Chapter 2
Clark paced uneasily around his hotel room. Something was bothering him about this case, and he knew exactly what it was.
Lucifer Morningstar.
On first glance, he seemed like an ordinary human, but it didn’t take long to see there was something strange about him. The almost preternatural charm and the strange effect he’d had on the suspect they’d had in interrogation today proved that. Besides that, there was something behind the man’s eyes that set the hairs on the back of Clark’s neck to standing. Something that he couldn’t put a name to.
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. Pacing wasn’t helping anything. He felt caged; maybe a flight over the city would help clear his mind and help him figure out what to do about Detective Decker’s weird partner.
Once in the air, he flew large lazy circles, careful to avoid the constant stream of aircraft in and out of LAX and staying far enough away from the windows of the city skyscrapers to escape notice. Deliberately he’d chosen to remain in his dark business suit, reasoning that sightings of Superman in a city far from his Metropolis home would attract unwanted attention- especially when it would be all too easy to track Clark Kent’s arrival in the same city.
Something out of place caught his attention as he soared past one of the skyscrapers that lined Hollywood Boulevard; his brow wrinkling in momentary confusion, he slowed, scanning the area for what was wrong.
There. In an open-plan penthouse atop an Art Deco building, a man was nonchalantly holding a grand piano in the air. With one hand.
Clark’s eyes widened. As he watched, the man set the glossy black instrument down carefully and straightened up, turning enough for Clark to see his face.
It was Lucifer.
Feeling like he’d been kicked in the stomach, Clark came to a dead stop in midair. While Clark struggled to get his breath back, Lucifer picked up his suit jacket from the bar that lined the back wall of the penthouse and shrugged into it, boarding the elevator and disappearing from sight.
What had Clark just seen? A display of strength like that was far from human. Recovering the altitude he’d lost in his shock, Clark edged closer to the penthouse balcony and scanned the room, hoping for a reasonable explanation for what he’d just seen. Finding no sign of the piano hoist he’d expected to see, he backed away again, unwilling to risk being spotted- especially by someone he now knew to have some sort of superhuman strength.
What was Lucifer?
No human, to be certain. And was he a threat? The thought of Lucifer’s charm, apparent mind control ability, and strength coupled with Lex Luthor’s level of evil brought a shudder that racked his body, leaving him feeling slightly ill.
Clark dipped towards the street, surveying the crowds for Lucifer’s tall figure and coming up empty. Discovering that the building housed a nightclub brought another option. If Lucifer lived in a penthouse above one of the most exclusive clubs in Los Angeles, it stood to reason that he was the club’s proprietor. Annoyed that his unfamiliarity with the city cost him precious minutes, he found an unoccupied alley a few blocks from the nightclub and landed discreetly before walking back to the building.
This early in the evening, the line for entry to the venue was mercifully short. The bouncer looked Clark up and down a couple of times before waving him inside and turning his attention to the young women that were next in line.
Clark paused at the top of the stairs into the club proper, blinking in surprise. The name ‘Lux’ was spelled out in lights across one wall, helping to illuminate the scantily-clad dancers that seemed to be a feature of this particular nighttime hot spot. The tall man Clark sought was seated at a glossy black piano, twin to the one he’d seen being lifted as easily as a feather, that dominated the area in front of the bar. As he watched, a waitress brought Lucifer a drink, to which he responded with a charming smile. Quickly Clark made his way down the stairs and to an out-of-the-way booth a discreet distance from the piano.
He settled into the shadowiest part of the booth, trying to keep his quarry in sight through the apparently endless stream of women that made it their business to pass close by the piano. Stopping a nearby waitress, he ordered a whiskey and tried to puzzle out the enigma in front of him.
He’d spent years travelling the globe, trying to find out who and what he was. Trying to find out if he was the only one that could do the things he could do.
Had he somehow missed one? Had there been someone like him- another Kryptonian- living in Los Angeles all this time?
His whiskey arrived; looking up, he nodded his thanks to the waitress before looking back towards the piano.
Lucifer was gone.
Clark looked around wildly, suppressing a jump of surprise when he realised he was no longer alone in the booth.
***
“Hello, Clark. I saw you watching me.” Lucifer gestured to the piano as he confronted the reporter, observing him over the rim of his glass as he took a sip.
Briefly, he wondered
why Clark had been watching him. While it wasn’t unheard of for cuckolded former significant others of his various sexual partners to come looking for him at Lux, Lucifer was fairly certain that this man was too hung up on his work partner to have another woman lurking about anywhere.
“What brings you to Lux?” Lucifer asked with a lift of an inquisitive eyebrow.
“You own this place?” Clark gestured to indicate the large, open spaces of the club.
“That’s right.”
Clark tipped his head to one side, “And you work for the police.”
Lucifer lifted one admonitory finger into the air “Work with the police, not for them, but I get the confusion.”
Clark looked down into his glass and did his best to exude harmlessness. “Nightclub owner and civilian consultant for the LAPD. You’ve got a lot on your plate. Why do you do it?”
Lucifer grinned, “Lux is my business. Working with the Detective is a sideline.”
“So why do it?” Clark repeated.
“Because I enjoy punishing the guilty. It’s what I’m good at.” He raised a challenging eyebrow. “Now I’ve answered your question. You answer mine. What brings you to Lux?”
The reporter tilted his chin up, meeting Lucifer’s stare without backing down. “Curiosity. Does that bother you?”
Lucifer leaned back against the cushioning, maintaining eye contact with his unexpected visitor. “The last time a reporter followed me to Lux out of curiosity, he ended up being responsible for the death of a girl in my club.”
Clark’s jaw dropped slightly and he leaned forward in the booth as he rushed to reassure Lucifer, “Mr. Morningstar, I swear-”
“No oaths necessary Mr. Kent, just know that people’s curiosity about me doesn’t always work to my advantage.”
Lucifer’s brow creased faintly in a frown as he thought back to Carmen Grant, the religious artifacts auctioneer whose curiosity about his wings had lead to a certain amount of unpleasantness (mostly for Carmen), and to Reese Getty, the reporter whose curiosity and obsession had resulted in the death of that poor, innocent girl not so long ago. His frown deepened as he remembered Malcolm Graham as well, the resurrected madman his own dear brother had sent to kill him. He darted a wary look at Clark, then made an effort to appear relaxed.
***
The air of suspicion with which Lucifer regarded him came as a surprise to Clark. He knew why he was wary of Lucifer, but why on earth would Lucifer feel that way about him?
But then, could Clark really blame him? The sudden appearance of Lucifer in the booth beside him argued that he possessed some amount of superhuman speed. What other powers did he have?
The same waitress that had served Clark before walked past the table again, depositing a glass of what appeared to be whiskey in front of Lucifer. Clark took advantage of Lucifer’s momentary abstraction to quickly scan the back of his hand.
As he’d suspected, his boothmate wasn’t human; curiously, however, he didn’t display the same tissue density that Clark himself did.
Neither human nor Kryptonian; so what was he?
“Lucifer Morningstar. Unusual name. Not too many parents would name their child after the Devil.” Clark prodded gently.
“Oh, I’m not named for him. I am him.” Lucifer replied with a wide unsettling grin.
“Excuse me?” Clark’s eyebrows climbed toward his hairline and his voice rose with incredulity.
“I am the Devil.”
Clark gave him a sceptical look. “And… what is the Devil doing in Los Angeles?”
“I’m retired.”
“Retired?” Clark leaned back as he tried to take in what he was being told. Surely Lucifer wasn’t serious… was he?
“That’s right.” Lucifer nodded
“And doesn’t God-“ Clark interjected.
“My father,” Lucifer emphasized the word heavily, enjoying the younger man’s discomfiture.
Clark cleared his throat and forged ahead. “Sure, your Father. Doesn’t He have something to say about that?”
Lucifer’s grin widened impossibly. “Frequently.”
Clark settled heavily into his seat, nodding to himself as he took a belated sip of his whiskey and tried to assimilate what he’d been told. Was this- no, could this be true? Was Lucifer actually the fallen angel he claimed to be? He held onto a thin thread of hope that his companion in the booth had just come up with an outlandish cover story for his origins and abilities. He clung hard to the belief that he’d found another like himself and just needed to peel back some verbal debris to prove it.
“That doesn’t surprise you, Mr Kent.” Lucifer tilted his head, surveying his unusual new acquaintance. “I wonder why.”
Clark took another sip and thought for a moment before responding. “I live in Metropolis. We’re no strangers to the unusual.”
“Yes, but this is different. You believe me.” He paused, his eyes narrowing. “Most humans that believe me have some sort of personal experience with my nastier side.” A thought occurred to him. “Or is it something else entirely?”
He tossed off the rest of the whiskey in his glass and stood.
“Come. We can talk upstairs.”
Clark followed Lucifer to the elevator, eager to discuss exactly what it was that he did (or didn’t) believe.
***
Lucifer exited the lift, his new acquaintance close behind him. He strode over to the bar and fished a glass down from the shelf. “Freshen your drink, Mr. Kent?”
“Yes, please,” Clark answered absently as he wandered around the penthouse. He was curious to get a feel for how this man lived. He blushed as he translated some of the carvings on the ancient Assyrian sandstone walls around Lucifer’s bedroom area;
we definitely have different ideas about appropriate decor, he thought ruefully.
As Clark wandered away, Lucifer felt behind the bar for the dagger he’d taken to keeping there, palming it and turning to throw it at his unwanted visitor in one smooth motion.
“Ow!” Clark yelped in surprise. The dagger caught him just as he was turning to ask a question about some of the slightly less salacious artwork.
“What the hell?” Lucifer breathed as the demon steel clattered to the marble floor. Kent was examining a shallow scratch on his arm where the dagger had connected.
***
Clark looked down in shock as the strange dagger glanced off his forearm and bounced to the floor. Lucifer had moved so fast that Clark hadn’t had time to do more than shield his chest from the unexpected projectile. His jaw dropped a little as he realised that the blade had actually cut him slightly.
He looked up, suddenly both alarmed and furious. He’d known that Lucifer was suspicious of him, but an outright attack? Had he lost his mind? What if Clark had been a human being? He’d be dead right now with that wicked-looking dagger embedded in his chest!
“Are you crazy?!” he burst out. “That thing could’ve killed me!”
***
In a few long strides, Lucifer was in front of Kent, wrapping his hand around the shorter man’s throat and hoisting him into the air. “What are you?” he growled.
“What?”
Lucifer saw the shorter man’s eyes shift and knew Clark would try to convince him that he was just another human.
“You’re no human. No celestial either. That dagger was cast in the forges of Hell, made from part of my very self, and yet you brushed it off like an insect’s sting! So what are you?!” He tilted his head menacingly and squeezed just a little tighter, letting his prey know he meant business.
“I’m… Kryptonian.”
“Kryptonian?” Lucifer echoed in surprise before realisation dawned. “So you’re the famous Superman.” He lowered Kent to the floor and let go. “You weren’t sent by my father at all, were you?”
“I could have told you that, Luci,” Amenadiel commented, deadpan, from where he’d just disembarked from the elevator.
“Yes, because you’ve never lied to me before,” Lucifer answered his brother without taking his eyes off Clark.
“Who is this? Does everyone just wander in?” Clark asked, straightening his glasses and tie after Lucifer’s manhandling, his jaw still tight with anger.
“Amenadiel, this is Clark. Don’t let the glasses fool you, he’s actually Kryptonian and likes to spend his days flying around in skintight Spandex. Clark, this is Amenadiel; my brother.”
“The Devil has a brother?” Clark queried in astonishment.
“Actually I have many. Amenadiel is the only one I’m... in contact with, shall we say? He was sent here to return me to Hell but, well, ended up falling himself.”
Amenadiel’s eyes widened with outrage. “I did not fall!” he objected, “I may have… stumbled.”
“You lost your wings, brother. That’s more than a stumble.”
“Thanks for the reminder, Luci,” Amenadiel commented caustically.
Lucifer shrugged off his brother’s offended feelings and returned to the far more pressing question of his adversary-turned-guest.
“Wait. You’re both…” Clark trailed off.
“Celestial beings,” Amenadiel supplied.
“Oh yes, LA is a veritable city of fallen angels,” Lucifer commented, a shade impatiently. “Now if you don’t mind, if you weren’t coming to kill me, why did you follow me to Lux?”
***
“Kill you?” Clark echoed. Did the Devil have a rampant case of paranoia, or had that many attempts been made on his life?
His head was spinning from the sheer number and weight of the revelations he’d been hit with. He’d never been very religious, but… The Devil was real? Lucifer was the actual fire-and-brimstone, biblical Devil? “No. Look, I was flying past your penthouse and I saw you moving the piano. I thought…”
“Yes?”
“I thought you might be like me.” He paused. “The actual Devil?”
“Why is that so hard to believe?”
“But you look so…” he fumbled for a word that didn’t sound derogatory.
“Let me guess, you were expecting horns? Maybe a forked tail?” His host shot a look at the well-built black man that was somehow his brother. “That’s Hollywood for you, isn’t it?”
“Show him, Luci,” Amenadiel suggested.
“Okay, fine,” Lucifer said exasperatedly. He jerked his shoulders oddly; before Clark’s bemused eyes, an enormous pair of pure white, feathered wings unfurled from somewhere along Lucifer’s back.
Clark gaped. His lips were making shapes, but the only sound he could produce was a garbled moan.
“Clark?” Lucifer waved a hand in front of his face. “See look Amenadiel, now you’ve broken him.”
“You’ve got… wings,” Clark managed to stammer out.
“Yes, pesky things.” Lucifer jerked his shoulders again and the wings disappeared. “I had Maze- my demon- cut them off when I first came to LA but just lately the damn things keep growing back. My father’s latest way to torture me, taking my Devil face and giving me back the feathers. Do you want another drink?”
A demon. Devil face. Wings. Clark nodded jerkily, for the first time in his life feeling like he actually needed a drink.
“As for being like you...Well. Sorry to disappoint you, Clark, but last I checked the Kryptonians were all dead. In fact, I was surprised to see that you had survived.”
Clark’s face fell. “You’re sure?”
“Yes, there was quite an influx of Kryptonian souls into Hell as I recall,” said Lucifer, striving for a sympathetic tone.
“Heaven, too,” Amenadiel concurred.
Impatient at the interruption, Lucifer continued. “Even a race as long-lived as yours eventually dies, but to have so many at once arrive is unusual. How did you survive?”
“My parents sent me to Earth,” Clark muttered, his voice heavy with disappointment.
“Well, they were better parents than mine, apparently. Mine sent me to Hell.”
“Your parents sent you to Hell?!” Clark exclaimed, appalled.
“Yes. Well, my mother really. My father wanted to destroy me.”
"Oh my Go...oodness! What you were saying before, down in the club... that was all true, wasn't it?" Icy horror slid down the back of his neck as he struggled to understand being treated that way by your own parents. Lois’s stories about her childhood were heart-wrenching, but what had been done to Lucifer was horrific.
“Yes. Look, it takes some time to get your head around all this. When I told my therapist, it melted her brain for nearly a week.”
Lucifer clapped Clark on the shoulder, then wandered over to the bar and poured himself another drink before settling into a corner of the couch and gesturing for his visitor to take a seat.
Clark shuffled over and joined him, struggling to shift his brain back into a working gear.
“Sorry about before, but I had to be certain.”
“Certain of what, exactly?”
“That you weren’t here to kill me.” He shrugged as his guest’s eyebrows climbed to his hairline. “So if you weren’t sent here to destroy me, Mr. Kent, and you had no sinister reason for being in my club, why are you so far from home?”
“Like I told you and Detective Decker at the station, we think the death of Carl Stephens may link back to The Boss. Whoever The Boss is, they’re running most of the crime in Metropolis. So our paper sent Lois and I out to look into it.”
Lucifer tilted his head, aware that he wasn’t getting the full story. “I don’t buy it.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Papers such as yours don’t send two of their star reporters across the country on the off chance that something newsworthy might turn up. No, there’s something else at play here.” He put his glass down and leaned forward, catching and maintaining eye contact with the other man. “So tell me, Mr Kent… what is it that you want?”
“Excuse me?”
“What is it that you desire?” His mouth quirked into a grin, enjoying making this superhuman being spill his secrets.
“I want…”
“Yes?” His grin stretched wider, knowing that he’d gotten into the other man’s head. Clark might be close to immune to even demon daggers, but he wasn’t immune to Lucifer’s particular abilities.
“I want to save Lois from Luthor.”
“Luthor?” Lucifer questioned, wondering if it could possibly be the man he’d done a favour for nearly thirty years earlier.
Clark shook his head a little and blinked, trying to work off the daze that was the after effect of Lucifer’s mojo.
“He’s a businessman. Third richest man in the world. But I think he’s also The Boss.”
“Luthor? Lex Luthor?”
“That’s him.”
Lucifer’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, he always was a nasty piece of work. And he still owes me. But I don’t think that’s it. There’s something else that you want, isn’t there Mr. Kent?”
“I want to save Lois-“
“Yes yes, save the girl, I get that. What do you really want? For you?”
“I want Lois to choose me. The real me.”
For a moment Lucifer flashed back to his own heartfelt admission to Linda in this very same penthouse a few weeks earlier. The Kryptonian in front of him was evidently as deeply in love with his Lois as Lucifer himself was with the Detective. And just like the Detective had, the woman that Clark evidently loved seemed likely to choose a criminal.
Lucifer straightened up in his seat, gulping his whiskey in an attempt to cover his sudden discomfiture.
“Happy now?” Clark was glowering at him.
“What?”
“You use your abilities so casually.”
“Yes, and why not? They’re useful.” He lounged back in his seat. “At least I don’t hide mine behind some garishly coloured costume. Although I notice you’re not wearing it tonight. Do you often fly around in a suit? If you can call that thing a suit- are you doing some kind of penance? Oh no, I forgot, you usually favour something a little tighter fitting.”
“Costume? What costume?” the other angel inquired from the balcony.
“You’ll have to excuse Amenadiel, he doesn’t spend much time around humans. Go on, show him then.”
Clark spun into the Suit and crossed his arms over his chest, assuming his accustomed 'Superman pose'. "I'll have you know, these ‘garish colors’ bring hope to a lot of people."
“Red and blue Spandex? Really? And I thought Amenadiel's dress was bad.”
“It’s a robe,“ Amenadiel stated with exasperation in his voice.
Lucifer waved off Amenadiel’s interjection, continuing to needle Clark. “And the cape? What are you trying to hide? I mean, where did you even get that… outfit?”
“My mother made it for me.”
“Hah! Tell me, is your mother colourblind?”
Clark turned to face Lucifer with a frown, his cape flapping with the sudden motion, but froze when he saw Lucifer's delighted expression.
"So that's what you're hiding! I'm surprised Mum didn't give you a little frill in the front as well."
Clark blushed fiercely and quickly spun back into his street clothes.
Lucifer chuckled gleefully. “Oh, he blushes! Could it be, brother dear? Our Clark seems to still be quite the innocent!”
“Leave him alone, Luci. Innocent mortals are hard to come by these days.” Amenadiel chastised his brother.
Lucifer leered at Clark, “Yes, and harder still to come-”
“Luci!”
Lucifer bounced his eyebrows playfully as he sank back into his seat with a grin.
Clark, speechless with mortification, picked up his glass and did his best to hide his glowing face behind it. “Are we done here?”
“I suppose.” Lucifer drawled. “Back down to Lux for a nightcap?”
Clark nodded tersely and set his glass on the bar as he passed it on his way back to the elevator. Another drink?? If he’d had any remaining doubts that Lucifer was what he said he was, the sheer volume of alcohol he put away would have squelched them by now.
The three men rode down in the lift together silently. Lucifer smirked to himself as he watched Clark, noting how the other man resolutely refused to make eye contact. Mortals chose the oddest things to be delicate about.
He’s young and fit. Surely he doesn’t really live up to that Boy Scout reputation I’ve heard so much about. He shuddered a bit at the thought of all that self-denial. He just couldn’t see the point! Why waste all that time not enjoying oneself to the fullest?
You deserve to let your hair down, my Kryptonian friend, and I’m just the chap to make it happen.
Lucifer grinned as the lift dinged and the doors opened onto the upper level of Lux. Three scantily clad young women were standing nearby in a cluster.
"Oh look, it's the Brittanies! Brittanies, my friend Clark here has had a bit of a rough night. Maybe you could cheer him up? There you go." Lucifer placed his hands on the girls’ backs and gently pushed them toward Clark.
Clark tensed immediately, giving first the three Brittanies and then Lucifer a wide-eyed stare.
"What? No! No, um yes, it's nice to meet you, ladies. Lucifer!" Clark squirmed as he evaded the Brittanies’ enthusiastic caresses.
"What? You deserve a bit of fun." Lucifer beamed at Clark and the girls.
Amenadiel glared at Lucifer.
"This isn't fun, this is- excuse me!" Clark removed a wandering hand from his backside as Lucifer abandoned him to the Brittanies' mercies. He shot Lucifer a nasty look, then turned and started making his way through the crowd to the door.
"Where are you going? The party's just getting started!" Lucifer called in a wicked tone.
"Not for me, it's not." Clark shot back on his way outside.
The Brittanies pouted and turned to Lucifer.
"Well, don't just stand there." He smirked at them, "If that one doesn't want to play I'm sure I can find someone who's in the mood."
