Chapter Text
“Let me ask you something, love.” Lucifer Morningstar’s lips inched upwards into the smile that lured hundreds into revealing their innermost secrets and desires to him. And hundreds more into giving into temptation. “What do you desire?”
The woman seated across from him, however, wasn’t susceptible to his charm.
If anything, she seemed… immune to it.
Lucifer might’ve found it galling if not for the fact he had been lamenting to Mazikeen about how dull and tedious his life had become these last few weeks.
He needed a challenge.
Hungered for something fresh and exciting to tempt him for a change.
The woman seated across from him fit those requirements quite nicely in his opinion.
When Miss Kean initially approached him, he thought her manner of dress rather on the conservative side.
More Marian the Librarian than Hot for Teacher.
Her simple black slacks and mint green peasant blouse suited her, though.
As did the waterfall of robins and bats dangling from her ears.
Something about those tiny silver pendants tickled at his brain, but Lucifer was far too fascinated by her to figure out what it was.
She had contained her wildly curling mass of dark hair on top of her head. A pair of bo-shuriken Mazikeen would be envious of kept the majority of the springy curls in place. Tendrils, however, escaped to bounce along the column of her throat and dance across her intriguingly bare shoulders.
In her perfectly imperfect face, Lucifer found kindness and compassion.
In her mind, a keen intellect with a sharp wit.
It was her eyes, though which held him rapt. A sea of secrets swirled in those catlike depths.
Mingled with a sadness and pain that tugged at a heart he had not thought he possessed.
He wanted to dive into those eyes.
Lose himself in those mysteries.
Unravel the puzzle that was Raya Kean.
“What do I desire?”
The smokiness of her voice, the sultry silkiness of it wound its way into Lucifer’s belly.
Spread heat and ribbons of keen-edged longing through him.
The details of her, from the simple amethyst and aquamarine ring she wore on her left ring finger, the haunting scent that surrounded her, etched themselves into his mind. Lucifer tried to read hers but found the language a foreign, but incredibly fascinating one.
“Yes, love.” Lucifer dropped his voice to a low, seductive purr. “What do you desire?”
A small, sad smile curved her lips. “My younger brother, Jason, back from the dead.”
Of all the things he hoped she’d desire, wanting her younger brother back from the dead wasn’t one of them.
“Your brother is in Hell?”
“I don’t actually know where Jason is.” Her fingers curved around the stem of the wine glass untouched before her. “That’s why I came to you. I was hoping we could strike a deal.”
“Your brother for…?”
“Something I think you will want returned to you once you find it has been stolen.”
“And what might that be?”
An iPhone was slid across the table to him. “These.”
Curious, Lucifer picked up the smartphone. An image of a glass cabinet situated prominently in a large room full of other such display cases splashed across the screen.
Gold hinges gleamed under the warm glow cast by the overhead light fixtures.
Inside the cabinet?
A pair of white wings.
His wings, he realized, belly clenching.
Which should be safely secured in the storage locker he and Maze placed them in after their removal.
Wings that were obviously not there now.
Cold fury burned beneath his skin.
Pulsed in his heart.
He tamped down his devilish side and stared at Miss Kean through narrowed eyes.
“How did you get these?”
“I don’t have them, actually.”
“Who does?”
They wouldn’t have them or their lives for long.
“The wings were put up for auction by an unknown seller three days ago. However…” She reached across the table to swipe one finger across the screen. Despite his fury, he couldn’t help but notice how she had small hands with quick, clever fingers. Ones he’d love to feel skimming along his skin as they did the phone screen. “I happen to know that the man who put them up for auction is one who works for the Gotham Museum of Antiquities as an acquirer.”
Lucifer stared at the dark-skinned man with scars running down one side of his face.
Committed his face to memory.
“What is the bastard’s name?”
“Moses Ridley.”
Lucifer filed that information away, as well.
“Thank you for bringing this to my attention.” He slid the phone back to her. “The situation shall be properly handled.”
He’d see to it personally, in fact.
“They’re expecting you or someone close to you to show up at the auction. They’ve put safeguards in place to keep angels and demons away.”
“Safeguards?” Lucifer’s brow furrowed. “What sort of bloody safeguards can keep the devil out?”
“I’m not exactly sure what they’re using.” Miss Kean palmed the phone. “I asked someone more familiar with such things to see if they can figure out what they’re using and if we can get around them. They haven’t contacted me back yet.”
“How do you propose I get my wings back then?”
“I have a way of obtaining them that will guarantee their return. Hopefully without my mentor getting involved.”
“And who is your mentor, love?”
“Haven’t you figured it out yet?” An impish smile teased out dimples. “It’s Batman.”
Lucifer reared back as if she slapped him. While he had never had any personal dealings with Gotham’s grim hero, he was fully aware of who Batman was.
What a formidable opponent he could be.
“You’re one of Batman’s protégés?”
“I was.”
“Was?” An eyebrow arched. “You’re not his protégé now?”
“No.” The bats and robins at her ears jingled merrily as she shook her head. “He fired me after Jason was murdered.”
“Murdered?” Lucifer’s brow furrowed. “By who?”
A shadow passed across her face.
Anger and hate.
Two emotions he had more than a passing familiarity with.
“A pasty-faced freak called the Joker.” A muscle ticked in Miss Kean’s jaw. Was Lucifer’s only clue as to how tight a rein she was keeping over her emotions. Something he was sure had been learned at the knee of the Dark Knight. “Who did it just to push Batman into breaking his one golden rule.”
Not to murder.
Because Batman’s philosophy was that murdering a murderer did not alter the number of murderers.
It only made him one.
Something he vowed never to become.
Lucifer had seen the reports out of Gotham, though.
The increased risks Batman had been taking the past year and a half.
Hunting criminals during the daytime.
Using increasingly lethal means.
Refusing help from any of his associates.
Which wasn’t as much of a rarity. The man made it abundantly clear he preferred working alone.
Even he could see Batman was pushing himself closer and closer to the point of no return.
Realization for why Miss Kean had truly sought him out dawned on Lucifer.
“You don’t want to make a deal to bring your brother back from the dead.” His eyes met hers. “You want to save Batman’s soul in case he ends up getting himself killed.”
“Isn’t saving the soul of the man who took you in, raised you, and trained you a good enough reason to make a deal with the devil?”
“I rebelled against my father, love.”
“Yes, you did.” Miss Kean slid the phone into her pocket. “But you didn’t do it because you don’t love him. You were angry with him. Hurt even. And like we all tend to do, you lashed out at him.”
“And was exiled for it.”
“Yes, exiling is what fathers like ours do when they have had enough of our bullshit.” She stood. “It’s their version of sending us to our rooms to think about what we did.”
“Batman exiled you?”
“Right after he fired me and my partner.”
The first Robin who now served the city of Blüdhaven as Nightwing.
Making her brother Jason the second one to wear the mantle of Robin.
The boy murdered by a psychopathic clown for the sheer fun of it.
Something Lucifer found especially loathsome.
Fighting Batman was one thing. He was a grown man and could choose to engage the Joker in a fight.
Killing a child?
Well, now that earned a special place in Hell.
Miss Kean set something on the table in front of him. “You can reach me at this number if you decide you want to make the deal.”
She left Lucifer alone with his thoughts and a bunch of thoughts and emotions he bloody well thought he rid himself of centuries ago.
…
“So.” Mazikeen sidled up to the bar as Lucifer poured a liberal amount of whiskey from the bottle he snatched from the back wall into a glass. “I’m guessing little Miss Prim and Proper wasn’t the sort of temptation you were looking for?”
“Oh, she tempted me, Maze.” In more ways than one. “I find myself quite intrigued by Miss Kean, actually.”
“Then why are you down here alone instead of upstairs doing the mattress mambo?”
“Because I do not wish to have an angry father knocking down my door.”
Especially when that father was the Dark Knight.
A man Lucifer never had the pleasure or misfortune of meeting face-to-face.
It wasn’t that he was worried about a confrontation between the two of them.
Nor was he overly arsed over potentially finding himself in a fight with the man.
A good fight he didn’t mind.
He quite enjoyed getting into a slugfest every now and again, in fact.
While Batman would not be the most formidable opponent he ever faced — he had fought his own brothers and sisters, after all — he still preferred not to get into a round of fisticuffs with a man who routinely got into fights with beings possessing immortal strength, magical powers, and weapons that could hurt even him.
“When has an angry father, husband or brother ever stopped you before?” Maze cocked an eyebrow. “Were you not the one who led Eve into temptation?”
“Eve wanted to be led into temptation.” Lucifer took a swallow of whiskey before adding, “She was sick of that milksop, Adam, and wanted out of the Garden.”
A place that was far from Eden in his opinion.
More like a jungle prison than paradise.
“You rebelled against Heaven.”
“That was different.”
“Different? How?”
“Dear ole Dad wasn’t looking to smite me because I shagged his daughter.” Beastiality and incest not being two of his incredibly long line of vices. “Miss Kean’s father would thrash me soundly before flinging me back into Hell.”
The last place Lucifer wanted to end up since he just managed to escape.
“Who is her father?”
“Batman.”
“Batman?” Mazikeen grabbed the bottle Lucifer set aside and poured two fingers-full of the amber liquid into a glass. “As in the Dark Knight?”
“One and the same.” Lucifer slanted a look at her. “Which is why I did not pursue anything with Miss Kean.”
Not tonight, anyway.
He could change his mind still.
He was the bloody devil, after all.
“He’s a mortal.” Maze picked up her glass but didn’t take a drink. “He wouldn’t stand a chance against you.”
“I’m well aware he’s mortal, Maze.” He wasn’t obtuse, after all. “I still prefer to avoid engaging in a fight with the man.”
For now, anyway.
He reserved the right to change his mind.
Privilege again of being the devil and all.
“Batman doesn’t stand a chance against you.” A gleam shot through her dark eyes. “Or me.”
A showdown between the Dark Knight and Maze could be interesting.
However, he felt compelled to point out one fact to her that she had seemingly forgotten.
“Batman is who ultimately defeated Darkseid.”
Something not even Superman with his own godlike strength and abilities had been capable of.
“So?” Maze drained the whiskey in her glass in one swallow. “He got lucky is all.”
“Luck wasn’t involved when Batman escaped from the Omega Sanction,” Lucifer pointed out as he refilled his glass. “He did that all on his own.”
A feat only one other, a man named Shilo Norman, could lay claim to accomplishing.
Norman had help, however.
Batman escaped using his own intellect and skill.
Making him quite extraordinary to Lucifer’s way of thinking.
And more than a bit dangerous.
“You’re the devil.”
“Yes, and Darkseid is one of the most powerful beings in existence.” Something Lucifer was sure pissed off dear ole Dad to no end. “He nearly destroyed this planet.”
Something which might’ve happened were it not for Batman and the other heroes of Earth.
That God hadn’t interceded when it became obvious what the self-proclaimed new God planned wasn’t much of a shock to Lucifer.
It wasn’t as if he intervened in any of the other times this planet faced extinction.
Either from its inhabitants or some other catastrophic threat.
His father’s hands off approach to everything was one of the many issues between them.
Not that dear ole Dad cares.
“So, you won’t tempt the schoolmarm into a weekend of carnal delights because you don’t want Batman coming here?”
“I’d prefer he bloody well stay in Gotham, yes.” Lucifer drained his glass and set it on the bar. “As for Miss Kean… I haven’t decided if I’m going to accept her deal or not.”
“Deal?” Maze’s brow crinkled. “What deal?”
“Batman’s immortal soul in exchange for the return of something stolen from me.”
“What?”
“My wings.”
Surprise raced across Maze’s face. “Your wings?”
“Yes, my wings.”
“No, that’s impossible.” Maze poured another shot of whiskey. “They’re in that storage unit. We put them there ourselves.”
“Well, someone found the bloody damn things and is auctioning them off.”
If that revelation shocked Maze, she didn’t let it show on her face. If anything, she seemed… amused.
“And Marian the Librarian offered to get them back for you.”
“She did, yes.” How exactly she planned to get his wings back, Lucifer didn’t know. “I only have to make a deal with her and she will get my wings back for me.”
“She made you feel sympathy for her.” Maze’s lips twisted into a smirk. Grating on Lucifer’s already taut nerves. “That’s why you didn’t lead her down the path of temptation. You actually feel sympathy for Miss Prim and Proper.“
Lucifer offered no reply.
There was no need to make one really.
Because Maze was right.
He did feel sympathy for Miss Kean.
She lost her brother to a maniacal madman seeking to break the man who was not only her mentor, but her father, as well.
All she wanted was him back.
Both of them, he realized as he made his way to his private elevator.
Lucifer could sympathize with that. Despite the contentious relationship he had with his brothers and sisters, he did miss them.
I’d bloody well punish whoever murdered them.
Not Raya Kean, though.
No, she chose to make a deal with the devil to save her family rather than punish the man responsible.
Because she lived by Batman’s golden rule that said killing a killer didn’t change the number of killers in the world.
He, on the other hand, was under no such obligation.
He was the devil, after all.
Worst dear ole Dad will do is send me back to Hell.
As if he’d stay there.
…
Should I become the hunter or allow myself the privilege of being the hunted?
That question rolled through Lucifer’s mind as he exited the elevator and crossed over to the piano situated in the middle of his entertainment room.
The idea of him being the one pursued was rather an intriguing one.
Stimulating even.
Lucifer freely admitted he never lacked in the way of bed companions. Any time of day or night he could drum up someone — or multiple someones if it struck his fancy — to occupy himself with. His orgies were legendary. Even by modern standards.
He was the one who sought out whoever struck his fancy, though.
He was the purveyor of temptation, after all.
Privilege of being the devil and all.
The delectable Miss Kean hadn’t approached him with the intention of being tempted by him.
Nor had she approached him with the intention of tempting him.
Not carnally, anyway, Lucifer amended as his fingers skimmed the piano’s ivory keys. She did approach me with the intention of tempting me into striking a deal with her.
Not unusual.
Most of those who approached him were seeking to do the same thing. The majority of the deals made with him were for purely selfish reasons: a part in a movie, careers in the fashion or music industry.
Raya Kean?
Simply wanted her brother back from the dead.
And to save the soul of the man who was as much a father to her as mentor.
Lucifer found that quite admirable. Especially given the rather contentious relationship between her and the Dark Knight. Complicated familial relationships were something he had more than a passing familiarity with. He had been at odds with his brothers and sisters for centuries.
Were the situations reversed and he in the position she was in he…
Would do exactly what she’s doing.
The realization he, too, would do whatever it took to save dear ole Dad shook Lucifer to the core of his devilish being. He rebelled against his father because he was sick and tired of being ignored by him.
“You didn’t do it because you do not love him,” Miss Kean said about his rebellion. “You were angry with him. Hurt even. And like we tend to do, you lashed out at him.”
Landing him in Hell until he had enough and retired here to Los Angeles.
Not that dear ole Dad cared.
Surprise turned to fury, a raging flood of anger Lucifer decided to drown in copious amounts of alcohol and solitude. The feathery snap of wings put an end to those plans. Someone uninvited — and he had a good idea who — had invaded his loft.
“If you’re here to lecture me about returning to Hell,” Lucifer said as he walked over to the bar to pour himself the first of many drinks. “The twelfth of never hasn’t come and never-gonna-happen is still a long way off.”
“That’s not why I’m here, Lucifer.”
“No?” Lucifer looked over one shoulder at Amenadiel. “Well, I must assume there’s some other extremely important reason for why you’re here then.”
“There’s whispers of a cabal trying to summon the Bat-God, Barbatos here to destroy this universe.”
“Is that so?” Lucifer poured a generous amount of bourbon into a tumbler. “And why exactly do they want to destroy this universe?”
“They believe it has become corrupted.”
“Lemme guess.” Lucifer drained the glass in one long swallow before pouring another that he carried with him to his piano. “I’m the reason why they believe this universe has become corrupted.”
“What exactly did you think would happen after you left Hell?” A statement Amenadiel made just a few days ago outside Lux. “All those demons, those tormented and tortured souls, what did you think they’d do without you there to control them?”
“I told you I don’t know and don’t care.”
It wasn’t a total lie.
He didn’t know what’d happen if he abdicated his throne. Where those souls and demons would go, what’d they do without him to keep order never crossed his mind. It’s not as if dear ole Dad gave me a rule book or explained what’d happen if I left after he tossed me down there.
He did care, however.
If those demons or souls came here, he’d have to deal with them.
And I just can’t be arsed really.
“You walking free comes with consequences, Lucifer.”
“My walking free has nothing to do with this cabal or their plan to destroy the universe.” Lucifer had a sneaky feeling he was wrong about that. Not that he’d admit as much to Amenadiel. His brother was enough of a self-righteous prig as it was. “Anyway, Barbatos was repelled from the multiverse during the events of the Crisis so there’s little point in worrying about something that has as much chance of happening as my returning to Hell.”
“Barbatos might have been repelled,” Amenadiel said. “But he has not been destroyed.” He took a step towards Lucifer. “You know the prophecy says that the first seal is broken when a dark hero is sent backwards in time.”
“Yes, yes, where he will meet the destroyer of the multiverses, who will turn him into a portal he can use to enter the universe of the dark… bloody hell,” Lucifer whispered as realization dawned. “Batman is the dark hero.”
“Yes.” Amenadiel’s expression was as grave as his tone. “He broke the seal after being sent back in time by Darkseid.”
Where he clearly met the Bat-God.
The other reason why the lovely Miss Kean approached him and offered to help him get back his wings became clear.
It wasn’t solely about bringing her brother back from the dead or saving her father’s immortal soul.
No, Raya Kean was looking to stop the destruction of the universe by having him go back to the point in time where Batman encountered Barbatos and stop it from happening.
For him to travel between dimensions, however, he needed his bloody wings.
Something she clearly figured out before approaching him.
Making him the hunted instead of the hunter.
A fact which stimulated Lucifer almost as much as it annoyed him.
Few dared to manipulate him.
He was the bloody devil, after all.
Of all those who tried to trick him, only one managed to succeed: John Constantine.
A man with an extensive knowledge of the supernatural who was also proficient with magical spells, incantations, runes and the like.
He was also a master manipulator and con artist.
Exactly the sort of bloke a woman wanting to tempt the devil into helping her prevent the destruction of the universe would seek out for help and guidance.
Well, well, Miss Kean, Lucifer mused as he drained the bourbon in his glass. Seems I’m going to use the card you left me, after all.
“Lucifer?”
“I shall handle the matter.” He took a seat at the piano. Let his fingers wander over the ivory keys. Imagined them wandering over the pale skin of the woman who wanted to make a deal with him. “If that is all you came here for, you can leave the same way you came in.”
The snap of wings was all he needed to know he was alone.
Not for long, however.
A wolffish leer curved Lucifer’s lips as he started to play Hungry Like the Wolf.
The hunted was now the hunter.
…
Lucifer watched as the delectable Miss Kean wandered around his living room late the next afternoon. She moved with the fluidity and grace of a dancer. Which, he discovered after doing a little investigating of his own prior to phoning her, she was.
A prima ballerina in the Gotham Metropolitan Ballet for the past three years.
He found it suited her.
As did the simple cotton dress she wore. The fabric rippled with her every move, making Lucifer think of water cascading down a cliff into a shimmery blue lagoon.
The sandals adorning her feet also drew his attention.
They were hardly more than a series of leather straps and long, thin spikes, really.
Yet they made his mouth water, and his fingers positively itch to skim up her legs.
And everywhere else for that matter.
There was no denying he found Miss Kean an extremely appealing temptation. Any other time, any other woman, and he’d happily charm her. However, there was still the matter of her attempting to trick him into saving this wretched world to resolve before he would begin to consider wooing her.
Batman notwithstanding.
“So, this is where the devil lives,” she said in a silky-smooth voice that shivered along his nerves. “I must say I find myself a tad surprised.”
“And why’s that, love?”
Those gently sloping shoulders lifted into a faint shrug as she paused in front of the doors leading out to his balcony. “I was expecting something a bit more… devilish.”
Lucifer glanced around his loft with one brow arched. “And this is not devilish enough for you?”
“Actually, it’s quite normal to me.” Those hypnotic eyes met his over one shoulder. Burned with a titillating mixture of mischief and amusement. Lucifer found himself wondering if she wasn’t an imp sent by dear ole Dad to torment and tease him. “It’s exactly what I’d expect for a bachelor pad.”
“Do you visit many bachelors in their lofts?”
“I grew up with a bachelor.” She moved then to his piano, traced those quick, clever fingers over the keys. “And yes, Bruce’s apartments all tend to look much like yours.”
“Do you play, love?”
Part of Lucifer hoped she did.
Another part prayed she didn’t.
His senses were already on overload.
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I do.” Damning Lucifer. “Ballet and piano were deemed essential by my sperm donor for someone of my class and standing.”
Lucifer had read about her father, Matthew Berkeley Jr. while researching her. A douchebag if there ever was one. If he still ruled Hell, he’d send Maze to personally torture the bastard for the atrocities he committed against her.
“Why did you continue your lessons after you started living with your mentor?”
“Because Bruce encouraged me too.” Her lips curved as she tapped out the beginning of Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star. A child’s song. One Lucifer imagined she played quite a lot when younger. “His mother played piano. She taught him and he, in turn, taught me. Though, I am a far better player than he is.”
“So, you play for him.”
And dance, too, he suspected. The more time he spent with Miss Kean, the more Lucifer came to understand why she approached him for a deal.
She was a daughter who loved the man she chose as her father.
A father she’d do whatever to save despite how deeply he hurt her following the murder of her brother.
“I did.” Miss Kean stepped away from the piano with a sigh. “Once upon a time.”
“That is the start of many fairytales.”
Most of which did not have the happily ever afters of the Disney movies.
“There are days where it seems like that part of my life was a fairytale,” she admitted as she joined him at the bar. “And then there are others where it seems like it was part of a never ending nightmare.”
Lucifer poured a glass of wine and handed it to her. “No family is eternally happy, love.”
“We had our fights and problems like every family.” She accepted the wine with a nod. “We were happy, though. In our own way. Then it all came crashing down because of a man with a bone-white face who wanted to kill a boy just to push a man into becoming just like him: a killer.”
Lucifer could understand her bitterness. Just because he was at odds with his family did not mean he didn’t love them.
He did.
He also would feel the same helpless rage and burning hate if someone callously murdered one of his brothers or sisters as hers had been.
Only, he would seek out and punish the one responsible for their death.
In this life and the afterlife.
Miss Kean was bound by the same tenet as her grim mentor.
Lucifer might find it an antiquated rule but he could respect them for holding to it.
“Fancy telling me how you’re going to get my wings back?”
“Well, the easy way would be to buy them in the auction. I have an invitation, after all.” Her eyes twinkled merrily. “But seeing as I know they won’t have your actual wings at the auction, I’m going to have them stolen by the best cat burglar I know while the auction takes place.”
Lucifer found himself taken by surprise. Of all the ways he imagined her getting his wings back, having them stolen by a thief hasn’t been one of them.
“Well, love, you’re full of surprises.”
“I was taught to fight smarter,” she said with a small, mischievous smile, “not harder.”
“And once I have my bloody wings back…” Lucifer reached for the whiskey he poured himself as she wandered his loft. “Am I to use them to go back in time to prevent Batman from meeting Barbatos and becoming a portal the Bat-God can use to enter this verse and destroy it?”
If he thought revealing his knowledge about her ultimate goal would catch Miss Kean by surprise, he’d find himself sorely disappointed. Outside of an eyebrow arching, nothing showed on her perfectly imperfect face but glacier calm.
“So, Constantine’s right.” Her eyes sharpened. Became greener. Predatory. Much like that of his Hell-Cat, Brim. “The Court of Owls are not merely a nursery rhyme parents tell their children but an actual cabal seeking to bring the Bat-God here to fulfill some ancient prophecy.”
“You were not aware of their existence?”
“The Court of Owls are considered a Gotham myth,” she said. “Nobody has ever seen them and so could not prove their actual existence. Until now.”
When he bloody confirmed their existence for her.
“You did not come here with the intent to trick me into going back to when Batman encountered Barbatos and preventing it then?”
“No.” Miss Kean lifted her wine glass and took a small sip before continuing. “I came here with the exact purpose of striking a deal with you: Jason and Batman’s soul for the return of your wings. Wings,” she added as she set the glass gently on the bar, “that in the wrong hands could make life difficult for everyone. Even you.”
Sneaky little imp, rolled through Lucifer’s mind as he stared into those fathomless eyes. She has succeeded at tempting me.
Just not in the way he’d prefer.
Or particularly enjoy.
…
Lucifer chose to retire to Los Angeles because of the city’s vibrancy, sea of sinfully wicked characters, and the wide array of entertainment it offered someone with his particularly varied tastes. Gotham, he found, possessed many of those same characteristics as Los Angeles. It was, after all, as uniquely diverse a city.
Much like the city of angels, it, too was built on a Hellmouth.
Gotham is a living, breathing entity, Lucifer realized as Miss Kean drove them through the city the next evening. It has a heartbeat. A soul.
The noxious green vapors pouring out of the industrial plants into the city’s waters was its breath.
Every brick, cobblestone, slab of concrete, rock, and stone was soaked in its blood.
That dark, malevolent energy was largely the reason for the city’s constant destruction. It poisoned the unsuspecting, warped the minds of the afflicted, and broke those who fought its influence.
Every day-week-month in this city was another trauma.
Every second-minute-hour another nightmare.
With scoundrels like Black Mask, Mad Hatter, Bane, and Killer Croc roaming the streets there was every reason for the people of Gotham to live in fear. There’s little they can do to stop these bastards, Lucifer realized as he stared at the city from the passenger seat. Beyond trusting in the grim hero who chooses to serve and protect their city.
“The auction is set to begin in ten minutes,” Miss Kean said as she drove across the Robert Kane Memorial Bridge. “Catwoman is already inside the vault where your wings are being kept and is working to procure them as we speak. Once she has your wings and makes her getaway, my uncle is going to storm the auction and arrest everyone there.” Her lips curved into a small, smug smile. “If you approach Moses Ridley at the GCPD and teach him a lesson is up to you.”
“You are a delightfully wicked little imp, love.”
“Ironic you say that.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because Bruce used to call me imp.” Lucifer spied a spotlight shining a bat high up into the night sky. Miss Kean spotted it, too, and breathed out a distinctly unladylike curse. “That’s the spotlight atop the GCPD building in Burnley.”
“Calling for Batman?”
“No.” In a move that surprised Lucifer, she flipped the car around and started heading back in the direction they’d come. “Only I use that spotlight,” she explained as she weaved in-and-out of traffic. “So whoever turned it on isn’t calling Batman.”
“Who are they calling then?”
“Me.” Miss Kean’s expression was as grim as her tone. “They’re calling me.”
“You?” One dark brow arched. “Why would they be calling you and not Batman?”
And who could it be requesting her attention in this fashion?
“I don’t know.”
She’s going to find out, though, he realized as she took an exit marked Burnley. We both are.
Lucifer wondered if Miss Kean’s grim hero had also seen the signal and would decide to investigate. While he freely admitted he had no desire to get into a knockdown brawl with the Dark Knight, he acknowledged he was deeply curious about the man.
They pulled up outside an old police building a few minutes later. Traffic, Lucifer noticed as he stepped from the vehicle was non-existent. The roads here were mostly one-way, the cobblestone streets too narrow to allow cars to safely travel in both directions.
Not that it would matter, he realized, nose curling as the stench of the streets assaulted him. A cavalcade of abandoned vehicles, broken glass, garbage cans with busted boards burning inside them, crack pipes and other debris littering the streets made them largely impassable.
He spotted a huge ferris wheel across the way, its twinkling lights in stark contrast to the grimness of the rest of the area. Gotham was no different from Los Angeles in that it had its seedy elements. Homeless dwelled under bridges and beneath overpasses. Gangs, drug dealers, and prostitutes loitered on corners and in alleyways. Graffiti stained the sides of buildings, boards covered up broken windows, and thick steel bars shielded doors.
Lucifer followed Miss Kean towards the front entrance but stopped when he spied something — a body, he realized — hanging from a chainlink fence leading to what he assumed was the precinct’s underground parking garage.
Blood and bruises had turned the man’s face into a gruesome mask. One eye was completely swollen shut while the other dangled from its socket by a thin bloody membrane.
Death was easy for Lucifer to ascertain.
Nobody could survive a beating like this.
Though the man certainly tried based on the defensive wounds on his hands and fingers.
The man fought and hard but was simply no match for whoever attacked him.
Most disturbing to Lucifer, however, were the words carved into the mottled flesh of the man’s chest and abdominal region.
Twinkle, twinkle, my darling brat
Look what your Uncle J did to this dirty rat!!
Killing Robin was my fondest wish
But he’s got more lives than a catfish!
His being alive just won’t do
Guess I’ll just have to put on Act two!
Flutter along now little dove
And call that Big Guy we both so love!
Anger and revulsion swirled through Lucifer as he not only realized who the man’s murderer was but who the little ditty was meant for. He turned, mouth open to demand the whereabouts of the Joker but the words died when he saw the blood had drained from Miss Kean’s perfectly imperfect face. Alarm and concern joined the flood of fury and righteous indignation coursing through him.
“Love?” The eyes she lifted to his were huge as saucers, red-rimmed, and haunted. “Do you know who this man is?”
“It’s her husband, Ethan.”
The voice came from behind him. A fact which rankled but given the proclivity of the man for stealth, wasn’t a surprise. Lucifer turned his head, expecting to find himself staring into the cowled countenance of Batman, but discovered it was not the Dark Knight standing there.
No, another of Gotham’s silent heroes came to investigate, instead.
Nightwing’s suit was less elaborate than Batman’s. For one, he wore no cape and cowl like his mentor. His streamlined black unitard was tailored to compliment his more acrobatic fighting style. The blue-winged insignia across his chest declared his independence from the Dark Knight but also his affiliation with him. His black half-mask resembled the one he had once worn as Robin. The former Boy Wonder had grown into a man and crime fighter in his own right, though, serving both Gotham and its evil twin city of Blüdhaven.
“Her husband?” How had he not discovered that little tidbit during his research? “You are sure it is him?”
”I’m positive.” Nightwing moved to Miss Kean. “He went missing twenty-four hours ago. Gordon thought he was simply following a lead on a case he was working.”
A case clearly involving the man who killed him. “Why ?”
“Because he thinks we played a prank on him.” Tears welled but not did not fall. A testament to Miss Kean’s strength and the training she received. From both her dark mentor and this city. “Because he wants me to call Batman.” Her voice throbbed with a sea of emotion. “Because this is all a game to him.”
“I’ll deal with this.” Nightwing set a gloved hand on her shoulder. “You go home.”
“No, I—”
“I’ll take care of this.” He slid his fingers to the back of her neck. “Okay?” Those electric eyes shifted then to Lucifer. In them was the same anger, hate, and revulsion coursing through him. The man wanted to hunted down the Joker and punish him for what he’d done. He wouldn’t, though, being bound by the same tenet as Batman and Miss Kean. “Take her home, please?”
“Certainly.” Lucifer held a hand out to Miss Kean. “Let’s be off, love.”
The fingers Miss Kean placed in his trembled violently. Her face remained composed, though. Unbroken despite the atrocity committed. As Lucifer led her away, he decided two things: he’d resurrect Jason Todd irregardless if his wings were returned and he’d see to it that the Joker received extra special treatment once the bastard got to Hell.