Chapter 6
Chloe stood rooted to the ground in awe as her brain tried to process what she’d just seen.
Wings.
Lucifer had wings.
And they were magnificent. Intensely, jaw-droppingly, heart-achingly, exquisitely beautiful.
Divinely beautiful.
She’d only seen them for a moment or two, but she knew their radiance would remain seared across her mind forever.
Her awestruck smile began to fade as the import of the wings began to sink in.
Proof of divinity.
Lucifer-
Lucifer- was living, breathing proof of divinity. And he was standing in front of her with a concerned expression on his face.
Feeling as though she'd had the breath knocked out of her, she desperately tried to reconcile the Lucifer she knew with the sudden awareness that he was an angel. An
angel.
Behind her, the elevator doors opened with an inappropriately cheerful 'ding!'; spinning on her heel, she watched as Amenadiel stepped out.
***
“Luci!”
Amenadiel’s voice broke the stunned silence that had fallen over the penthouse. Inwardly Lucifer winced, knowing that the presence of a second celestial being right now would do more harm than good.
“Really not a good time, brother,” Lucifer told him without taking his eyes off Chloe. She turned and looked at Amenadiel; what Lucifer could see of her face seemed to pale.
“No. Detective.”
She shook her head and bolted for the elevator, sliding in between the doors as they closed.
“Detective!”
Cursing, he strode to the elevator, shouldering his brother aside, and slammed his palm down on the call button, hoping that the car hadn’t started its descent. Instead the doors remained stubbornly closed.
Knowing it was futile, he boarded the elevator when it did arrive, getting out and scanning the crowded environs of Lux for a sign of her blonde hair before re-embarking and checking the parking garage.
But it was too late. She was gone.
***
“I’m sorry. I hope I didn’t interrupt anything important with Chloe,” Amenadiel apologised as Lucifer stepped out of the elevator and walked over to the bar.
“Don’t worry brother,” Lucifer replied bitingly. “It’s probably the last time you ever do. You see, just before you walked in, the Detective saw my wings.” He downed his drink and poured another. “What was so bloody urgent anyway?”
“You showed Chloe your wings?” Amenadiel repeated in amazement.
Lucifer nodded tightly, unwilling to show his older brother just how disturbed he was by the whole situation.
“Why aren’t you going after her?!”
“What, so I can scare her even more than I have already? I don’t think so, brother.” He poured a measure of Scotch into a clean glass and handed it to Amenadiel. “Now. What brought you rushing over here?”
“Luci, you can’t just pretend like this never happened! You have to deal with-“
“And I will! I will talk to the Detective. But first, I need you to tell me what it is so you don’t interrupt another bloody conversation!”
“I wasn’t trying to interrupt anything, Luci. I came here-”
“With your usual appalling timing,” Lucifer interjected, looking over the rim of his glass.
“To share something with you.”
Lucifer ignored his elder brother’s glare, gesturing for him to continue.
“I’ve been helping Charlotte try to redeem herself, and it hit me. Ultimately, the humans decide what their fates are. They decide whether they deserve to go to Hell, or to the Silver City. Luci, what if it’s the same for us?”
“What?”
“We do it to ourselves, Luci. I lost my wings and my powers because I felt that I wasn’t worthy of them. And you-you are as you are before you were cast out. Because maybe you feel like you weren’t worthy of your punishment anymore.”
“I was never worthy of what our Father did to me,” Lucifer snapped.
“It makes sense, Luci,” Amenadiel persisted.
“No. No, it doesn’t. If you could’ve gotten your powers back all this time, then why haven’t you?”
“Because I don’t deserve to,” Amenadiel replied simply.
“Right.” Lucifer raised an eyebrow, surveying his brother with amused disbelief. “Let me know how that goes, won’t you? Now, if you’ll excuse me-“ he gestured towards the lift, clearly indicating that Amenadiel should leave.
“Oh. Yeah. Right, I’ll let you-“
Lucifer turned away, leaving his brother in mid sentence as he unlocked his phone.
***
Lucifer was the Devil.
Every time Chloe closed her eyes, she could see the enormous white wings appearing as if from nowhere, sprouting from his back like it was an everyday occurrence for your partner to grow wings in front of your eyes.
He’d told her he was the Devil more times than she could remember, and she’d always dismissed it, writing the things he said off as some kind of crazy metaphor; but it was true.
It was all true.
She’d never believed any of that biblical stuff; but now she had no choice but to accept it. God existed. And He was
Lucifer’s Father. Her head started to spin, causing her to grip the edge of the counter. If God was Lucifer’s Father, who was his Mother? The Bible was curiously silent on the matter, as she remembered it. But Lucifer had definitely referred to Her on multiple occasions. So what had happened to Her?
And Lucifer...he was exactly what he’d always claimed to be. A fallen angel.
The Devil.
She’d worked with him, been friends with him, hugged him, danced with him, even kissed him.
And he was the Devil.
No. Stop thinking about our personal relationship, she told herself fiercely.
Think about our professional one. Flashes of memory raced through her mind. Benny Choi. Lindsay Jolson. Rennie. Jimmy Barnes. All of those suspects, screaming in terror after a few seemingly innocuous words from Lucifer.
What had they seen?
His attempt to show her something, after he’d been kidnapped. That strange flickered reflection in the warehouse, right before she’d shot him. Is that what they’d seen?
Her phone buzzed, breaking her train of thought; picking it up, she saw Lucifer’s name on the screen and pressed the button to silence it. She couldn’t deal with him right now. Not until she’d gotten her head around his identity and everything it meant.
Maybe not ever again.
***
“Damn,” Lucifer cursed as he got the Detective’s voicemail. She always answered her phone unless there was a good reason not to.
Why had Amenadiel had to pick that exact moment to walk into the penthouse? How did a being who up until recently could control time have such terrible timing? The Detective had been reacting so well to his inadvertent revelation before Amenadiel had arrived.
He tried calling her again, once again getting her voicemail. And now she wasn’t answering his calls. He locked his phone, sliding it back into the inside pocket of his jacket.
The Detective finding out his true identity was always going to be difficult. He’d known that for a long time. And the closer they got, the more he needed for her to know his Devilish side- and the harder it was for him to tell her.
Now she knew.
His instinct was to find her. She was probably at her apartment; he could go there and let her take her feelings- probably fury, if he knew the Detective- out on him.
But.
She’d been scared enough to run from him. He clenched his jaw against the pain that that thought carried with it. She’d been terrified… of him.
***
Clark wandered aimlessly down Hollywood Boulevard, letting the sounds of the city wash over him. This part of the famous boulevard was lined with nightclubs and trendy restaurants, none of which seemed to draw a bigger crowd than Lux. Reaching a cross street, he turned away from the loud and brightly lit area in search of quieter environs. Walking from Lux back to the hotel was out of the question; flying would only take a few moments, but right now he didn’t want to deal with another potential argument with Lois.
Spotting a small, homey-looking diner nestled in between two darkened buildings, he crossed the street and pulled open the door, settling onto a stool at the counter and smiling at the welcoming decor. It reminded him a little of Maisie’s Diner, back home in Smallville. At this time of night, the booths were sparsely populated; the middle aged waitress slid a menu in front of him with a warm smile and a friendly greeting. He returned the greeting, opting for coffee and a wedge of apple pie, served a la mode.
The Devil is part of me too. I can’t ask her to accept me without knowing the truth.Lucifer’s words haunted Clark. The Devil turned nightclub owner and civilian consultant was perhaps the one person that understood the struggles of a dual identity even better than Clark did. Was Lucifer right? Was Clark wrong to want Lois to want him for Clark before he told her the truth?
Ever since he’d first donned the Spandex and debuted Superman to the world, he’d reminded himself that Clark was who he was; Superman was what he could do. It had been the only way he could avoid losing himself to the superhero. He was Clark Kent. He’d been raised and lived his entire life as Clark Kent. He nodded his thanks as the matronly waitress refilled his coffee cup, retreating back into his thoughts.
And yet... he’d created Superman to fulfil his innate desire to help. To do good. Which argued that Superman was simply another part of his personality, rather than the separate being Clark had tried to pretend he was.
Was that what it was like for Lucifer? Was the Devil simply another facet of his personality? Did his innate desire for justice drive him in both his guises?
If so, they weren’t so different.
Clark shook his head. Lucifer had literally had aeons to assimilate the Devil into his personality. Aeons spent as the custodian of the worst humanity had to offer. Being forced into that role had to change a person. Clark had only been Superman for a few months; and he’d chosen to do what he did. Superman wasn’t part of him the way the Devil was part of Lucifer.
Was he?
Getting up, he tucked bills under his empty pie plate, making sure to leave a generous tip for the friendly waitress. It was late; he should find a quiet alley and go back to the hotel.
***
Hell really existed. It wasn’t merely a deterrent, a way of scaring people into good behaviour like Chloe had always thought.
It really existed.
And Lucifer-
Lucifer- had ruled over it.
It was hard to imagine handsome, debonair, charming Lucifer as the Lord of Hell- but then it was hard to imagine him with wings as well, and Chloe had seen that with her own eyes.
She made a strangled, overwhelmed noise.
If Hell really existed, then so did Heaven.
Who decided who went where? Had that been part of Lucifer’s... job? And if he was here, in LA, who ruled over Hell now? Amenadiel? Another one of Lucifer’s brothers?
If Lucifer was the Devil, that meant Amenadiel was... an angel.
An
angel.
She rubbed her temples.
Which made Maze... a demon.
She’d been living with a
demon.
Oh god, Maze had been looking after Trixie!
Chloe shook her head, dismissing that thought. Instinctively she knew that Maze was no more a threat to Trixie than Lucifer was to herself.
No wonder Maze had hated her so much when they’d first met. She’d gotten between the Devil and the demon who’d literally followed him out of Hell.
And Charlotte… what was Charlotte? How did a human get to be
the Devil’s stepmother? Was Charlotte even human? And did Dan know?
No. While Dan definitely wasn’t a big fan of Lucifer, she didn’t think it was because of Lucifer’s identity. So should she tell Dan? For a moment she tried to imagine that conversation before shaking her head. No matter how she phrased it, it would sound insane. Just as Lucifer’s repeated attempts to tell her the truth had always sounded.
***
Lois hung up the phone after saying goodnight to Lex, still feeling the tight band of frustrated tension across her shoulders from her argument with Clark.
She’d said at the outset that this trip to California was a waste of time, and she’d been right.
Perry had sent them across the country in a time of budget cuts, and they had nothing to show for it. Bringing down The Boss was never going to be a quick story, sure, but they didn’t even have any solid leads. Lois had little faith in Jimmy’s ability to track that bank account they’d come across, and while Detective Decker had promised to update them if the LAPD had more luck, Lois wasn’t going to hold her breath.
They’d needed concrete proof; and instead they’d got nothing. Nothing except for questions about Detective Decker and her weirdo partner. Mentally she tagged Lucifer Morningstar as a possible subject for a future story, and then sighed. She wanted a long, hot bath; but first she’d call the Planet travel office and organise the earliest possible flight home.
***
Lucifer picked up the glass that Jeff deposited in front of him, gesturing for the bartender to leave the bottle of Scotch behind.
The sounds of Lux washed over him; the loud music, clinking of glasses, people having fun. Usually being in his club cheered him up, but not tonight.
He’d thought that being down here would be better than sitting in solitude upstairs, but he was wrong. He felt even more alone here, surrounded by people.
He should’ve known it wouldn’t work. It hadn’t worked while the Detective had been engaged to Pierce, either. Because the one person he actually wanted to see wasn’t going to be walking down those stairs tonight.
Or maybe ever again, a tiny voice inside chimed in. He gulped the rest of the Scotch in his glass, trying to drown the insidious inner voice.
It was no more than he deserved. As special as the Detective was, she was still human. He couldn’t expect her to accept his Devilishness with open arms. He’d been extraordinarily lucky that Linda had maintained their friendship- and Charlotte too. Although when it came to Charlotte, he rather thought finding out his identity had come as a relief, proving for once and for all that she wasn’t crazy.
Maybe that was all he got. Those two people to accept him, Devil face and all.
He finished the last of his drink, pulling his phone out of his inside pocket and sending the Detective yet another message that he knew she wouldn’t answer. He needed sleep.
***
Chloe had thought he was living in a fantasy world. That Lucifer had constructed this system of elaborate metaphors to help him make sense of the world around him. But she’d been wrong.
Everything he’d told her about his life… it had all been true.
What did that do to someone?
Another flash of memory.. Lucifer, standing next to her on the beach and telling her he wasn’t worth it. Was that really how he saw himself? Not worth it?
Was that why he bounced from meaningless sexual encounter to meaningless sexual encounter, never forming a relationship? Not because he didn’t want to, but because he felt he didn’t deserve to?
What kind of parent did that? Tore apart their child’s self-confidence so thoroughly that they saw themselves as unlovable? And yet that wasn’t even the worst thing they’d done.
They’d destroyed him. Made him into a monster; the figure held out to all of humanity as being responsible for every malicious act or idea that occurred to them. How many times had she heard him speak painfully about being demonised by his own parents?
She’d dismissed that along with everything else Lucifer had told her about being the Devil; but now it wasn’t an abstract. This had really happened to him. She didn’t really know what he’d been cast out of Heaven for, but surely nothing could merit what his parents had done in return?
Her phone screen lit up again with another message from Lucifer. She flipped it over, leaving it face-down on the countertop. It was all too much to take in. Amenadiel walking in scant seconds after Lucifer’s revelation had been the last straw; suddenly confronted with two angels, she’d panicked. And she’d fled. But as much as she wanted to talk to Lucifer about all of this, she couldn’t. Not until it stopped being so overwhelming.
