His jaws worked angrily as he pinned her down with his gaze.

His voice began to distort, its pitch starting to meander between the deep warble and an off-center groan. “Why aren’t you listening little girl you touched the grave at eight years old and never left it was your soft, tasty throat that should’ve been cut look at me WHY aren’t you LISTENING look at me look at me—”

Ella fought hard to open her mouth for a shrill scream, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t scream. She couldn’t move her head. She couldn’t do anything.

And he wouldn’t stop. He never stopped his tirade, and his voice only grew more and more strange. She closed her eyes tightly, but his voice grew louder. When she looked again, he was closer, muttering more angrily.

No, no, no, no. Ella tried to turn her head away from him and closed her eyes again. Somewhere outside of the room, there was a thump against the wooden floors. Thump. Thump. Thump.

Now, the figure was by her bedside, looming over her.

Thump. Thump. It was getting closer.

In fits and spurts, a spindly leg climbed over her, and he settled himself on her chest, still muttering and half-moaning: “Girl, girl, LiStEn tO mE, let’s open you up and plaaaaay you have sOnGs and sTaRs inside you and shining fish that will dAAAAnCe in the moonlight thirty-TwwwwwOooo fish to sIng to the death-rattle of all you have witnessed our Endless wicked prrrrrincEEESS…”

His forehead touched hers, and she couldn’t breathe from the weight of him on her, and all the while, the thumping noise grew louder, and louder, and…

“Begone, nightmare,” a wry, irritated voice said.

The lights flicked on, and Ella managed a whimper as she saw Michael standing by the door holding his cane. She wanted to yell to him to run away from this thing before it got him, too. It looked up at him, staring, and Michael made his way over to her, his face more annoyed than afraid.

“I think I told you to go away.” Michael stood by the bedside. He and the figure stared at one another, and he reached over to put his hand on Ella’s chest. “Breathe deep, Ella. In and out. Try to wiggle your fingers and toes.”

I can’t, she thought helplessly. But then she realized that the figure had finally shut up the moment Michael had arrived.

So she tried, futilely at first, but after a moment, her toes began to move and her chest began to fill with air. She blinked and…. The figure was gone. The room looked different, and she was shuddering.

“H-he… I couldn’t move…” Ella managed. Her eyes were starting to grow wet.

She wrapped her arms around Michael so suddenly that he nearly stumbled, but then sank onto the bedside.

“Sorry,” she muttered, shaking her head.

“It’s okay. The Loquacious Man isn’t comforting to anyone.” Michael touched the back of her head gently. “I don’t know why his breed even exists. Maybe Morpheus got high snorting sand that day and thought some humans really needed to be scared shitless by their subconscious.”

“What?” Ella looked at Michael. Now that she was focusing, he looked exhausted. Tousled, but definitely unrested. Engulfed by a long-sleeved shirt that had to belong to Amenadiel. “How did you know I was having a nightmare?”

“More like sleep paralysis. And it’s such a specific fear.” Michael shrugged. “I could feel it.”

Ella frowned.

“Look, I’d lie to you. I don’t mind lying. But it isn’t like I could be taking a stroll by the pool, in the dark, and hear you, what? Breathing slightly heavier? Plus, I’m tired, and I can’t think of anything.” Michael looked down at her with a frown. “I felt your fear, so I came out here to see if there was anything I could do to make it easier. If it helps, Lurkers like him aren’t very powerful. If they were, they wouldn’t need you to be helpless.”

“Oh, I forgot...” Ella stopped clinging to Michael and pushed herself up in bed. She realized, just as her covers slipped down, that she was only wearing a t-shirt and her underwear. He wasn’t looking, however, so in spite of her blush, she continued, “I’ve had episodes like that once or twice.”

“I think there are specialists who know better how to escape. You could ask Linda for more tricks, but the most important thing is not to panic. They literally feed on fear,” Michael explained.

Ella tilted her head back. Was she still dreaming? Michael never talked too much, and he was always so guarded. And he never talked about things like this… even though his tone was as earthy and matter-of-fact as ever.

“Did you say you ‘felt my fear’?”

Michael pinched his mouth to the side. “Uhhh, yup. Those are the words I said.”

“What, is that like Lucifer’s desire thing?”

Michael rolled his eyes so hard; he might have bruised something.

Ella ran her hand through her hair. “I just meant, how he pulls off crazy things and says it has to do with his devil powers.”

“I’m not the devil. But I can…” Michael looked down at his cane and scowled. “I can sense things, sometimes.”

“Ohhh.” Ella bobbed her head. “So you’re like an empath!”

“Eh… Like an empath. With the unfun emotions.” Michael rolled his shoulders back stiffly. “I’m no Desire Genie.”

“Fear’s probably decidedly less fun than desire. Maybe more useful, though.” Ella put one of her pillows to the side and patted it to encourage Michael to sit back against it. He stared at it for a moment, and she poked him. “You scared my demon away. Just sit.”

Michael shot her a cranky look, but obeyed.

“Anyway, I guess either could be used to pry confessions outta people,” Ella mused.

“I doubt I could keep up with the Detective.”

Ella poked him against. “Stop being so mean to yourself.”

“But I’m so good at it,” he said with a pout.

Ella cracked a grin. She reached over and rubbed his arm, gently. “The Loquacious Man, huh?”

“Nightmares always have pretentious names.” Michael shook his head. “You should meet the Corinthian. He’s a dick. Always strutting around in sunglasses and tight jeans, like he’s smuggling a couple of nightmare hams back there.”

Ella covered her mouth and bowed over laughing. “What? Oh, my god!”

Michael sucked in his lower lip and rested his head against the bedframe. “That right there? It’s your best weapon. Fear hates to be laughed at. You can even fake it, a little.” He pushed his lower lip out and tapped his cane against his foot. “Just don’t let them hide too much. They're bigger, on the inside.”

“Yeah. I’ve tried that one.” Ella sat back and let out a huge sigh. “Can’t even run, ‘cause they live in you. You… can’t do anything.”

“Everyone has them, though,” Michael said. “As flashy as Lucifer’s desire-pumping is, literally everyone has fears. And you get past some, new ones move in.” He rubbed his thumb over the kitty-cane. “It’s part of being a person. Even the guy who makes nightmares gets scared.”

Ella bit back another smile. “Look at you making up stuff for me.”

Michael clicked his tongue. “Ask any of my brothers. I’m huge liar. I can lie like I breathe. I could give you a full-on ocean of nonsense.” He rubbed his brow. “But not right now. Because it’s like… four in the fucking morning, kid!”

Ella chuckled and leaned into his shoulder, hugging his arm. Then, she pulled back. “God, sorry. I should’ve asked if it hurts to touch this side.”

Michael stiffened and looked down at her with an expression somewhere between disgust and shame. Ella pulled back.

“Sorry.”

“It didn’t hurt.”

“Good.”

“You wanna drool on me again?”

“Maybe, but if I do, you’re gonna have to get more comfortable. This?” She moved her finger around in a figure-eight in his direction. “That’s a recipe for backpain.”

She slipped out of the bed, pulling her shirt down close to her legs, even though Michael’s eyes were on the floor as she grabbed a pair of shorts and shimmied them on.

“C’mon,” she ordered.

And then, she waited for Michael to get his balance before leading him out into the main room of the pool house, which had both a sitting area and a breakfast nook.

“This is better plan for sleep anyway,” he said, frowning in concentration as he walked alongside her. “Most Lurkers are the dumbest nightmares. Old Loquacious will probably get lost trying to find you again if you’re in a different room.”

Ella grinned and squeezed his arm.

They settled on the sofa in the sitting area, and Michael tented his brows as he shifted around, trying to get comfortable.

“So, you’ve had this happen before? Tell me about some of your other Lurkers. Maybe I know some gossip about them that’ll take their power away. And if I don't, I'll make it up.”

Ella tucked her legs underneath her and used Michael’s left arm as a pillow. “You’re a good guy, Michael.”

He made a “t’ch” noise but didn’t complain. She could spot just the slightest glimmer of a smile on his lips.

Chapter Text

“Life shrinks or expands in proportion to one’s courage.”

— Anais Nin

Amenadiel kept finding Ella and Michael together, and it was starting to present a real conflict for him.

On the one hand, Michael could be dangerous, when he chose. His powers were expansive at times, and his control over them went far beyond what Amenadiel understood about his own. Even Lucifer never used his powers without full eye contact and concentration.

Michael often looked at someone and assessed their fears at once. He sensed Charlie’s fears without any effort at all. And of all of them, he was the best at using his abilities against those who were not human.

On the other hand, Ella and Michael’s interactions had been platonic and tame, with Michael being fairly reserved. Watchful of her. She must be overflowing with fears. Was that an attraction or a deterrent for Michael? Did he want to drink it in, or did it irritate, like sand in an oyster, forcing him to attend to her needs until her fears were excised or subsumed by other memories?

Whatever it was, walking into the pool house to find Ella curled into Michael, so small and vulnerable, with his strong arm around her… caused mixed emotions. They both slept deeply. Like children. Or maybe it was the fact that Michael looked so much smaller while wearing Amenadiel’s clothes.

But, ultimately, how could even Michael dislike Ella? Her spirit shone like a newly-born star.

With Charlie on his hip, Amenadiel considered whether or not to wake them, but ultimately, Charlie made the decision for them, breaking into a whine that grew into a shriek.

Michael startled awake and covered his eyes against the light. Ella jerked up and looked around blearily.

“What’s happening?” she muttered.

“Sorry. I came in to offer breakfast,” Amenadiel said over Charlie’s cries.

“Seems like Chuckie wants breakfast, too,” Michael said, putting distance between himself and Ella.

“Probably.” Amenadiel patted Charlie’s back, trying to comfort him.

“I’m gonna get some shoes.” Ella got up and walked back to the bedroom, rubbing her eyes.

Michael eyed Amenadiel fiercely. After she’d been gone for a moment, he said, defensively, “She had a nightmare.”

“Of course, she did, Michael.” Amenadiel smiled as Charlie quieted and grabbed his shirt.

“If you’re implying that I gave her a nightmare—"

“I’m not. Come get some breakfast.” Amenadiel retreated, knowing by now that Michael had his own nightmares to tend to. Any time Amenadiel got up in the middle of the night, Michael would inevitable be up already.

Once back at the main house, Amenadiel settled Charlie into his highchair and started with some pureed squash. Charlie kept pulling his head away, but eventually, Amenadiel got some into his mouth.

Charlie immediately let it all dribble out.

Amenadiel hung his head.

“He hates that,” Michael said as he entered through the back door. “He gagged on it last Thursday because it tastes bitter, and now he thinks it’ll make him choke.”

“Really?” Amenadiel looked at the little jar of yellow goo.

“Everything’s new to him. He’s just started really recognizing things as the same.” Michael shrugged and went to the cabinet.

“You’d better be planning on having more than tea for breakfast,” Amenadiel said.

“Can you imagine what Mom would’ve been like if we started out like that?”

Amenadiel tried to imagine that. “Mom wasn’t much about the corporeal. She barely knew what to do with us when we hurt ourselves.”

He rose to find something else for Charlie to eat. Michael had gotten a banana and a jar of cashew butter and started smashing some of it together in a bowl.

“At least you’re eating,” Amenadiel muttered.

“Who says I am?” Michael spooned a bit of it into a smaller bowl and pushed it forward. “I bet he likes sweets. Pretty much all angels do.”

“Except you.”

Michael pressed his lips together in a non-smile. “Except me.”

Amenadiel took the bowl and went back over to wipe squash off of Charlie’s chin before trying breakfast again. At the counter, Michael prepared some toast and spread the rest of the banana/cashew butter mixture onto it.

Ella came into the house having put on a long sweater, and Michael handed her the plate.

“Thanks, man.” Ella narrowed her eyes as she took a bite and sat at the table. “Are you eating?”

“You two are impossible.” Michael dropped some dry toast on to a plate and made his way over to the table.

“I’ll make the tea,” Ella said, hopping up and heading into the kitchen. “Gotta keep my nightmare chaser going.”

Michael clicked his tongue and nibbled irritably at his toast.

Meanwhile, Charlie was loving the banana-butter mixture. Fruit and protein. It would do. Amenadiel was glad he’d gotten over himself to keep Michael around. He wouldn’t be making progress like this living with Lucifer. Their relationship was too fraught.

As Michael’s eyes followed Ella’s movements in the kitchen, Amenadiel could see more than manipulation or self-preservation in the sparks of interest there.

“Humans aren’t what they seem like from a distance, are they?” he asked, reaching over to touch Michael’s knee.

Michael shrank back. Of course, he did.

“Cut it out,” Michael said quietly.

“Okay.” Amenadiel went back to focusing on Charlie. But he kept the two of them in the corner of his eye as he fed his boy. Ella was warm with him. And he was gentle with her. And open. Amenadiel couldn’t remember seeing Michael like this.

After Ella had left for work, he ventured, “So what do you plan to do today?”

“Why?”

“It’s not a test. I’m just asking.”

Michael sucked on his teeth and tapped on the side of his teacup.

Amenadiel just smiled.

“I don’t know. I’ve read all of Linda’s books.”

“All of them?” Amenadiel glanced over at the floor to ceiling bookshelf. Made sense. Mom was always a fast reader, too. Not that Amenadiel didn’t like to read, but there was a limit. “A bit of a specialized area.”

“Dad asked me to fix my head. Those are psychology books.”

Amenadiel raised his brows. “Oh. Well, Linda could probably help you with that.”

Michael rolled his eyes.

“Lucifer wasn’t too good for therapy.” Amenadiel shrugged his head to the side. “Granted, he only started to go because he wanted to understand how to connect with Chloe.”

“Of course, he did.”

“And it’s taken him four years to get anywhere. He seems to be in a pretty good place now, though.” He turned to wipe Charlie’s mouth. “This might resolve faster for you, if you go."

“I’m not going to sit on a couch and talk with Lucifer’s former shrink and fuckbuddy.”

Amenadiel pressed his lips together and glared at Michael. It was impossible sometimes talking to either of the twins. He just had to keep reminding himself of how Lucifer had reacted when he’d first tried to reach out to him. A longwinded story followed by deep-cutting insults.

“You knew that part,” Michael objected in response to Amenadiel’s expression.

“Watch your language. There’s a child present.”

“Oh. Right.” Michael looked at Charlie and picked his tea up again. “He doesn’t speak English yet, but I can be less blunt about his mom.”

Amenadiel shook his head, then picked up Charlie to take him for a bath. “Whatever you decide to do… It’s your choice. Assuming you don’t go out to cause trouble. But you might start thinking about what you’d like to do with your time here on Earth. When I accepted that I was stuck here for a while… It did help to try to go out and find my place.”

“In the most polite way possible, I’m going to say I don’t think I’ll find it quite in the way you did.”

“I’d hope not,” Amenadiel teased with a chuckle. “I couldn’t imagine you being a father!”

Michael’s expression turned hard, and he rose to clean up his breakfast. “We can’t all follow Lucifer around until a life falls into our lap.”

“That isn’t exactly—”

“You didn’t even birth that kid,” Michael snapped. “If you’ve chosen after the fact to care for him, then good for you, but it doesn’t make you a saint, and it doesn’t mean you’ve put in the work of ‘finding yourself.’ You just lucked into your purpose, for now. When he gets older, you’re going to realize that you still don’t know who you are.”

He struggled, holding the plates in his free hand as he hobbled over to the sink. Cheeks burning with indignance, Amenadiel held back his anger, and his urge to just take the plates from Michael and do it himself. If he stepped in to help, it would only make Michael more defensive.

“I only meant to say that I found something that works for me while I was looking for something else. You don’t have to focus on it like a problem to solve. You just have to get out there and try.” He paused. “Or… You can stay here. It’s your choice now.”

As he took Charlie back for his bath, he resisted looking back. He could feel Michael’s eyes watching him and Charlie. And although Charlie didn’t cry, Amenadiel began to feel his anxiety rise, along with the hair on his arms, and he knew that something was roiling up inside his brother… Just as easily as he used to with Lucifer, he’d struck some raw nerve there. Though, he had no idea what that was.

* * *

Locke went straight to Lucifer’s library and started scanning over the spines of the weathered books.

“He doesn’t like it when you touch his stuff,” Trixie pointed out as she walked past broken glass on the floor. This place was a mess. Had Lucifer’s housekeeping service quit?

“I’m looking with my eyes, not my hands, thanks,” Locke said. Then, she immediately made herself a liar by pulling out a book. “This looks like a grimoire. It’s really old. Maybe he knew Aleister Crowley. Does Lucifer do witchcraft?”

Trixie tossed her bookbag on the couch. “I doubt it. He just seems to collect some of that stuff. Just don’t make it look like it’s been messed with.”

“Maybe don’t break and enter at the Devil’s Loft, if you don’t want to get in trouble.” Locke leaned back against the bar as she started to read.

Trixie sat at the piano and played a few notes. “No way he’s even here. He’s always solving crimes with my mom during the day.”

“This is really rare. I don’t think this was Crowley’s… I think it was Burgess. Have you ever heard of him?”

“No. What are you looking for, anyway?”

“Maybe a spell.”

Trixie sat on the piano bench and chuckled. “Yeah, I’d guess, since you’re reading a spell book.”

“Grimoire.” Locke set the book down and started taking pictures of the pages. “Has he ever talked about other worlds with you?”

“Like uhhh…?” Trixie screwed her brows together. “I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.”

“A few years ago, there was a rift on the beach by the pier.”

“A what?”

“Ask your mom about it some time. She was there. With Lucifer.”

“Huh. So, what, some gnarly creatures got through?”

Locke flipped another page. “You know, I bet even Burgess couldn’t just go between dimensions. You think he has some tea or OJ in his kitchen?”

“Lucifer? Maybe. He doesn’t seem the tea type. OJ, maybe.”

Locke put the book back and went in search of another ancient mystical tome. Then she moved to her tiptoes to try to see more books. It was a little funny. Locke was taller than her, but still nowhere near Lucifer’s height, and some of those book would be out of reach for him anyway. Trixie stood and walked toward the bedroom. The kitchen was through the hallway behind it. Maybe she could find something…

“I know my mom stays over here when I’m with my dad. And Lucifer drinks… fancy… water…”

The moment she stepped onto the top stair leading into his bedroom, she could hear heavy breathing.

Something in the corner was… moving. Breathing. Trixie stood there, frozen. She could turn on the light, but… It wasn’t like Lucifer had pets. He liked cat pictures but hated to clean up after anything. And this was… not furry. It looked like… something big, and red, and veiny. And the more her eyes adjusted, the more they took in the enormity of the shape before her.

Then, two red eyes flashed in the darkness.

Trixie let out an undignified squeal, stepped back, and fell down the stairs. At once, a gust of wind hit her from the front, and suddenly, the creature that had been lurking in the corner loomed over her, its claws digging into her back as it held her above the floor.

“The Sacred Cross commands you!” Locke yelled as she ran up, hands out. “The Star of David commands you. The Omkar, the Lotus, and the Shahada command you! Flee this place!”

The creature turned its head to look at Locke, but Trixie could only stare at the twisted, scarred flesh running over every inch of it. It was charred and in places pitted. And it was hot. Its hand was burning her back.

“Flee this place!” Locke shouted again. “Disperges in ventum! Be not, and be gone!”

“Are you trying to banish me?” the creature said, sounding deeply offended. “Me?”

Trixie blinked a few times. The voice was rough, and too deep, but…

“Lucifer?” Trixie whispered.

“Back off, demon! I have stronger stuff than that!” Locke crowed, reaching into her jacket and pulling out a sharp blade.

“No! Stop! Don’t hurt him!” Trixie pleased.

Lucifer frowned at her and set her gently on the floor. Then, he retreated back into his room. Locke was at her side at once, pulling at her arm to flee.

“It’s fine! It’s just Lucifer.” Trixie accepted Locke’s hand up and kept her from rushing forwards as Trixie asked, “Is this why you haven’t called Mom back?”

Lucifer turned back and glared at her.

“Well?”

“You’re not scared?” He glanced back at his wings and then at her.

“I mean, you startled me,” Trixie said.

“Your friend seems ready to banish me to Hell,” Lucifer pointed out.

“She doesn’t even know you. Anyway, she’s just trying to look out for me.” Trixie drew in a deep breath through her nose. “Please don’t hide. Is this why you went away before? For all those months?”

Lucifer raised a brow. Or she thought he did, because he didn’t seem to have much hair left.

“I was back in Hell, then.”

“Oh. You couldn’t call?”

“Bad reception from Hell.”

Trixie looked down at his hands. She could still feel that sharp claw against her back. She bet it would have cut her jacket if it weren’t denim. “Can you not text like this? I could contact Mom!”

Lucifer sighed. “If you would be so kind.”

Trixie pulled out her phone and texted her mom at once. Only after she’d sent the message did it occur to her that she was basically telling on herself.

“It’s okay,” she said to Locke, who still had her knife out.

Lucifer shrank back into the dark room.

“I thought… He’s not usually like this?” Locke asked softly.

“Not that I know of,” Trixie said.

“Try another spell,” Lucifer said testily. “Maybe that will send away the scary monster. The monster whose apartment you’re trespassing in.”

Locke rolled her eyes. “I’ve seen worse.”

Lucifer rustled his wings. “I doubt it.”

“She wasn’t trespassing on purpose,” Trixie said. “I brought her here. I’m sorry.”

“And who’s the urchin getting her sticky mitts on my books?”

“This is my friend from school, Locke—What are you doing?” Trixie hissed as Locke grabbed her hand and held her knife up again.

Only this time, she wasn’t pointing it at Lucifer. She had turned toward the balcony and her breaths were coming in short, tense bursts.

“Stay back,” Locke warned.

Lucifer emerged from his room and rushed at the window. Locke followed behind him, knife and teeth bared. All Trixie caught was a twisted, white figure climbing over the side of the railing. It stopped, made an unearthly noise, and then slithered out of sight.

“What was that?” Trixie unconsciously drew closer to Locke.

“Don’t know,” Lucifer said. “But it won’t be back.”

“It looked like that burned thing at the principal’s office,” Locke offered. “Moved… weird. Maybe an invunche?”

Lucifer turned and looked at her darkly. “That’s not possible.”

“Well, I haven’t exactly seen one up close,” she replied.

“If you had, you wouldn’t be here,” Lucifer scolded. “Don’t play with things out of your paygrade, dear. You remind me of someone.”

“I don’t go looking for them,” Locke objected.

Lucifer made his way, slowly, over to his bar. “Lucky for you, nothing is like that is going to come around while I’m here.”

He carefully wrapped his large fingers around a bottle and poured himself a drink. “There is soda in the fridge, by the way. I got some for the last game night. No tea, however.”

Trixie smiled. “Thanks. Mom will be here soon. It’ll be okay.”

Lucifer watched her, his expression doubtful. Or so she thought. It was so hard to read him without his eyebrows, and his lips looking so burned, and his eyes like pits of fire in his head.

“It’ll be alright,” she promised again.

“Thank you, urchin.” He nodded to her, and then to Locke. “Little witch.”

Locke didn’t laugh, but her brows came up from their deep furrow. “Sorry for messing with your books.”

“Hmph.” He looked at the floor. “If you wouldn’t mind.”

“Oh.” Locke hurried over and picked up the large, dusty book she’d dropped to come to Trixie’s rescue. “Damn.” She set it on the counter and smoothed out the pages. “I broke the spine.”

“It’s over a hundred years old. Amazing it didn’t turn to dust in your hands.”

“It’s the glue. It dries out, breaks down. These old grimoires are always losing pages…”

“Leave it. I can have it rebound.”

“… sure.”

Locke stepped away, her fingers lingering on the book before leaving it behind. Trixie took her over to the sofa to sit. It occurred to her that she should send Locke away so she wouldn’t get in trouble with her foster parents, but… if that thing was still there, Trixie didn’t want her to have to face it alone. It would be safer here with Lucifer.

* * *

“Just get Locke and Trixie out of there. I’ll take care of the rest,” Chloe advised as the elevator started to move. She tapped her foot impatiently. “And don’t look at him. He… He does look scary like that… I mean, I’m not that surprised he just hid out at his penthouse if he couldn’t get me on the phone. The last time… I knew this wasn’t over. I just knew he’d have some kind of… resurgence or flair up or—”

“I won’t look,” Dan promised. He rubbed his head. He couldn’t look more nervous. He looked like he might crawl out of his skin. “Definitely won’t look.”

“Right. Just… Let me handle it.”

Dan bobbed his head again. When the doors opened, he ducked his head away, then looked up again as though he were trying not to stare into the sun.

“It’s fine.” Chloe hurried into the penthouse and glanced around.

“Mom!” Trixie got up and came up her. “We, um, I know we weren’t supposed to be here, but—”

Chloe took her hands. “It’s okay. Just go with your dad, alright?” She turned Trixie toward Dan. “Both of you. Go.”

“Mom,” Trixie said. “I can handle it.”

“Nope. Nope,” Dan said, grabbing her arm as he looked toward the floor. “C’mon, you two.”

Locke said nothing, but instead watched Chloe and Dan curiously.

“You never let me in on this stuff,” Trixie complained.

“Did you let her in at all?” Dan demanded. “You told her? I was expecting to have to rush her to emergency therapy after seeing that insane, twisted, hard-boiled devil face.”

“Dan, stop. No, I didn’t tell her,” Chloe said. She pointed at the elevator. “Go. I’ll talk to him, and I’ve called Linda and Amenadiel. We’ll fix it, but it doesn’t help to have people freaking out around him while he’s trying to get… un-deviled.”

“We weren’t freaking out,” Trixie said.

“Apart from the little whelp trying to send me back to Hell with hedge magic,” Lucifer grumbled from the bedroom.

Dan jumped and nearly stumbled backward. “Okay. Time to go, kids.”

“That spell works sometimes!” Locke objected.

“Maybe with ghosts,” Lucifer shot back.

“Not just ghosts!” Locke huffed.

“Fascinating discussion.” Dan grabbed Trixie’s shoulders. “Move now, or I take your phone.”

“Fine.” Trixie sulked. “Bye, Lucifer!”

“…Bye,” Lucifer echoed, after a moment.

Dan hesitated and took a breath. “Uh, feel better, man.”

He hurried the girls out. Chloe waited for the elevator to close before she approached the bedroom. There Lucifer was, sitting on his bed, fully enveloped in devil face and devil body, with a glass in his hand. She came over to sit beside him.

“I’m so sorry. I came over, but I didn’t see you—”

“I went out intermittently.” Lucifer drained his glass.

“Well.” Chloe squeezed her knees and nodded. “We know how to deal with this. We just need to talk for a bit. You need to remember that you can’t blame yourself—”

“There’s no one else to blame for this.” He set his glass down and put his head in his hands.

Gingerly, Chloe rubbed her hand over his shoulder. The skin was so rough and hot. She bit her lip.

“Then, just tell me what happened.”

Chapter Text

“There are times when fear is good.  It must keep its watchful place at the heart's controls.”

— Aeschylus

Locke was the weirdest kid that Dan had ever met. It wasn’t the blasé way she interacted with the Actual Devil or her casual whispers with Trixie about warding and spells from the backseat. It was something in her eyes that reminded him more of an ancient being than Lucifer ever had.

She was just creepy.

It didn’t seem to phase Trixie at all though. Granted, his daughter had apparently known she was spending time with the Actual Devil, and Actual Demons, and apparently, Lucifer’s Actual Angel bastard twin brother who Dan hadn’t managed to talk to since that night.

“Dad, can Locke come by and ward our apartment against demons?” Trixie asked.

Dan nearly crashed the car into the SUV beside them. “Christ, Trix! I’m driving.”

“It’ll probably keep your friend out, too, though,” Locke said gravely. “So just… But I don’t know what those things were, so it’s better to be safe. L.A. is a hotbed of weird right now. I’ve never seen anything like it. Not here, anyway. Back with John, all the time, but they were on the edge of an apocalypse.”

Dan fought to breathe. “What?”

“I mean, that’s probably not happening. But something’s going on,” Locke said. Dan could see her, shoulder to shoulder with Trixie, looking over at her. “Lemme make you an amulet, at least. It won’t work against everything, but you can take if off when the Mazikeen is around. She’s probably better protection than anything I could make anyway.”

“Probably. But I don’t even know where Maze is. I haven’t seen her in days, and I know she wasn’t out on a bounty.”

“They didn’t feel like demons,” Locke muttered. “And they were way too corporeal to be ghosts.”

“Would salt work for that?”

“For ghosts?” Locke reached over to take Trixie’s phone. “Not by itself. I’m gonna put in a little incantation in your notes app you can say if ghosts bug you. They probably won’t. They wouldn’t be following someone they didn’t know.”

“How do you know all this crap anyway?” Dan demanded. He stopped at a light and sighed, heavily. Every bone in his body was screaming for him to get this kid out of his car. Her foster parents’ place wasn’t much farther, but traffic in L.A.

“I sort of apprenticed with an exorcist… slash demonologist, slash dark arts guy,” Locke said, handing Trixie back her phone.

“Did Lucifer know him?” Trixie asked.

“I’m not sure.”

“What kind of grown-ass man takes a preteen girl as an apprentice?” Dan demanded.

“He um…” Locke looked out the window and went quiet for a moment. “He was investigating a series of murders. He found me. Or one of his colleagues did. She was psychic.”

“Weird.”

“Pretty much. It wasn’t like he just wanted me around at first. It was just easier to toss me in his safehouse than put me back with another foster family and wait for them to die, too.”

Dan shook his head and pulled over to the side of the road. Turning around, his heart in his throat, he eyed the girl. “How did they die?”

“Different ways.” Locke’s ageless eyes stared back at him. Her brows raised. “I didn’t kill them.”

Dan sighed.

“But I might as well have.”

“Stop it,” Trixie ordered. “It’s not your fault if people do bad things to someone near you.”

“It is if they get hurt because they’re near me.”

“And is Trixie going to get hurt because she’s near you?” Dan pressed.

“No,” Trixie said immediately.

Locke said nothing. Her eyes softened, and suddenly became the eyes of a little girl. Alone. And being passed around by caregivers in a system that Dan knew all too well wasn’t always nurturing as it was educational in all the worst ways.

“How long did you live with him?” Dan asked. “The demonologist.”

“A couple of years.”

“Did he die?”

Her voice grew soft. “No.”

Dan nodded. “Look, I don’t understand anything. Ever. And I just got let in on all of this Devil stuff by accident.”

“Yeah, I didn’t think you knew,” Trixie said.

“Well, Lucifer’s jerk brother made sure I found out.” Dan rolled his eyes.

“Amenadiel?” Trixie asked.

“Michael.”

Locke’s brows shot up. “He’s around? Oh.” She looked to Trixie. “He could probably handle these things. You never see him, but he’s really scary, I hear.”

“He’s terrifying and awful,” Dan said. “Both of you stay away from him.”

With a huff, he sat back down properly. Just before turning the car back on, he looked back again. He wanted to tell this kid to stay away from his daughter. Instead, he sighed and pulled out his phone.

“Give me your number. I want to make sure whatever happens, we’re able to come get you girls, okay? And don’t go wandering around on your own if the world is trying to go apocalypse on us.”

* * *

Linda sat on Lucifer’s sofa, her hands pressed together as if in prayer. But she wasn’t praying. Not to any deity, as if that might help them right now. She had her doubts that Lucifer’s father was the kind to ever help anyone outside of his grand designs, and especially not a demon.

She was, however, hoping to gather her strength to deal with this situation.

“Maze has a soul,” Linda said gravely. “And you threw her in Hell?”

“She’s wanted to go back there for years,” Lucifer objected, “and I—” He stopped, his charred and twisted face twisting further. “I can’t get back in. I dropped her in from above, but the gates are locked, and something’s preventing me from flying in.”

“The demons locked the gates to you?” Amenadiel set his hands on his hips, blinking in disbelief. “All they wanted was for you to return.”

“They’ve got a new master now. Somehow.” Lucifer looked toward his balcony, frowning deeply. “I’ve no idea who it could be. I’m sure Dad knew. He told you Hell no longer needed a guardian. Nice roundabout way of saying it’s already got one. And He told Michael not to worry about it. Where is that twin of mine anyway?”

“I told him to go off on his own. So he did,” Amenadiel said. “I didn’t want him just feeling like he had to stay in the house, now that he seems to be improving a little.”

“Maybe you should call him,” Linda said. “If Michael knew about it, he might not be inclined to tell you right away. He would likely tell you for Maze’s benefit, though.”

“Michael doesn’t have a phone,” Amenadiel objected.

Linda sighed, hoping that Charlie would be more quick on the uptake than his deliberately dense Celestial family. She pressed her hands together again.

“Oh. I could do that.”

“You really think he’d help?” Chloe hovered near Lucifer, but not too near. Giving him a bit of space. Linda could also sense discomfort from Chloe, and not for Lucifer’s physical changes.

“I don’t think you go making a soul for a demon if you don’t like them,” Linda replied.

“Or really hate them,” Lucifer muttered.

“And it’s not that,” Amenadiel said certainly. “He told her to leave him. If he didn’t care, he wouldn’t have bothered. He didn’t even really have to make good on his promise for the soul. He’ll help us if it’s for Maze.”

With a sigh, Amenadiel pressed his hands together. Linda waited, with the others, hoping that Michael would be able to give a quick answer. He’d seemed less than thrilled that Amenadiel never bothered to contact him the way he did Lucifer, so maybe…

“Okay.” Amenadiel opened his eyes. “Michael says he doesn’t know who is in charge, but that there was an ancient colleague, as it were, of Father’s who is buried under Hell, and Michael was concerned he might wake if Hell didn’t have a strong enough guardian. He doesn’t know if the demons would follow this entity, either. He was master to the Grigori, though.”

“The Grigori?” Lucifer leaned forward, his stiff flesh wrinkling as he shook his head. “Aren’t they all dead?”

“I did say was. But I don’t know if they’re dead, exactly.”

“As good as,” Lucifer argued.

“What is a Grigori?” Chloe asked.

“Angels. But not of our Father’s creation. Copies.” Amenadiel shrugged. “They were made by this colleague, not unlike Mother and Father, and they were around longer than he was. Father let them come to Earth as protectors, but…”

“Yes, some of the stories about them get a bit wild.” Lucifer smirked. “Dad wasn’t pleased. He stripped them of their souls and locked them away.”

“In Hell?” Linda asked.

“Not that I ever saw. But it would also be rather stupid to stick them with their creator, in case he ever awoke.” Lucifer frowned. “Didn’t Michael kill him?”

“Yes,” Amenadiel said quietly.

Lucifer stilled. “I wonder if that’s why…”

“Dad doesn’t want him in Hell. He might wake trying to get to Michael.”

“Has Michael been there?” Lucifer pressed. “He’s not exactly been following the letter of the law lately.”

“How can someone dead ‘wake up’?” Chloe asked.

“Gods… Well, capital G gods,” Amenadiel explained, “don’t always follow what we would consider mortal logic. There are likely many aspects to them. They might be able to hide a part of themselves and return. It would be very difficult to have extinguished Mom, and well-nigh impossible to permanently kill our Father.”

“Did you ask Michael if he’s been there?” Linda asked.

“He merely said that’s what he was referring to,” Amenadiel said. “I don’t think he knows what’s going on in Hell. I'll find him. Get more information.”

“You do that. I’ll go back and see if I can’t wheedle my way back in,” Lucifer said. “Come when you can.”

“Lucifer.” Chloe touched his arm and squeezed. “Are you sure you want to do that? Like this?”

“If this form is good for anything, it garners quite the level of servitude from demons.” Lucifer sighed heavily. “And there’s no slipping around this one semantically. No just wanting to forgive myself. I’ve got to bloody do something.”

Linda gathered herself and rose. “I know you two can press each other’s buttons. But Lucifer, this is truly terrible. We don’t know what she’ll be like, even if we can get her out. How much will the soul affect her? Knowing what she’s done as a torturer? I was hoping she’d have a safe space with us to work all of that out.”

“I know!” Lucifer snapped.

“Well, don’t just yell about it!” Linda shot back. “She’s your friend. Isn’t she? I know she was calling that into question before, but you, at least, see her as a friend?”

Chloe hung her head as she looked down and covered her mouth.

“I do. I think.” Lucifer wavered. “I don’t know what we are right now. I just know I need help to get her out. And if she doesn’t forgive me…”

He shrugged, his eyes wavering.

“She shouldn’t.”

Linda moved to touch him, feeling her nerves dancing wildly as she did. “We’ll work it out when she’s back.”

“I’m sorry,” Lucifer muttered.

“I think you should wait for me,” Amenadiel said. “It’s not like Michael can pop over here right now. I have to go to him, and then come back, and I don’t think you should come with me.”

“Time flies down there,” Lucifer said. “I don’t want to waste any more time here wallowing and doing nothing. I can at least be at the gate in case something changes.”

Almost to herself, Linda muttered, “You once told me that nothing changes in Hell.”

“Apparently, I was wrong,” Lucifer said tersely.

* * *

Amenadiel hadn’t imagined that he’d seen the apartment building in Mission Hill again so soon. Nor had he ever guessed he’d see Michael out on the veranda, his cat cane propped against the railing, as he played chess with that elderly woman who Amenadiel had spoken to that first time here with Maze.

Michael spotted him quickly and frowned before rising and reaching for his cane. It made Amenadiel feel odd to watch Michael struggle to his feet, but he gained his footing more quickly than he had been and met Amenadiel at the edge of the porch.

“What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to talk to you face to face.” Amenadiel smiled at the old woman and gave her a wave. She waved back. “You might come up with a few more ideas, compared to me just shooting you questions via prayers.”

“Why does it matter now what I was so worried about?” Michael’s eyes were wide, shifting around rapidly. “What happened? Did Theo rise?”

“Theo?”

“Well. I guess he doesn’t really have a name any more than Father does, but he went by Theo, sometimes.”

Amenadiel stepped onto the porch and gestured for Michael to sit again. When he did not, Amenadiel sighed and prepared himself for Michael’s reaction to what Lucifer had done. Predictably, Michael looked angry. Unpredictably, he looked frightened.

As his shoulders twisted painfully, the words barely passed Michael’s lips. They were so, so quiet. Haunted. “Theo is awake.”

“We don’t know that he is. Simply that Hell has been closed to Lucifer,” Amenadiel clarified.

“Then, that doesn’t mean Uncle Theo has anything to do with it!” Michael rested both hands atop his cane. “Anyone could have taken the throne.”

“It would have to be an angel—”

“It would have to be someone capable of transubstantiating into a creature with wings akin to those of an Elohim, and I promise you that there are other powers capable of that.” Michael sighed heavily. “Mazikeen might be able to, now that she has a soul.”

“You think… Maze? Queen of Hell?”

“I’m not saying she is. I’m saying you don’t know shit.” Michael’s brows screwed together. “Ask Gabe if they’ve heard anything. A new monarch in Hell should cause gossip around the planes of existence, and they’d have heard something.” He paused. “What do you need from me? I… I can’t go with you. Or… I could, but I don’t have any strength. No wings… Amenadiel, you have to get her out of there—”

“We are,” Amenadiel insisted. He squeezed Michael’s shoulder and didn’t let go when his brother flinched. “That’s the goal.”

“Of course, he did this. Of course.” Michael’s lips screwed into a surly grimace.

“He didn’t mean to hurt her—”

“He did. That’s what you’ve never understood about Samael. He might regret it now, but he intended to hurt her. He always intends to, and if there’s any regret for the damage he’s done, it comes much later. You think he did this by accident?” Michael fingers slashed across his face in a cutting motion. “It wasn’t a slip in the middle of a fight. He didn’t do it quickly, either. It was slow, and it was deliberate.”

Before Amenadiel could answer, Michael jerked away from him and made his way back to the chess table. “I’ve got to go, Maryam,” he said loudly, but gently. “Thank you for the game.”

“No problem, dearie. It was good to see you again.”

Amenadiel sighed heavily. “We’re not done talking.”

“I know.” Michael rolled his eyes and led the way off the porch. “Just… ask your questions. I know you have them.”

“If it is Theo—”

“Then Lucifer’s gonna die down there. They’ve met. And they did not get along.” Michael stopped and took a breath. “Theo is almost as strong as Dad. If it’s Theo… you’re going to need the whole Host.” He looked back at Amenadiel. “You know that, right?”

“I don’t think they’d all follow me, anymore.”

“That’s what you get for buddying up with the Adversary,” Michael sneered. He glanced at the street. “You didn’t bring a car. I guess I’m taking the bus.”

“You wouldn’t be coming with me anyway. As you’ve pointed out, you don’t have the strength.” Amenadiel reached for him again but stopped just short of making contact. “Michael…”

“So, I just stay here? Doing what?”

“I would appreciate it if you’d keep an eye on Linda, and Charlie, and the others.”

“I guess I can send you a message if anything more threatening than a nightmare shows up.” Michael shook his head. “They’ve been pretty frisky lately.”

Amenadiel offered his hand, not expecting Michael to let him be his conveyance home. He wasn’t disappointed. Michael took a step backward.

Amenadiel gave a nod. “I don’t think prayers make it to Hell. But if nothing else, I know you can be fearsome, if you want to be.”

“Prayers don’t…?” Michael’s expression softened. “Then go. Save Mazikeen. Please.”

At some point, Amenadiel would have to figure out what Michael’s attachment was to Maze. For now, they had very little time, very little information, and much to lose.

Chapter Text

“There can be nothing more terrifying than getting what you want, because it is at this moment that you face what you want.”

-- Sara Ahmed

Chloe narrowed her eyes at the orangey-red apartment building. Slumped against the outside gate was Michael. He scowled deeply, tapping his cane against the side of his shoe. With a sigh, she slowed the car and pulled up near the curb. She’d agreed to this. Time to get it over with.

Michael didn’t look up. Chloe honked, causing him to startle and stumble. He shot her a look before hobbling over to the car.

“I have to get back to work,” she said peevishly.

“Sorry to put you out,” Michael grumbled. “I told Amenadiel I could use the bus again.”

Chloe sucked her teeth. “Yeah.” She pulled into drive and headed out. “I think he and Linda would be happier if we were all in a closer proximity to one another, just in case.”

“Sounds like a great plan. I can’t wait to help out by scaring the shit out of people and falling over things.”

Chloe tried to stifle her laugh, but an undignified noise came through her nose.

“It isn’t funny,” Michael snapped. “If I had my wings, I could just go get her. Lucifer had roughly two braincells to rub together, and he’s spent them all on convincing you that he isn’t exactly the kind damn sociopath to toss a friend straight into the pits of Hell for pissing him off.”

Chloe drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. She did not want to get into this while driving.

“A friend who has been there for him since she was a fucking kid. A friend he’s screwed and used and—”

“I know, Michael. You don’t have to convince me that this is bad.”

“I’ve given up on convincing you.” Michael rolled his eyes and looked out the window. “Now, I’m just bitching.”

A smile teased the corner of her lips. “Amenadiel said you weren’t able to go into Hell?”

“I’m not… supposed to.”

Chloe nodded. Then groaned as she saw the traffic slowing ahead of them.

“Another reason it would be great to have wings right about now.” Michael fingered the thin, silver bracelet on his left wrist.

“Definitely.” Chloe sighed again. “Okay, so, we’re going to be here a while, and I know you like to talk. Why don’t you tell me about this ancient coworker of God who might be waking up in Hell? Or the Grigori who might still be around?”

Michael eyed her like she’d just started speaking in tongues. “Coworker?”

“Amenadiel called him a colleague.”

He blinked. “He’s probably talking about Theo. And… I don’t think colleague cuts it. They were more like brothers. And I can’t tell you much. Most of their history predates the creation of Elohim—” He pointed to himself. “—aka us, and Grigori, which were what Theo created. I don’t know which of us came first, but Dad implies that he and Mom did it the old fashioned way… To a degree. Maybe with Amenadiel. More planning went into Gabe, Lucifer, and me, specifically.”

“Huh. Why?”

“He had more specific plans by then, I suppose. Things he needed us to do. Things he needed us to fight.”

“Like what? Theo?”

“Not right away. Just… things. From earlier creations.”

 “EARLIER CREATIONS??” Chloe nearly rear-ended the Lexus in front of her.

Michael bowed his head in a wicked chuckle, then drawled, “The multiverse is muuuch bigger than you know.”

“Multiverse. Like… in those idiotic Vindicators movies?”

“I don’t understand that reference. But if you mean are there other realities, then yes. And even within our own…” He bobbed his head from side to side. “Things existed in the dark, before we came along.”

“Things…”

“Some of which are still lurking around. So… I mean, you’re a miracle. You can probably contact angels when you need to. Unfortunately, I’ve recently discovered that prayers don’t reach Hell, so the only one you can reach can’t do much.”

“You can scare the shit out of people,” Chloe supplied.

“Anytime.” Michael forced a pained smile. “I owe you one.”

“Pfft. You do.”

“I’m not sure what you want me to do about that right now. Get you a lemon square?” Michael snorted. “That wouldn’t exactly cover it anyway. And I have no money.”

“As long as you know,” Chloe replied tersely.

Michael watched her for a moment, his brows furrowed. The silence stretched between them, uncomfortable at first, and then it just rested. Until Chloe’s phone rang. She looked at the screen and bit her lip before turning it on speaker.

“Hey. I’m in traffic. Did you get Trixie and her friend home?”

“Yeah. Locke is back at her foster parents’ place. They weren’t super stoked that she was skipping school,” Dan said. “So I left out the part where she ended up in the Devil’s penthouse and a monster tried to get in.”

“Monster?” Michael asked.

“We’re not sure what it was. It ran away when it saw Lucifer,” Chloe explained.

“Who is that?” Dan asked warily.

“Your favorite angel!” Michael teased.

“Why is he in the car with you?!” Dan sputtered.

“Calm down!” Chloe glared at Michael, who only smirked. “I’m just giving him a ride. It’s fine.”

“That asshole kidnapped you!”

“Well, he won’t do it again,” she said.

“Because I physically can’t,” Michael added.

Chloe reached over and pinched his arm hard.

“OW!”

“Don’t make me get my gun out.”

“Is that Michael?” Trixie said suddenly.

“Give me the phone, Trixie!” Dan said.

“You’re a dick! Apologize for kidnapping my mom!”

Michael’s brows shot up. “Uh… sorry?”

“Yeah, that didn’t sound sincere at all. Why did you do that? We were really scared!”

Michael looked to Chloe. She pinched her lips together and shrugged, pretending to watch the road.

“Fine. I wanted to scare Lucifer a bit. Remind him that dating mortals is a finite experience. And I wanted to get your mom’s ear for a second or two. Figure out where they were.” Michael sat back, looking at the phone curiously. “And if I’m honest, she hurt my feelings. Which shouldn’t be part of any master plan, but I minded less scaring her because of that, and then she shot me. So. Does that answer your question?”

“She shot you?”

“Well, it stung a little. But I was invulnerable at the time. Next time she shoots me, I’ll probably bleed all over her car.”

Chloe sighed. “I’m okay, monkey. Alright? Don’t worry. I got caught up in this stupid thing between Lucifer and his brother, but I’m not hurt, and I’m not scared.”

“I was scared for you,” Trixie said in a small voice.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” Michael said, his voice softer, lower.

“Okay. That one sounded real. Be careful, Mom.”

“I will. But he’s not going to hurt me.”

“No, I mean with those things that keep coming around.”

“If they are what I think they are, we just need to get some baseball bats,” Michael said. “Maybe a blessed baseball bat. The Grigori were locked away so long, they’ve probably wasted away to nearly nothing.”

“Yeah, we’ll get right on that,” Dan said irritably. “Look, I need to get back to the precinct. Do you want me to take Trixie back to the school or have her stay there? I feel like we need to keep her close.”

Chloe rubbed her forehead as she thought about that.

“Does she have any powers? If not, they’re probably not that interested in her,” Michael said.

“Hm. If she feels okay going, send her back,” Chloe said. “If not, take her to the precinct. I need to get back there, too, after I drop Michael off with Linda.”

“Why can’t he get there on his own?” Dan demanded.

“Because Amenadiel is a control freak,” Michael answered.

“Or because as you just said, they’re attracted to power, and you have just enough to get into trouble,” Chloe said.

Michael opened his mouth to object. Then he scoffed and looked away.

“Anyway, I’ll fill you in on a few things when I get back,” Chloe said.

“Yeah, I think Ella has some more details about that case with that, um, you know the kid with the eyes,” Dan said.

“Ugh. Yeah, okay. I’ll see you in a few.” Chloe hung up.

“In a few hours,” Michael grumbled.

Chloe waited, and then, “I hurt your feelings?”

“What can I say? I’m petty.”

“You had me in tears after you kissed Maze!”

“And you rooted your hand around in my pocket and told me you liked me better than Lucifer.” Michael huffed. “And like a simp, I believed you. Even though that’s happened maybe once in the entire history of this creation.” He clicked his tongue. “Embarrassing.”

His cheeks were even turning red as he stared out the window.

“I didn’t know who you were,” she said quietly. “What you were. I didn’t know Lucifer had a twin. What am I supposed to think, after we’ve just had a demon uprising in L.A., and a doppleganger shows up? The most obvious answer would be twin, yes, but not after all I’ve seen. And some part of me… I just assumed he would’ve mentioned you… ever.”

“Of course, he wouldn’t.”

“He did get pretty twitchy on this twin case we had. We thought one twin had killed the other.”

“Got him salivating, huh? Finding ways to exercise his own greatest desire.”

“No. Well. He was pretty fixed on his own self-actualizing problems at the time. His guilt.”

“If he gets in such a twist about his guilt,” Michael snapped, “maybe he should stop doing shitty things to the people closest to him!”

“Don’t yell at me about it!” Chloe shot back.

Michael hung his head and drew in a deep breath. “Yelling has never made an impact on him. He’s just pathologically selfish and unable to change.”

At some point, they’d stopped talking what had happened in the penthouse, in the zoo. Chloe understood Michael’s anger was very sharply focused right now. And she shared a bit of that anger… if she were honest.

“Yeah. I’m worried about her, too.”

Michael rubbed his fingers over his lips. “You should be.”

***

It would be impossible to say which was worse: The stench of bile, of blood, of excrement, of sweat, cum, and fear? The grinding noises playing dissonantly against the wails of despair?

Or the pain, itself?

Mazikeen’s body stretched over gears that daily strained her bones and sluffed off bits of her flesh. The tears of the humans above her dripped into her wounds, stinging and spreading their agony to mingle with her own. Parched, her lips worked in silent prayers that went nowhere.

An ensouled demon has no place in Hell.

When she’d first fallen into Dis, she’d managed to keep to herself. For a short time, she was safe enough, but she dared not go into any of the rooms specifically made for fallen mortals. She had no idea whether she’d ever be able to get out. She’d just barely begun to process her own guilt and done nothing in the way of repentance. It was a recipe for an eternity in her own personal Hell.

Eventually, her siblings had found her and dragged her into the pain fields. So many human souls were perched on sharp sticks, a wide plain of endless groaning. Or stretched over the equipment in the mills, being ground up and ground down, leaving the sweet taste of pain behind for the demons to feast upon. Some of her siblings might have had pity on her. Misran, possibly. Otram? The others, however, felt angry. Betrayed. She’d gone to Earth with Lucifer. She’d fought by his side instead of theirs when Dromos and Squee had rebelled.

And her most damning crime, it seemed: she had never come back for them. It didn’t matter that she couldn’t. She hadn’t. And as she well knew, Lilim hated to be abandoned.

Her only solace was that her current miseries had been perhaps inevitable from the moment she’d accepted her soul into herself. And she’d taken it, knowing that it was not just possible but likely for her to end up here, one way or another. And… that the likelihood of intervention or rescue on her behalf was next to nothing. Hope’s sting, at least, spared her.

Mazikeen was tortured as she once had tortured. Giving pleasure to her siblings in the way other souls had given it to her, as she extracted their guilt and damnation from them. There was no counting the years. No day or night helped her mark days. She hurt, and thirsted, and starved. And she did so with silent agony on her lips. She did not scream, or moan, or beg.

An ensouled demon in Hell gives no such satisfaction.

The day she was taken from the machine, Maze barely had her wits about her. Her body had almost become a thing apart from herself, and a pair of small, strong hands stilled the machine long enough to wrench her from it. Maze was shifted onto someone’s back and carried across a set of unwavering shoulders like a milkmaid’s yolk. As they exited the mill, ash drifted down onto Maze’s face, like falling snow.

It burned, waking her from her daze.

She whipped around her captor, tightening her thighs around a slim neck, and launching herself backward. Too emaciated now to carry the move, the two of them fell. From behind them, a series of shouts sounded, and the demon in front of her held her down with one hand and then lifted another to unleash a brilliant green light. The demons stumbled and screamed, writhing as their bodies burned from the contact. While they were distracted, the figure looked down at her, eyes glowing black and green in a dark, intricately painted face.

“Come with me, or bow to the Dark Mother forever,” a rough, feminine voice said.

Maze opened her mouth to ask, but no sound came out. The girl above her didn’t wait. She grabbed Maze’s hand and pulled. This time, Maze came willingly, her legs wobbling like a newborn calf’s. When the girl lifted her up again, this time in her arms, Maze let her.

To herself, she swore, I will repay this favor.

Moments later, they found themselves surrounded. Maze wanted to jump down again, to fight with her last breath. But a massive pair of black wings unfurled from the girl’s back, and they sped off to the mountains outside of the city, far from the grounded Lilim below.

***

The small encampment in the mountains remained quiet even as they touched down. Dust and ash came up around them. The massive conflagration of souls beneath the surface of Dis must have had an outlet nearby this place, and the shadowy figures huddled around a small glowing collection of stones. They lifted their heads in interest as Maze’s rescuer came forward but said nothing.

Maze found herself deposited by the fire, and familiar hands with needles peeking from their fingertips draped a blanket around her shoulders. Narrowing her eyes and running her hand over the side of her nearly bald head, she looked up at the slight figure. Too slight for a demon, and yet, he was Lilim, as far as anyone knew.

Squee. With his pale lavender skin and bee-stung lips and wispy, moving tendrils where hair might’ve been, on a human.

“Welcome back, Sister,” he said. His voice was soft and breathy. She remembered it being that way, but she could not for the life of her remember the last time he’d actually spoken to her. Or anyone.

Lucifer hated him. So they’d all hated him.

Well. It seemed Lucifer hated her now, too. She could hardly judge on that account.

Her rescuer sat by the fire, pulling back a hood to reveal long braids with different colors and bits of glass and stone woven in. Maze did not recognize her as one of the Lilim she had known. The face paint might’ve been responsible. In the stillness, Maze could see the patterns better. Her eyes were nearly blacked out with smears around them, but the rest of the paint was bright: A garish triangle shape of blood-red over the front of her face, lined with glowing white circles. Four little downward facing crescents above and below her eyes. A maze of purplish blue between the outer line of the triangle and her jawline. Down her neck a line of runes reached from the bottom of her chin down through her clavicle.

Her wings had folded away, however, and her claw-like feet curled underneath her. The slope of a broad and nose, her powerful bone structure, the swell of her lips… They all spoke to a family resemblance. She was one of them, somehow. A younger sibling who had gone unnoticed?

“She is the Belgarde,” Squee explained, quietly.

“Mazikeen has a voice,” the girl said, sternly. “She’ll find it again in due time. Let her ask her own questions then.”

Squee nodded, bit his lip, and then scurried off. A few minutes later, he returned with a roasted leg of meat. Maze tilted her head forward in acknowledgement and ate without wondering what or who had provided her first meal in probably a thousand years.

***

The Belgarde came and went from the encampment. Her generalissima impatience kept her conversation with the others short and to the point, and it quickly became obvious that while not all of them had been brought here directly by her, each of the others had gravitated toward the encampment for the same reason.

The new Queen of Hell was an asshole.

As time passed, Maze recognized a few of her other siblings and listened in on their conversations talking about what the queen had been up to, new facilities for torture being erected, more of their siblings being drawn into the grunt work while the other stray creatures that could fall under the banner of demonkind gained favor with her.

“Vunnoth hasn’t been able to get out of the Lake for ages,” Squee was telling Otram. His tendrils grew knotted in his agitation. “I asked the Belgarde if I could go try to rescue them, but she said it wasn’t time yet for such overt action.”

His needles had grown longer, and he clicked them together. He seemed moments away from weaving something.

“She seems fine with overt actions for some,” Otram muttered. His eyes drifted over to where Maze stood by the edge of their cave, looking out over the expansive landscape of Hell.

It was easy to forget how big it was. The Lilim spent nearly all of their lives in the city, working. Torturing.

“Losing Mazikeen would’ve been a blow to the Dark Mother.” Squee’s tendrils lifted and swept in Maze’s direction. “Besides. She needed saving more.”

Otram scoffed. “Mazikeen can endure all manner of pain. She probably enjoyed it.”

“I don’t think so.” Squee’s voice grew softer.

“If you’re going to speak, Squee, improve the silence,” Otram said. “What aren’t you saying?”

Maze narrowed her eyes at them. Squee glanced up at her.

“You don’t get to talk to me like that anymore.” Squee left the fire and came over to Maze. “He doesn’t mean it.”

Maze returned to looking back out to the city. Just as Squee seemed ready to leave again, she said, “You know.”

“I do.” The clicking of anxious needles.

“Why don’t you tell him?”

“It seems like something you should be able to share on your own. Or not.” Squee bit his lip. “The Belgarde knows, though.”

“And that’s why she saved me.”

“Yes.” He half-shrugged. “Also, she probably has some use for you. She did for me.”

“How?” Maze raised a brow.

Any other Lilim would be offended. Squee’s eyes just widened further, and he clicked his needles. His tendrils smoothed, and he blinked owlishly at her for several moments.

“Do you remember what they had me doing? Not in the rooms. In the pit.”

“You worked with Aldroth. He slashed their bellies open, and you made garments out of their guts.”

His lips pinched to the side. “Can sew them up, too. I can make things. Protective things. Put things back together. Put people back together.”

Maze fought the urge to roll her eyes. Which Squee did not fail to notice.

“Lucifer didn’t have that much use for me. I’m not good at playing roles. I don’t sound scary, I guess. No one needs a demon that can treat injuries.” The sharp tips of his fangs peeked over his lip. “Unless there’s to be a war.”

“What does she need a demon with a…” Maze felt a shudder go through her at the thought of speaking the truth aloud here.

“She doesn’t. But you’ve always been one of our best fighters. Even when you were small.”

“Heh.” Maze’s lips curled in disgust. “I don’t know that I would be now.”

“We’ll see,” Squee peeped. He watched her carefully for another moment. “I’m gonna make you some armor.”

Squee left then, walking past his siblings, singing softly in his delicate countertenor. Maze closed her eyes, remembering how much the sound of his voice had irritated her before. Now, though, it simple sounded eerie, and sad.

They were in their home, but not at home.

***

“Come with me, Sister.”

The Belgarde dropped down from the sky where Maze stood, practicing moves. She was too thin, too rusty, if it came to a fight. The last several weeks had been spent trying, painfully, to regain her strength and prowess. She met the Belgarde’s eye and twisted her lips in amusement.

“Are you going to carry me again?”

“No. It isn’t far.”

Wings folded back, Belgarde headed away from the camp, down the mountain. Her clawed feet kept her easily upright on the climb down. Maze worried she’d shame herself by falling, but as ever, she moved as nimbly as a cat at midnight. Her new sibling said nothing on the way to their destination. Maze used the time to observe her closely. She was strong, but young.

Very young, for a Lilim. Could it be the paint aimed to cover the Belgarde’s vulnerability?

“Come this way. Can you hear it?” the Belgarde asked.

Her wings ruffled a bit as she turned a corner. The ridges of the mountain sank into a small, lush plain. It was circular, almost perfectly so. In the middle, a tall, sharp rock.

Angry whispers seemed to float up from the ground.

…with me, my boy…

…first can be less than best…

--alpha, omega… I am all, my boy… Forget the false god…

“Who is that?” Maze asked suspiciously. The sound was inside her head, but she didn’t know how it had gotten there.

“The Dark Mother would wake him, if she could. I don’t think she can…” The Belgarde lowered herself to sit on the soft grass and ran her fingers through it.

The sounds shifted, just barely intelligible, as the voice began to speak again, its voice unctuous, trying to please. Persuade. Maze hesitated where she stood.

…join me…

…wake me…

…come to me, my children…

“Are you going to?” Maze asked.

The Belgarde stared impassively at the circle.

At the grave.

“I haven’t decided. He’s strong. That’s for damn sure. This is just where his head is. The length of him runs all the way across Dis to Despair’s Forest.” She rose slowly, gesturing to the far edge of the city.

“Beneath the city are the pits and the cages,” Maze said. “And Gehenna.”

“He’s buried much deeper than the lake of fire, Sister. He’s been here longer than anything else.” She paused, thinning her lips. “You can feel it. What he wants. And I’m sure you can. Because the Archangel Michael made you a soul.”

Maze’s brows lifted.

“I’m right, aren’t I? That fucking asshole. To put a soul in a demon.” She shook her head in irritation.

“It…” Maze wanted to say it wasn’t like that. But to defend Michael here would mean nothing. She needed to live, to defend him on Earth against his brothers.

“He’s not at the top of my list. But he’s on my list. How many of our fathers did he kill at the order of El?” The Belgarde sucked her teeth in disgust. “Yours for certain, right? Ophur?”

“I don’t really give a damn about my father,” Maze said bluntly. “He never did about me.”

“Mine did. He gave his life creating me. Depleted all of his energy.” Her fingers elongated, curled over into sharp claws, and tightened into a fist. When she spoke again, her voice had deepened, “And when he was weakened, Michael killed him.”

Maze couldn’t argue that. It was likely true.

“Then why isn’t he at the top of your list?”

“Because I need to deal with the queen first. And she’s worse.”

Hesitating, since she likely knew the answer, Maze asked, “Who is the queen?”

“Who else could hold the majority of the Lilim in her thrall the moment she finally descends to Hell?” The Belgarde spat.

“Hm.” Maze crouched by the grave, listening to the ongoing patter urging her to bring him from his slumber of death. “Then, I guess her and I might get another chance to talk after all.”

“I guess not. When she found out that you had a soul, she was the one who ordered to send you to the pain fields.”

Maze looked up. Her nostrils flared.

“I reached out to her. I tried… I tried to…” Her words choked in her throat. There was too much rage there. She shot up and went to the Belgarde’s side. “How do you know that?”

“I have a few of our siblings on the inside.” She tilted her head toward Maze. “I’m not asking for your loyalty as a sister. I know that has to be a sore subject, after your own siblings have fucked you over. And I’m not asking it as a Lilim. Our honor is suspect, lately. But would you consider helping us? I know you want to go home.”

“I—”

“You do. You’ve been there too long. And with a soul, it’s painful for you to even be here. Guilt nips at you even when you’re outside of those damned rooms. Every action is weighed, and it’s hard to even breathe, at times.”

The Belgarde eyed her with such intensity, such certainty. Maze blinked slowly and drew in a breath, scenting her without moving any closer.

Her eyes widened.

“How?”

“I’ve always had one,” she said bitterly. “For all the good it’s done me.”

“You grew up here… like this.” Maze weighed this in her mind. “And Lucifer—”

“I stayed away from him. I don’t know if I trust him, either. And he hasn’t disappointed me. He leaves all the time. He doesn’t really care about us, Mazikeen.”

“No. He doesn’t. He doesn’t think much of us, either. We’re just… his tools, I guess.” Maze felt her chest growing heavy. Was it his fault he couldn’t give her what she needed? What she’d always wanted? Or was that the soul talking, twisting in the influence of Hell?

Maze looked down at her hands. The Belgarde reached up to touch her shoulder.

“Think about it,” she urged.

“What do you want?” Maze pressed. No need to go aligning herself without knowing all of the information… again. “Besides killing Mom?”

The crescents above and below the Belgarde’s makeup smeared eyes opened, revealing two other sets. The top burned in the eerie green she’d manifested while saving Maze, the middle set were a reddish brown, and the third, a middling plum color. All six eyes blinked, mostly synchronously.

Her lips spread in a truly infernal smile before she answered.

Chapter Text

Be strong and of a good courage, fear not, nor be afraid of them: for the Lord thy God, he it is that doth go with thee; he will not fail thee, nor forsake thee. – Deuteronomy 31:6

“Be not afraid! For I come in the name of the Lord thy God!”

Lucifer rolled his eyes at Amenadiel from where he was attempting to crouch out of sight. The firstborn angel towered over the two (still relatively tall) humans. One wore a cabbie cap and stood a head above his partner, wearing uninspiring mostly grays. The other looked like a rumpled suit had stood on two legs and put on a trench coat for good measure. Ruffled blond hair. Five o’clock shadow. More shadows under his eyes. Amenadiel spread his dark, shining wings wide in the small space and held his hands out in front of him magnanimously toward the two men.

He was milking it.

“You have been called upon to serve your Creator—”

“What the bloody Hell are you, then, mate?” the man in the trench coat said flippantly. He scowled, pulling out a cigarette, and then nodded to his friend “Eh, Chaz? Whaddaya make of this bloke?”

“Big,” Chaz said, nonplussed.

“I am an angel,” Amenadiel snapped. “Amenadiel, the first angel.”

Lucifer had known this wasn’t going to work, even if Amenadiel had insisted he could handle one smartassed human. But John Constantine wasn’t easy to impress. Lucifer could have, probably, especially wearing this face. He wasn’t certain, though, he wanted to get back to Hell by being tossed in there by a hodgepodge of a spell and no exit strategy for when he found Maze.

“First angel? Under Michael?” Constantine pressed. “Never heard of an Amenadiel.”

“Not under Michael.” Amenadiel dropped his hands. “And I don’t need to advertise my work.”

Constantine flicked the top of his lighter as he strolled around Amenadiel. “Angel of the Lord’s got infernal ash on him. And… milk.”

Lucifer nearly gave himself away, he’d turned his head so quickly to see what Constantine was talking about.

“I recently had business in Hell.” Amenadiel brushed his shirt. “And that’s…” He looked at his pants. “Well, yeah. That’s milk.”

Lucifer pinched the bridge of his nose. Divine fatherly duties feeding the Nephilim.

“Fair enough.” Constantine circled back around and crossed his arms. “So what does your lot want from me? Thought you’d gone and washed your hands of me.”

“We need information, and I’m informed that you’re one of the few walking this Earth who might know the proper rituals to get that information.”

“Maybe so. What do you want to know?”

“John,” Chaz said in a hushed voice.

The warehouse went silent. Lucifer listened closely. What was going on? He peered around the crate again…

Two balls of fire launched straight at him from Constantine’s hands. Lucifer sprang to his feet with a swiftness he hadn’t thought himself capable of in this form and lifted into the air. Fire? Really? For the Devil??

“I knew it!” Constantine shouted. “I knew something felt off.”

“Well, bully for you, Johnny!” Lucifer shouted down at him.

Out came a cross, and suddenly, déjà vu. Constantine was shouting in Latin and making crisp, fancy motions with his fingers.

“Disperges in ventum! Be not, and be gone!”

Lucifer snorted. “Sound just like the little witch. Or does she sound just like you, Johnny?”

Constantine’s eyes narrowed to slits. His upper lip curled back. Behind him, Amenadiel approached, walking toward them slowly as he gave Lucifer an apologetic expression for fumbling their plan. Behind him, Constantine’s tall friend was held fast, frozen in time. At least Amenadiel had figured that out. But Constantine stood in front of him, upper lip curling back. There was that look in his eyes. Ever demented and determined. Lucifer could’ve told Amenadiel that it was unlikely a freeze would work on him.

Just as well that this plan hadn’t work out, either. Why would anything afford him a reprieve from shame and annoyance?

“Is that you?” Constantine spat incredulously. “Luci?”

Cautiously, Lucifer let himself drop to the ground. The talons on the ends of his toes cracked the concrete beneath him.

“It’s me. More or less.”

“More, I’d say.” Constantine scratched the back of his head. He glanced back at Amenadiel, then to Chaz. “Oi. What're you doin’ to Chaz?”

Amenadiel sighed and waved his hand. Chaz stumbled forward and looked around in utter confusion.

“John?”

“S’alright. It's a Devil we know,” Constantine said dryly. Tilting his chin back, he raked his eyes up and down Lucifer. “One I know anyway. What the hell happened, then?”

“Hell being the operative word,” Chaz said.

Constantine nodded. “Yeah… Look, y’caught me in the middle of a case. Let me look around here a bit, and we can—”

“Time is of the essence,” Amenadiel said sternly. Chaz side-eyed him. Like he might be sizing him up.

“This one, really an angel, yeah?” Constantine asked.

“Yep,” Lucifer said. “Big brother.”

With a sigh, Constantine shook his head. “Right then. Suppose we’re orderin’ in tonight.”

The four of them ended up in a pathetic motel, men and angels alike sitting on sagging mattresses and rock hard armchairs as they talked about matters of Hell and Earth.

“So they won’t open up for you,” Constantine repeated pensively, with cheek full of chicken pad thai. “Should’a locked the place properly before you went out.”

Amenadiel furrowed his brow. He looked about ready to start emphasizing people’s names, in that way he did when he didn’t approve.

“We aimed at the city from every angle,” he explained. “Even coming in from above, we were blocked by some kind of force.”

“And this is all for a demon?” Chaz sat at the desk, tapping a pen against it and looking rather confused. “Why’d you come to us? Generally, John puts those guys down.”

“There can’t’ve been all that many,” Lucifer protested. “I’ve kept them on a pretty tight leash since the Middle Ages.”

Chaz scoffed. Constantine’s lips twisted sourly.

“Like Hell you have. Who’ve I been castin’ out all these years, eh?”

“None of mine,” Lucifer growled.

Amenadiel put his hand on Lucifer’s shoulder. He could feel the heat starting to come off of him.

“Not usually Lilim, no.” Constantine set his carton aside and leaned forward, forearms on his knees. “As much as I could use a favor, luv, gonna have to pass. Don’t exactly got m’self a hotline to Hell, do I?”

“You know the rituals well enough.” Lucifer gestured toward him impatiently. “Do you think I’d risk coming to you looking like this if I didn’t think you might have something in that bag of tricks of yours? Whip up us something, and send a message down there. One of the Lilim will still be willing to let me in, and then?”

He rose up to his full height and boomed, “I’ll take care of it from there.”

Constantine raised his brows and fought a smile. “Very intimidating. What is this—” He made a figure eight motion at Lucifer’s body. “—anyways?”

Amenadiel sighed. “We angels self— Oof!”

Lucifer elbowed him in the stomach. Hard. The last thing they needed was this little hedge wizard knowing more Celestial secrets. He had a way of getting his grubby little hands on any bit of knowledge that had ever been written down.

“Fine. Don’t share. Not offended.” Constantine leaned back in his chair. “Still can’t do it.”

“How about this?” Lucifer said, his nostrils flaring a bit. “You help us, and I hand over your daughter.”

Constantine nearly fell out of his chair. Chaz choked on an eggroll.

“His what?” Amenadiel asked

“That’s my line,” Constantine objected. “I don’t have a daughter.”

“No?” Lucifer shook his head. “There’s been a little girl running around with your name and casting your spells.”

Chaz shook with laughter.

“Knock it off!” Constantine bellowed. He rose. “I don’t have a daughter. Do you have this girl? What did you do with her?”

“Yeah, Luci, what are you talking about?” Amenadiel said softly.

“Oh, the devil and the angel aren’t seeing eye to eye on this one?” Constantine said.

“She’s fine. Back where we left her. Carries around a wicked little blade, too.” Lucifer eyed Constantine. “You really didn’t know?”

“In that it isn’t true.” He huffed and put his hands on his hips. “I’m not holding out on you. I can head back to home base, try a few things. Make no promises, though. The only one I know who could get Hell on the line is a right bastard. Might do for him to see you like this, too. He’s… devout.”

“And the girl?” Chaz pressed. He’d sobered up and now looked like he might take Lucifer on himself on account of this child he’d never met and only just heard of.

“Lucifer doesn’t lie. If he says she’s safe, she is. As much as he knows.” Constantine’s brow creased, and he looked uneasy. “Hope for her sake she’s not mine. Or she won’t stay that way.”

“Then, you’ve got a lead for us,” Amenadiel said. “Who is this man? If he’s a man of faith, I can convince him.”

Lucifer hooked a thumb at Amenadiel. “I’ve got Desire. He’s got the faith whammy.”

“Don’t call it that,” Amenadiel objected.

“Why not?”

“It’s… not dignified.”

The wry curve of Constantine's lips returned. “I doubt this bastard’s particularly devoted to angels. Loa, yeah.”

“Uh, John,” Chaz said. “You’re not going with them.”

Constantine looked back at him. “Did I say I was?”

“Papa Midnite has tried to kill you at least four times.”

“He didn’t try to kill me the last time we caught up,” Constantine said flippantly.

“No, he just drugged you and locked you in his trunk!”

“I got out.” Constantine turned back to Lucifer. “He’s a pain in the ass. But he’s got a sister in Hell, and formidable powers in Vodun and as a medium. He can get a message down there for you. Or get you what’s what on whoever’s taken over. You just have to convince him.”

“It may not work on you with your tainted blood,” Lucifer said with a smirk, “but like this, my mojo is more powerful than ever.”

Constantine held out his hand. “Give me a phone. I’ll put in my number. You check in with Midnite, and I’ll see if I can’t rig up some kind of spell. If you can summon demons generally, we might be able to get this one out with a few tries.”

“No!” Chaz objected. “We’re not summoning a demon.”

“Demon with a soul,” Amenadiel reminded him.

“Pretty powerful one at that,” Lucifer added. “Be careful. I can’t fathom what she’s been through down there.”

Without hesitation or fear, Constantine took a step toward Lucifer and squeezed his warm, charred bicep. “No worries, luv. Doing the impossible’s my specialty. We’ll figure something out.”

A long, heavy breath exited Lucifer’s lungs, and he closed his eyes. It felt like all the warmth was emptying out of his body, and he felt smaller, and lighter, and… Oh.

He glanced down at his hand. Hands. Not claws!

“Luci! That’s good!” Amenadiel said, clapping him on the back.

“It’s better.” He swallowed hard. The nearly intolerable heat of his cursed flesh was beginning to leach away as it all faded. “But I still have to find her.”

* * *

Trixie rubbed her eyes as she ran out into the living room. Something was scratching loudly against the door. She imagined one of those things from Lucifer’s apartment trying to shred their front door, ready to give them a taste…

“Stop!” Dan squealed, about ten steps behind her.

Trixie hopped up to the peephole and let out a squeak of her own. “Maze!”

Dan stopped, huffing over his knees. “Oh, thank god. Or… whatever.”

Trixie pushed the door open.

“Wait wait!” came Locke’s voice from behind the door.

Trixie frowned and leaned into the doorframe. “Oh, hey. I thought you were… Nevermind. What are you doing here?”

She inched into the hallway. Locke had her trusty knife out and was carving a triangle with an eye and a curly-cue in it into the door.

“Wait, what?” Dan came up, scratching the back of his head. “What are you—Don’t—! This is a rental!”

“I’m almost done,” Locke said so casually that Trixie had to laugh. Her dad looked like he ready to tear his hair out.

“I…” Dan threw his hands up. “C’mon!”

“There.” Locke blew on it and then stepped back to look, her tongue peeking out. “Good.”

Then, she cut her thumb.

“Hey!” Trixie protested.

“Just hang on.”

Locke went up to the carving, whispered a few unintelligible words (definitely not in any language Trixie had ever heard), and pressed her thumb into the eye. In a blink, a surge of light ran through the lines of the carving, glowed, and then went dark again. It almost seemed to glitter now, but only when Trixie stared very hard.

“Please come inside,” Dan begged.

Trixie grabbed Locke’s backpack and motioned for her to come in.

“I just wanted to make sure that got done. I almost forgot about it,” Locke said.

Dan headed into the bathroom.

“What is it?” Trixie asked.

“The Eye of Horus. It’s protection. It’ll keep most things away.” She paused and hopped on a stool next to the counter in the kitchenette. “Not Lucifer, obviously.”

Trixie put Locke’s bag on the counter. “Obviously. But those weird pale things, yeah?”

“Yep.”

Trixie peered over as Locke reached into the bag to pull out a chain with a round, hollow middle. It had some herbs sticking out of it, and it smelled… really odd.

“What’s that?”

“Frankincense. It runs from evil.” She held it up. “If you’re worried something is around, burn it, and follow the smoke to safety.”

“Cool.” Trixie took it and sniffed. “It’s strong. It smells like… a spicy… wet… old church.”

“That makes sense.” Locke smiled softly.

Dan reemerged with his hands full of loose band-aids, and some hydrogen peroxide, and a washcloth, and some ointment.

“Okay. Let’s look at this.”

His supplies spilled over the counter, and Locke raised a brow at him.

“Look at what?”

Dan huffed. “Just give me your hand, okay?”

Locke looked down at both of her hands. As funny as it was to see them talk past each other, Trixie tapped the hand Locke had cut and slipped out of her seat so her dad could take care of it. Locke’s eyes followed his hands for a moment, and then she let out a little laugh.

“You don’t have to do that!”

Grumbling under his breath, Dan upturned the bottle of peroxide on the washcloth and started to gently tend to her thumb.

“It’s really okay—”

“Did you really have to cut yourself?” he snapped.

Locke tilted her head to the side and blinked. “The spell required it.”

“Did that weirdo you were living with before let you do things like this?” Dan demanded, dabbing a bit of ointment on a band-aid before wrapping it around the offending digit.

“John? I mean he didn’t let me. But he did crazy things all the time to protect people. Mixing his blood with demons and other things. Beating a smaller demon by summoning a bigger one. Once he invited a Pazuzu into himself.” Locke shrugged. “This is nothing.”

Dan looked up. “What’s a—Never mind. Never mind. I don’t wanna know.”

Locke glanced at her bandaged thumb for a moment and then back up at Dan. She seemed a bit confused, and Trixie felt… sad. Just for a moment. She didn’t really know why.

“Well, if we’re up.” Dan went into the kitchen. “Do you like Poptarts?”

She frowned. “I don’t eat breakfast.”

Dan rolled his eyes. “Not what I asked. If you’re going to come over for some morning witchcraft to protect my apartment, I can at least feed you. Don’t your foster parents give you food?”

“They make dinner.”

Dan thinned his lips.

“Locke doesn’t like sweet stuff,” Trixie offered. “Can we have Huevos Espinoza?”

Locke’s lips tightened as she looked at Trixie, mischief in her eyes.

“I can manage that. Probably. Lemme see how many eggs we have…”

“You got some two days ago,” Trixie reminded him.

“Oh, right. Hey, I even have the potatoes. Then, yeah, let’s go. Get the spices out, Trixie?”

Trixie grinned at Locke and went to the cupboard. “You’re gonna love this. It’s so good.”

Locke said nothing, looking down at her hands again. After a minute, she reached into the bag again.

“I almost forgot this one.” She rose and came up to Trixie. “Turn around.”

“Does this one smell funny?”

“No. John gave this to me. So things wouldn’t be able to see me if they were after me.”

“Don’t you need it?”

“Not really. I can take care of myself.”

Dan let out a soft sigh. Trixie pinched her lips to the side and looked down at the necklace Locke had just put around her neck. The pendant looked like it had once been a coin, which had long since been flattened out. In it was etched a series of interlocking circles and stars, and words and runes ran along the rim and in between the circles, which were too small and odd for Trixie to read.

Trixie turned and gave Locke’s hand a squeeze. “Just be safe yourself, okay?”

Locke nodded, then peered over at what Dan was making.

“You know how to cook?” he asked.

She shook her head.

“C’mere. Lemme teach you to whisk an egg. Easiest thing to make is eggs.”

* * *

“Hush.”

Michael pushed himself up from the desk where he’d been trying to make his way through a large pile of books from this office. His cane had fallen just out of his reach, so he held onto the desk as he peered over to where Charlie was fussing. Thanks to the current situation, they’d been sequestered in this empty office of one of Linda’s colleagues who’d gone out of town. Thus, Michael found himself babysitting.

It was a wonder Charlie hadn’t screamed himself into oblivion by now.

With a bit of effort, Michael managed to toe his cane back into arm’s reach and proceeded to approach the area nearer to the door where Linda had set Charlie up in one of those insane play gyms. He couldn’t be hungry. He’d been fed. And he’d slept the night before, Michael assumed, because it had been quiet. That left little to blame for the boy’s complaints.

“I can’t really help you with your problem,” Michael informed him with a grunt. He lowered himself to the couch. “Your Amenadad will be back. I don’t know when.”

Charlie’s fussing was quickly developing into wailing. Michael winced at a particularly poignant shriek.

“Must be terrible when no one can understand you.” He set his cane aside and shakily moved closer to the gym. Like so he inched over he was close enough to take Charlie’s little hand.

Charlie stopped to look at him, eyes wide.

Then, he outright began screaming.

“Dunno what I expected.” Michael sighed. He couldn’t really leave Charlie alone here by himself. Nor could they just assume a regular babysitter could cut it when unaccounted for Celestial creatures were lurking about. He settled as close as he could to Charlie and pulled the boy into his arms. “I thought you were getting used to me? Or was it just because your mom was feeding you when I’m around?”

Searching his mind for whatever might soothe someone so small, he placed his hand behind Charlie’s back as he bounced him a little bit.

“Un…?”

“I’m not going to toss you, if that’s what you want. I know Lucifer does stupid things like that. But not me. Not until you get wings, if you do.” Michael’s heart raced in his chest, responding in kind to the distress in front of him.

It wasn’t fear, specifically. Although there was that, too. Charlie’s lack of object permanence made him afraid that his father would never return.

“You’re lucky, you know.” Michael kept up the bouncing until Charlie’s wail had downgraded back to fussing. “Lucky, lucky Chuckie. It’s better that you don’t have wings, or powers of any kind. It means that our Father won’t pay you any mind. So you have nothing t-to be afraid of. You’re human. He likes humans.”

Rubbing Charlie’s back, Michael muttered, “Plus, you’re the child of His favorite. He said Amenadiel would be the first to enjoy fatherhood. So it’s in His plan. You’re in His plan. If you weren’t, you’d be dead by now.”

Charlie looked up at him, sucking on his own fist. Quiet now. Looking up at Michael with the interest of a jangly ring of keys.

“You’re safe,” Michael whispered. “Your father would never… never leave you. Amenadiel, well, he said himself. He’s a good father.”

Linda’s bag of brightly colored nonsense, which also included diapers, sat beside the couch, so Michael steadied the child on his lap and reached into it for a piece of said nonsense to distract Charlie with. There were big, textured plastic rings, which he held in front of Charlie to see if he’d have any reaction before setting them aside. And a set of stacking cups, which Michael would have to sit on the floor to bother with. He’d never be able to get the two of them up if he put them down, so that was out.

Then there was a soft little elephant with several buttons on its belly. Michael set that near Charlie, and when the boy grabbed for it, Michael called it a win.

“So what does this guy do, hm? Can you remember? Can you show me?”

Granted, he’d never tested the intelligence of a human this age. Charlie looked up at him with that wide-eyed, empty look. When his little lips curved upward and he laughed slightly, Michael looked away uncomfortably.

As the elephant began to play a jaunty classical tune, Michael jumped. Charlie had pushed one of the buttons and was watching the elephant with rapt fascination. He pushed it again, and another song played. Michael recognized it as Chopin.

“Of course, Linda would give little Lucky a toy with Classical music. Gotta build that brain.” Michael huffed. “Hopefully, all of the bills for your Uncle Luci’s very necessary therapy will pay for your Ivy League education.”

“Oh, it’s already in an interest bearing account,” Linda said from behind them. She smiled as Michael’s head snapped back to her. “I heard him crying before. It stopped, so I was able to finish up my session before coming in here. He looks alright.”

“I dunno what I did to upset him,” Michael said defensively. “I was just sitting at the desk.”

“Aw.” Linda crouched down beside them. “He probably just got lonely.”

She pinched Charlie’s cheek, getting his attention briefly before he pressed another button, which played the sounds of frogs croaking.

“Why?” Michael leaned forward, looking at the stuffed elephant, and then at Charlie. “The music is better.”

Charlie laughed and flapped his arms before pushing the button again to cause a whale noise.

“If you say so,” Michael said, resigned.

“We’ll be able to give you a break in a few hours,” she said apologetically. “I’ll have an hour for lunch.”

“I don’t mind. I’m just not a very good protector currently.”

“I think you’re doing a fine job.”

“Babysitting. Not protecting. If something came in here right now…” Michael shook his head. “I asked Gabe for help, but I’m pretty sure they’re mad at me.”

“Gabe…” Linda gave a little start. “As in the Archangel Gabriel?”

“The same,” he said dryly, rubbing his thumb over the back of Charlie’s neck. “I’ve sent them some messages asking for back up for the littlest angel here, but they haven’t answered.”

“Why…?” Linda came over to sit beside him. “Why would Gabriel be angry with you?”

“Because I got myself grounded on Earth, and now they have to be in charge of everything.”

“Oh.” She reached over to pet over the soft fabric of Charlie’s shirt. “I’m sure they’ll forgive you.”

“Maybe.”

Michael watched Linda’s face as she smiled gently at Charlie. How her eyes softened, her thin mouth curved. Nothing forced. Faked. The effusion of sentiment was as genuine as it could be. Would it stay this way? Could it? Where did it go, if it didn’t?

“You can take him,” he said abruptly.

Linda looked up. “Alright. My next client is running late.”

Michael stood, a bit too quickly, and caught himself on the arm of the sofa. He looked at the door pointedly, feeling his cheeks grow warm.

“I appreciate your help, but if you’d rather not…” Linda hesitated. “You seem very uncomfortable right now. When you didn’t a moment ago.”

“You… um.” Michael glanced back.

Linda lifted her brows calmly and feigned a light smile. Likely to show him she was unimpressed by whatever fierce expression was on his face.

“How long were you there?” he asked. "Listening?"

“I like Lucky as a nickname better than Chuckie. It’s better coming from someone other than his parents, too.” She turned her attention to Charlie and the elephant.

Michael pressed his lips together. Linda played another song for Charlie before offering Michael his cane.

“You’re doing fine,” she said firmly. “Trust me, I was incredibly nervous those first few days with him. And that was before he’d been kidnapped.”

Michael snatched his cane. “I’m sure.”

“I really wish Adriana would get in contact with me, but… I just need to focus on this. Put them first, whenever I can.” She pressed a kiss to Charlie’s head.

“Okay.” Michael stared at her hard before heading back to the desk.

“Found any breakthroughs?” Linda asked lightly.

“Not really. It’s all about family therapy. It’s not something that allows much for self-reflection.”

“That can be difficult to determine from the inside. I’m more inclined to one-on-one therapy, and very occasionally, couples. But the problem in families is that for the children… The things we learn… Sometimes, they can be unhealthy, and yet feel so normal.” Linda shrugged. “If it’s all you’ve ever known, how can you see what it’s doing to you? I don’t go directly to questions about the patient’s family, but I can’t tell you how often that comes up. Family, or past relationships. They shape us deeply.”

“It’s different for people who live essentially forever.”

“Maybe. But I’ve still seen your brothers and your mother grieve. I’ve seen them hurt. I’ve seen them experience guilt, joy, anger, and confusion.”

Her fingers brushed over the soft fuzz of Charlie’s hair, and Michael wished a little bit that he hadn’t left the sofa so quickly.

“But I wouldn’t be in this profession if I didn’t believe we couldn’t work on patterns that continue to cause us pain and come out of it stronger and better, would I?” she said.

“You might. It pays well enough.”

Linda let out a soft snort and a chuckle. “Well, maybe. There are definitely people in the profession who are just in it for the check. I suppose that’s true for every career one person might call their calling. But if I have a patient who is actively refusing to make progress, to at least try? Who is blocking me consistently? I’m not going to continue to take their money.”

“Respectable.”

Michael considered what she’d said. The books were giving him insight into human pathologies. He just couldn’t see how it was going to get him out of this situation. Fingering the silver, nearly invisible bracelet on his wrist, the symbol of his stripped power, he wondered how many books it would take before he “got his head straight,” the way his Father wanted him to. Would it make him useful enough for his Father to value him again? Could it, now that he’d been discarded?

A gentle knock on the door startled Michael out of his thoughts. There stood another angel. Though, Linda would not recognize him as such. Tall as most of them were, but as slim as he was strong. Smooth, creamy skin with a golden undertone. Slightly wavy hair that was nearly white. Dark, shining eyes.

He smiled, holding one hand a loft in greeting.

“Really?” Michael asked.

His brother shrugged and turned to give Linda a slight bow and a smile.

“Hello! Are you…? Who are you?” she said.

“This is Duma,” Michael said flatly. “Our backup. And Gabe’s way of telling me they aren’t talking to me.”

Duma pinched his lips to the side and nodded.

“He doesn’t talk,” Michael explained.

“Oh. But he does have his powers?” Linda looked to Duma and then Michael for confirmation.

“Yes.” Michael gestured Duma forward, grateful the younger angel had changed out of his golden robe into an unremarkable cream colored turtleneck and pink denim jacket. Actually, he was grateful Duma had elected to wear clothing at all. Duma wasn’t always prone to it in the Silver City unless it involved an official function. Good to know some of his siblings had some sense of social context.

Duma entered and looked at the baby play gym before kneeling before Charlie. He held his hand out to the boy, and at once Charlie smiled and reached out to touch him.

“Well, I’ll have to… get you a cellphone. So you can text us if something happens,” Linda suggested.

Duma gave another nod and then opened his arms as if to take Charlie. Linda didn’t move at first. Michael could feel why.

That little stab of fear. At anything unfamiliar near the ones you wanted to protect the most.

“He’s a good guy.” Michael pressed his thumb along the edge of a thick, leather-bound book. “Duma is silent because he is meant to contemplate on the perfection of the Presence.”

“The Presence?”

“Our Father.”

Linda said nothing to that for quite a while. Doing a bit of contemplation of her own? Then, finally:

“Your father has one of his children devoted to thinking about how perfect he is?”

Michael sucked the back of his teeth. “He’s God.”

“Okay. I just…” Linda tilted her head to the side.

As if that were strange. As if God didn’t have the right to assign any number of His children to the task of meditating on His perfection. It was perfectly fine. Michael knew this. But for some reason, he didn’t volunteer information about his siblings who remained in the Silver City only to sing the praises of the Presence. Eternally.

But He was God.

“Don’t be afraid to hand Charlie over. I mean, you don’t have to right away. We could just post Duma outside, if you want to,” Michael said finally.

“Oh, no. It’s fine.” She looked up at Duma. “Have you ever held a baby before?”

Duma’s brow furrowed. Probably because the answer was more complicated than a yes or no. He sat by her and gestured for her to go on. And she did. She gave him instructions and offered him tips for if Charlie cried. Told him what Charlie’s schedule would be, and how he would need to be fed in about an hour, and then they would burp him and try to get him to sleep.

Michael tried to block all of this out as they spoke. Still, he could hear how easily Charlie took to Duma. How much better suited he was to care for another. Duma had fought his battles, but he hadn’t been made to fight the most puissant, most unspeakable leftovers of creations past.

“I couldn’t imagine you being a father!”

“I’m going for a walk. Enjoy angelsitting,” Michael said abruptly, his heart surging in his chest.

He didn’t have to turn to know that Duma was smiling at him beatifically. And Linda was looking at him with that studied concern of hers.

If it’s all you’ve ever known, how can you see what it’s doing to you?

Chapter Text

“Fear makes us feel our humanity.”

— Benjamin Disraeli

The past week had been super weird.

Okay, so maybe Ella wasn’t one of the detectives, but she could tell something was going on. Lucifer had disappeared again, as had Amenadiel even around the house, and Linda, Chloe, and Dan all seemed incredibly tense. Michael was stern as always, but he’d definitely been more jumpy and on alert recently. Enough that Ella had tried to discreetly ask Linda if she thought he might be having some PTSD problems.

Linda agreed that he probably had PTSD but lacking a one-on-one session with him, felt disinclined to officially diagnose or recommend anything.

Plus, another one of Lucifer’s brothers had come to live in the house. Unsurprisingly, since their parents had apparently either adopted aggressively or their father had spread his seed far and wide, Duma wasn’t the same race as any of the previous brothers. Ella thought he looked like one of those white haired K-Pop idols, like Minhyuk or Suga. Except he was like, dead quiet. She didn’t think she’d heard him speak a word. He smiled a lot, though.

Sitting in her lab, Ella realized that she somehow missed both of the twins. Lucifer because he simply wasn’t around, and she didn’t know why. Chloe wouldn’t say (or wouldn’t give the real reason because he so hadn’t gone all the way back to Florida). Michael because… he’d gone quiet, too. Not as quiet as Duma, but there was something on his mind that he didn’t feel comfortable talking about. Or even jokingly making up absolute nonsense about, which was sometimes the case when one of them had nightmares.

Every so often, Ella found herself peering out of the window. If she were honest with herself, she knew she was fixating on this weirdness mostly because she was waiting for news about Pete’s case. She’d been cooperating with the DA’s office as a witness, and she knew Pete’s arraignment was coming up. Any moment she had free, Ella wondered if she would have to face him in court. Pete’s case was damning, even without Ella’s testimony (and she had every intention of making sure he got locked up and stayed there). But Pete was…

Pete. He could decide he wanted the press of an ongoing court case. Even more than that, Ella was certain he would want to see her babbling on the stand. Her stomach slooshed into ice water and churned inside her.

She just wanted this to be over.

The rap of a cane against the doorframe nearly caused Ella to jump out of her skin, and she turned wide-eyed to see Michael leaning in her doorway with a perturbed expression.

“Oh, hey!” she said with as much false brightness as she could muster.

Michael rolled his eyes. “Seriously. What’s wrong?”

Ella let her shoulders relax. “I’m just amped up about Pete.”

“You’re scared. What do you think is going to happen?” Michael moved toward her, leaning a bit heavily on his cane.

“I dunno!” She shrugged and sank into the chair by her computer. “He escapes. He turns this whole thing into a media circus and charms a jury into letting him go?”

“Possible.” Michael leaned back against the table in the middle of the room. “Not probable.” He hesitated.  “I’m sorry for what happened to you.”

Ella rolled her eyes. “You didn’t do it.”

“No… But…”

“It happened. And… it was scary, but I can’t be scared forever.”

Michael snorted. “It’s only been a month since he was arrested. You can cut yourself a little more slack than that.”

With a smile, Ella swiveled around. “Maybe.”

“I’m right. You should listen to me.”

“And be scared?”

“And just… be kinder to yourself for being scared. Fear is important.”

Ella gave a brief nod and stood. “That’s sort of why I asked Linda to ask you to come to the station. She told you?”

“She told me you wanted me to come by.” Michael’s lips twisted up to the side. “That wasn’t just for my delightful company?”

“Maybe a little. I was wondering…” Ella tucked some loose hair behind her ear. “Um… if you would mind using your mojo for a case?”

Michael’s brows shot up. “For a case? I don’t know that I could help much.”

“Are you serious? You can clock a person’s fear at fifty feet.”

“You’re exaggerating.” But he was fighting a smile from her flattery.

“Yeah, like that desire shtick is okay for getting confessions, but…” Ella shrugged and walked over to the evidence sitting on the table. “I mean, most people who have violent crimes committed against them were afraid. And people who commit the crimes are afraid of getting caught.”

“I might not be able to give you what you want. Not all fear feels the same, if you know what I mean.” Michael’s eyes followed her hands as she moved a few items out of an evidence box. “I also wouldn’t necessarily… How do I put this? Taking someone else’s fear into you isn’t always the nonstop party it sounds like.”

Ella let her hands drop. “Does it hurt?”

“No. It’s just… It’s fear.” Michael fussed with the collar of the worn jacket he had over his turtleneck. “It feels like fear.”

“Oh!” Ella looked down at the items Detective Hernandez had brought up from the evidence locker. What would it feel like to take someone else’s feelings into you? That was like some kind of impressive empathy.

It occurred to her that Michael had already done that with her. Probably multiple times. Probably every time he was near her. Feeling her panic when she’d seen his smile, her irrational racing heart and mind whenever her thoughts turned to Pete… her nightmares.

“Wow,” she said.

But just as she spoke, he muttered, “I’ll do it if you want.”

Ella cocked her head to the side. “Are you sure? It sounds awful.”

“It’s not always awful. Fear isn’t always… painful.” Michael stepped up next to her. “People go out of their way to experience fright, don’t they? Jump out of planes, watch horror movies, play with Ouija boards?”

“Yeah.” Ella sucked in her lower lip. Then she shook her head. “The fear of an assault victim isn’t going to be like riding a rollercoaster.”

“Sure it will. Just not a fun one.” Michael rolled his tongue around in one cheek and picked up an evidence glove. “If you’re wanting me to touch that necklace, it won’t work. I can try, but I probably won’t be able to pick up enough to give you any clues. Our Divine Empathies really work best with the living.”

“Divine Empathies?” Ella’s chest swelled with excitement. “Is that what you call it? Chloe and Lucifer just call it his mojo!”

“Yeah, well, he’s an idiot. In every way it’s possible for him to be,” Michael replied sharply.

“Hm.” With a smirk, Ella bumped his arm with her shoulder. “I feel that way about most of my brothers, too. Anyway… the vic is actually in the hospital. She’s in a coma.”

Michael’s eyes narrowed with interest.

“Right. So you might be able to… Even if you can’t, it would be worth the try. She’s in a coma… It just sucks that they haven’t been able to figure out who hurt her. She deserves something from us…”

Michael’s hand raised slightly as his brows creased. Then his hand dropped again. “Well… You could wait for her to wake up. If she does. I’ve already offered, though.”

Ella beamed. “I’ll go pull up my car!”

The ride to Huntington Memorial Hospital was quiet. Mostly on his end. Ella babbled about things that had been going on at the station and told him a few details about the victim, Missha Demirci. She wasn’t sure he was listening, but he nodded occasionally. She could sense the discomfort in him. Not in the way he must feel it so intensely when she was uncomfortable. If only he could open himself to her the way he’d enabled her to with him.

Finally, she burst out, “Seriously. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he lied, flatly.

“You and Linda have been weirded out all week. I can tell. Is there anything I can do?”

Michael sighed. “No.”

“Well, lemme know if I can. I’ll make you some tea when we get home.”

He scoffed. “I can make my own tea.”

“It’s not like I can offer you some Divine Empathy.”

“Nope. Just the regular kind.”

Ella patted his arm and looked up at him. “If you ever do need to talk, and you feel comfortable doing it, you know I’ve got you, right?”

“I don’t know why you would. You barely know me.” He shook his head, and before she could object that obviously she would try to be there for him, he continued, “You have the brightest soul of anyone I’ve ever met.”

“I…” Heat rose to Ella’s cheeks, and she fixed her gaze on the road. “I don’t know about that…”

“You shine. Don’t let anyone ever tell you that you don’t,” he insisted.

“Okay, ya sweet talker,” Ella joked back.

“Pretty sure no one has ever accused me of that before. Plenty of other things. Never that.”

“You’re a lot more likable than you think you are, buddy. Hate to break it to you.”

“There are about four—well, three now, people in the universe who might agree with you.” His lips grew thin, and his eyes hardened. “I hope it’s still three.”

“Hm?”

Michael looked out the window, his thumb rubbing impatiently over the back of the wooden cat atop his cane. He’d bitten his lip and was worrying it between his teeth.

“Are you worried about Lucifer and Amenadiel? I know they’ve gone somewhere?”

“I am NOT worried about Lucifer,” he snapped. “He can take care of himself. Clearly.”

“Whoa! I didn’t mean anything by it! I just wondered…” Ella swallowed. “Sorry.”

“I…” Michael’s jaw tensed. “Mazikeen is missing, and they went to find her. And they aren’t back yet. And I can’t help. So. You wanted to know.”

“Ohhh.” Ella blinked a few times. “I get it. She’s your friend. I hope she’s okay, but… Michael, Maze is a tough cookie. I’m sure she’s fine.”

Her words didn’t seem to make much impact. His lips had twisted downward again, but without his characteristic scowl, he just looked a bit panicked. Ella pulled into the parking garage at the hospital and was quiet for a few minutes as she found a space. Then, she turned to him and reached over to take his free hand.

“Hey. They’re gonna find her.” She squeezed his hand hard. “Promise.”

He raised a brow. “You promise? You’re the authority on this?”

“Uh-huh,” she lied, with a smile. “Good things will happen. You should listen to me. I’m right.”

Michael closed his eyes as he let out a soft huff of amusement. “Okay. I’ll try to have faith… in you, at least. I can’t attest for my feelings on Lucifer and Amenadiel’s competence.”

Ella’s cheeks were starting to hurt, she was smiling so hard. Something about getting a genuine reaction out of Michael, when she knew he was hurting so much and had so little trust that he could be healed… It made her so happy. Then, suddenly, her heart was racing again… and it wasn’t fear.

Not at first. Then, the feeling of joy was chased away by the memory of what that joy could bring. Ella’s face fell. Every time she started to feel normal, Pete’s memory snuck in to steal the moment away, leaving her empty.

Rather than pulling away from her, as Michael sometimes did when Ella started to feel this way, he reached up to her face, cupped her cheek, and pressed their foreheads together.

“You don’t need to fear him anymore,” he whispered.

Ella shuddered. She didn’t want to feel this, and she really didn’t want him to have to feel it. “Are you okay? What… what does it feel like?”

“Slimy. Cold…” He said nothing for several long seconds as his eyes searched hers. “Naked. You feel vulnerable, and… you’re afraid of yourself more than you are of him. Hm.”

Ella started to pull away, but the warmth of Michael’s hand steadied her.

“You can’t tell me to have faith in good things while still assuming the worst of yourself,” he scolded.

“Can too. I’ve always been attracted to bad boys, and I chose to be with this guy. A serial killer. How can I possibly trust my own judgment after this?”

“Apart from current company—and my twin—you have pretty good taste in friends.”

Michael’s eyes drooped closed. Ella’s heart slowed to a confident march. Something was moving inside her. Was she imagining it?

“Your fear,” Michael said, his voice low and determined. “Give it to me.”

“I… what? How?”

“Just breathe deep and let me have it.”

“That won’t hurt you?”

“If all goes well in there, my day’s gonna suck anyway. At least like this, I’m doing something useful.”

His other hand came up and soon he cupped both sides of her face like she was a delicate chalice. Her eyes closed, and she began to feel less solid. Less substantial. She was a swirling mix of uncertainties and loves, angers and empathies. She imagined the cold empty places in her had risen to the surface and Michael was sipping those parts of her away. They filled with warmth and light. The spark of who she knew herself to be.

Ella’s eyes opened when Michael’s hands grew cold. He retreated from her and curled over on himself by the door. What had just happened? He seemed to have shrunken into himself, paled, become less than what he was.

“Michael—”

“Let’s just do this,” he snapped. Then, more softly, “I can handle a lot more than this. I’ve been to the edges of Creation and back and fought the darkest of what dwells there. Don’t you worry about me.”

Ella nodded. She’d never been to war. She couldn’t imagine the things he’d been through. But she still wanted to protect him somehow. She didn’t know if the way she felt now was a placebo effect, or if she’d just experienced something ineffable, but…

She felt good. She felt solid. She felt like an indominable fucking fighter. And she needed to express her gratitude to him, somehow.

After they helped this woman, she would make sure he was home safe, somewhere he could process all the things he’d been exposed to, willingly or not.

* * *

“Um, excuse me? Is this misspelled?”

A well-dressed man with his hair pulled tidily into a ponytail at the back of his head looked up at the hotel worker who had been assisting them that afternoon. The man’s nametag read “The Gentleman,” and he’d been working very hard for the last few weeks. The thing about putting on a convention was that conventions involve a lot of moving pieces at the best of times. Between inviting guests, arranging venues, and planning events, it was enough to make a man hang himself.

Then again, he had. Or this body had.

The Gentleman gently agreed with the young worker, allowing her to feel she’d helped them in some way. It was such a bad joke, what they were doing. But it was at this point, a tradition. They’d almost spelled the name of the convention right. With an “S” at the front… and that just wouldn’t do.

The Gentleman checked the lists in front of him and sat down to make a few calls. Their guest of honor was indisposed at the moment, but he felt certain, given the backup that was coming, he would be able to secure him. Their guest was famous now, after all.

“I hear you’ve come to town early, Cori,” The Gentleman said, leaning back in his chair. “I hope you haven’t been doing any hunting while you’ve been here.”

“No more than the usual,” came the fluid, dangerously seductive voice. “L.A. is a big city. Harder to track us here than other places.”

“Just be careful. Your calling card is far more distinct than that of most of our guests.” The Gentleman sighed. “But at the end of the day, it won’t matter. I’ve greased a few palms to ensure that those who play by the rules have a free pass in other ways.”

The familiar sound of three voices laughing came through on the phone. The Gentleman trailed a finger around the burn mark around his neck.

“Only two days left to go. The others will be here by then, and you’ll have the backup you need,” Cori promised. “Should be a blast.”

“As always.” The Gentleman hung up the phone and picked up the program.

Cereal Convention 2020.

He chuckled. The camp of it all. The rest? Dead serious.

* * *

Apart from Raphael, angels never spend too much time in hospitals. Unless their Father has some specific plans, Elohim are generally mean to leave humans to their mortality. As it turned out, Michael was finding Huntington Memorial to be one of the most anxiety-saturated places he’d ever visited on Earth.

There were little spikes of baseless panic; the constant burning of purposeful doctors bustling about with their minds full of apprehension for their patients… or student loans; the more acute squeeze at the back of the throat as family sat waiting for news of their loved ones; the spicy, anger-tinged worry of an elderly man who had let his blood pressure get too high, fallen out of bed and cracked his head open, and had been here all day, dammit.

“Hey…” Ella said softly, taking Michael’s free hand. “Can you do this so soon after—?”

“I told you, I can take a lot more than that. What room is she in?”

Ella gave him a patronizingly sweet smile and went up to one of the nurses. Michael leaned against his cane, annoyed. He really shouldn’t have done that. Taken her fear. It left him feeling even more jumpy than before, and he felt disoriented, as though the ground itself couldn’t be trusted to hold him up.

He might’ve taken more than he’d intended. Ella had a lot of secret fears. Or she used to.

Another nurse came around to take them deeper into the hospital, and as surely as if he’d had his skin peeled back, Michael felt every damn thing around him. What a place. He didn’t know how Raph could stand being about the constantly dying and suffering.

When they approached Missha Demirci’s room, Michael could tell. Because her fear wasn’t on the surface. Not much was. Could a human recover from something like this? They stepped into the room, and the nurse spoke to Ella for another moment. His eyes fixed on the woman in front of him. Dark hair splayed out over pillows, lips parched, bruises mottling the pale skin around her neck.

“He choked her,” Michael muttered.

“Yeah.” Ella glanced back from the nurse. “She’s been like that for a few days.”

The nurse stepped back. “I need to stay to observe, but you can do what you need to. The detectives on the case called ahead.”

“Thank you so much.” Ella reached up and squeezed her arm.

Michael ignored them and moved to the side of Missha Demirci’s bed. She’d been out in the sun. Her nose was peeling. But not in the way that happened when women over tanned. She wasn’t used to the sun. She didn’t have any protection.

Exposure.

“Was the strangling what did this to her?” Michael asked. Before Ella could answer, he added, “That necklace in the forensics lab wasn’t hers…”

He moved his hand to Missha’s shoulder. She had dived deep below the surface. Retreated into herself.

“How do you know?” the nurse asked.

“The chain would’ve left a mark,” Ella said. “She wasn’t wearing it when she died.”

“And she would’ve sold it,” Michael said flatly. He let the back of his fingers touch her face. “She was homeless.”

Ella perked up and drew nearer. “How do you know? We suspected she’d been outside for a while…”

“She was uncertain… She didn’t know if she’d ever get back on her feet.”

The pervasive fears lingered gently all around her. They’d been stronger… The feeling of having no place to go, being wanted by none of her family… but something had displaced them.

Michael sucked in his lower lip and frowned. He’d been dubious that he could actually pull this off. He’d stretched his abilities to their limits at times, but this… It should actually be easy. To accomplish, in any case. To live with it? Well. He already had that slimy, cold feeling of Pete’s aftermath inside him. He was going to be useless after this.

Then again, wasn’t he already? He couldn’t fly down to Hell to get Maze. He couldn’t protect Charlie. He couldn’t make amends for a damn thing he’d done trying to… He’d just failed at everything. If the Grigori were truly around, they’d probably tear him limb from limb sooner or later. And their father?

If he woke up, Michael hoped he was already dead by the time that asshole surfaced.

A gentle hand touched his shoulder.

“You do not have to do this,” Ella said emphatically. “I’m sorry I asked.”

“I said I would.” Michael swallowed.

What’s a tool, after all, if it can’t function? He had to do something. It might as well be for this poor woman. Though, if he were honest with himself, and he tended to be, even if he lied to everyone else…

It was for Ella. She ached so beautifully for a person she didn’t know and had never met while conscious. Michael straightened up and steadied himself, balancing on his good leg while setting his cane aside. No way to look into her eyes. No way to catch her attention. Hopefully, this wouldn’t feel as invasive as whatever had been done to her.

Michael touched his fingertips to her temples and bowed over her.

He was smiling. Smiling so beautifully and kindly. It had been so long since anyone had been kind to her. After her father had kicked her out of the house… No. She wasn’t going to ruin this with thoughts of that asshole. The man in front of her was gorgeous, and he had offered her a place to stay, a warm bath and meal, and listened to her talking all night.

Then his hand touched her leg, and she thought that she would be paying for the room with… alternative means. As he pressed her back on the hotel sofa, she looked up into his deep green eyes. She couldn’t spend another night on the streets. If that’s what it took…

Her eyes went half-lidded as he began to unbutton her shirt. She sighed as he pulled it back to reveal her abdomen, and he smiled, whispering to her how no one could appreciate her quite like he did. If that was strange, she didn’t register it.

His kisses trailed down her neck, and his fingers ghosted over the scar below her belly button. She laughed, softly, and opened her eyes wider to encourage him, but…

His eyes had changed somehow. She saw it for a split second before his hands wrapped around her neck. It was so sudden that she didn’t move, at first. His grip took her tightly, and she made an undignified squeak followed by pained grunts, but soon her windpipe was too constricted. She couldn’t make any noise at all. Finally, her brain kicked in for a few moments, allowing her to grasp at him with frantic hands as she blinked, trying to make the black spots in her vision go away.

They didn’t. The world bled into itself, and she shrank back into herself. And stayed.

Michael’s vision shifted abruptly as multiple hands gripped his shoulders. He swayed and sagged into a set of small arms, coughing and gasping for air. They sank to the ground, and after a moment, he realized that Ella had been by his side, and he was too big for her to shoulder his full weight. They sat on the floor together as he panted, and her eyes began to fill with tears.

He moved his lips to tell her to stop, only to discover his throat was too swollen to get any words out. Ella touched his neck with a trembling hand and shook her head. Behind him, the nurse was paging someone. Had they overstepped their bounds?

“We shouldn’t have… Oh, God, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry! Why did I let you do this?” Ella muttered to herself.

The nurse came up from behind them with a chair, and together, the two women helped Michael into it. His quaking limbs would barely listen to him, but regardless, he made a writing motion for Ella and tried to squawk out: “Pen. Paper.”

“Oh! Um…” Ella looked around. “Alice, do you know where there might be some paper and something for him to write with?”

“Got it.”

Michael let his head sink into his hand and rubbed his forehead. He had to focus. Keep Missha’s memory vivid while he could. Angels weren’t inclined to forget, but when trauma was involved, he couldn’t trust his mind not to try to hide what he’d just seen.

When Alice the Nurse returned, she handed him a notepad and a pencil. Behind her, a male nurse knelt before him and pressed an ice pack to Michael’s throat, but Michael waved him off and put pencil to paper. First the eyes. They had been the most vivid. Those green monstrosities. Following, he sketched the brows, and the crinkles at the corners. Then the shape of the face, the nose, the chin. Hair came last. He couldn’t remember how to do the hair. Had it stood up? Was it shaggy or neat?

He closed his eyes again, feeling those hands on his neck, imagining the man above him. Against his will, the pencil dropped. He didn’t see Missha’s assailant.

He saw a pair of large, black eyes. Her narrow chin. The way she grinned as she held him down. What a novelty, to be vulnerable. Had Chloe ever done this to Lucifer? She might have. Could have.

Probably had not.

“I…” he rasped ineffectually.

“It’s okay. It’s enough,” Ella assured him.

Michael shook his head hard and reached his hand out for the pen again. He had nearly begun to draw her long, dark hair. Or the shining bald head of the Grigori’s father. Instead, he sketched the neatly coiffed side part of the strangler. He was a honey-trap, this man. Well-groomed, but not particularly attractive. And Michael couldn’t feel him. He hadn’t actually been there. But he’d bet anything that this man had strangled other women.

He just didn’t look like the kind of man the police usually suspected.

When Michael was done, he handed the notepad over to Ella, who stared at him with waves of unwanted sympathy. His face fell into his hands, and he could hear the nurses muttering to each other. Eventually, the male nurse touched his shoulder again, and Michael let him maneuver Michael’s head back to rest in the chair and apply the ice pack.

His head swam with images of being choked.

Then, he realized he’d gotten the damned hair wrong anyway. It was Pete’s hair. Pete had been the honey-trap. And though he hadn’t fallen for Missha’s strangler, or Pete, he had fallen for the lies of the others lurking in his memories.

“Is this?” Ella gaped.

Michael shook his head. He pointed to his own hair and gestured to erase. Then, he pointed to his own eyes.

“Green eyes.”

Ella nodded. “This is who did this to her...”

“Sorry about the hair.” Barely anything came out. He hoped she could understand. “Got my wires crossed. He wears it in a ponytail.”

“Stop talking,” the male nurse ordered. “What happened to him? Was he attacked?”

“I have no idea,” Alice the Nurse said.

“I’ve got it. I’ve got him. Thanks,” Ella said. She dropped down next to Michael and took the ice pack.

Then she gave him a big hug.

“This was so brave. We’ll get him for sure. I promise.”

Michael nodded absently. He glanced over to Missha. He wondered if she ever would wake. He knew definitively that she did not want to.

Chapter Text

“There are very few monsters who warrant the fear we have of them.”

— Andre Gide

“Hel-lo? Ella?”

Ella blinked up at Chloe’s voice. Her cheeks flushed as she realized she’d been caught out. Not paying attention at all. Glued utterly to her screen.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I get it. You’re anxious.” Chloe touched her shoulder gently. “It’s hard to be back at work after everything that’s happened.”

With a sigh, Ella scrubbed a hand over her face and shook her head.

“That’s totally the thing, though. I’m not anxious. I’m not scared. I’m fine.” She reached out for a pair of gloves and snapped them on. “I’m also a dumbass, by the way. I dunno how you do it, honestly.”

“Do what?” Chloe knelt before the body and licked her lips, deep in thought already.

Ella came down and began her observations, almost by rote. “Manage Lucifer without breaking him. Their gifts are no joke.”

“His mojo? Well… That’s not usually something I have to worry about with him.” Chloe sucked in her lip, seeming to remember something. “If there’s a problem, it’s probably him breaking himself over things he won’t admit to and won’t face. Or something he states outright while laughing, as if he didn’t just say something deeply terrible he should be talking to Linda about.”

“Huh. Not Michael. His gift… my God. It’s brutal.”

Chloe wrinkled her brow. “What are you talking about? The fear thing? How emotionally draining can that be for him?”

Ella raised a brow. “He’s done it for you? What fear did he take?”

“I’m sorry… take?”

Ella nodded and rose, handing a bag of evidence off. “I really screwed up this morning. I don’t think he’s going to be able to talk for days.”

Chloe narrowed her eyes, and if Ella weren’t so worried, she’d have laughed at the way Chloe seemed to be mentally weighing whether Michael’s forced silence was a bad thing or not. The man was incredibly prickly sometimes.

“I had him look into the fear of a coma patient. One who’d been strangled. His neck is so freakin’ bruised and swollen the hospital didn’t want him to leave.”

Chloe leaned forward, tilting her head slightly as she processed that.

“He couldn’t fake that…” Something seemed to alarm her, and her lips grew tight and small. “Did they release him?”

“Yeah, he’s at Linda’s. Recovering, hopefully.”

“Lucifer’s mojo doesn’t hurt him like that. Not physically. I guess even if he could internalize other people’s desires… He just…” Chloe spread her hands. “You know how he is. He’s used it as just a super way to keep people away for years.”

“Right? They’re both so stubborn. And dumb. Once he agreed to dip into her head, he wouldn’t stop until we had a nearly photorealistic sketch to put out a BOLO.” Ella bit her lip and looked down at her hands. “It feels like I’m the one that hurt him.”

“Huh. I guess I’m lucky Lucifer doesn’t work that way. Because he’s definitely dumb enough to do that to himself. But you can’t blame yourself for the things they choose to do. You can only support them. I mean, if they let you.” Chloe pointed to the vic. “Help me focus for a few minutes here, and I’ll send you home with some things for your broken angel.”

Ella smiled lopsidedly. If anyone would understand, it would be Chloe. She really should tell Chloe about that other thing Michael did, but since she didn’t know he could do that… part of her wanted to keep that private. Between them. He’d taken a part of her and put it upon himself to carry that pain for her.

Not pain, necessarily. Fear. But it had been a truly ponderous fear, crushing her very spirit. She hated to think of that poison milling around inside of anyone she cared about. And he had that and poor Missha Demirci’s monster, who both now lurked in his memories. Oh, she’d definitely noticed Pete’s hair on top of that sketch’s incredibly specific face. Michael had borrowed their terrors, and Ella couldn’t begin to comprehend how she’d pay him back for it.

But apparently, she was going to start with NSAIDs and soup. It was all she could do. She didn’t have any divine gifts, dangerous or otherwise.

* * *

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Lucifer muttered.

Revelers and rising spirits alike filled the expansive tent. Their voices raised in jubilation and worship, as many danced and a few gathered on the sides watching the festivities in reverence. There was a chicken or two, of course. People with things smeared on their cheeks in protection or worship.

Things never went well for those chickens.

Meanwhile, Papa Midnite stood in the center of their frenzy and devotion. Him, and the young dead woman inside of him, both having a chat with her mother.

“It’s cold here…” he said, and she said. Her young, frightened voice overlaid his baritone.

“Oh, baby! My poor baby girl!”

“You hated me,” she cried. “Nothing I did was ever good enough for you!”

“No, no! I just… I wanted you to become strong, that was all!”

“You’re lying!” she shrieked. Midnite’s hands pressed against the sides of his face. “You’re lying! You’re lying! You let him! You let him do those things to me! You let him pin me to the ground and rip my wings off! You abandoned me!”

“I- I was scared—”

A bloodcurdling scream erupted from him as the spirit succumbed to a full meltdown. Then, Midnite straightened, dazed, and glared down at the woman.

“You have spoken to your girl. The Red Jack has hold on her no longer. It is time you left.”

From an exposed little girl to a stern and puissant man in seconds. This one was much older than he looked. Much more than one would expect of any “well preserved” human. John had said that Midnite was immortal, or at least cursed to be so. Supposedly, it was the result of a bad end to a bad deal with a slave owner (who really ought to have known better dealing with a true medium and practitioner of Haitian vodou). Now Midnite was the one of the most goddamn powerful magical muckity-mucks, and apparently drug dealers, throughout the South. Maybe the bloody continent.

Midnite’s people dragged the woman away. Lucifer slipped his hands into his pockets and exchanged a glance with Amenadiel as they approached the man.

“Give me a moment,” Midnite drawled, turning from them to take a swig of something. It was a power move. He’d turned his back on them to prove how unafraid he was. If John were to be believed, Midnite had probably sensed them before they’d entered his tent.

Amenadiel frowned impatiently and approached the little platform where Midnite’s seat was located. Midnite continued quaffing his drink and then sank into his throne, legs spread and the tips of his fingers rubbing together on one hand.

“Why are you here? And what are you? I sense… great faith in you.” His eyes fixed eagerly on Amenadiel. “Have you a connection to the Loa? A hotline to God? In you there is devotion, but also some untapped power…”

“We have business to discuss with you, and it would be best to do so privately,” Amenadiel told him.

Midnite raised a brow skeptically. “Would it, then? Best for whom?”

“Well, for us, really,” Lucifer said glibly. He sauntered up to the stairs and took each step slowly while Midnite regarded him with distain. “Though, people tend to come out of business with me for the better.”

“And you would be?” His lips twisted with displeasure.

A smile spread across Lucifer’s face, slow and slick and very soon quite red and crispy. The crowd, no stranger to the strange, began to draw back as Lucifer approached and Midnite came to his feet.

“You!”

“Me, indeed!” Lucifer chuckled. “We need information. A favor. A friend of my suggested you might be open to… a deal.”

Midnite stared him down with a sudden fury. It seemed to be radiating off his elegant suit and prim posture. He grabbed a cane by his seat (which Lucifer understood from John held a quite sharp, and blessed, sword) and gestured to the others.

“Do not follow us,” he ordered. Then, to the angels in his midst, “You. This way.”

He swept past them and through a curtain. Hmph. Arrogant enough to order angels about. Amenadiel pulled a face.

Lucifer shrugged. “What? We can take him if he gets too shirty.”

“I’m hoping this doesn’t prove as useless as Constantine. I never thought we’d have so much trouble getting into Hell.”

“Yet another of my great many failures,” Lucifer grumbled. “No need to keep reminding me.”

“I didn’t mean—”

Lucifer shook out his Devil Face and entered the back of the tent where Papa Midnite had gone. Midnite was pouring a few glasses of scotch, and he looked up through hooded eyes at the both of them before offering each of them a glass.

“The Devil doesn’t come a’knockin’ for idle reasons, I would imagine,” Midnite said dryly.

Lucifer took a sip of his scotch. “No, he does not.”

“The question remains, why is an archangel in his company?”

“He’s not an archangel,” Lucifer said automatically.

Amenadiel made a noise and glared at him.

“Sorry. He’s the ‘Hand of God,’” Lucifer breezed.

“Is that a title a man such as myself should be aware of?” Midnite asked.

“It means, he’s the first angel. More specifically, Dad’s fav.” Lucifer glanced around at the sectioned off area. It was a sort of private room, with comfortable leather chairs, a bar, and…

That was a human skull. With human hair attached. Whispering to itself.

“We’re here to borrow your cellular, Papa,” Lucifer said. “The Hand of God and I have a mutual friend currently in Hell, and we’ve been unable to reach her.”

“Why should you be so incapable?” Midnite frowned. “Why should the Devil himself need the help of a mere human such as I to perform such a simple task? And, most importantly, what fool told you I was the one to contact for this particular favor?”

Amenadiel raised his brows at Lucifer. Before either could formulate a reply, Midnite exhaled loudly through his nose.

“Even when I keep my distance from that rank amateur, he brings chaos to my door!”

“We mean no trouble—” Amenadiel said.

“He is a magpie of magic,” Midnite shouted. “He picks up whatever shines and catches his eye. With no gravity or logic to his actions, no deep belief whatsoever. You would be utterly unable to move him—” He pointed to Amenadiel. “He is godless. Lacking in the very grounding of what it means to work through the will of others.”

“That sounds like our Johnny.” Lucifer grinned. “And we can trade saucy gossip all you like, once we’ve gotten a pulse on what’s going on in Hell.”

Midnite took a drink of his scotch and grew still and serious once again. “What do I get, if I do you this favor?”

“An infernal IOU, from yours truly.” Lucifer leaned forward. “Surely, that should be enough for one call.”

“Perhaps.” Midnite pursed his lips and paced over to the hanging skull. His fingers caressed the side of its cheek. “But from you, truly… How much sway do you have in the infernal circles? Not enough to get a message to Hell. They say the Devil has been on a walkabout. That he’s left his kingdom and been here on Earth. Of course, the wine and crackers sort, they always say this, no? Today, it is true. Today, the Devil comes to Papa Midnite to do his job.”

Flames licked at the sides of Lucifer’s face. A growl was working its way up his throat when Amenadiel stepped in front of him.

“You can choose, then. A favor from the Devil, to be paid once Hell is again under his control, or a favor from Heaven, to be paid… depending on the whim of Gabriel… or our Father.” Amenadiel shrugged. “However, it can be very difficult to get Father’s attention, and Gabriel can be… difficult to say the least.”

Midnite wet his lips. “I’ll consider my options, then, and tell you my choice at a later date. You should better hope that whomever I ask has the power to accomplish my request… when payment comes due.”

He set down his drink and knelt before the skull. “What do you wish to ask of her?”

“We need to know about the Lilim Mazikeen,” Amenadiel said. “Where she’s located—”

“If she’s alright,” Lucifer blurted out.

“I see.” Midnite glanced back at them with all the weight of his years. Again, he touched the skull. “Sister. Speak to me. I have questions for you regarding one of the Lilim.”

Around them, the air seemed to fill with cold and the ghost of feminine whispering. Midnite leaned into her ear, or what would’ve been her ear, and whispered in turn. The hushed tones surrounded them thickly.

When Midnite rose, he turned to them with wide eyes. Lucifer felt his stomach dropping out of him.

“What did she say?” Amenadiel said.

“Hell is in unrest,” he said, intrigued. “The Mazikeen has joined a demon uprising against the Dark Mother… or so she calls herself, the one who has taken the reigns of Hell. Cedilla… Her cage is unattended.” He washed one hand over the other. “A pity you cannot enter there. I would call on my favor today. Even with an open door, finding her way out of Dis would be challenging.”

Lucifer’s mind began to turn. Maze had joined the other demons against their enemy. Was she safe, then?

“You want your sister?” Amenadiel pressed.

“I would ask at once, if that favor could be granted.” Midnite shook his head. “Your friend John believes I sent her there myself. I did not. It was my own fool actions that damned her to Hell and me to walk the Earth until the last of my people breathed the last breath of oppression.”

“Be careful of that guilt,” Lucifer warned. “It sinks one down to Hell faster than anything.”

“I would go. If I could. I have asked and asked. Even Papa Legba will not send me that far into the depths.” Fluidly, Midnite grabbed his glass again. “I have competed my end of our business. You would do well to go regain Hell quickly and find your friend. Cedilla describes the Rising in unflattering terms. Ambitious. Reckless. The Mazikeen joined them after the Dark Mother had her tortured for years unending… Or nearly so. The rebel leader snatched her away to be her second in command.”

Lucifer’s throat constricted. A demon with a soul. Actively being tortured by her siblings. There could be no forgiveness for his abandoning her there. She’d come to his penthouse to salvage their relationship, and he’d burned it down in a fit of pique.

“This what those who guarded her said amongst themselves before abandoning Cedilla,” Midnite continued. “The Dark Mother is angry Mazikeen escaped and would destroy the Rising if she could. No reason to believe they’ll allow you access to Hell again when they’ve won either, and all those who still support the Dark Mother are all beginning to fear the Rising’s leader.”

“Do you know who that is?” Amenadiel pressed.

“I’m not fluent in the myriad demon tongues. I don’t have the slightest clue who the ‘Dark Mother’ would be, either.” Midnite shrugged and poured himself another glass. His exterior was cool, but Lucifer could feel his desire inside to be away from them. “But this one, their leader, seems to be a true Hellion. She’s fought off full-blooded demons with nothing but her wings and her sword.”

“Then, I’ll go have a little chat with the girl.” Lucifer straightened his jacket nervously. “Enemy of my enemy, and all that.”

“Be wary, then.” Midnite averted his gaze. “That one has massacres on her mind.”

* * *

“Whatever you do, don’t run,” Belgarde instructed, venom glinting in her eyes.

She crouched at the front of them, her face paint weathered by their long night fighting along the edges of Dis. The forces of Hell knew they were out there, and Mama was getting pissed.

Maze didn’t know what Lilith had expected. She’d abandoned all of her children here and then refused to take responsibility for that hurt. Lilith should’ve guessed a couple of her kids would be miffed by that and less than thrilled to see their negligent mother claim the throne. The Rising’s numbers were growing by the day. Some due to their raw anger at Lilith, and some who had been itching for agency under Lucifer for millennia. All of their lives, they’d been ordered in every move.

Maze could remember how heady it had made her, being topside for the first time and having a world of choice. She would cherish that, no matter how little regard Lucifer had for her now. She could never mend their relationship, but she could take what she’d learned here to her siblings. Like her, they’d never had any guidance in what it was to form and keep relationships beyond basic survival. While Maze hadn’t fully recovered, of course, (who ever recovered from Hell, really?) having an objective helped.

As did having someone to protect.

Belgarde was a decent general. In spite of her age and relative inexperience in actual war, it was like she had been born to lead, to take charge. Her eyes, when not leading the charge, were soft and vulnerable, as young as she was. When her powers initiated, they came to life with an insidious green, a raw power that brought the loyalist Lilim to their knees. But Maze could see that Belgarde did not like to be alone, or to be put on a pedestal.

Which was ironic, since if they won, that would precisely be her new position. She was the only one of them with wings.

“We are Lilim. We are brave, stolid. You’ll never see a Lilim retreat!” Otram spat.

“I have seen my brethren and sistren cower in subservience with much less forced pressed on them to behave,” Belgarde said firmly. “If you see her, you must not bow, either.”

“I stopped bowing long ago,” Squee said in his piping voice. His needles clicked, and his doe eyes burned. He looked practically bioluminescent in his rage.

“Our home will be ours, and soon,” Belgarde promised. “We will cleave all of those who stand in our way and eat their hearts.”

“Easy,” Mazikeen warned. “Everyone keep your heads cool until we must battle. Do not burn the fuel of your anger before we need it.”

“Thank you, sister,” Belgarde said, with no trace of irony. She waited another few minutes in dead silence.

Then, fifty feet away, their siblings and a few stray disgruntled demons of non-Lilim tribes began a charge. Soon after, the lights inside told them that the guards had begun to gather there.

Belgarde grabbed Mazikeen’s hand and moved, feathers puffing out before she rose swiftly, taking flight over the edge.

They would recover the Pain Fields tonight. They would place any remaining Loyalists in the gears. And they would clear out the Damned.

* * *

“Geez-ass,” Joey groaned. He lay on his stomach at the foot of Trixie’s bed. “Some of these cereal nuts are hot. You remember this guy?”

Trixie leaned over to see what Joey had found on Wobblegram. A chill ran over her as she spotted the white-haired man with sunglasses and really tight jeans, who they’d seen during their last trip to the Santa Monica Pier. There was nothing about him in particular that should creep her out. He looked normal. Friendly even. But he had alarmed Locke, and Locke had dead on instincts for the weird.

“He’s posting about cereal?” Trixie asked.

“No, someone snapped a pic of some of the people at a pre-con meeting at some diner.” Joey started to scroll through the pictures. A few more of Sunglasses Guy, who seemed relaxed and smiled like he could bring light to every corner of the world. His total relaxedness was only really notable because the others lingering looked a bit squirrely. That’s how her dad would’ve put it.

There was a woman in her thirties, maybe, sharply dressed. Cold, superficial smile that didn’t reach her eyes. The man wore a long, red coat and had a hunting, feline look about his face. He didn’t look like a professional. Then, there was the man in a suit, who wore a ponytail.

Trixie had gotten used to Lucifer walking around in suits all the time. He’d stopped wearing the waistcoat underneath for some reason. This guy wore one, though. But instead of a tie, he had a black (probably silk) scarf arranged around his neck and tucked down the front.

“They all look creepy,” Trixie said.

“Even that lady?” Joey pointed at the woman. “She’s probably someone’s wine auntie.”

Trixie chuckled. “She looks like a dentist. Or that doctor who swears it won’t hurt and then sticks in a needle the size of a machete.”

Joey snorted. “What about that guy?” He pointed to Red Coat. “He looks like a pirate.”

“Oh, wow. Kinda.”

“I bet that guy is into scarfing.”

Trixie narrowed her eyes at him. “What is scarfing? Do I want to know? I don’t want to know.”

“It’s when you choke yourself while… choking yourself.” Joey snickered.

“You’re filthy!”

“Like your buddy Maze doesn’t talk about that stuff.”

Trixie shrugged. She really missed Maze. She hoped she’d come home soon. Things would definitely be less scary if she were around to help.

“She’s always honest with me, but she doesn’t really get into that stuff. Or she mostly keeps it in her room.”

Joey shot up, his eyes growing with mischief.

“No! She’ll know if we’re in there,” Trixie warned.

Joey bounded off the bed and out her bedroom door.

“Stoooop!”

“She won’t know!”

“She’ll know! She’ll smell you in there!”

Joey stopped at the sofa and blinked at her in disbelief. “Rude.”

“No, I mean it. Seriously. She can track people by scent sometimes. Especially guys.”

“What is she, a werewolf?”

Trixie hesitated. He wouldn’t believe her anyway. “A demon.”

Joey rolled his eyes and looked back at his phone. “Hey, we could go check out the cereal fans. The conference is this weekend.”

“That sounds deadly boring. We could just… eat some cereal.”

Joey shrugged and took one last glance, probably at Mr. Sunglasses and Tight Jeans. “That sounds good, too.”

* * *

It was very late when Ella got back from work, but the house wasn’t dark. She opened the door to find the newest sibling Duma watching the Kardashians with a bewildered expression.

“Hey. Is Michael still up?” Ella put her work bag down.

Duma gestured toward the backdoor. Huh.

“I’m gonna make some tea. Do you want any?”

Duma shook his head but got up and went to the freezer.

“Um.” Ella headed in and opened the tea cabinet. “Has he eaten?”

Duma shook his head again and opened the freezer. He pointed inside.

“What’s that?” Ella was beginning to wonder if this guy had taken a vow of silence. Michael hadn’t mentioned it, but she’d literally, like seriously, not heard a word out of his lips yet. She peered into the freezer to see something folded on the top rack. “Ohh… Did you get that for him? That’s sweet, buddy!”

Duma grinned.

After she’d prepped the tea, he followed her with the tray, and she carried the little get-well basket out to the pool house. Every light was on in there too, practically. She drew in a breath and guided Duma to put the tea in the little kitchenette. He gave her a wave then and headed back to the house.

“Uh, thank you!”

But he was gone. Ellla turned, put her basket on the counter, and began searching for signs of life.

“Michael?” Ella called. She scolded herself immediately because he shouldn’t be yelling back at her through the house. She made a brief search of the area before heading back to the bedroom. That made sense. As much as anything.

But he wasn’t there, either. Then, in frustration, she sucked her teeth. The study.

It was a small study. The bathroom in the main house seemed bigger, but she headed back down the hallway, and sure enough, the light was on, and Michael was curled up in a chair with a blanket around him and a book in hand, and…

A goddamn sword propped up next to his cane.

“Uh, whatcha got there, buddy?” Ella said nervously.

Michael started, nearly falling out of his chair. He glared at her, and raked his messy hair back, and then held his book out for her to see the cover. Beloved.

“Huh. Cheerful. Stay there. I’ll be right back.”

Should she have asked more directly about the sword? Was that a PTSD thing?

She returned with the tray and basket, and he glanced back up at her with less malice and more confusion.

“We’re gonna catch a murderer thanks to you.” She set the tea down and offered him his horribly bitter cup of tea. She then pulled out a bottle of Tylenol (if only she had something stronger, but she’d been working too long to go fetch some edibles from her friend) and the ice wrap that had been in the freezer.

“What’s that?” Michael mouthed.

“A cold compress for your war wounds there.”

He rolled his eyes. “Hardly… not the same… as a war…”

“Shush.”

Ella came up and pulled his blanket back a little so she could settle it around his neck gently. It looked… really bad now. Bruised purple and black and still so red in some places. His eyes, too, were a bit bloodshot, and he didn’t look like he’d slept. She wished he could, but with everything that had to be rattling around his head right now…

She winced when he did, trying to swallow down some tea.

“Is there anything else I can get you?” Ella took a seat and watched him closely. “I have some arroz con pollo soup… It might be cold now, but I can warm it up.”

“Nah,” he said, silently, as he put the tea back down. He seemed to think for a moment before continuing, with the barest whisper, “I don’t heal like… I used to… but I’ve… been through worse.”

“I bet.” Ella inadvertently glanced at the sword.

“Promise not to… stab you.”

“You’d better not. I brought you tea as bitter as wormwood.”

Michael snorted and mouthed, “That’s me.”

“You? You’re… bitter?”

“I’m Wormwood,” he whispered, pointing at himself.

Ella frowned in confusion. “I don’t get it.”

Michael shrugged. “Later?”

“No problem. I wanted to ask how you were feeling, but I guess I should let you rest your throat, um…”

“Naked, mostly.” He tucked the blanket around him more tightly and readjusted the cold compress.

“Is that why you’re out here? Is it… hard, in there?”

Michael shrugged. But his face told her yes, it was.

“Do you want me to go? I could leave you alone—”

“No,” he said a bit forcefully. Then, coughed and tried to fight the cough.

“Cool. Hey, uh…” She reached in the basket again. “Chloe donated these. You know, sort of as a get well present. Or at least a get well loaner.”

Michael scowled, holding the ice pack to his neck as he leaned forward to see. “Unicorns?”

“Yeah.” Ella grinned. “I dunno. It seemed funny, and Chloe wanted to help. There’s an electric blanket in there, too, that smells like lavender. She suggested it for later, to help you sleep. But ice first. Does your head hurt, too? Ice can help with that, or um, maybe you wanna lie down? You could have the bed—”

Michael held a hand up. He pointed at the cards, then the basket. “Chloe hates me,” he managed in a rasp.

“No, she doesn’t!” Ella laughed. “Why would she hate you?”

“I’m a dick.”

Ella rolled her eyes. “Then stop being a dick. But I’m sure she hates you less now that you’ve offered the department a lead. She tells this joke about a guy who lays eggs… uh…”

His brows screwed together, and he valiantly tried to suppress another cough. Man, that had to hurt.

Ella took out the cards. “Okay, so there’s this guy and he goes to his doctor. Don’t worry, it’s not that funny. You won’t hurt yourself laughing because Chloe’s not that good at jokes.”

Michael sucked in both of his lips and bowed his head.

“Damn. I am funny, though. I’ll have to be careful,” Ella said with a cheerful grin.

Michael lifted his head slightly, a reluctant smile starting to tease the corner of his mouth, and his eyes… in spite of the red marring them and the smears of dark underneath… they’d never seemed brighter. Ella continued talking with as much spirit as she could muster as she dealt the cards.

He wasn’t okay. But he was letting her help without complaint. That was progress from the first time they’d met.

Forget that complaining required talking, and he was avoiding that. She could talk for the both of them.

* * *

It was late. Locke knew that. Her foster family should all be asleep, but here they were, in hour three of a “discussion” about her that didn’t seem to require much of her input.

It wouldn’t have made a difference. She couldn’t explain the things she had to do to keep people safe. They wouldn’t believe in demons and witchcraft, and if she told them, they’d put her somewhere worse, and she’d have to break herself out. The current fuss was over a number of sigils she’d made around the school to keep those things away from the students.

Rick and Carole hadn’t found the ones she’d made in the other kids’ rooms yet.

“Getting into fights, graffiti—”

“I know, Rick, but we need to make sure she knows that—”

“We have two other kids in this house who need protection just as much as her,” Rick snapped.

“I don’t need protection,” Locke objected. “I can take care of myself.”

She’d done it before. Even before John had found her. Even after what happened at the Pier.

“No, you can’t, young lady,” Carole said, suddenly stern.

“Not until you’re of legal age,” Rick said.

At least they weren’t fighting each other anymore.

“You’ll have to clean it all up,” Rick continued. “The principal is ready to expel you.”

“Really?” Locke raised a brow. “There’s a lot worse written stuff on the walls all over the school. Stuff that would be a privilege drop if I said it out loud.”

Carole covered her mouth. In that way she did when she was about to laugh. “Principal Sherman can’t stand to be challenged. We’ve always known this. And we want to support you in being independent and knowing how to advocate for yourself, but you also have to meet us halfway. And you have to learn to choose your battles, Locke.”

“I don’t run from anything puissant. It attracts their attention,” Locke said flatly.

“Pwee? Saint? What?” Rick looked to Carole in askance.

Carole shrugged. “How she’s failing Language Arts when she knows all these fancy words and Latin, you tell me.”

Rick put his hands on his hips and sagged. For a moment, things grew quiet, and Locke thought they might let her go back up to her room, and she could check in on Trixie one more time before she tried to make herself sleep.

But then, the quiet was too quiet. Something was moving outside. She could feel it. Something old, and something bitter, and something… completely baleful. Her heart began to race and out of instinct, she reached to her neck…

She’d given John’s coin to Trixie, though.

It was fine. She would be fine. She could protect herself. Locke glanced back at Rick and Carole, who seemed to be deciding whether to call it quits for the night. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted the jerky movement in the window.

It was here. That thing that had followed them to Lucifer’s penthouse.

“I’m really tired,” Locke said, hoping they’d have pity on her. She could climb out the window and lure it away.

Rick sighed. “This isn’t over. But… you do have school in the morning. Well, in-school suspension, but still. God, what a damn waste of time—”

“Rick!” Carole admonished.

“Letting kids vegetate in time out is hardly an effective punishment.”

God, he was going to get rolling again. Couldn’t he just shut it for once?

“So can I go to bed?” she pleaded. “I won’t wake Allie and Bruno.”

Her foster parents looked at her. Carole smiled and reached over to put a hand on her shoulder.

And to their right, a window shattered. Locke leapt up and shoved Carole into Rick, knocking them both over the sofa. Without looking back, she spun around to the twitching, desiccated creature.

“Your soul is a beacon to us, Daughter of your Father,” its withered voice hissed, filling the room with fetid malice. “You should have hid it more carefully.”

Locke whipped out her knife and began a spell. This thing was old, so she drew on the oldest one she knew, from that book John had stolen from Papa Midnite before she and John had even met.

The creature, on two legs but flaking and moving tremulously, whispered her words back to her. Then, it continued, fluent in the dead language as though one corpse simply knew the other. She could feel the words, like they were creeping up underneath her clothes, beneath her skin. Not invunche, but… older. So old. So empty… and lost. The words drew all the warmth out of her, and she knew only fear.

More of them were outside. Rick and Carole had found their way to their feet, but they didn’t come for her. They just stood there, screaming. Upstairs, Locke could hear the other foster children beginning to cry.

Tentatively, she touched the bandage that Mr. Espinoza had put on her thumb. It had long since healed, but she’d kept it. Symbols meant things. Important things.

“Get out! Get out of our house!” Carole screamed.

“I’ll get them out of here. I promise!” Locke told her.

“Get the fuck out, you monster child!” Rick spat, heaving a vase at her. It shattered in front of the desiccated creature, and the creature laughed as she stood there frozen.

“They’ll die hating you,” it promised in the tongue that Locke understood.

But definitely should not understand.

Locke backed away from Rick and Carole and caught a glimpse of herself in the reflection of the flatscreen. She looked like a wild thing, her hair lifting up from energy radiating off her, and her eyes burned with a preternatural light.

Did she always look so… like that when she was about to cast spells?

“Monster,” Carole sobbed, clinging to Rick. “We took in a monster!”

The creature swung at her, and Locke dropped to the ground at once, swinging a leg around to catch its legs in turn. It caught her leg and threw her straight into the wall. The television cracked and fell from its mounting onto her back.

She shuddered underneath it. Waited. The creature moved toward her. Fear and pain radiated through her, and when it got close…

She let it all go.

In seconds, the living room was coated with flakes of an old, old creature. Nothing left but dust. The creatures outside were scattering. She could feel their panic at the demise of their companion. Meanwhile, Rick and Carole continued to lose their damn minds, begging her to leave. Terrified of her, just as she’d always known they should be. Allie and Bruno cried upstairs, although the creatures wouldn’t be able to pass the children’s doors to get to them even if they came back. But they wouldn’t, if she just left. She’d protected them, at least.

Locke pushed herself up and began to dust herself off. Ignoring her foster parents, she went into the kitchen, loaded up some apples and granola bars into her school satchel (she ditched the books, no need for those), and then left through the back door with her knife at the ready. Those creatures wouldn’t stay away long.

It would be okay. She would be okay. She’d always had to be.

Chapter Text

"Three things cannot long stay hidden: the sun, the moon and the truth." –Buddha

"Three may keep a secret, if two of them are dead." –Benjamin Franklin, Poor Richard's Almanack

It had been two days since anyone had tried to carve magic into any part of Dan’s life, so things were looking pretty good. But before he even got in his car to go to work, Chloe was texting with an alert that they needed to talk, and that was never any good.

After a quick clarification that Trixie was fine, and she and Joey had gone off to school that morning, he made it to the station with as little drama as possible to find out what was so important as to give him more anxiety on the freeway.

And it turned out, their little magic carver was missing.

“Anne—she’s Locke’s case worker—” Chloe said. “—called me first thing this morning. Apparently, Locke ran away last night—”

“How do they know she didn’t just give them the slip? She’s slippery, but she might be back.” Dan sat on the edge of his desk and sipped his coffee, which Chloe’d had ready for him. She was… eager this morning.

“Because her foster parents reported it… along with a request to terminate the placement. I want to go over there and talk to them. See what happened.” Chloe perched her hands on her hips, then crossed her arms, and then paced one way and then the other. “Anne said they seemed unsettled when she went over. Somehow a window and a television got broken. The fosters wouldn’t say that Locke did it, but they wouldn’t say she didn’t, either.”

“We can put a BOLO out for her. I’m sure Trixie has a dozen pictures in her phone.”

“Yeah. I already got one from Anne and sent it out. I just…” Chloe tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. “Since we met her, I’ve been working with Anne to get approval to pick up Locke from school and have her stay at my place. Having Lucifer as a friend has definitely greased some wheels.”

“Uh.” Dan set his coffee down. “And?”

“And, I don’t want her to end up back in the system. She’s already getting into trouble all the time. She needs better guidance than that, and it sounds like her last real guardian was a mess of a human being.”

Dan snorted. “Yeah. Probably, if he’s friends with Lucifer. But Locke seems like she can fend for herself.”

“Not with…” Chloe glanced around and then lowered her voice. “Not with Grigori around. She was there when they showed up at Lucifer’s, and I suspect she got followed to her house.”

Dan pinched his lips together as he thought about that. “Wouldn’t they have come for her sooner?”

“I don’t know. It just seems… Locke is strong for her size, and quick, but would she smash through a window and break the TV?”

“The kid is feral,” Dan muttered. He felt something inside him shift. Locke was strange, but she wasn’t Lucifer. There was no real reason to fear her, apart from a general sense of unease he felt whenever she was near. He remembered her confusion as he’d tried to tend to her wound and feed her. Could she fend for herself? Maybe on her own. Not if she had someone else to protect, though. “You know, she had this amulet… pendant thing. She said that Constantine guy gave it to her so creepy things couldn’t find her. That could be why they waited until now. They had to pick up the scent after the fact.”

“What happened to it?” Chloe pressed.

“Locke gave it to Trixie.”

Fear and gratitude chased each other across Chloe’s face. “God, that dumb kid.”

“Yeah, okay. So we need to help her. What do we do?”

“We? Find her, maybe. After that… if the paperwork Anne put in for me today is approved, she’ll come stay with me for the time being.”

“I…” Dan felt the blood drain from his face. The idea of someone who claimed everyone died around her being around his daughter… but Locke was in trouble because she’d been so damn determined to protect his daughter. “You know, I wasn’t exactly looking forward to Trixie’s teens, but it seems like she’s the level head in her friend group.”

“No kidding.” She paused. “Are you okay with that?”

“Well, I’m not approved, so she wouldn’t be coming to stay with me. Even though she’s marked my apartment up pretty good with protective magic and her own blood.”

Chloe’s eyes bulged. “Her blood?”

“The spell ‘required’ it.” Dan clicked his tongue.

“If it works.” Chloe rubbed the back of her neck. “Anyway, I just wanted to let you know. Trixie doesn’t have a lot of friends her own age, and until there’s something better, Locke could do a lot worse than be surrounded by angels, devils, and cops. Especially if the foster parents are just going to get scared and abandon her. We’re all in the know about her strangeness, at least.”

“’Preciate the heads up. Any ETA on Lucifer and Amenadiel returning?”

“Lucifer said he had another lead in Louisiana, but I think he met with them yesterday. He should be back soon.”

“If he can get Maze, she’ll find that kid lickity-split, with or without blood magic protection.”

Chloe smiled half-heartedly. “She would.”

Dan nodded as Chloe went off to bury herself in casework, as she’d always been prone to do when she couldn’t control anything else. He sat at his desk, trying to be half as effective. When he was worried, he could never seem to let things go.

He’d been desk monkey to pretty much every other detective since the incident with the evidence gun and Malcolm had come to light, so paperwork had become his bread and butter. It didn’t even bother him much anymore. Pierce had dangled in front of him the idea of getting his own cases again as well as a new partner, but since the man had turned out to somehow be worse than the devil, Dan had settled to his lot in life. At some point, the stink of aiding a murderous cop by stealing a gun from evidence had worn off, maybe since that same cop’s killing spree had ended with the kidnapping of Dan’s daughter. Forgiven in practice, if not in ranking.

The ranking didn’t matter, though. He was the union rep, and whenever a new detective started, they’d have Dan show them the ropes. Eventually, those bright eyed kids would realize the man training them had a reputation for mishandling evidence and under the table deals, and so they learned other skills elsewhere, but… that was just how it was in the LAPD. They protected their own. If anything, that was how Lucifer had gotten away with… everything for so long. It was how Dan had gotten away with more than he ever should have.

Before he knew it, the morning had passed into afternoon, with no word on their traveling Celestials or the runaway Locke. It occurred to him that she was resourceful enough to probably be out of the city by now… if she was willing to disappear on her best friend while something magical and dangerous was happening here. Dan would be willing to bet that she wasn’t. With the way she looked at Trixie? She thought his daughter hung the moon.

Hopefully, Locke had equal amounts of self-preservation and loyalty.

When he spotted Ella entering her office, he checked his watch. Had she gone out for lunch, or was she coming in very late today? Of course, everyone was owed some time off. Especially her, since she’d barely taken any after what happened with Pete. He rose and followed her in.

Ella didn’t even see him. She was texting on her phone with a big smile on her face.

“Dork…” she muttered.

“Hey!”

Ella jumped a mile. “Chingado idioto!”

“Sorry. You looked… Are you just getting in?” Dan came over to her table, where she’d laid out some materials but not started any work.

“Yeah, I called in for the morning. It’s been rough back at the ranch.”

“What ranch?”

“I mean, Linda’s. Duma’s there to help with Charlie, but it’s still a lot without Amenadiel around.”

Dan sighed. Always out of the Celestial loop. And yet not out of it enough. He still had moments when he wished he didn’t know any of this craziness. “Who’s Duma?”

“Their other other brother, I guess. Lucifer mentioned once that they had a bunch of siblings. I’m starting to think his parents just adopted every child the state would let them get their abusive little hands on. Duma looks like he’s a part of BTS, honestly.”

Dan chuckled. “Do you want me to get you some coffee?”

“Oh maaaan, yes. Thank you. I did sleep, but we were up kind of late. Michael wasn’t sleeping, like anyone could after all that, and I wanted to make sure he actually tried. He could use it.”

Dan stopped mid-step. “Michael? Why is Michael there?”

“Geez. He’s been there. Since like… I don’t know. Since I basically moved in.”

“You’ve been living with him?” Dan said sharply.

“And Linda, and Charlie, and Amenadiel, and now Duma. It’s like the Brady Bunch over there. With more nightmares and choking.” She rolled her eyes.

“Did he??” Dan swept around the table. “Did he hurt you?”

“No! Dan, chill! He hasn’t hurt me. At all. He’s helped me. Like, a lot. A lot a lot. And he’s the one who drew that new pic for the choking victim. You know, Demirci? He pulled the image right out of her head for us.” Ella shook her head. “I know you have issues with Lucifer—”

Dan held a hand up. “I don’t know why anyone thought it was appropriate for you to stay with him for so long without telling you this, but Michael is a genuinely bad guy. He’s a fucking monster.”

“He’s not—”

“He’s the one who kidnapped Chloe!”

Dan felt a stab of guilt immediately, of course. But only because the glow that had been emanating off Ella receded immediately. Her eyes started to shimmer, those enormous eyes, and she set her phone down.

“Stop it.”

“I’m not lying, Ella,” he said gravely. “He took her, and he locked her up in a cage at the zoo while we all ran around like idiots looking for her. He’s a psycho. He gets off on scaring the shit out of people.”

“That’s not… No, he… How could he even…? Are you serious?” Ella crossed her arms over herself and stared at a fixed point on the ground. “That’s not who I’ve been talking to. He’s not like…” Her expression stiffened, and her voice grew distant. “But how would I even know. Ever guy I’ve ever been with has been awful, and they just keep getting worse. Has he… Why wouldn’t Chloe tell me? Did he hurt her? I…”

Ella covered her mouth, and two tears started to trickle down her cheeks. God, poor Ella. But Michael had conned Dan, and Dan was a detective. Ella didn’t have a chance.

“I have to go.” She grabbed her bag.

“Ella, don’t.” Dan turned to stop her, but she’d bolted out of the room and up the stairs.

He stood there feeling ineffectual. If he couldn’t be free of knowing about this stuff, he really ought to keep better track of what these Celestials were up to. They had absolutely no sense, if they were going to just let Michael hang around Ella like that. That one should be locked in a basement and kept there for 10 thousand years.

* * *

“Is it true?”

The words shot out of Ella’s mouth before Michael even had the chance to look up. He was sitting at the kitchenette, attempting to eat soup. Looking just as fragile today as he had yesterday, only with darker shadows under his eyes and a slightly deeper ring of bruises around his neck.

How was it even possible for him to kidnap Chloe? He couldn’t walk without assistance. Was that her own prejudice showing?

Wait. Was he faking??

“Answer me!” Ella snapped. She realized then that he didn’t know what she was talking about, and even if he did, he probably couldn’t yell the answer to her across the room. So she inched closer. “Is that real?”

She pointed to his cane.

Michael narrowed his eyes. “You got that for me,” he rasped out.

“I know that. I… Your leg? Your shoulder? Is that real? Or are you faking that?”

He continued to stare at her for a moment, eyes round and expression open, until her words registered, and a defensive grimace twisted his features. “Yeah, I’m really a marathon runner. Olympic athlete over here. Amenadiel’s… keeping me here…” His voice was starting to lose strength. “…because we’re such good buddies.”

“He couldn’t fake that…” Chloe had said.

He really couldn’t. Not the throat injury. It had happened before Ella’s very eyes. Had him taking her fear been a delusion? Or was that real, too? Had dealing in fear so regularly made him Machiavellian and evil?

A gravelly voice she didn’t recognize came from her throat. “Did Chloe shoot you when you kidnapped her?”

His grimace died. Nothing replaced it. His face was utterly blank.

“Dan told me,” she added, after a moment. “Is Chloe scared of you? Is that why she didn’t tell me?”

“That woman…” Michael reached for his cane (which was again next to a sword that remained untouched) and stood. “… is not in the slightest bit… afraid of me. She… didn’t shoot… me… then. When I took her.”

Ella crumpled onto the sofa and covered her face in her hands.

“She…” Michael went quiet for a moment. “She would now… if I tried something.”

“You must be stronger than you look,” she muttered into her lap. “God dammit, Michael!”

“Pretty much…” he said. His voice had gone entirely, replaced with nothing but the force of air through his throat. Like laryngitis… but induced by a good deed that Ella didn’t know how to interpret anymore. “God damned.”

Ella glanced up. He wasn’t any closer to her, but he was standing. Wavering a little. Still injured. Still exhausted. Hands shaking a bit.

“Why?” she begged.

“Was trying… to do something… didn’t work out… Lucifer and I…” He shook his head. “It’s not a good reason… Needed a favor. Couldn’t get it. Failed anyway.”

“Did you hurt her?” Ella demanded.

“Apart from… scaring her?” He took a deep breath. “No.”

“Do you care at all? What the hell is wrong with you?”

Michael seemed to consider that. Quiet seriously. His eyes drifted from her, and he slowly blew air past his lips.

“Just the broken… twin. Obviously.”

“I don’t feel sorry for you,” Ella said bitterly as she stood up.

“Good,” Michael shot back, emphatically. “Don’t. Not for any of us.”

Ella realized her cheeks were soaked.

“Leave, then. Go!” His voice cracked.

“Why did you help me, if you’re… if you’re like this? Did you want to do something to me, too? Did you… Have you killed people before this?”

Michael rolled his eyes and looked away.

“Outside of battle,” she clarified. She didn’t want to give him an out, or some excuse for his behavior, but pressing the detail was probably the best way to get accurate information out of him.

“No. Not that it’s any different.”

“It is different!” Ella wanted to scream at him. Throw things. She wanted to shake him and make him act like it mattered to him that he’d been found out, that this had been a scheme and he’d been caught and now everyone knew that he’d tried to lure her in because he’d wanted to hurt her.

But he just looked sad. And she just felt sad. And angry. But not afraid. Because she couldn’t be. He still had her fear, and this revelation couldn’t resonate with that older fear because it simply wasn’t there anymore.

It was real. She knew it. The gifts were real. She didn’t know what else was.

“Did you take my fear so I wouldn’t be afraid of you? So you could do… whatever it is you do?”

His face then screwed up into a truly ugly, bitter expression. “Fear is what I do. Fighting is what I do. Get out of here, Ella. I took it… because you shouldn’t have… had to experience… that. Because I was fucking… around… trying to save my asshole… ex… girlfriend… and failed. And so Chloe… and Lucifer… and Mazikeen… weren’t there… to protect you.”

“You said she died. Your ex.”

“She did.”

Now he cared. He blinked rapidly and looked away.

Oh. Dammit.

“None of this makes sense,” she said quietly.

“Don’t try. I’m not… worth it.” Michael turned and made his way for the door.

“Where are you going?”

“If you… aren’t gonna leave…”

“I’ll pack up and go home. Since it’s all the same to you.”

“It’s not. You’re… better off… away from this… and me. I tried… to keep you away.”

Ella nodded, sniffing and wiping her cheeks. “Yeah. I guess you did. From the very start.”

She practically sprinted toward the bedroom and started throwing her clothes on the bed. She hadn’t even known him for that long, but they’d gotten so close so quickly. He had tried to put distance between them. He’d been hesitant to even sit and read in the same room as her. But then he’d chased away her nightmares. Pulled out her fears. She was stronger now than she’d been in a long time, but she was also heartbroken. Why hadn’t anyone warned her?

Why hadn’t they? Why just Dan?

Lucifer… He’d thrown a fit at first. But he’d changed his mind. Chloe had warned her… a little, and then given her things to comfort Michael with. Linda didn’t seem to think him being around was a problem. None of this made sense.

She stopped packing and went back out into the den/kitchenette. But Michael was gone. She took a deep breath. She could catch up with him, obviously. But she needed a minute. Or 200 minutes. She needed to go home, and get her head together, and then talk to Chloe and Lucifer. Lucifer, definitely, wouldn’t lie. He also wouldn’t willingly put her in danger, so he clearly hadn’t thought that Michael would hurt her.

But kidnapping Chloe? What an incredibly, dangerously stupid way to get at your brother. Or… he’d said he thought it would save his ex… God, what was Michael even involved in?

“You should go talk to him,” said a familiar voice behind her.

“Now’s when you show up, Rae Rae? Seriously?” Ella didn’t even look behind her. She was too annoyed.

“I’m just saying… It would be a good idea to mend this.”

“We both need to cool down. And I need to think, and to have a pint of ice cream and maybe a few beers, and then talk to Linda and Chloe, and Lucifer, in some kind of order.” Ella looked back Rae Rae. “Don’t talk to me about ghost rules. If you knew about this, you should’ve said something. They all should’ve. Even if he’s not a danger, they shouldn’t have let me be blindsided.”

Ella went back to the room to continue packing. Rae Rae followed her.

“Michael can be dangerous, still. He won’t hurt you, though.” Rae Rae shook her head and toyed with her necklace, which had two fish on it.

“Uh huh. That’s the best way to think about a guy you let get close to you. Oh, he’ll hurt other people, but not me. Right.”

“I’m sorry you found out this way. And you that don’t know half the truth. They should’ve told you, but there are consequences to that. To knowing. And your friends didn’t want you to have to bear those. Also, Lucifer is a chicken, honestly.”

Ella sighed. She was getting tired of excuses and vagueness.

“And I’m really sorry… Just. Sorry. That there’s so little time left. You deserve more.”

“What?”

Ella looked up, but Rae Rae had gone.

* * *

The Grigori had chased Locke around all night. Never touching her. Not unless she attacked first. But always following. She wasn’t sure what they would do if enough of them caught up to her, but she also had no intention of finding out.

It had been a little while since she’d been on the streets by herself. Now that it was daytime, she would probably be okay for a while. The Grigori didn’t seem to like being out in daylight. But she hadn’t grabbed enough food, and she was hungry, and she was tired. She didn’t know where she could go that would be safe, but also… wouldn’t get anyone else hurt.

Walking at a slow but deliberate pace, never running unless she had to, Locke wandered through the city. She wasn’t prone to getting lost, so that wasn’t a problem. She just had to figure out where to go.

She’d pulled up her hoodie, in case anyone was looking for her, and lifting her head slightly, she spotted a small seating area near a food truck park. Perfect.

Locke slipped into the crowd, waiting for a few minutes as she watched people coming and going. It didn’t take too long before someone set their paper bowl down and went back up to the truck. The taco truck was far enough out of sight that by the time they’d turned back around towards the tables, Locke was on the other side of the clearing and blending into foot traffic.

This wasn’t a really good neighborhood. But it didn’t make her feel much better to nick lunch than to nick someone’s wallet. Still, it was hot and good, and she licked her fingers as she kept moving.

Before long, Locke found herself nearing a bridge. A few people lingered underneath, and she slowed her pace to the unhurried gate of those who had nowhere to go and no one looking for them. One of those things was true for her. She slumped against a wall near the bridge and curled up, clasping her blade tightly.

Her eyes were about to drift shut when a flash of scarlet and green caught her eye. Two men were approaching the bridge, clean and well dressed. Something burned in the center of her chest at the very sight of them.

“I can taste some sweet pain here, but not as keen as my usual fair,” the man in the red coat said, his voice luxurious and savoring ever word.

“Yes, I do appreciate the company for lunch,” said the man in the crisp, dark green suit.

He began to drift her way, and Locke positioned her foot back so she could leap up to slit his throat if he tried anything with her. She’d never killed a person before, but…

His eyes floated over her to another girl, older than Locke, who had been positioned further under the bridge. The others parted as he came up to talk to her. Locke blinked as he began to smile. It was like his grin was stretching and stretching, cutting up through his cheekbones and to his ears. Her eyes widened in disbelief as she watched his scarf fall away, and his head topple to the ground.

Of course, it hadn’t, though. He was just standing there, talking to the woman, head right where it should be. She rubbed her eyes. She was exhausted, but that in itself didn’t usually cause visions. The young woman followed him out, smiling shyly.

“No…” Locke breathed.

“Ah… just a nibble, perhaps…” said the man in the red coat. He opened his coat, and several butterflies emerged. Then, several more. Did… butterflies swarm?

Locke blinked… but the butterflies were still there. That was no vision. They kept coming, attaching to a man who had huddled up further from the others.

The man in the red coat looked straight at her. Then, he winked, and he and the butterflies and the man all disappeared in a swirl of color.

“Show off,” said the man in green.

“What?” said the young girl.

Locke covered her eyes and shook her head. She was losing it.

* * *

It was getting dark by the time Michael had made his way to Chloe’s apartment. He was unsure if she’d even be there, but he ought to talk to someone. Linda was busy at work. Duma and Charlie didn’t talk. He rapped on the front door with his cane and waited, leaning against the railing.

If she still cared, Ella would’ve told him to get his stupid butt back to Linda’s and rest. But he didn’t feel like doing that. He’d been restless since he’d left Ella, and Chloe was the closest to a moral compass that he could get.

Chloe wasn’t the one to open the door, however, but Dan Espinoza.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” he said, whipping his head back toward Chloe, who Michael could see from the doorway.

“Kidding you how?” Chloe came forward and then stopped, her eyes bugging out. “Jesus, Michael.”

“Michael, yes. Jesus, no,” he croaked.

“I mean, Ella said… I am so glad Lucifer’s an underachiever with his powers most of the time.” Chloe displaced Dan in the doorway, to the latter’s clear frustration, and pulled Michael inside. “What are you doing here? Is there news?”

Michael shook his head, not wanting to waste words. He licked his lips and leaned heavily on his cane as he followed her.

“What is it, then? You could’ve called.”

“Probably.” Michael frowned. He’d left his phone in pool house. Like an idiot. He let his head fall to the side. His throat ached. His shoulder and back ached. His head ached. He chose his words carefully. “Ella knows. About the zoo. She’s hurt and… I can’t help.”

“Oh.” Chloe scowled.

“Because I did…” He sucked in a breath and tried again. “I did… the hurting.”

“Well, I can talk to her,” Chloe offered, crossing her arms. “I can’t make her forgive you.”

Michael shook his head and waved her off. “Don’t. She just needs someone…” His hand flailed, with no direction. “Better?”

Chloe pressed her lips together, seeming as though she were… what? Tolerating something that wasn’t true? That didn’t make any sense. He had done all of those things. Helping with one investigation didn’t cancel any of it out.

“You aren’t seriously going to help him and Ella get back together,” Dan snapped.

For a minute, Michael had completely forgotten Dan existed.

“Not together,” he grumbled.

“Oh really? Because you two were texting up a storm and she was smiling like the whole world was butterflies!”

“She likes him, Dan,” Chloe said with a shrug. “You know how she is. She sees the best in people. She did it with Lucifer, even before I regularly gave him the benefit of the doubt. She got him to go to church.”

Hearing them talk about how much Ella liked him felt about as delightful as a knife in the gut.

“No worries,” he sneered at Dan. “She doesn’t like me anymore.”

Chloe held up a hand. “I’ll take care of it. I don’t know how much I’ll need to tell her, but… we’ve kept things from her, probably too long, because there was never a convenient time for her to have a breakdown, which is what happens when Lucifer’s Devil face is the only way to prove what is going on. She’s seen and felt your powers—”

“You sick asshole!” Dan said with a shove to Michael’s shoulder.

“Dan! Stop!” Chloe edged herself between them and shoved him back.

“Why are you protecting him?!”

“Because what’s going on is bigger than my feelings!”

“He kidnapped you!”

“And I’m over it!” Chloe rolled her eyes and let out a huff. “It was frightening for a minute when I didn’t know who had me, and mostly just annoying for the rest of it. I’m the one who gets to decide when I’m okay, so stop with the toxic masculinity routine! I don’t need you to protect me!”

“If you’re not going to protect Ella, and Trixie, from this slimy, crooked excuse for an angel, I will! And I did! I told Ella what he did, and you’re not going to go smooth this over so he can jump in and hurt her again.”

Michael gripped the head of his cane and straightened up as best he could. “Ohhhh… We’re talking about being crooked? I’m crooked?”

“They told me how that self-actualization works,” Dan said, smug as a Karen with a potato salad full of raisins. “You’re so twisted you look like Quasimodo!”

“My uncle stabbed me in the back, literally,” Michael said coldly. When Dan’s self-righteousness faltered, Michael moved in closer. “But you… you know what it… means to be crooked… lying… gaslighting… backstabbing… shooting your partner…”

“He was going to shoot Chloe—”

“Giving him… a murder weapon… letting him shoot my twin… in the gut…” Michael tapped Dan’s chest forcefully with one finger. “He died, y’know.”

“I…”

“Guys!” Chloe groaned. “Knock it off!”

“Then, y’took a gun… and tried it yourself.”

“You made me do that!” Dan argued.

“I didn’t make… you do… shit.”

“You said I was going to Hell!” he yelped.

“You said that. That was your fear.” Michael smirked. “But it’s true. You are going to Hell.”

“Hey!” Chloe snapped.

“Don’t blame me for… your multitude of sins…” Michael said. “Lucifer was invulnerable… by the time you got to him… but you didn’t know he would be… not then. Not with Tiernan either!”

Dan’s lips had been open and poised with an insult, but it died along with the fire in his eyes at the mention of Tiernan’s name.

The apartment grew dead silent.

“You put a hit on him,” Michael whispered although now his weak voice could easily be heard. “You told Tiernan what he did… set him up to be murdered…. Along with Eve and your own daughter.”

“No- No, I didn’t mean for that to—” Dan’s own voice began to falter.

“But it happened. And your guilt… will damn you to Hell,” Michael declared, with a shit-eating grin. “You haven’t redeemed yourself… through self-help books… and crystals. Not even close. You hate me because… I convinced you… so easily… to choose to commit your crime again.”

Dan’s eyes were shining now. Michael hadn’t intended to make the man cry, but he had to admit it felt really damn good. Especially after seeing Ella feeling so terrible because this pitiful bastard had to rub her nose in something Chloe could’ve easily broken to her without breaking her.

“Dan…” Chloe said, her voice wavering. “He had better be lying.”

Dan turned to Chloe. “I didn’t…”

“He had better—” She approached him again, her lips a grim line and her eyes brittle and hard. “—be lying. Because I know you aren’t stupid enough to leak evidence and have sent a hit man after Lucifer.”

“I didn’t intend on anyone else getting hurt!”

“Eve lived with him!” Chloe exploded. “Trixie was there by chance, but you could’ve gotten innocent people killed! You are, again, an accessory to a crime! And this time you nearly killed our daughter!”

“Chloe—”

“If Lucifer weren’t the devil, if he were just someone you hated—”

“Chlo!”

“He would be dead. Eve would be dead. Trixie would be dead!” She threw her hands up. “I can’t. I can’t, Dan!”

Michael stepped back, considering whether he was still enjoying this now that it had gotten so inadvertently messy… Maybe. Then, a stab of absolute terror pierced him in the gut. The kind of terror with flavored with a purity that only came from one source.

A child.

Shit, Trixie must’ve been home. And there was no way she hadn’t heard all of this.

Chloe and Dan’s argument was burning full force by now, so Michael absented himself without being noticed and hobbled toward the door to her room. It was unlocked, and when he looked inside, he could see the window was open.

Dammit.

Thinking he could grab her and bring her back, Michael left through the front door. He couldn’t see her, but he could feel her. He could feel the uncertainty came along with the embodied sense her own father was no longer safe, and that was as easy a trail to follow as if it were bright, glow-in-the-dark paint.

He spotted her a block away, at a bus stop bench, curled over on herself. She didn’t even look up until he was nearly on top of her.

“Go away!” she shrieked.

Michael winced. There were dogs who would be smarting from that one.

She dragged her sleeve over her wet eyes. “You look awful.”

“You’ve never seen me before,” he croaked.

“You sound awful, too.”

“Come…” His voice wasn’t working. No sound was coming out. The price of saying his piece with Dan. At the time it had felt worth it, and very satisfying. Now? He wasn’t sure.

He came closer and tried again, pushing a little harder, which only resulted in a scratchy thread of a sound: “Come back.”

“No. My dad… He really did that, didn’t he? You weren’t lying. Mom believed he did it. He… He’s tried to kill Lucifer… a bunch of times?”

Michael considered that. He made his way to the bench and sat beside her so she could read his lips along with the squeak of whatever his throat could manage. “Technically twice.”

“You said he got him killed for real once.”

Michael shrugged his head to one side. “That one wasn’t on purpose… and I made sure… Lucifer could come back.”

“But he’s hurt other people, too?”

Michael spread his hands helplessly.

“I know who he is. Lucifer, I mean. And Maze. I know what they do isn’t always considered ‘good,’ but… Dad… He’s my dad. Those men who came to the penthouse… I was so scared and… and after he gave me this stupid cell phone so I could call if I was ever in trouble… I just…” Trixie let out a wild cry and chucked her phone so hard that it shattered in the street. “It’s just a bribe!”

Michael rolled his eyes. “Or it’s a way to make sure… he doesn’t almost kill you again.”

Trixie looked up at him with her brows screwed together.

“There’s dangerous things… out here. You need to go back.”

“I’m not going back. I’m gonna find Locke. And we’re gonna leave this stupid city.” Trixie rose and hefted her backpack over her shoulder.

Resourceful little brat. When had she packed that?

Michael rose and started after her.

“Sto-op,” Trixie said back at him, elongating the vowel in a near whine.

“No.”

Trixie sighed and turned to watch him hobbling after her. “You’ll collapse.”

“Then, that’ll be your fault for making a cripple run after you.”

“I’m still leaving.”

“And I’m following.”

Trixie rolled her eyes. “I hate you.”

She turned and proceeded down the street. A bit more slowly. And Michael kept up with her, trying to spin a decent plan to get ahead of this mess.

Chapter Text

“It is not death that a man should fear, but he should fear never beginning to live.”

― Marcus Aurelius

Trixie very quickly regretted smashing her phone. She knew where she wanted to go, but she didn’t spend a lot of time just walking around L.A. And Michael, who looked like he’d tried to make out with a Zamboni, was probably stubborn enough to crawl after her if he got too tired to hobble. But without her phone, there would be no Ubers getting them where they needed to go.

“I don’t suppose you have cash?” she asked.

Michael raised a brow and pursed his lips.

“Can you fly? Okay, fine, no. Don’t look at me like that.”

He muttered something, but she couldn’t hear it. His voice had been shaky and cracking even back at the apartment. It was mostly croaking and whispers now.

“What happened to you? Did you and Lucifer have a fight?”

“Always,” he mouthed.

“He’s frustrating. I mean, he’s my friend, but I wanted to really hurt him when he ran off and left my mom for months. He’s so selfish.”

Michael nodded. Then frowned and said, “…”

When no sound came from his lips, Trixie stopped and turned to him so she could see them moving. “Wait, what?”

“Demon uprising. He had to.”

Trixie’s eyes bulged. “Seriously? No one tells me anything.”

“Because you’re a child,” he mouthed.

“Oh, shut up.”

“Where are we going?” He gestured toward the next bus stop ahead.

“I thought you didn’t have any money?”

He dug into his pocket and pulled out a card between two fingers. An L.A. Metro pass.

“I don’t have one.”

Michael beckoned her with his other hand and took the lead. Trixie had her doubts, but everyone talked about Michael like he could bend anyone to his nefarious whims. Would he just look at the driver and make him think he wanted to let them on?

It wasn’t too long before the bus arrived, and Michael nodded for her go first. Trixie frowned. She was the one without a pass. But he was the master. So she climbed up and hesitated at the card scanner. She didn’t have any change, either.

“Elaine? A hand, baby?” Michael said, pushing his voice so hard it rasped and cracked.

Trixie quickly turned and took his hand. He leaned on the bar, but also held onto her as well, seeming to struggle quite a bit. Her nerves flared up. What would she do if he fell?

“Are you okay?” Trixie moved closer to him and made him put more weight on her. Eventually, he managed to get up and slide his card for the driver.

“That’s my girl.” He smoothed his hand over the top of Trixie’s head and offered the driver a wobbly smile.

The driver gave him a once-over and waited for Michael to find a seat. A woman carrying multiple bags shot up and gestured to her seat in the front. Michael gave her a smile as he took it (the first smile Trixie had seen from him… and it was super fake). When he glanced up at her, she grabbed the bar next to him.

“Hang on tight, peanut.” He reached up and squeezed her arm affectionately.

“I’m fine, Dad,” she said, with an eyeroll.

The man sitting next to Michael looked at them with annoyance as the bus pulled out. Trixie ignored him. If he was gonna just sit there in the accessibility seats, he could be inconvenienced by being overly close to a conversation he didn’t want to hear.

“Are you okay? We were walking a long way. You know what the doctor said.”

Michael met her eye, narrowing his slightly in interest and mischief. “What’s important to me is that we make the best of the time I have left, okay, Lainey?”

Trixie bit back a smile and turned to the man, who was pretending not to listen. “Does this bus go to the Santa Monica Pier?”

“Huh? Uh… I dunno,” he muttered.

“Do you remember the last time we were there with Mom?” Trixie said excitedly. “We went on the Wester Coaster three times.”

“I loved to watch the two of you,” Michael said weakly. “My brave little wildcard.”

“I wish she hadn’t left us because you’re sick…”

“We don’t need her, peanut. It’s you and me now.”

Trixie gripped the bar with her right hand tightly and covered her eyes with the other hand. An expertly feigned sob came up her throat, causing a few murmurs from a couple across the aisle from them.

“Your uncle still loves you, though, Lainey. I don’t want what they’ve done to keep you from your family. I hope you two can have a relationship with the both of them again someday… After I’m gone…”

Dammit, did he have to try to make her laugh. She could practically feel people’s eyes glue to the soap opera unfolding in front of them.

“I don’t understand… why Mom would want to be with your twin brother…” Trixie sniffed.

“He’s the more attractive twin. He’ll always tell you that.”

Trixie snorted. “He’s up his own ass.”

Michael covered his mouth. He looked like he was biting into his palm to keep from laughing. “Language, sweetheart.”

Ultimately, they had to switch buses twice, but they eventually ended up at the pier. It was very dark now, but the lights from the stands and the rides and the ones strung along the paths between made the area walkable enough. Trixie didn’t like how slowly they were going, but they probably did have the time. Her parents wouldn’t think to look for her here, and if her phone was still giving off a signal, they’d find it a block from the apartment.

Trixie bit her lip. She hadn’t been gone long, but they’d be done fighting by now. One of them would’ve noticed Michael left. One of them would’ve gone into her room to check on her.

Her dad deserved to worry. She hoped he choked on it. Had he thought at all about her when he was doing those awful things? And had it been just those times, or…?

“Did my dad kill anyone else? I mean except Lucifer that one time?”

Michael pressed his lips together.

“Come on! I already know you know everything he did.”

“You shouldn’t have heard it from me.”

“Is he really going to Hell? For what he did?”

Michael shrugged his head to the side. “Not necessarily for his deeds. He did bad things, yes, but…” He rubbed his throat.

“What? Michael, what?”

“His guilt over you… that’ll be what sends him. He has plenty of sins… He could let those go. He can’t let this one go.”

“There has to be a way.”

“Aren’t you mad at him?”

“But he’s my dad. I don’t want him to go to Hell.”

Michael considered that. “Then, he needs to work through the guilt.”

“Does he need me to be there for that?”

Michael scoffed. “Probably. You should definitely not just disappear. Somewhat harder to make amends with a dead girl.”

Trixie held her hands in front of her and twisted her fingers.

“You can burn in Hell as a criminal… or as a prisoner. But guilt? It always seems to get people there faster. And in greater numbers.”

“Then, I have to go back.”

“Yep.”

The way he popped the “p” at the end sounded just like her. Trixie glanced over to the rollercoaster, remembering their last day at the beach. She grasped the weathered, flattened coin that Locke had given her.

“After I find Locke.”

Michael nodded, touching her shoulder lightly.

“She looks like Maze. Kind of. Her eyes are… I dunno. Bigger? Rounder? But she has similar bone structure, and her nose. And she’s lean and strong like her.”

“Huh.”

“I wish I hadn’t trashed my phone. I could show you a picture. Anyway, she left her parents’ house last night. I heard Mom and Dad say that.”

“Why?”

“They got scared of her somehow. She’s never had good luck with fosters. She said she never stayed anywhere for long until John Constantine found her, and even then, it was because his friend Chaz wouldn’t let her wander around alone. And anyway, it was faster to let the trouble come to them where they could be prepared for it, or just keep her in their safehouse.”

“Why isn’t she with them now?”

“She got lost… Hm. We should check out the beach. That’s where she showed up when she first got here.” Trixie picked up the pace, but then turned to look back at him. “Can you…? On the sand?”

“We’ll find out together.”

So they checked the beach. The cane sank into the wet sand, so Michael let her look around on her own for a bit, as long as she stayed in sight. After that, they returned to the pier to search through the crowds some more. Trixie knew Locke would be here. If she hadn’t left the city, she’d end up here eventually. Unless something had happened to her.

“What’s she afraid of?” Michael said finally.

“Locke? Nothing.”

“Not possible.” He slowly lowered himself onto a bench. “We all get afraid. Just as we all want. All believe. All live, and all die. Eventually.”

Trixie dropped down next to him. “She’s always afraid the people around her are gonna get hurt. Does that count?”

“Yes. Dunno if I have room for it. But…” Michael glanced around.

“Why wouldn’t you have room?”

“Took on someone else’s fear the other day,” he said, his voice barely audible. “And I can feel everyone here.”

“Could you give that fear to me? To make room?”

“No.”

“Just for a min—”

“NO.” Michael glared at her, his mouth twisted like he’d popped a mouthful of Warheads. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“Whose fear was it? The one crowding everything out?”

“Ella’s.”

Trixie blinked. “Oh. From that… serial killer guy? Pete?”

Michael nodded. He lifted his chin, glancing further on the horizon. His fingers touched the middle of his chest, and he closed his eyes as he drew in a deep breath. Trixie waited. She wasn’t sure what she expected. Glowing? Maybe he’d change like Lucifer did?

But nothing happened.

When he opened his eyes, she asked, “Did you find her?”

“No. But there’s something else here. Or nearby, anyway.” He looked to her. “You need to go now.”

“I told you, I’m not going until we find Locke. What do you mean by ‘something else?’”

“Not angels, and not demons. Some spirits, I think. And… others.”

“Spirits? Like ghosts? Locke can see ghosts. Where are they?”

Michael pointed to the horizon. “They’re all that way. Clustered around those hotels.”

“Oh.” Trixie swallowed. “That’s where the Cereal Convention is this weekend.”

“Cereal?” Michael raised a brow.

“There are some pretty creepy guys at that thing. Joey wanted to go.”

“Are you saying ‘cereal’ as in the breakfast food, or ‘serial’ as in the type of killer?”

Trixie’s eyes widened. “I… The media posts say the first.”

“Hm.”

“If Locke is in danger, we have to go help her.”

“We don’t know that she’d go there. Surely, she’d have enough sense not to.”

“She used to take down spirits and demons all the time with John.” Trixie got up. “I’m gonna go check it out.”

“No!” Michael caught her sleeve.

“You don’t have to follow me.” Trixie shrugged. “It’s not your fault I overheard that fight.”

“If I let you wander into that nest of supernatural vipers, your mom is definitely gonna shoot me.”

“Maybe you could call one of the others? I know Maze isn’t back yet…” Trixie stopped at the expression on his face. “What?”

“Nothing. I can’t call anyone. I don’t have a phone.”

“You guys are angels. Can’t you reach each other another way?”

“Duma can’t leave Charlie. Gabriel won’t talk to me. Amenadiel never answers when I call. Not to me. That is, if he and Lucifer aren’t in Hell already, and if they are, they wouldn’t be able to hear it anyway.”

“Try,” Trixie urged. “Shoot them a message, and we’ll snoop around a bit.”

Michael sighed. Heavily. Like a disgruntled teenager. Trixie smiled slightly.

He propped his cane against the bench and pressed his palms together before closing his eyes. “Oh, eldest brother, oh Hand of God, oh merciful benefactor and drinker of hipster teas, please get your feathered ass home ASAP. There’s trouble of the most epic kind. Please.”

“Well, I guess you said please, at least. C’mon.” Trixie picked up his cane and handed it to him.

Michael grumbled, but he rose again and followed.

* * *

The spell on Locke’s lips was easily dispelled, especially as she was on the move, but so far, the blood-scrawled sigils and Latin chant had kept the convention-goers from looking her way. They were remarkable people, in that way of those who were so terrible that their souls were nothing but a smear within them, so heavy with guilt that their own opinion on the matter would do no good in keeping them out of Hell.

They would sink like stones, and as long as they walked the Earth, they would continue gleefully adding to their tally.

These people were murderers. Locke could feel it. Every one of them had taken a life, not by accident, but with intent and self-righteousness and pride in their work. And yet, they weren’t the worst in this bunch. Not by a long shot. The man in the red coat had not even been a man. Not really. The man with the green hat had once been a man, but that was so long ago that he probably couldn’t remember what it was like to fear death. Or anything, really.

She wished she could say that she had found this place with the intent to set the whole building on fire… but there were still the employees and potential regular customers to worry about. It would be smart, assuming these kinds of beings could manage to be smart around their obsessions, to rent out the whole hotel and reduce the chance of being caught. Instead, she’d come here because she was selfish, and when she’d drifted into a desperate, fitful sleep by the bridge, she’d seen her friend Joey in the hands of one of the damned here.

She would recognize guy who had Joey when she saw him, but until then, she was stuck moving between them, invisible and whispering, until she could find some kind of clue. As tired as she was, visions had never been her forte. Not while she was awake. Not without a good ritual to trigger it.

The evening was upon them, and so the attendees had finished their panels on no-doubt brilliant topics, like fun with flensing or stalking for beginners. Locke drew in a deep breath as she saw a few people getting drinks in the third floor lounge. No familiar faces. Not yet.

“There’s always some white man claiming to be God, or acting on the word of God,” a woman complained. “If there were a God, I hope he’d be more impressive than these limp dicks.”

Locke wrinkled her nose. She wasn’t sure what to think about God. He seemed to be an absentee father/jerk in every universe she’d been in She slipped past the exiting crowds and followed a few into the elevator and lurked at the back, listening to the people talking.

“I didn’t think he’d be attending again this year. That guy never ages!”

“He must be seventy by now. He showed up at the first one.

“It has to be his legacy, you know? The last one must’ve trained him up.”

“Maybe. You never see his eyes, though. A lot of white guys could probably look the same, behind those sunglasses.”

The elevator doors opened, letting them out into the lobby. Even more people were here, clustered into little groups, talking shop, flirting, gloating. She moved her hand to her chest, where her amulet should’ve been and wondered how John would’ve played this… Actually, she knew. He’d pretend to be one of them. He’d see some detail, and he’d swear at himself for not having figured out the impossible sooner, and he’d clock the guy and demand that he take him to Joey.

Locke could certainly knock someone out, but she had to find the guy, first. And with this many people here… and those men who had been in the red and green before…

She climbed up onto a dividing wall between a seating area where people spilled out from the restaurant, waiting for their tables, and continued to chant softly. She was going to have to think of something else, soon. Or she’d miss her chance to nab this guy and Joey wasn’t going to make it.

But when Locke spotted a familiar face, it wasn’t the frothing madman who had been in her dream, telling Joey to pray for forgiveness. It was Trixie… and someone else. She hopped down from her perch and came right up to them before she stopped chanting and smeared the sigils from her face.

“Oh!” Trixie hopped back, falling into the man with her.

Locke glared at her, and then at him. He looked a little bit like… Locke tilted her head as he narrowed his eyes at her. Dark hair hung in his eyes, which were separated by a wicked scar that seemed to glow with pain. Pain radiated off of him, actually. His scar, his neck, his back, his shoulder, his leg… She reached forward almost instinctively, but then stopped herself. She didn’t have time for this.

“Why are you here? This place is dangerous!” she hissed to Trixie.

“No, really?” the man said. “Your friend is a genius, Trix.”

The pieces slid into place. This man looked like Lucifer. He must be this world’s Michael. “What happened to you?”

“It would take too long to explain,” Michael said, with a bit of a sneer. “And we’re busy leaving, so…” He jerked his head toward the door.

“I’m not leaving,” Locke said. She looked at Trixie. “You should, though.”

“I came to get you,” Trixie explained.

“How did you even know I was here?”

“We um… guessed.”

Locke raised a brow and grabbed Trixie’s hand, trusting that Michael would follow them. If he was with her, he was probably here to protect her, even if he looked like a mess. That was sort of his thing, being the Sword of God and all.

Though he didn’t seem to have his sword, but rather… a cane. With a… was that a cat on top?

Once they were outside and had slipped away from prying eyes, Locke said, “Seriously, you can’t be here. Every person here has killed people. Multiple people.”

“So, yeah, with an ‘S,’” Michael said to Trixie, who blinked.

“There’s a whole… hotel… full of murderers?”

“And other stuff, too,” Locke said. “But that’s not the worst part. Either Joey’s in here, or one of the people in here is going to snatch him soon, and I need to find them.”

“Wait, what? Where did this happen?” Trixie pushed her head out of the ally to glimpse the people outside.

“Stop that!” Locke heaved a sigh. “Just let me keep looking around. I’ll find him and find out if Joey is with him.”

“Is it possible for you two to just… go home?” Michael said sharply. “You have a houseful of cops and soon enough, angels, who can go looking for your friend.”

“He could be dead by then,” Locke said gravely. “And thank whoever that it’s just one of the human monsters here who’s after him. I’m not letting another one of my friends die.”

“I can’t let you do this alone!” Trixie objected.

“Who even is this Joey anyway?” Michael demanded.

“Our friend!” Trixie snapped.

Michael looked up at the sky, his mouth set in an exasperated frown. “Fine. So tell us who we’re looking for.”

“I—” Locke emphasized, “—am looking for an old white guy with a big nose and a side part wearing a large cross on his chest and calling himself God.”

Michael snorted. “Yeah, okay. Do you have any leads?” He paused. “They’re wearing nametags. Did he have a specific flavor of my Father’s name that he went by?”

“I don’t know. There are apparently multiple ‘Gods’ at this convention,” Locke said. She leaned back against the wall. “They even had a panel about it. And at least one of them was one the panel.”

“How blasphemous,” he deadpanned. “Fine. Stay here.”

“No,” Locke stated firmly.

Michael turned to her and looked her over closely. His eyes looked as tired as she felt. “I’m going to go in there. I’m going to lie my face off until I know who you’re looking for. Then, we’re going to leave here and get you two safe while we send a hoard of cops into this building to either arrest them all or go in firing the way they love to do, and Dad can sort it all out later.”

“Lie how? Never mind. You’re not going in alone.” Locke took her knife, opened her band aid, and cut herself so she could re-enforce the sigils.

“That is the most disgusting kind of magic,” Michael muttered. “Put some on Trixie, too. She’ll just sneak after us.”

Locke bit her lip to keep from smiling. She did as Michael said, painting the sigils on Trixie dutifully.

“You’re hurt,” Trixie objected.

“Don’t worry.” Locke put the band aid back in place and took Trixie’s hand. “I heal fast. I don’t even really need the band aid.”

She began her chant again as they followed Michael back into the lobby. He straightened his shoulders in a way that was too fluid to be natural, affected a shit-eating grin, and the scar faded into his face. He swept his hair back and said amiably to a nearby group:

“Hello, collectors!”

Locke blinked at the sudden change in accent. And how the people gravitated towards his sudden burst of confidence.

“I came a bit late, and I’m afraid I missed the religion panel. Could you tell me which deities we were graced with this year?”

“Is this your first year?” asked a petite woman whose nametag read “Hell on Earth.” She smiled back coyly. “I don’t remember seeing you last year.”

“Never miss it! I daresay we never met. I’d definitely remember this little bit of Hell… Of course, I’m always frightfully busy with all manner of sinful activities.” He winked. “You know how it is.”

“I was at the panel,” said another woman wearing a Karen-cut and a high-collared blouse. Her nametag read “Angel of the House.” “We had two Gods, of course. They’ve been trying to force diversity for years at this thing.”

“How very vile. Do you remember their names?”

“One Jehovah and one Awesome God.”

“Ah… Jehovah. Is that the elderly one…” Michael made a motion at his hair. “You know. With the boy scout part?”

“No, Jehovah was the black one,” she said in a whisper that was not very quiet.

“Awesome God looked like a surfer,” Hell on Earth said with a shrug. “I think I saw that one you’re talking about. I didn’t get his handle, though. He was sitting in the back. Left early.”

“Hmm. I’ve been looking to connect with him. Pity.” Michael shook his head. “Could we just look at your program a mo’? Maybe I can chat up the other panelists and find him.”

Hell on Earth handed hers over.

“Hard to remember which God is which at these things,” Karen-cut said. “Honestly, as a God-fearing Christian, it’s hard to stomach.”

“You know, I got that from you right away. Your devotion and fear has been noticed, trust me.” Michael took the program and opened it, skimming through each page quickly.

“The registration table is closed,” Hell on Earth said helpfully. “But it’ll be open again at 7am, if you want to pick up your own program and goodie bag.”

“Fair enough.” He handed it back to her. “Well, I hope ever so to see you ladies again. Maybe tomorrow at the Sweeney Todd sing-along? Or will you be off to the pub crawl?”

“Oh, neither!” Karen-cut said with a wave of her hand. “I’ll be in early. After I say goodnight to my kids over Zoom.”

Hell on Earth rolled her eyes. “I’ll be at the pub crawl, if you want to catch up. Friendly face and all that. What’s your handle? I didn’t catch it.”

“The Demiurge.” Michael grinned so wickedly that Locke could feel Trixie shiver.

And then, he moved on. He slipped between the crowd, occasionally needing to lean on his cane, but mostly, he seemed to have shed his injuries somehow, or just… put them away. He questioned a number of people in the room, never arousing suspicion, lying and going along with whatever memories the people seemed to have of him, until he gained the name and a handful of details about their white-haired religious target was going by:

Absalom.

“Humans and their self-righteousness,” Michael muttered in his own voice as he moved into an empty hallway. “The one they wrote about beat a rapist to death. Once. He didn’t make a habit of it.”

Locke flinched as he, all at once, came back to himself, scars and bruises and all. His shoulder jerked upward hard enough that Michael fell back, closing his eyes as the pain seemed to return to him as well.

“How do you do all that stuff?” Trixie asked. “Lucifer can’t shapeshift or take people’s desires from them. He just makes people spill their guts.”

“He can. He’s just lazy and forgets how damn powerful he is because he spends all of his time on Earth.” Michael panted against the wall. “But taking people’s desires isn’t usually painful. Or I’d guess, maybe, it would make him uncomfortably randy. I shouldn’t have done it… turning into a fear. I’m sure Father will have a whole host of punishments for me for taking Lucifer’s form again. Anyway, we have the name of your guy.”

“And we know he targets young gay guys in the name of ‘God’ or whatever,” Locke said, almost to herself as a cold spread over her chest. “So he might not have Joey yet. I mean, Joey’s bi, but Absalom probably doesn’t make the distinction. He sounds like conversion therapy walking around on two legs. He could find him later tonight, though. Joey wouldn’t be out on his own until after band practice. Maybe at that club we got into that one time?”

“You think the bouncer would recognize him? I wish I had my phone,” Trixie muttered. “I could call him to see if he was okay.”

“That occurs to you now?” Michael said.

“I don’t have the phone anyway!” Trixie objected.

Locke shook her head. “I tried text him right away. He never answered. My phone only has so much charge, and finding a place to charge it up again would take time I don’t have.”

“Try again,” Michael urged.

Locke pulled out her phone and had begun a text when Michael grabbed her shoulder and shoved her and Trixie bodily into a broom closet.

“Fuck me,” he said, with all of the worldly irritation and doneness that Locke would’ve expected more from John than from an angel.

“What?” Locke moved toward the door, which Michael was blocking. “Did you see him?”

“No. I saw…”

He looked rattled. Well, that was unnerving. What would scare the Sword of God?”

“Take a deep breath,” Trixie said softly.

“Was it the man in the red coat?” Locke asked.

“No, it… It’s that idiot Pete.” Michael shook his head and swore.

“I… I don’t know who that is?” Locke looked between them.

“Ella’s Pete?” Trixie perked up like a little schnauzer. “How? He’s in jail.”

“Not anymore.”

“Does he have… like crazy powers, or something?” Locke asked, still trying to discern what the problem was. She didn’t sense anyone really powerful out there.

“No, he’s a regular ol’ murderer,” Michael said bitterly. “One a woman that barely clears 5’4 took down. And I’m terrified of his stupid ass. If I can get a grip, it shouldn’t be a problem, really.”

“Except he’s seen Lucifer, and he’d recognize you as not belonging here,” Trixie pointed out.

Michael closed his eyes, drawing his breaths in and out slowly as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Except that.”

“Can you do anyone else?” Trixie asked. She thought for a moment. “Like… someone else people fear?”

“I probably could. It’s been a while since I did anyone but Lucifer, but I’ve been other things. You got someone in mind?”

Oh. Locke knew who Trixie was thinking of. Trixie nodded her head and closed her eyes.

“Can you feel it? Or… I dunno… see him?”

“I… Yes.” Michael looked down at Trixie as he touched her cheek and grimaced. “Gross. No, I got him. This asshole killed my brother.”

“I know,” Trixie said quietly.

Again, the fluid moving of body skin and the bone underneath. Michael seemed to grow smaller, and paler, until he stared at them with sunken eyes under flat brown hair. He twitched his mustache uncomfortably.

“Let’s get outta here. We can tip off the LAPD that they’ve got an escapee at this hotel and check out that club. Maybe Joey-boy just got lucky, eh?”

So weird. He didn’t even sound like himself when he changed. That made sense, though. People’s voices sometimes stayed with you long after you forgot exactly what they looked like. That part was probably more vivid to Trixie than Malcolm Graham’s face. Locke could see his hands shaking but said nothing as she took Trixie’s hand again.

* * *

There truly was no basement in Hell when it came to humiliation, Michael decided.

Walking around in the skin of this grease-trap human, petrified of another weasel of a person who was chatting it up with the other murder enthusiasts, as if they’d just met a celebrity? Ugh. Why on Earth had he taken Ella’s fear of this man? It had been such a stupid move.

He’d just… wanted her to feel better. She was light and joy incarnate. She didn’t deserve all the trauma that man had brought to her.

“I never imagined being with others like me. Not like this,” Pete said. “Has this been going on long?”

“Since the late 80s,” said Hell on Earth. “How did you get out? I heard the LAPD caught you. Well. They caught your copycat, first. That guy was so sloppy.”

“Insulting,” said another guy. “I’d slaughter anyone who took credit for my work.”

“Someone straight up brutalized that guy in prison, I heard…”

Heart in his throat, Michael focused on the tender voices of the girls chanting behind him. had picked up the chant and was doing it with Locke now, and that sound was the only thing that made this okay. That told him, even if he could be seen, these two could not, and they were safe… ish. Just a few more feet to the door.

Then, the door opened, and Michael backpedaled and moved deeper into the crowd.

No basement in fucking Hell.

In the doorway stood a grinning nightmare. A literal nightmare, who had walked right out of the dreams of humans into the waking world to continue his terror. With his tight-ass jeans and his ever-present sunglasses. The Corinthian had entered the lobby and was blocking the path of their escape. This cute little chant wouldn’t be working on him.

“Let’s try to find another exit,” Michael said quietly, hoping the girls would catch on that someone actually dangerous had arrived.

“Well, if it isn’t local hero,” Corinthian said cheerfully as he made his way to the middle of the room. “What’s it like to join the big dogs, Whisper?”

“I never did it for fame,” Pete said, almost self-effacingly. “Are you..? I’ve read about you, I think…”

“Of course, you don’t do it for fame. You do it for the ultimate reason, the only reason.” Corinthian leaned over him, his smile at once repellent and utterly gorgeous. “The love of the thing… It’s the best reason, isn’t it? All of us here, living our best lives, sharing our truth.”

He chuckled warmly for the mesmerized crowd, who chuckled with him. Michael continued inching them toward the edge of the crowd. The girls had crouched lower, which suggested they had sensed the danger.

“The organizers weren’t thrilled to be holding the convention so soon after one or our own had been taken in,” Corinthian continued. “But Red Jack said you simply had to be here. He couldn’t wait for you to see… all of us.”

Pete looked around at the crowd.

There was a sinking feeling inside him. Michael could tell. It was an existential fear. A primal one, that many humans suffered at some points in their lives. Provided they weren’t completely delusional.

Pete Daily was learning, abjectly, that he was not special. He was not unique. He was not righteous. He was just one of hundreds, who killed. Just because they wanted to. He was not contributing anything to this world that hadn’t already been there, and his own suffering blended in blandly with the suffering of the mass that was humanity.

It was odd that the others hadn’t come to that conclusion. But the moment butterflies began to gently float above the crowd, Michael realized the reason why. Pete wasn’t a guest of honor.

He was here to be fed upon.

Michael glanced around for Red Jack but didn’t see that garish monstrosity anywhere. It didn’t matter. If the remnants of his victims were here, Red Jack was nearby. Always ravenous. Never sated. That creature that had existed before Creation and delighted in feeding upon its suffering.

Corinthian held a hand out for Pete. “C’mon, Whisper. We got a V.I.P. suite. There’s some fellas just dyin’ to meet you.”

Grateful that the crowd was looking at their two idols and the Corinthian had headed to the elevators, Michael risked breaking away from the crowd to walk, slowly but determinedly, toward the door he’d spotted on the far side of the lobby. It would take them out to the back parking lot, and hopefully, they could be free of this idiotic little adventure. He could already hear Chloe’s shrill recriminations for letting her innocent little girl come near this slice of Hell in the first place.

Moments after they’d left the hotel, Michael lost his shape, becoming himself again in a rush and stumbling forward. Trixie grabbed for him and went down with him. Locke pushed herself under his shoulder and, inexplicably, lifted him back up.

“Strong,” Michael muttered.

“Yep,” Locke agreed.

“We need to get back to the bus,” Trixie said. “Or… wait. Let me use my mom’s Uber log-in on your phone, and we can get home—”

The door opened again behind them, and Michael ducked behind a car, taking the girls with him.

“I may not look it,” came the Corinthian’s slow, sinister, lustrous voice, “but I’ve got pretty damn good eyesight. Y’know. For someone who doesn’t technically have eyes.”

Locke and Trixie looked at each other and then up at him.

“What do we do?” Trixie mouthed.

Locke tore off her bandage and mouthed, “Spell!”

Michael shook his head and pushed them both back to the ground to stay put for once.

“Y’see, I know that you’re there. I even know that there are three of you. Spotted you out of the veeeery corner of my eyeteeth.” Corinthian chuckled. “Don’t worry about Petey. I sent someone with him to find his way to the V.I.P. suite. They won’t miss me. Honestly, Pete’s not really my type.”

His boots hit the pavement and stopped. “I know you’re there,” he repeated, the smile apparent in his voice. “I just can’t tell what you are. Not a one of you is fully human, and that’s interesting. I can think of a way to find out, though. I can’t wait to see who you really are.”

Michael closed his eyes. He was ineffably exhausted. Not just from his injuries, or from the fights from earlier, or from soaking in the fears of other people for hours. Changing form to embody something took it out of an angel even when they were at full strength, let alone when they’d been put on ice by a pathetic piece of Celestial silver bling.

He looked to Locke as she took out her knife and a vial of something that she’d been keeping in her jeans.

“Stay,” he whispered to her.

Locke looked up at him, her nose scrunching up in a stubbornness that was somehow familiar.

He didn’t know if he had it in him to keep doing this. But he had to try. He knew who he had to be, and it was their only chance. He knew the Corinthian well enough to understand how things went from this point forward. Even if Corinthian might let Michael go, as an archangel, the Sword of God, he’d definitely feed on the girls out of curiosity, even if they weren’t his “type.”

Cori was never more connected to humans than when he took their eyes. It was really the only way he could make that connection. It was how he’d been made, something the Corinthian was both proud of and furious about. After all, his creator most certainly didn’t appreciate how Corinthian had turned out. If he were here, he’d probably sweep the entire convention into the darkness.

Michael rose, letting his cane drop beside him, and walked out in front of the car. A wind from nowhere whipped through his now jet-black hair and over skin as pale as snow. He was a towering, dramatic entity. Too slender and at once too powerful and too concerned with his rules and responsibilities. The Corinthian glanced in his direction, and Michael narrowed his eyes.

They glinted like twin stars on a dark sky, and a stab of fear cut through the Corinthian.

“My lord… You… I…”

Michael lifted his chin and lowered the pitch of his voice until it seemed as though he was rasping once again, “All the years you have had to walk this Earth, and this is what you have made of them.”

“I am what you made me,” the Corinthian said defiantly. “I won’t go back. Not to just… feeling nothing! Being… nothing. Can’t you see all of these people? These humans you claim to admire? They share the same dream as me, my lord. I’m worth no less than them—”

“Silence.”

Michael could see Locke sneaking around behind the Corinthian and hoped this was going to be good. Or that they’d do something smart for once and just leave him.

“Come to me.”

“No.” Corinthian shook his head. “I won’t be unmade.”

“You will not. Not today. Come to me, my child.”

The Corinthian slipped off his classes and seemed to narrow his eyes. Of course, he had none, as he’d said. His eye sockets housed nothing but another set of teeth each, grinding and chattering as the Corinthian took him in.

“You have disappointed me, but you are mine, now and forever,” Michael whispered.

The wind took up the Corinthian’s white hair now. Mussing it. Causing that illusion of perfection to fall away.

“You understand?”

“Certainly not. But I made you. I should have seen where this would lead. The fault is mine.”

Corinthian shook his head wearily as he came up to Michael. His jaw tensed, and his shoulders caved just a little. Michael held his hands open, encouraging him to come closer.

“I’ve… I’ve always wanted you to understand me. Accept me. Maybe the last part was a pipe dream, but… after the last time we talked… You were going to unmake me then. There was no question about it. No arguing. I was anathema to you, and yet, I’d only done what I was made to do.”

The nightmare sounded a bit like a sulky little boy. Michael couldn’t help but find the Corinthian attractive… at times. Now was not one of those times. He simply felt sad. He wasn’t the Dream Lord that the nightmare wanted absolution from, and he could neither forgive Cori nor change him.

“I know this,” Michael declared. “And I will make things right.”

The Corinthian stood close to him and smiled a little lopsided smile. Not the toothy grin for his legion of fans in there. Not the empowered grin of wickedness. Just something… wistful. And true.

But his fear wasn’t there anymore. Michael realized this just as the Corinthian’s knife sank into his stomach.

“Who are you really?” the Corinthian demanded. “The King of Dreams never apologizes, never admits fault. He sent a girl to Hell for telling him ‘no,’ and he’d would still think he was a million billion miles above every dreamer in this hotel.”

“It’s been… a while… since I was stabbed,” Michael admitted, coming back to himself once more.

He might as well. He had nothing left to give to this doomed expedition. He could only hope that Trixie had scampered off with Locke’s phone.

Corinthian’s brows rose dramatically when he recognized Michael. “You? What—Why? …Huh.”

He twisted the knife for good measure.

“And I thought running with Red Jack would leave me with the world’s biggest sadist. You came here just to make me think the Dream King was back?”

“I came here… to find a lost child…” Michael said.

The fight drained from the Corinthian’s face. The truth was always the best weapon.

“A child, hm?”

“Absalom… is going to kill… a boy…”

“Yeah, we’ve been real naughty this year. Not that I ever thought Jack and the Gentleman could control themselves. Jack’s insatiable, and the Gentleman is just a vengeful spirit walking around in a dead person. I’m not surprised our human population decided to do a little ‘collecting’ along the way.” Corinthian paused, seeming to think. “Not that it matters, but Absalom got drunk mid-day and spent the afternoon in his room. He’s in Grand Ballroom B playing Murder in the Dark. You probably have about half an hour before he goes out and kills that kid.”

Michael gripped the Corinthian’s bicep and looked into his eyes. Well, the teeth in his eyes.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Y’know, I’ve always wondered what it was like to taste an angel. Your daddy did a real bad job of taking care of you. He always did, if we’re honest.” Corinthian leaned in to whisper, “Y’don’t look so good, Michael.”

He seemed to take in Michael’s face, a hunger now apparent in his returning smile. “I wish we’d been able to do more together before this. It’s not how I would’ve wanted things to go… and I do have the room. Nice suite… enormous bed. There was always something kin about you, more than any of those other angels. No one but the twins really understood us dreams and nightmares.”

“You think… Lucifer…” Michael coughed. He knew that taste in the back of his throat too well. “… You think he knows much about nightmares?”

“Maybe. Bet he has plenty when he realizes you’ve gotten gutted on his front porch, huh?”

He coughed again, blood spilling over his lips. “Like he’d care.”

“Oh. He’s gonna care,” the Corinthian assured him, almost kindly.

Then, he pulled out his knife, and Michael crumpled backward onto the asphalt. He pressed his hand into the gushing wound as hard as he could, but he frankly didn’t have much strength left. He stared up at the night’s sky, wondering if this had been the Plan. Just… make him a corpse in part of Lucifer’s overarching story?

He winced as a bright light flashed in front of him. Some kind of infernal red swirled behind the Corinthian. The nightmare whipped around, and Michael tried to focus on the whirling light.

It was a wheel of magic symbols spinning in the air, moving and interlocking in a mad succession, with Locke standing in front of it. Her eyes burned an ethereal green as she shouted in Enochian, her lips curling back as she recited the words with absolute conviction and deep intent.

“What in the world?” the Corinthian stepped back toward Michael, but it did not good.

Locke kept chanting, and she rose off the ground slightly as the portal began pulling the Corinthian toward it. His sunglasses got sucked in first, and then he seemed to be pulled apart, bits of him dragged away like grains of sand from a sculpture.

“No! Wait! I’m not a demon! I can’t—”

It didn’t matter. That portal, and that damn kid, were more powerful than the Corinthian, and he’d made the mistake of turning his back on the girls instead of a weakened angel. Soon, a skeleton of who he’d been, mouth eyes and all, was all that was left, and within seconds, the last grains of him had been sucked into the portal, which faded from the air, leaving the stink of sulfur and a terrified shriek behind.

“Huh.” Michael let his head drop back. He closed his eyes and sucked in a breath. When he opened them, he could see his little sister Azrael looking down at him kindly. He flattened his lips and told her, “She really can take care of herself, can’t she?”

“Not all the time. She needed the time you bought them to make the spell. You saved them,” Azrael said sadly. She brushed her hand over his forehead.

“Well, at least I could do something with my miserable life,” he grumbled.

“Thee others from the convention have gone off to other social activities, in the ballrooms or upstairs. They won’t be back out here for a while, since they’ll be leaving out the front to get on the shuttle.” Azrael gave him a soft smile and blinked a bit. “The girls are safe.”

More faces appeared in front of them, including Locke’s as she pressed her hands over his stomach, her eyes glowing that white-green light again as she strained.

“I can’t! I don’t know why…? Trixie, I resurrected a cat when I was five. Why can’t I do this?” Locke demanded tearfully.

“You’re exhausted,” Trixie said reasonably. “Lemme use your phone. I can call my mom… I don’t know the number, though…”

Locke wiped her eyes, her own blood smeared all over her cheeks from her revolting human spells, and looked petulantly down at Michael. “Why did you do that? I could’ve taken him.”

“No, you couldn’t,” he told her, almost amused.

She scrunched her nose up again. And that did it. The pieces slid together, and Michael’s insides turned to ice water. That look. Oh, for fuck’s sake, that look. Locke looked just like her. How was this possible? How hadn’t he known the second he’d laid eyes on her?

“You took her already,” Michael accused Azrael.

Azrael shrugged. “I never said that. I’ve learned sometimes it’s better if I never say anything at all. Especially about who I take, and who I don’t.”

“Who are you talking to?” Trixie asked him gently.

“My little sister,” he said flatly. “The angel of death.”

“No!” Locke balled up her fists and slammed them on Michael’s chest.

“Ow.”

“Get my phone out of my pocket, Trix. Your dad’s number is in there.” Locke pressed down hard, and her hands began to glow again.

Michael could feel her trying to shove energy into his body. But without her strength on his wound, the blood began to flow more freely. He couldn’t stop it. He couldn’t even focus. But at least it didn’t hurt anymore.

“I’m so glad… you made it…” he said, even though he barely hear them anymore, and he wasn’t sure if he was managing to speak out loud. “I had no idea you would…”

“Locke, you need to stop that,” Azrael begged. “Please don’t.”

“No!”

“You deserved… a lot more…” Michael let his eyes fall shut. He was so, so tired.

Locke slammed her fists against his chest again. “You wake up!”

“You need... to get out of here… Away from these monsters… They won’t stay away forever… Tell Chloe about Absalom and… Lucifer about Red Jack…”

“Michael, I am serious!” Locke snapped. “You’re an archangel! You can’t die! You get a grip and hang in there, dammit!”

“An archangel can die,” Michael told her with a bloodied chuckle. “I’m not the first.”

She gripped him so hard, he thought she might break his ribs.

She was so fierce. She didn’t even know who he was, not really, and she was fighting his sacrifice ‘til the bitter end. A pity Michael would never be able to properly thank the man who’d raised his daughter to be such a little warrior.

He just hoped his brothers would protect her from their Father.

Chapter Text

“Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than outright exposure. The fearful are caught as often as the bold.”

― Helen Keller

Blood. Everywhere.

Red as any human’s, but at the same time iridescent in its way, giving off a slight sheen of divinity as it coated the infernal ground.

Maze swooped forward, catching Belgarde from behind, and shouted to the rest of their unit to surge forward. Bel seemed small in her arms, her wings folded awkwardly behind her. She looked up at Maze through her smeared war paint.

“Don’t move—” Maze tried to keep the girl down, but Belgarde pushed herself up, hand clutching the knife in her gut.

They’d taken back the city this morning. Lilith had been driven from the pinnacle but evaded a face-to-face confrontation with Belgarde and Maze. But taking control and keeping it were two different matters. As soon as they’d reached the center, word had spread of Lilith’s new plan: to wake the First of the Fallen to fight by her side.  

After having discarded that plan as a truly terrible idea, the Lilim were less than sanguine about having to track down their mother to keep her from making Hell well-nigh unlivable. It wasn’t like it had been a field of daisies before, but none of them had fought by life and limb, just to be subjugated once again by an impossibly powerful former foe of God himself.

Belgarde spit blood on the ground, wrenched the knife from her own abdomen, and with a great flap of her wings, rose up to slit the throat of the towering Rhymer in front of them. Panting, she cast a glance around at his fellows.

“Secure the area,” Belgarde ordered, gesturing to the others, who fanned out.

“Let me have one of them,” Maze said, letting bloodlust creep into her smile.

One Rhymer who looked like a cross between a gargoyle and a bulldog took a knee before them. His friend behind him lifted her chin defiantly.

“The throne of Hell was not meant for you and yours,” she said coldly. “Only a fool would perch a child there before she matures.”

The tension rose in the air alongside Belgarde’s anger. Even Maze could feel the prickle of apprehension on the back of her neck. She whipped a wing in front of her, the tips of her long, black feathers forming a sharp blade at the Rhymer’s neck.

She then smirked and spit forth venomously:

“Bow before your true queen, lest we strip your flesh ‘til the bones are clean.”

Maze moved to Belgarde’s side and watched as the Rhymer’s compatriot turned on her and, in effusive rhymes, tried to convince her to stand down. Probably because Bel had bothered in spite of a gut wound to mimic the silly tradition of their little cult. He was frothing himself up to a grand old epic when the sky above them, which was normally a vague expanse of black and gray and incoming ashes… lit up.

They all looked up to a series of lines spidering outward like those around a cracked windshield. Then it gave way, and something small and pale plummeted into the city.

“What the fuck?” said the male Rhymer.

“Lilith has lost dominion,” said the other.

“I don’t have time for you,” Belgarde said. She breezed past them, and Maze turned.

“Do we have to worry about you two? Or in other words, do I need to kill you right now, or can it wait?”

“In the new era, we wish for representation,” the woman said. “We will be no trouble, if you promise a later conversation.”

“I promise nothing. But the cooler heads will consider it. I’m a warrior, not a politician,” Maze said grimly.

That seemed to do. Lilim had more credibility when it came to these things than some demon sects, possibly due to their position as Lucifer’s personal army for so long.

Frankly, Belgarde was only so confident about her upcoming governmental role, for all her bravado. Ruling over her siblings didn’t seem that appealing, Maze could tell. And Maze sort of agreed, even if she’d had moments when she’d thought she could manage them well enough. Regardless, Maze was determined to put this one in power. She’d never have wings herself, but it seemed appropriate for a winged Lilim to seize the throne.

A balance between Heaven and Hell. It would give them protection in case the former decided to butt in again.

“Did you see where it fell?” Belgarde stopped and leaned against a wall, waiting for Maze to catch up.

“No. And you aren’t a hunter. This isn’t your job.” Maze gripped Belgarde’s shoulder, winning herself a stubborn scowl and a scrunched up nose. “Make faces all you want, little sis. I’m right. Let’s get back to the pinnacle and have Auri stitch you up.”

“I’ll heal. It’s significant that the barrier has broken. We need to investigate—”

“You need to delegate someone to investigate. The queen doesn’t do the dirty work.” Maze paused, registering the discomfort on her face. “We need you to see this through.”

“You don’t exist to prop me up,” Belgarde said sternly. “I’m not Lucifer.”

Maze rolled her eyes. “Good. He never listened to me when I gave him advice… or to anyone else.”

“Hm.” Belgarde let her hand drop, and it seemed the blood had slowed already.

“Just keep your promise for us to rule ourselves. That’s all we need from you. Strength and honesty.”

Belgarde twisted her lips. “We shouldn’t have let those Rhymers go.”

“No. They’ll tell the others how you rewarded their friend for his rudeness. And how well you can spit verses.” Maze chuckled.

“Aye, me. The Poet Queen,” Belgarde muttered.

After she recovered a bit more, Belgarde scooped up her sister and returned them to the pinnacle. They landed in front of the cluster of buildings the Rising had been constructing to solidify their stronghold.

“Damn. They took out another tower.” Belgarde shook out her wings and folded them to her back.

Maze sucked her teeth and looked at the smattering of confused human souls wandering around. This happened every time a tower went down, and the rooms with it. The displaced souls either tried to hide or stuck around looking for demons to take up their torture. The problem was simply that the Lilim in charge had no interest in these duties. Not for the mildly guilty, anyway.

The worst were snatched away quite quickly and dragged down below.

Belgarde stepped forward and glared at a petite young man. “Why are you still here? Honestly.”

“I… Um. Where… Where am I?”

“You’re in Hell,” Maze said bluntly.

“Hell? As in… fire and brimstone… eternal torment… Wow.” He ran his hands through his hair. “Oh, God.”

Belgarde’s wings rustled. “Not even close. I’m aiming for the position of Devil, actually.”

“Smells like a manchild,” Maze sneered. “What could you possibly have done that you’re so guilty about?”

“I… Um…”

“No one cares, baby boy.” Belgarde grabbed him by the collar and flung him upward so hard the air around them whistled.

Maze cackled.

“Did any of us ever ask to share our home with these wayward souls? God is so incredibly lazy.”

“As long as you leave some of the wicked behind. Don’t want the demons to get too bored.”

Belgarde rolled her eyes and headed for the grand doors of the entryway. “If it weren’t for you, I’d send them all on to another plane of existence.”

“The humans are gonna be pissing themselves over the ones you’ve yeeted up there already.”

“They’ll get over it.”

Maze could think of a few humans who would in fact not let it go or get over it but said nothing. This little habit of Bel’s had been the light switch in Maze’s head. She ought to have put it together sooner. The glowing eyes. The wings. The soul. Now the ability to toss souls up to the most recently dead, something Maze had known both Lucifer and Amenadiel to be capable of. It wasn’t a special gift like their individual mojos. It stood to reason that this kid was a Nephilim born of Lilith and some idiot angel. Maze didn’t know how that was possible, considering everyone had assumed Charlie was the first. However, Lilith had been given some gifts of her own, as the original intended mother of humankind.

So much for that. It seemed she’d had relations with anyone she could, thwarting God’s plan in her own way. If she hadn’t gone on to abandon them all, Maze might’ve respected her mother for that. She’d seen what God’s “plans” had done to his children… to Eve.

Maze and Belgarde had discussed Bel’s potential heritage, away from the others. A secret. For now. If only because the other Lilim were just learning to think for themselves for the first time. Things didn’t need to be too complicated.

Together, they entered the grand doors of the pinnacle together. Aurieloth stood by their large war table, clicking his needles together as he advised his siblings with a confidence Maze had never guessed he possessed back when they’d called him by his childhood epithet “Squee.” His melodic voice and large eyes mesmerized the non-Lilim among them.

“Belgarde.” He bowed slightly, then sucked in his lower lip as he spotted her wound.

Belgarde approached them. “It’s nearly healed. What news?”  

“Did anyone see where that light landed?” Maze demanded.

Auri smirked. “We have him. A literal nightmare. From the Dreaming.”

“In Hell?” Maze said.

“I’ll want to speak to him,” Belgarde said, folding her hands in front of her as she plotted. “We need to consider our alliances carefully.”

Auri shrugged. “We’ll see what, if anything, his monarch will be willing to trade for him.”

“Questionable.” Maze considered that. “I have it on… some authority that he’s been missing.”

“Whose?” Bel asked.

“The Archangel. He tried to take it up with God, who was…” Maze shrugged.

“A lazy asshole,” Belgarde supplied. “Watchmaker my ass.”

“If the Archangel is… on vacation…” Auri suggested. “We could send up a few to look for the Dream King. See what’s what.”

Before Belgarde could answer, a thunderous pounding announced itself at the front door. The scattered Lilim and others moved into defensive positions, but too quickly, the doors came crashing down and an immense beast made of a vast congealment of limbs and eyes stumbled through.

On its back rode Lilith herself.

Maze stood frozen for precious seconds. Her mother. Not as old as she’d been when they’d reunited on Earth, but not at her peak, either. The woman wore a breastplate of bone and skirt of human skin, and her silver-streaked hair had been coated in blood and twisted into a crown on her head along with gems and child-sized knucklebones.

“Have you been having fun?” Lilith asked coldly. “Are you done with your games? Because I am.”

Another bulbous creature oozing black oil rushed through the remains of the door, and Maze drew her sword. The other Lilim and sundry demons advanced, ready to defend their hold of the center from the Dark Mother and her minions. They closed in, weapons trained on Belgarde.

But then there was light. So much light. Maze held her arm up, bracing herself against it as she burned and then froze and then…

She fell backward and felt weathered wood beneath her hand. That was impossible. There were no trees in Hell, apart from the Suicide Forest. Maze looked up. It was so bright she winced again and reeled backward.

“Is that her?” said a male voice. “You got her, John!”

“Seem to have done, yeah.”

A figure in a trench coat came toward her at a lazy pace. When it stopped, Maze glanced around herself and realized she was surrounded by a multitude of symbols and sitting in a very large but very human room.

There was even a window, through which a sparse bit of moonlight peeked through.

“Hullo, there, Mazikeen. Don’t bother trying to get out of the circle—”

Maze leapt up, screaming as she battered the magical barrier that held her within the confines of the trap.

“Send me back!!”

* * *

Angel blood. Everywhere.

Pooling beneath Michael’s body. Spreading over the parking lot asphalt. Covering Locke’s hands as she pressed them into the wound.

Trixie’s hands couldn’t stop shaking. Her mom and dad had shown up before the paramedics, sweeping her into their arms and showering her with words she couldn’t hear. That was all she could remember, apart from Locke trying to follow Michael into the ambulance when it came.

Now, sitting in the waiting room, Trixie held Locke’s hand tightly as the girl shook her head and stared at the floor. Locke thought it was her fault, somehow.

Trixie knew, though, that it was definitely hers. Michael had followed her to protect her. Then, he’d gone into the hotel to protect them. Even if he had his weird shapeshifty fear powers, she’s known he wasn’t invulnerable. She could’ve convinced Locke to come back, to have her parents get a BOLO out for Joey and that Absalom guy before anything happened to him.

“Hey, monkey,” Chloe said softly as she sat down beside her. “No news yet. Everyone’s out looking for Joey.”

“I can find him faster,” Locke muttered.

“Let us do this,” Chloe said. “He’s a human criminal. He belongs in jail.”

“He belongs in Hell,” Locke muttered. “Every last one of them does.”

“Well, barring an earthquake and the hotel collapsing, they’re going to have to deal with their punishment up here, first.” Chloe rubbed her palms against her thighs. “I’m going to stay here and keep an eye out for Michael. When Dan gets back, he’ll take both of you home.”

“No!” Trixie protested. “Mom, I want to make sure he’s okay before I go. It’s my fault.”

“It’s not your fault. It’s the fault of the man who stabbed him.”

“That wasn’t a man. That was something else. He had teeth where his eyes should be.”

Chloe raised her brows but didn’t say anything in reaction to that. She’d heard their collective, rambling account of what happened. “Regardless. You two will be safer at home.”

Locke swallowed and looked down at her lap. “You can’t take me back there. They don’t want me.”

Trixie frowned and squeezed Locke’s hand.

“I know it won’t be the same, but you’ll be going to Trixie and my place,” Chloe said. “Your CPS worker agreed that it would be okay for you to stay with me until she could line up another placement for you.”

Locke’s face went blank. “Your place?”

“She’s staying with us?” Trixe looked at her mom expectantly. “I thought you could only do that if you were cleared.”

“Yeah. And I got cleared. Believe me, Anne and I have gone over all the details. She’s been hoping to find you something more permanent. I don’t know if the court will agree that’s with us, but it’ll do for now.”

Locke twisted her fingers. “You… You don’t want me at your house. I’m bad luck. People die around me.”

Trixie watched her mom’s eyes narrow as she leaned in.

“What happened that night? Your foster parents wouldn’t say what they’d seen. Not to Anne and not to me.”

“It was the same thing from Lucifer’s place. They followed me all over town, until I went under the bridge where Red Jack and the guy in green were hunting,” Locke explained.

“Why were they following you?” Trixie asked. “And why now?”

Locke shrugged.

“Dan and I were wondering that, too.” Chloe sighed. “But it can’t be helped. There are protections on the apartment, right? You should be okay.”

Dan strolled up to them and put his hands on his hips. “We should get going. I’m gonna head out with the others afterward. See if we can’t pick up Joey before this creep does.”

“If he’s not at any of the places we gave you, maybe the Corinthian was wrong,” Locke said. She rose. “I’m not a tracker, but I can find him—”

“Just be patient, okay?” Dan touched her shoulder. “We’ve got a team watching the hotel, and Absalom won’t be able to show his face in any club or bar in Southern California without being dragged in.”

He looked to Chloe. “Any word on Michael?”

“Still in surgery.” Chloe shook her head and lowered her voice. “I don’t know what kind of things they can do for someone, you know. Like him.”

“Lucifer got shot in the stomach not that long ago. How did he deal with it?”

“He healed, after we had some distance.” Chloe spread her hands. “It’s different because Michael’s been stripped of his strength and vitality.”

Dan blinked at that. “Uh. Okay. Can we get it back?”

“Honestly, given the things Lucifer has said about their father, probably not. Not until God decides he’s forgiven, or he’s…” Chloe sucked in her lips. “Or Michael’s realized something for himself.”

“Yeah, that’s not maddeningly vague.”

“Hence Lucifer’s daddy issues.” Chloe rolled her eyes.

Trixie’s eyes ping-ponged between them. Had her mom forgiven her dad so fast? Already? Trixie had forgotten herself until now. She’d wanted to see them so much. She’d been so scared. And now… she didn’t know if she could trust her dad anymore. Even if she didn’t want him to go to Hell feeling guilty over the stuff he’d done.

“C’mon. I’ll get you guys back,” Dan said. “I can text everyone the second we find Joey.”

“And I’ll let you know if anything changes with Michael,” Chloe said. She rose and brought Trixie in for a tight hug. “We’re going to talk, when this is over, okay? You and me.”

“Okay. I’m sorry… um. That I scared you.”

Chloe kissed the top of her head. “Are you two gonna stay put? Can we trust you?”

Trixie looked to Locke, who scowled.

“Please,” Chloe said.

“Yeah. Unless... if something come for us,” Locke said finally.

“We’ll let you know if something happens,” Trixie promised.

“Maybe we should leave them at Linda’s,” Dan suggested.

“It doesn’t have the wards,” Chloe pointed out.

“It has a spare angel.”

“Legally, we need to take Locke to my place. I’ll ask Linda if she and Duma can come with Charlie there.” Chloe put her hands behind both Trixie and Locke and nudged them toward Dan. “Now go. Be careful. Stay put.”

Trixie obeyed. For now. She could see how stressed out her mom was. Would Lucifer be back soon? What if he didn’t make it back before Michael…?

There’d just been so much blood.

She said nothing in the car. Just sat close to Locke and glanced at her every so often. Locke’s eyes were trained on the windows, scanning, hunting. When they arrived at the apartment, to their surprise, a tall, blond man was there waiting for them, waving cheerfully.

Their angel babysitter.

Trixie sighed. She wished Maze were here. She could track anyone. She’d find Joey in ten seconds flat.

* * *

Trust John Bloody Constantine to manage to rip a demon straight out of Hell. Trust him also to bring her in completely crazed.

Lucifer could hear Maze howling in the other room, screaming invectives and obscenities at John-o in Lilim, with not a word of English in the mix. She’d been down there so long. She wouldn’t’ve forgotten English, but Lucifer knew how easy it was to get out of practice with being in the human world. He’d been in Hell longer during his last stint, but he was an angel. No one had been actively torturing him.

Well, besides himself. Who better?

“Ol’ girl’s not pleased to be here,” John said, pulling out a cigarette. “Hasn’t stopped cursing us since we brought her into the trap. Might be better to just let ‘er go.”

“It’s the shock. That’s all.” Lucifer stared John down. “You’re sure the spell didn’t hurt her?”

“It’s not a pleasant ride, I’d wager.” John shrugged. “But being in Hell with a soul would be worse.”

“Let me talk to her, then.” Lucifer fussed with his cuffs and brushed off the front of his suit. “We’ll see what she wants, hm?”

John gestured to the other room. Behind him, Chaz seemed dubious about the whole prospect, but Lucifer knew it had to be done. The last he’d seen Maze, they’d fought, viscerally, and Lucifer had… He’d used his power on her and thrown her bodily into the pit.

“Getting’ a bit flushed, mate,” John said. He crossed his arms. “Never knew you to be such a bloody mood ring.”

Lucifer drew a breath in through his nose and then blew out slowly. Hopefully that kept the red at bay. “Apparently, these days, I am.”

He considered saying more, but a heavy rap on the door startled them. John’s brows shot up as he went to answer, only for him to let loose a heavy sigh.

“It’s your brutha.” John stepped back to let Amenadiel in.

“The barrier blocking our entrance to Hell has been broken somehow,” Amenadiel announced. “We should go now and get Maze… out…”

He turned his head toward the door on the far side of the room. “What on Earth?”

“Maze on Earth,” Lucifer said. “What busted the barrier open, do you think?”

“Something stronger than the current queen?” Amenadiel drifted toward the door. “Is she alright?”

Lucifer plastered a manic smile on his face. “Was just about to find out. Come along.”

With a deep breath, Lucifer followed John back into the side room.

“—rip your lungs out through your festering, undersized cock!” Maze shouted.

“Hullo, sweetheart!” John said cheerfully, rubbing his hands together. He couldn’t’ve understood the Lilim, but Maze’s tone was very clear.

Maze’s hands pressed hard into the magical energy barring her from leaving the circle. The left side of her face was peeled back, revealing her sneering musculature. Lucifer hadn’t seen her reveal her face like that in quite some time.

Before he could speak, Maze spotted him and recoiled into a defensive crouch. Lucifer flinched.

“Why is she still in there?” Amenadiel demanded.

“I’m a bit partial to my limbs where they are,” John said dryly.

Maze’s expression was guarded. She’d lowered her chin slightly as she looked between Lucifer and Amenadiel. Amenadiel knocked against Lucifer’s shoulder.

“We couldn’t get to you,” Lucifer spat out. He stared down at her… like an idiot. When her expression didn’t change at all, he took a tentative step forward. “I went back. Not straight away, but as good as. Time flows—Well, you know. Not soon enough, in any case. The barrier kept me out. It’s never happened before. Never thought I’d have to work so hard to get into Hell.”

The tip of Maze’s tongue snaked out over her lips.

“You went back,” she said quietly. In English.

Oh, here it comes. Lucifer braced himself.

But she said nothing else. Just kept starring at him.

“He did,” Amenadiel confirmed. “I went with him, after he told us what happened. He shouldn’t have done that to you, Maze. We’re all on your side.”

“Oh, thanks ever so,” Lucifer objected before he could stop himself. Never been good at groveling.

Maze tilted her head to the side curiously. “Who’s we?”

“Linda. Chloe,” Amenadiel said. “Michael was particularly furious.”

Lucifer frowned at him. When had Amenadiel been chatting with Michael about Maze? Before he could address Maze again, a gust of wind nearly knocked all of them over. And in its wake stood a furious, petite angel.

Gabriel.

“You two need to get back to L.A. immediately,” she ordered, her cloud of curly black hair bobbing as she looked between Amenadiel and Lucifer.

“What happened?” Amenadiel turned to her.

“What didn’t happen?” She huffed.

“There’s so many of them,” Chaz muttered to John.

“Right,” John murmured. “Where’re they when y’need ‘em, eh?”

Gabriel cupped her hands around her mouth like she was about to blow a horn, and Michael’s voice emerged, sounding weary and irritated: “Oh, eldest brother, oh Hand of God, oh merciful benefactor and drinker of hipster teas, please get your feathered ass home ASAP. There’s trouble of the most epic kind. Please.”

Her hands dropped.

“Now. Go now,” she said in her own voice.

“Don’t you dare leave me here!” Maze snapped.

“We’ve got nightmares, demons, ghosts, serial killers,” Gabriel said, ticking each off on her fingers. “Michael’s practically dead—"

Maze slammed her fist against the magic and glared at John. “Let me out, shortstack!”

John bristled slightly. “You gonna separate me from any of my tender bits? Possess me or mine?”

“Possession is out for Lilim. Let me the fuck out!”

“She’s more likely to maul Lucifer than you,” Amenadiel advised.

“I won’t.” She stepped back, the energy and impatience written along every muscle. “I can help.”

“Gabe,” Lucifer interrupted, “what happened to Michael?”

“Rae Rae was vague, but—”

“Rae Rae?! Our darling baby sis, the Angel of Death?”

“You really need to get there,” she said a bit more gently.

“Someone needs to keep Hell from falling back into Lilith’s hands,” Maze shouted. “She’s going to raise the First!”

That caught the attention of every angel in the room.

“Crap!” Gabriel spread her hands like she needed someone to choke. “Honestly, did Michael have to get himself so thoroughly merked by Dad, nightmares, and human assholes that I have to deal with all of this by myself?”

“You aren’t by yourself,” Amenadiel said. He sighed. “I’ll go back to Hell and help the Lilim with Lilith."

“Take me with you,” Maze practically ordered. “They’ll swarm you if they think the Silver City is trying to take over again.”

“The Silver City has always ruled Hell,” Lucifer said. He turned to her. “Midnite said you were with the Rising. Is that the Lilim? They’re fighting not just dear old mum, but for the throne?”

“We have a better claim than you think,” Maze said tensely.

“Whatever they’re doing, it’s better than having Uncle Theo loose,” Amenadiel said. “We can sort it out later. If Dad isn’t going to intervene, that means it’s up to us to deal with the guardianship of Hell.”

“Whoever’s running the Rising has already pissed off half the Silver City,” Gabriel muttered.

Maze chuckled. “Yeah.”

“Is it you?” Lucifer asked, trying not to sound too judgy… or approving.

“Hardly. I’m the general.”

“Right. Let her out, John-o. I owe you two, on that account.” He glanced at Amenadiel. “Take Maze and check in on Hell. We can suss all this stuff out later.”

“The Lilim can’t be in charge of Hell,” Gabriel objected.

John sighed and rubbed his hands together before dispelling the marks on the ground.

“We can and have been,” Maze snapped as she stepped forward.

“Yeah, and that’s the problem. The dead keep coming back.”

“We can suss all this stuff out later!” Lucifer boomed. He turned to Maze, grabbed her shoulders, and to her (and his) surprise, grabbed her to him in a tight embrace. “I’m an idiot. And you can hate me. But please come back with Amenadiel after, okay? Soon as you can.”

“I… I’ll try.” Her brow creased as he let her go, and Lucifer could read the warring loyalties there. “It’s hard. I need to be there. And I want to be here.”

Lucifer let out a soft laugh. “I know the feeling. Truly.”

Maze hesitated for another moment and then turned to leave again with Amenadiel.

“I’ll be right back. We just need to make sure everyone’s okay. Then, I’ll help you with the nightmares, and whatever.”

“Thank you,” Lucifer said with a nod.

Gabriel pulled on Lucifer’s sleeve, but just as he looked at her, Amenadiel disappeared.

“Right then. You’re gonna have to help give our friends here a lift to L.A.,” Lucifer announced.

“What?” Gabriel looked at Constantine and Chaz. “Not him. Please.”

“Hey, now,” John objected.

Chapter Text

“Fear defeats more people than any other one thing in the world.”

— Ralph Waldo Emerson

Getting a text asking you to meet someone at the hospital is never a good sign.

Ella had been behind the wheel the whole way, wondering who had landed themselves there, flipping through everyone she knew like a rolodex of doom. Chloe paced outside of the waiting area, muttering to herself.

“Hey!” Ella greeted her with a big hug and didn’t let go for a solid ten seconds.

“Thanks for coming. I thought I’d be okay waiting it out here on my own, but…” Chloe shook her head.

“What happened? Is Trixie okay? Dan? Lucifer?”

“No, no. They’re all fine. I’m just…” Chloe frowned. “It’s not my responsibility really, but I didn’t think he should be here without anyone actively looking out for him.” She hesitated. “It’s Michael. He’s been stabbed, and he’s lost a lot of blood.”

Ella blinked. The world seemed to tilt sideways for a second as she remembered Rae Rae’s vague warnings that there wasn’t much time left.

“He… Someone stabbed him? Why?” Ella stepped back. “Wait, was it you? I’d understand if it was. I mean after what the guy did to you—”

“No. God, no.” Chloe let out a huff of a laugh. “Not too long ago, I’d empty my clip into him, but it wasn’t me. It was someone dangerous. Michael was distracting the guy so he didn’t notice Trixie and Locke… Maybe that’s why I wanted to talk to you. You saw something in him that I didn’t want to see.” She perched her hands on her his and sighed. “Probably because he acts like such a dickhead most of the time.”

Ella covered her mouth, trying to process all of that. “And Trixie and Locke, now…?”

“They’re at my place with Linda and Duma and Charlie. The girls were so upset about Michael getting hurt. I didn’t want them spending hours in a waiting room, jumping every time a doctor came out.” Chloe folded her hands behind her head. “And Locke… That kid hasn’t had a safe place to land in such a long time. She tries too hard to do everything for herself. It’s too much for someone her age.”

She turned her head quickly and gestured for Ella to follow her. The two of them found their way into the waiting room where a doctor approached Chloe.

“Detective Decker?”

“What’s happened? Is he out of surgery?”

The middle aged man frowned. “We’ve done our best. He needs a transfusion, but we ran a blood typing test… Nothing seems to match. He might not make it through the night if we can’t find a donor.”

Ella felt her throat closing, her stomach turning into a knot of untanglable wires. She hadn’t had the time to sort out how she felt about what Michael had done, and who he’d been, and now he was going to die before…

“Thank you,” Chloe said quietly. “Can we see him?”

The doctor glanced at Ella.

“She works with the LAPD,” Chloe said. As though it made any sense for the lab monkey to go in on a case like this. But Chloe had that kind of seriousness that had people agreeing with her, just out of the sheer “cop-itude” she carried with her.

Ella followed Chloe down the hallway silently, her mind blank apart from a stray memory of Michael’s face as he’d sucked the fear out of her, or lied brazenly about some “nightmare” named the Corinthian who wore his jeans too tight, just to make her feel better.

How he’d been so blown away when she’d given him the cane.

People were complicated. Ella knew that. She’d spent her whole life seeing the good in people, from her screw up brothers to a man who called himself the devil on the regular. She just wished she’d had the time to sit and think it through and talk to Michael. How was this fair?

They entered the hospital room, which was as eerily bright and clinical as any of the others. But this one had Michael in the middle, as pale as a fresh sheet—apart from the smears of bruises under his eyes and around his neck. He had the pallor of a corpse, only less lively. No kidding, the man needed a blood transfusion. It had to be some kind of miracle that he’d survived long enough to make it to the hospital, where they’d promptly cut him open, stitched him back up, and shoved tubes up his nose.

“My god,” Ella muttered.

“He won’t help.” Chloe sighed and walked over to the bed. “You asshole. Don’t you dare die now.”

Ella looked up at her with wide eyes.

“Do you have any idea how messed up Lucifer is going to be if you die? Not to mention Trixie and Locke. You did this for them, so just…” Chloe glared at him. “Stay alive, you jerk.”

Ella bowed her head and breathed in and out deeply. To herself, and to the Big Guy, she begged for Michael to get a little more time. Just enough to find a donor. Just enough so she could talk to him again, and…

And what? Say she was sorry they’d fought? She wasn’t. He should’ve told her. Someone should have.

She opened her eyes. “Are you really not bothered by what he did to you?”

“He and I aren’t going to be swapping muffin recipes any time soon, but…” Chloe sat and folded her hands between her legs. “Honestly, as far as Lucifer’s siblings go, he’s not the worst one. He told me something I really needed to know, and I appreciate that. And…” She glanced at him, her brow furrowed in a momish look of annoyance. “He saved my daughter. He didn’t have to go after her. Dan and I were fighting, and Michael… he just took care of her.”

“Why were you fighting?” Ella sat beside her.

“Because Dan is an idiot. He did something… stupid. And dangerous. And illegal and immoral, and I don’t know if I can share custody with him if he’s going to be this stupid.” Chloe rubbed her brow. “It’s hard enough to be a mother to one child.”

Ella straightened up. That was quite the reaction. What could he have…? Oh.

Dammit. There went her moral high ground for keeping everyone in the know.

“Tiernan?” Ella peeped.

Chloe eyed Ella and pressed her lips together. “Are you serious? You knew?”

“I wanted to give Dan another shot. He’d been struggling since Charlotte—”

“He nearly killed our daughter! And he lied to me about it!”

Ella snapped her mouth shut.

“We suck at this.” Chloe turned her gaze back to Michael.

“Well, that’s all the secrets I got. Do you have any others you wanna share?” Ella joked.

Chloe’s lips twisted. Uh oh.

“Not ones that are mine to tell. But… I’ll push harder to get you in on this. It’s not fair for you not to know.”

Ella hesitated. “The secret isn’t um, any of our friends being actual murderers, is it?”

“No.”

Ella let her shoulders sag back.

“Go ahead and be mad,” Chloe advised. “Be pissed at him for not telling you. Be pissed at me. The way this went down was just… Messy. Even if I thought he wouldn’t hurt you, and… I don’t. Even then, we should’ve talked to you about it. I know that better than most. I’m really sorry.”

“Are you gonna be pissed at me about Tiernan? You should.”

Chloe worried her lip between her teeth for a moment. “No. But… this is a real problem for Dan and me.”

“Makes sense.” Ella reached over and trailed her fingers over Michael’s shoulder. He was so, so damn still.

“I swear, if you two had started dating, I would’ve sat you down and tried to explain some of it,” Chloe said.

“We wouldn’t have. I don’t mean, like, ‘how could anyone want him,’ or it was a last man on Earth situation. We got on really well. Just… Not any time soon, you know?” Ella shrugged.

“Because of Pete?” Chloe watched her with a gentle compassion.

“Well, yeah. And because of Lily.”

Chloe’s brows shot up. “Lily?”

“Michael’s ex?” Ella raised a brow. “Y’know… She just died, and I get the impression she was… Wow. Toxic relationship rollercoaster.”

Chloe blinked slowly. “Michael had… an ex??”

“Yeah.”

“Michael,” Chloe repeated, as if to be sure. “Bitter black coffee, kitty cane user, sounds like he spent a couple of hundred years in New York just to be in the land of the sarcastic assholes Micheal?”

“Yep. And she sounds like she was a total narcissist. Not that he said too much, but when he was listening to me about Pete, I could sometimes get him to let out a few bits about their relationship.” Ella sucked in her lips and drew in a breath through her nose. “He had this thing—Has this thing. He has this thing because he’s totally still alive… where he felt like he could’ve stopped her from dying. I don’t know how or why. I don’t even know why he’d want to be with her when he described her as more self-involved than Lucifer and cold as a bare nipple on the East Antarctic Plateau.”

Chloe covered her mouth. “That... wow.”

“Uh huh. I know.” Ella shook her head. “Michael and me. Broken pickers.”

Chloe reached over and squeezed Ella’s shoulder. Ella let out a shaky breath. She drew closer to Michael and clasped his cold hand.

“Wake up, dum-dum. You got more crazy lies to tell me. I know you do.”

* * *

It had been the longest 24 hours of Trixie’s life. It had been longer than that for Locke. And still, neither of them could sleep. Linda had encouraged them to settle down in the bedroom, but Trixie had been lying there for what seemed like forever, staring at the ceiling.

It was weird for a girl her age to have fake stars on her ceiling, right? She should have a more grown up room. It was dumb to have stuffed animals around when there were legit demons and nightmares and murderers everywhere.

“I don’t know why I couldn’t heal Michael,” Locke said out of the blue.

“It’s probably not you. He didn’t heal that scar on his face. And I think that happened before he lost his powers. It must have because Mom thought he was Lucifer at first, so he’d have to look like him.”

“A scar like that could’ve been made with a demonic or celestial blade.” Locke drew in a breath. “Is that why… you know. The problem with his shoulders? He changed, but he always shifted back to that.”

“Maybe. Someone stronger than him? I don’t know a lot about Michael.”

Locke shifted over onto her side, so she could look at Trixie. “Where I was before, you never saw the archangel just loafing around. He was supposedly, like, in charge of Heaven, mostly. And he was the one who cast Lucifer into Hell personally. Maybe Lucifer caused it when Michael did that.”

“I don’t think so. Amenadiel seemed to be the one in charge of keeping Lucifer in line.”

“I don’t remember hearing about an Amenadiel.” Locke looked back toward the door. “Are you hungry?”

“Yeah. I haven’t thought about it, but… I didn’t eat dinner. When was the last time you ate?”

Locke pinched her lips to the side. “I dunno. A taco yesterday, maybe? Does your mom have food in the house?”

“Yes!” Trixie hopped up and went to peer through the crack in her door. “Linda’s just watching TV.”

Locke got up and came to hover behind Trixie. “Are you sure it’s okay to get something?”

“It’s my house.” Trixie gave her a look, but Locke, she-who-kicked-nightmare-ass, seemed genuinely uncertain about her right to walk up to the refrigerator. “C’mon.”

Leading the way, Trixie gave Linda a wave when she turned toward them.

“How are you girls doing?” Linda rose and followed them. “Intense night for you.”

Locke shrugged and looked at her hands. “I guess.”

Trixie opened up the fridge and started to pull out some cheese and eggs.

“Oh! I should’ve asked if you’d eaten,” Linda said.

“It’s okay.” Trixie started to crack the eggs into a bowl. “Is Charlie down for the night?”

Linda nodded. “He’s sleeping in Maze’s room.”

The small woman came closer and tilted her head to the side. “Things must’ve gotten pretty scary. Chloe said they’re starting to look into what’s going on at that hotel… there may be multiple serial killers there.”

“There’s all serial killers,” Locke said flatly. “Their souls are all smeared and messy.”

“Their… souls?” Linda’s voice shot up even as she kept her face somewhat neutral.

Locke nodded and watched Trixie pour the eggs into a pan. “Yeah. They looked gross.”

“I should’ve come back,” Trixie muttered, sprinkling some salt over the eggs. “Michael wouldn’t be in the hospital if I’d just gone back.”