Chapter Three

She wasn't used to this level of scrutiny. Not like this.

Chloe Decker had seen her father's shocked yet empathetic eyes gazing over her wings for the first time at six, been a short-lived teen idol at nineteen and, God help her, when damn Hot Tub Time Machine got added to Netflix, she had even more gawking aimed her way at the station until Dan threatened to beat heads in. Speaking of, she'd had her ex look upon her with utter horror after everything with Trixie's nightmares and wings…and her own. Now, when they met to trade off Trixie, there was always fear there. Odd. Something she'd never seen in his eyes once on duty, but it was there every time he gazed at her.

She was even used to Lucifer studying her like a puzzle. At first, despite whatever the fuck she was, Chloe assumed he'd been bullshitting her about his mojo, his so-called ability to draw out desires because it didn't seem possible. As she realized that Lucifer was something other too, that he wasn't delusional and actually was that Lucifer-at least she'd suspected it heavily till it was confirmed last night for sure-he'd become obsessed with her. She still figured it was more about an affront to his pride, the fact there was a woman out there who wouldn't fall at his feet. But she wasn't sure anymore if his regard for her and his fixation on her were just attempts to find a way to charm her even without his mojo.

Not now.

Not as he sat in a corner of her living room, using an old battered laptop of Dan's that he hadn't taken with him after the separation. It was good enough for him to start research with. For her part, she was trying to field the few emails the precinct was sending her. The forensic report on poor Rose wasn't completed yet, and the search for the ceremonial knife stolen from the Filii Hircus had netted nothing. But even like this, sitting at opposite corners of her living room, she could feel his gaze.

Granted, Lucifer Morningstar stared at everyone. She figured the bulk of that came from the fact his ability to draw out desires was dependent on eye contact. He had to stare deeply to mesmerize those he spoke with. But the habit was unnerving; he rarely blinked. It was the first thing that really stuck with her, even after the seeing the desire mojo a few times and hazily feeling Lucifer had been shot by Jimmy Barnes but being too injured herself to be sure. Passing in and out of consciousness in the hospital, her thoughts had circled that same, stupid thought:

He doesn't blink.

Not really.

It was that first real tug at her instincts, that she'd finally found something other, like her. Lucifer was very much a resident of the uncanny valley, when you realized what you were looking at.

But the gaze he was regarding her with was neither inhuman (despite its source, and she wasn't exactly one to throw stones) nor was it confused, like someone stuck on completing a Rubik's cube. No, there was a genuine affection there…something soft that she hadn't seen before.

He thought he was being sneaky. Lucifer chanced glances up from his end of the cult research-her problem, not their LAPD case-every so often, but she caught the looks.

Finally, she set her own precinct-issued computer aside and frowned at him.

"What?"

"I don't understand, Detective." Lucifer focused on the screen before him as he wrote something down on the legal pad beside him. Even from across the room, she could catch the hints of a looping script, much like calligraphy, across the page. "What have I done?"

"You're staring."

"I sometimes gaze around the room. I enjoy taking breaks from reading through the pedantry of Wikipedia."

"Wait? What?"

"Well, I am not an expert on the supernatural. I told you that. I know of the rumors I've heard, the things I've caught a glimpse of on my sojourns to earth, and sometimes the terms were from ancient tongue, from Babylonian or Sumerian…from civilizations that no longer exist or even have written records to be more than memory to even me."

"Oh." She deflated some at that. It was one thing to suspect Lucifer was that Lucifer, a second to have it confirmed for her, but a complete other level and mindfuck to think about all that entailed. That he was so old that he knew what the universe was like before there'd even been an earth. Nope, and her head was spinning again. "I didn't…still…I mean Wikipedia?"

"I need the current terminology for our suspects' list."

"Still doesn't explain why you keep staring at me."

"I'm not."

"You never lie."

"I occasionally glance around a room you are in. I'm sorry; should I only focus on the screen before me?"

She sighed and raked a hand through her hair. "This is why I wanted to still wait before I figured out how to ask you about, well, me."

"I don't understand, Detective." Brown eyes, so large and concerned and very different from the terrifying (she could admit that) red flames she'd seen last night. "I thought we were on better footing now that we understand each other." He offered her that insufferable smirk of his. "In fact, I do believe not three hours ago, you said that I was comforting."

"I did…and it's better, but I just…I get the feeling when you look at me now, you're just thinking about them."

"The wings?"

"Of course!"

Lucifer set his laptop aside and strode across the room. He covered the expanse of the living room in about three, long strides. He sidled up next to her on the couch but didn't actually touch her, not even shoulder to shoulder. She appreciated the consideration.

"And since you saw a glimpse into my devilish side, does that change how you see me?"

Yes, of course.

But she knew that wouldn't make him feel better. In fact, knowing Lucifer's capricious streaks, it would lead him to shut down and, more likely than not, tell her to deal with her own problems and flounce back to Lux. They were still so new to being partners after all. But how could any being see the eyes like flames that had driven Jimmy Barnes to full out crazy town and not be worried. Lucifer had joked yesterday-damn had it been just yesterday?-that he wasn't like the Satan in the painting because he "manscaped."

Maybe Lucifer didn't have horns and hooves, but something else went with the eyes she couldn't unsee, and, yeah, it was a lot to reconcile with the Lucifer she knew so far.

So how couldn't he feel the same way about her fucked up wings?

"I don't know," she said, offering him something.

He pursed his lips but didn't leave. It was at least some progress. She figured the one saving grace keeping him from stomping off with even that lukewarm reassurance was the fact he'd promised her seven-year-old he'd color with her. The Devil wanted to sit down with crayons and construction paper and color with her child.

That was probably not a good thing. Maybe. She wasn't completely sure.

But after Dan's reaction…Trixie adored Lucifer and maybe it wasn't quite fair to use him like that either, but Trixie needed at least one male role model (okay, term used super loosely cause the drugs and sex and general shadiness weren't for Trixie to emulate) who cared for her. And there was little doubt that for whatever reason and however he feigned disinterest, Lucifer did care for Trixie.

Despite her anger at seeing Trixie with her wings out…after all, both she and her mom had talked to Trixie about the rules for wings more than once…Chloe had been so heartened to come down the stairs and see Lucifer helping Trixie clean her wings. What was the word again? She'd already forgotten, and, yes, she did feel somewhat embarrassed she didn't know how best to care for them, at least for her daughter's sake. If her own rotted off tomorrow, it couldn't come too soon.

Finally, after sorting through his thoughts, Lucifer spoke. "I see. Shall I go? I thought it would be best if we both spoke with Penelope."

She swallowed and nodded harder than she had to in overcompensation for her earlier insult. "No, but I have to be honest or try. Yeah, it's one thing to guess you're the devil but another to know and see it, so I know it has to change how you see me when I have wings that burned you. I mean, how couldn't it?"

"Well, you always have been a bit of a pain in my side, Detective. I suppose a bit of a skin rash is only an evolution of the way all your rules chafe at me."

"It's not funny."

"But that's not how I would ever look at you. To be honest, I'm a bit in awe."

"Because of the…"

"It has very little to do with the blasted wings," he said, raking a hand through his hair. She wanted to laugh a little at the way it let some of his curls loose. "It has to do with you, who you are. I knew you were a tough woman with notable instincts when I first met you. Now, I've seen how truly isolated you've been and how you've been stomped on by more than the boys' club and the Palmetto poppycock. You've raised a child that, as children go, is almost tolerable. You should be commended."

"She can probably hear you. Trixie listens at doors."

"The urchin knows she doesn't wash her hands enough. If she did, I might upgrade her to survivable if I'm around her drunk."

"Lucifer!"

He smirked again, and it was nice to see that after this dumb, stilted conversation had begun. Like maybe they could be more honest around each other and not shred their partnership. "I never cared for spawn. The fact that Trixie is basically an exception is quite the honorific."

"Sure, but I…you still keep looking at me!"

"It's because I respect you more than I did even last night and, honestly, after the way I've seen you solve case after case when half the LAPD seems to busy to be arsed to do their jobs, well, I was already impressed."

"I just…if you respect me more because I'm a whatever I am…I'm still me."

"Yes, a no-frills cop and single mother with a nauseatingly strict moral code and a boringly brown wardrobe who won't let me smoke in the house even though I'm fairly certain mystical children can't get lung cancer from secondhand smoke. I'm quite aware of who you are, Detective." He shrugged and went back to his chair to gather up his legal pad before sitting back with her again. "The question is, do you know who you are?"

"I think the point of all of this is that I don't." The words caught in her throat, thick and difficult.

She'd spent thirty years desperately trying to will things away, to pretend this wasn't her life. Chloe had mastered denial at nineteen when her father had died, and she'd spend night after night awake and reading through whatever she could find in the house to try and avoid the nightmares. She'd redoubled the effort when her wings had changed, had become so like smoke at their ends and allowed her to shift through shadow as easily as she breathed. When they came out and she couldn't push them away till dawn.

But a year ago, the denial started to crumble. First with Trixie's mistake and then with her partner who was also anything other than human. The obvious inroad to whatever magical bullshit world she was actually part of.

She couldn't run anymore or hide from what she was, but God, did she want to.

Lucifer nodded. "Well, I think that your springboard is excellent, since you're a shrewd detective and better-than-most mother. If we find out the rest, it'll add icing to the Chloe Decker cake."

"That sounds probably more perverted than you meant it to."

He licked his lips and waggled his eyebrows at her. "I can make innuendo out of anything, Detective."

"Yes, and I'm so lucky." She sighed and patted his shoulder.

They'd been closer, but this was different. She wasn't just Chloe Decker, cop, and he wasn't just Lucifer Morningstar, possibly insane and definitely debauched club owner. He was the Lord of Hell and she was…whatever she was; she could hurt him whether she wanted to or not. She didn't think of him as an enemy; she wouldn't have begged for his help if she did. However, she had no idea why he still wanted to trust her. She had powers he clearly shouldn't be exposed to. It was just…they couldn't just have casual touches right now. No hugs-not that they'd shared more than a couple-or no him just touching her elbow to lead her around a crime scene. Nothing that casual anymore, at least until she was sure he didn't think she was still sent to hurt him.

He said one thing, but, seriously, if she could hurt him faster and with less effort than Maze, how could he be that relaxed around her?

"You are. Most of L.A.'s hottest would sign up for this much personal attention from me," Lucifer continued. "Now, do you want to hear my list of possible species?"

She swallowed hard, and her mouth felt like ashes anyway. That word…it was logical of course. Hell, it was true, but she wished she could just say "species-human," like literally everyone else she knew.

Lucifer frowned. "Forgive me. I suppose that sounds rather clinical. I'll change that to 'contenders' then, shall I?"

"Right, uh, what have you got for me?"

"Well, I started thinking perhaps a siren."

"Aren't those mermaids?"

"Sometimes the word has been conflated, but in the original Greek myths, sirens were part woman and part bird, sometimes sparrow, sometimes birds of prey. Similarly, I thought harpy might be possible. I've some passing familiarity with Japanese deities-don't ask, didn't go very well-and you could possibly have some Tengu in you. There are also the Valkyries, which I figure you have more of an idea of. Norse mythology still seems rather popular with you lot, especially with all those delightful Marvel movies and that Thor fellow. I know he revs my engines. Anyhoo, the Valkyries are winged to help ferry dead souls off the battlefields and to Valhalla of course. Then there's Isis or, more accurately, one of her descendants. I have entertained the idea of fully part demigoddess. If that were the case, then Isis had winged depictions and could ferry the dead to the underworld as well…"

She stood up and even though it wasn't yet noon, she found herself in her kitchen with her hand around a bottle of wine. No, not like this. She couldn't. If she started drinking now because this was too upsetting, she'd never stop. It had been too upsetting since she'd first spread her wings as a child. She could hear the even candidates and not freak out.

Damn it, she could.

She set the wine bottle down and grabbed a Coke from the fridge instead. "Isis?"

"I said it was possible, not that it's guaranteed."

"I don't even know what to do with that, Lucifer. I thought you said that there weren't too many things I could be!"

He stood and walked to the kitchen as well but leaned against the refrigerator. It was so odd to see Lucifer respect her personal boundaries for once, just another sign of how her stupid wings were messing up the equilibrium of their relationship, nebulous as it had always been. "I said you are not a demon or an angel, and there are many species of demon so that eliminates more nominees than you'd think. However, there are many pantheons and they are real. There are many myths that have grains of truth. If it only comes from another type of deity than my Father or from something terrestrial, there are still quite a few suspects to work through." He frowned and his eyes seemed to fill with genuine concern. "I…I do not have to share my research as I compile it. Surely after speaking with your mother tonight, I can narrow down the most likely beings. Forgive me."

"I'm the one who's messed up." And possibly part Egyptian goddess of death. Perfect.

"I assure you that you are not. I am the furthest thing from human. I am older than anything save my eldest siblings, our Father, and the Goddess of All Creation."

"Whoa, there's a goddess?"

"Mother and Father had a rather fractious divorce after I was banished. It's too painful a tale for today or ever, but you know how they say history is written by the victors? Well, the bible is so very careful to omit her equal contribution to the very literal Big Bang."

"I just…this is too much. There are too many choices for what I could be!"

"And I find it exciting. Humanity has always intrigued me. It has grown on me for companionship and not even in always a sexual way since my vacation. I have employees I am fond of with whom I don't sleep. Truth be told, I like Dr. Linda's company even now that she only wants me to pay her in actual money. Shame that. I swear that woman is wasting her best talents…"

She rolled her eyes. That felt familiar. She could deal in a world where Lucifer made innuendo about even his own shrink, who might have earned it a little for sleeping with her client to start with. Chloe Decker could not deal in a world where she might be a Valkyrie or a siren or a whatever from a myth she hadn't even heard before.

"Lucifer?"

"Yes, Detective?"

"Can you give me a moment. I need…I need to breathe. I can tell you think that being more than human isn't only the norm but is quite the gift. I just want to be like everyone else. I can't be excited with the research, only scared."

Strong arms were around her shoulders before she realized Lucifer had even moved. Part of her froze from that, from underestimating him. Some small instinctual part of her mind filed away that she hadn't realized how fast he really was, that it would be smart to figure out some of his limits too. She forced that way. It was probably her cop instincts, always on the lookout for an ambush.

Nothing more.

Lucifer held her tightly and stroked her hair. "It'll be alright, Detective. I think you and the urchin are better off embracing all that you are. I won't deny that. However," he said, sighing a little. "I grant that the whole point of this exercise is to track down what your mother made the deal with, and you may very well be right, perhaps there is a way to undo this. You would be exceptional either way, of course."

"You just like me cause I'm not an easy catch."

He stood back and those endlessly deep brown eyes gazed back at her. For the first time, she could see his actual age in them, and the shift in that reality-the weight of that realization-was staggering. "No, Detective. It's far more than that." Then, as easily as changing a channel, Lucifer fixed his cufflinks and offered her a debonair smile. "Dearie me, I think that I'm overdue for coloring time with the urchin. Will you be alright? Perhaps going over more of any possible leads with the Filii Hircus murders will work better, angles you can better understand?"

"Thank you, Lucifer."

"As you wish."

Lucifer eyed the masterpiece he'd made and handed Trixie back the crayons she'd loaned him. "What do you think, fledgling?"

"What's a fledgling again?"

"A baby bird."

"I'm not a baby."

He winked at her. "No, but your feathers must be three-quarters down. Lovely as your wings are, Beatrice, you won't be flying with them for years."

"Nuh-uh!"

"Very much so, child. You need long primary feathers, among others, to make wings work. You don't have a single one. Thus, you are a fledgling. I suppose it's an upgrade from urchin."

Large brown eyes considered him. "I guess that is cooler."

"Much better an honor. Now, am I or am I not the next Picasso, fledgling?"

Trixie regarded his drawing seriously, her tongue sticking out at the corner of her mouth. "They're all stick figures."

"Well, yes, but you can still discern who is who. The tall bald idiot with the feathers and also the stick up his backside is of course my brother Amenadiel. The one with the knives is Mazikeen, my mostly bodyguard."

"I like Maze! She's my friend."

"So, I have heard that story. She used to be mine, but I am unsure on if that will continue. It honestly depends on how well she works with me against my brother, but that's not a detail you need to concern yourself with, child."

"And who is this?" she asked, pointing to the third figure in line.

"I had to take some artistic license, but the badge should make it obvious that's the douche…I mean, your father."

"Dad doesn't have like weird googly eyes!"

"I cannot draw clueless eyes perfectly in stick-form. That's what I could approximate."

"And the long haired one is mom?"

"Yes."

She frowned and pulled out a red crayon. "You should add red hearts around it."

"Why ever would I do that?"

"Duh!" Trixie said, practically vibrating in her seat. "Because you love her. It's real obvious."

Lucifer almost choked. That was unfathomable. He found the detective attractive. Of course, he did. Clearly so had the casting director of Hot Tub Time Machine and, he surmised, many a teenage boy back in 2001. He did respect her, that had always been true, and of course he wanted to sleep with her. Lucifer wanted to sleep with most people who were an eight or above in this town. The Detective was clearly a ten, even in her painfully respectable precinct appropriate wardrobe, which, honestly, was quite the feat. But love? That was nothing more than the silly assertion of a child. He was the devil. He didn't love anything.

He had no idea what that was even like, not from family and not from a bed partner either.

Absurd.

"No, I shall not add hearts. I'm not a seven-year-old girl."

"Dumb not to, but it's not my drawing. And the tallest one with the hair and the money in his hand?"

"Me of course. I'm also near a piano so it should be very obvious. Are you a bit thick, child?"

"No, but you should draw horns."

"I don't have horns. It's all slander."

Trixie giggled and leaned into him. "You're funny."

"Oh, I'm aware. I'm quite the raconteur."

She frowned and handed back his opus. Trixie picked up her own, but she had it folded between her hands. Whatever she'd drawn was on a white printer paper, but she was waiting to share it. He'd never thought of the spawn as one for modesty.

"Beatrice, do you want to show me yours? It's alright if it's not ready."

"No…well, maybe?"

"You know you're a better drawer than I am." That was true. Probably everyone was, but he couldn't give much of a toss about fine arts. He liked to view them, but he had no patience to learn them. Some things even eternity didn't help one either like or do better. "I'm sure it's lovely."

Trixie nodded even as her cheeks colored red. "I…it's okay if you don't like it."

He frowned even as she handed him the paper. Unfolding it neatly, he looked over her work. The work was good, as far as what he assumed a seven-year-old (mostly) human could do. It was much easier to perceive than his stick figures and colored quite deliberately. There were a dozen fluffy white clouds and in between were Trixie and the detective, obvious by their respective long hair and their large, black wings. But what Lucifer hadn't expected was him. Well, a child's version of him in a blocky dark suit and with white wings of his own. He had to smirk to himself about the reddened visage. It was true to life, to be honest, a close approximation of how he could have appeared between his wings and his Devil Face. Well, when he still had wings.

What was less accurate were the horns.

He turned to Trixie, who was sitting more still than he'd ever seen her. "I do not have horns. I'm hardly a goat."

"That's what my abuela says."

"That Satan has horns?"

"And goat hooves and legs."

"I'm decidedly not a furry, fledgling."

"What's a furry?"

Lucifer grinned. "Ask your father. But that aside, Beatrice, it's quite lovely."

"It would have been cool to do that." She leaned into him, her little shoulder barely coming up halfway against his side.

For the second time in as many days and for the first time since the beach almost six years ago, Lucifer mourned for his wings. No, he would never be tied to Father, not again, but there was something that might have been nice in at least flying again, in taking the detective with him. Not the urchin. He wasn't a babysitter. Not bloody yet, at least. It would have been chaos to supervise a whatever Trixie was in the air. After all, he knew nothing about teaching flight, since all the host had been created understanding the mechanics of it. But, logistics aside, there was something decidedly sweet about Trixie's drawing and despite his black heart, a small part of him regretted that would never come to pass.

"I think that's very true." He frowned as she took the drawing back from him. "Would you mind terribly if we traded?"

"Huh?"

"Perhaps you can put my masterpiece on your wall this time. I'll even sign it for you. If you'd be so kind, Beatrice, to do the same with your work. I'd love to take it back to my home."

"Will you hang it up?"

He could admit that possibility was unlikely. There was no way he could explain to any partner why he had a child's drawing around the penthouse. It was surely a true orgy killer. Though he walk-in closet was off-limits. He loathed having anyone touch or ruin his designer stash. Perhaps hanging it there would suffice.

"I believe there is a place for it. However, next time you draw me, could you leave off the blasted horns?"

"Never!"

Her mother was perfectly on and every bit the diva she'd always been around the dinner table. Chloe was used to it. Penelope Decker had done anything larger than life for as long as Chloe could remember. She lived up to her Vampire Queen image, and to always talking up her career and playing for her audience. In this case, she'd fawned over Lucifer, who was being polite, but the flirtatiousness of his words was gone. He was no longer sucking up to her as he had back when she'd been in town a month or so ago. Granted, her mother was a bit less impressed with her partner after the ambush dinner that shouldn't ever have been. Still, her mother reveled in attention. God, under normal circumstances two narcissists this severe in one place should cause the planet to implode, but Lucifer was focused on their mutual research tasks, at least for now.

Still, they'd made it through the lasagna that she'd made and were finishing up the chocolate cake Lucifer had baked. No, she had no idea when the literal Prince of Darkness had found time to learn anything culinary. Also, it was sinfully decadent and probably the best cake she'd ever had. And, third, he'd clearly done it because Trixie had begged him into it, and she should probably be worried that her daughter was able to out-negotiate the Devil himself.

Then again, made being here on earth was softening Lucifer's edges, even if he'd deny it.

However, as they finished their meal, her mother was still talking about her shoot. No surprise there.

"It gets tiresome shooting a show with mostly twenty-somethings. I mean, granted, my role's prominent but I only need to be onset about two days out of eight. Still, I feel like I'm trying to supervise a kindergarten sometimes."

Lucifer chuckled. "You failed to mention which show, darling. Is it a pilot?"

Her mother dimmed a little at that. "It's on a younger network, more geared for the Gen Z set. It's a show called Half Moon Bay about mermaids and I happen to run the local apothecary, so I mentor the teens on it."

"The teenagers I assume who are twenty-seven?" Lucifer purred.

"A couple but a few are barely eighteen and not nearly as well-behaved on set as Chloe was in her day. They don't teach these young thespians anything about the rules. Don't get me started on the endless selfies on their Instagrams between takes. It drives me wild."

"And on that note, Mom, let me get Trixie to bed, and I have a lot to talk about with you."

Trixie looked up and frowned. "Mom! I wanted to talk about everything with grandma. Not fair! They're my wings too!"

Her mother's eyes went wide, and she clearly struggled to laugh things off with Lucifer. "Children and their imaginations, you know how it is."

Lucifer leaned forward and, although his eyes did not change-didn't even flicker red, the air around him changed, and even though she wasn't affected by it directly, Chloe could feel the power Lucifer was drawing around himself. When he smiled back at her mother, it was a feral look, one that he had flashed subjects across the interrogation room table.

"Now, Penelope, darling, I'm hardly an idiot. Besides, maybe there are more people out there with wings than you realize."

Her mother shivered and set a hand on Trixie's shoulder. "Who are you really, Lucifer?"

"An apt question for everyone around this table." He smiled kindly down at Trixie. "Come on, fledgling, and I'll get you ready for bed. I think this is for your mum and gran, don't you?"

"But they're my wings! I wanna know what I am too."

Chloe sighed and frowned back at her daughter. "Monkey, I promise I'm trying really hard to find that out. Lucifer, and I are really good detectives so you know we'll figure it out. But sometimes some of the things that grownups used to do…they're not always stories you should hear right away."

Trixie rolled her eyes and, okay, maybe Dan was right, and their daughter had gotten that habit from her after all. Great, she was doing it. "You mean that it'll have sex and stuff in it, and I'm not supposed to hear it."

Lucifer was about to say something stupid; Chloe was certain of it. She glared at him before he could make a sex joke in front of her seven-year-old. "Don't even, Lucifer."

"I was only going to-"

"No, you help Trixie get her teeth brushed and tucked in. I need to talk to my mom and then you come back. Monkey, when you're ready, we'll tell you what Grandma explained to us tomorrow after school."

"I can't stay home again? Lucifer didn't even get a chance to teach me how to help you pring your wings yet!"

The devil stood in one fluid motion and helped Trixie by pulling out her chair. "It's 'preen,' fledgling, but I can teach you more about it this weekend. We have plenty of time yet for good feather hygiene but let's leave your mum and gran to it."

"Will you read me a story?"

"Tonight, yes, but the shortest you have."

"Will you do voices?" she asked, and Chloe was watching her daughter wheedle Satan in real time.

"Monkey, not tonight. Teeth brushed, pj's on, and bed; that's it. I mean it."

Trixie frowned but finally nodded. "Alright, Mommy. I promise."

Lucifer held out his arm for her with his elbow bent just so. "Now, child, are you ready or not?"

Trixie looped her arms through his and they both disappeared upstairs to where the bathroom was so she could get her teeth brushed first. It was both courtly and ridiculously cute. What even was Chloe's life anymore?

Her mother had watched everything with eyes so wide that Chloe was worried they might roll out of her head. "What is going on?"

She tried to keep her voice calm and her tone low. The problem of her mother's house was that the walls were thin and soon enough Trixie would be nestled asleep in her room behind the sliding door. They'd probably have to go out to the balcony to talk anyway. Trixie would keep her ears pressed so hard to the door if they didn't.

"We have to talk about everything. I…I can't do this anymore. Trixie's hurting. Things are not going well with Dan, and he's trying for her sake, but he's still pulling away. I can see it in his face even when he looks at her. Mom, it was one thing when all the secrets and the hiding and everything else was about me, but she's in this too. I wish she weren't…I wish she were just like her father, but she's not. So, I need to know more. I need to know what I am."

"I don't want to talk about my time with The Daughters of the Dark. I was foolish and selfish, and I just…can't we move on?"

Chloe blinked her eyes furiously to keep herself from crying. Standing up, she busied herself by clearing the plates first and taking them to the sink. While she scrubbed, Lucifer and Trixie made their way down the stairs and to her room. He shut the door and politely waited for her to change behind it.

"Urchin, don't dally. I fear a long night with all this family talk. I did promise to tuck you in so chop-chop." He shrugged and eyed her, even after he added the extra consonant pop on the "p's."

Her mom rabbited out of her seat and swept up the used glasses, scooting to the sink as well. "Why on earth does he have to be here? Why would you even tell him."

"Oh, she showed me, Penelope. Make no mistake on that, love."

Chloe rolled her eyes at the sky and then took a deep breath. "Lucifer, don't bait my mother. Mom, Lucifer's got a very good reason to be involved beyond being my investigative partner. I…just help me finish cleaning up."

"He shouldn't be here."

"I didn't make a deal like a selfish, thoughtless cow and damn-figuratively at least, I've no domain over whatever you've done-my daughter and granddaughter for my name on a marquee."

Her mother slammed her hand flat on the counter. "You told him about that too?"

"It was necessary."

"How?" her mother said, shoving her hands on her hips. "How dare you think you know anything about my family. I found you charming, at first, but I saw how you sabotaged the dinner with Junior. I can see how you like to stir things now. My choices have been my own, and they don't concern some club owner in the slightest."

Lucifer crossed his arms over his chest with slow, deliberate grace. Chloe felt the goosebumps rise over her skin. Lucifer was one for theatrics. He shouted, he ranted, he was like a child at some crime scenes…that much was true. However, when he got his most still was also when he was most deadly. She'd seen him stalk with deliberate, single-minded focus after Ty's agent like this.

Her mother sensed it too and tensed beside her.

When he spoke, his voice was low and calculating. "You know what I am, don't you, Vampire Queen? I've never hidden, and I never lie. You can feel it right now? I know that you can, that I am something so much more than human."

"I…you can't be him."

"The real Lucifer? Satan incarnate?" He shrugged again. "Of course, I am. How is that any stranger than what you've witnessed yourself, what you were a part of?"

"But you're not real?"

"And pagan demons are?" Chloe offered, her throat choking on the words. It wasn't exactly what her mom had sworn Chloe and Trixie's souls to, but it was something otherworldly and something bad. Lucifer didn't want to see it, but Chloe could. Hell, she could feel it in her. "Mom, I needed help."

"So, you asked the Devil?"

Trixie opened the door then. She was wearing her Wonder Woman sleep shirt that came down past her knees and cradling Miss Alien to her chest. "Mommy? There's yelling."

She looked to Lucifer who nodded at her and then turned to smile broadly at Trixie. "Perhaps one story, fledgling, while your mum and gran talk on the balcony."

"So I can't hear them?"

He strode toward her and took her hand in his. "Yes, but I promise to tell you the good parts. Now, what are you reading?"

"Mommy just started Harry Potter, and you don't even have to work hard to do the voices."

He eyed Chloe from around the room and gave a (what else) theatrically put-upon sigh. "The things I do for you, urchin. Well, lead on."

The door shut soon behind them and Chloe looked to the balcony. "Come on, Mom. We have everything to talk about."