Chapter Text
Chloe threw her suitcase into the already-full trunk of the luxury SUV Lucifer had pulled into her driveway. Several gifts littered the backseat as well, and she shoved her two-bags-full in, adding to the collection. She was tired from getting her cases in order and getting Trixie packed and off to Dan’s. Vacations were totally overrated when it was this much work to get going.
But she and Dan had promised Trixie last year that they would go back to her mom’s cabin. Secretly, Chloe feared that Trixie would be let down. What could beat “best Christmas ever!”? But she had the leave and so did Dan, after a long year. Even Ella had the leave—and for once wasn’t headed back to Detroit. Some fight she’d had with her brothers resulting in a hangdog look for the two weeks until Chloe had proffered an invitation.
It would all be good, Chloe’d told herself. The drive was almost ten hours, but they’d all stay four nights. Yes, it would be good. She’d almost lost herself in memories of last year. It would be very good.
Then Lucifer had sprung the plan of heading up a couple days early. He’d been giddy, delighted by his plan. An anniversary—and that brought Chloe up short; how had it possibly been a year—and she couldn’t say no.
Lucifer was—no shock to Chloe—not an ideal road trip companion. They stopped six times during what should’ve been a six hour drive. Once for gas, twice for snacks, and the fourth, fifth, and sixth time to see a ghost town, the Uniroyal Gal, and “Nightmare Rock,” respectively.
By dusk, the hum of the road was making Chloe’s eyes droop. Her head jerked up as Lucifer slowed and made a turn. Seeing parking lots and low building through the window instead of trees and slopes, Chloe realized she must have dozed for a few moments.
Bridgeport barely counted as a town. Lucifer was questioning his choices as he slowed the SUV. The detective claimed she liked places like this, but seeing it in person rather than in sunny, summer google images, he was beginning to have his doubts. But he’d arranged in advance for a carryout meal from the Canyon Grill and a prepared bag of groceries for the next day.
He caught the detective’s yawn as he pulled into the gravel lot.
“We’ll pick up dinney here, and it’ll be another fifteen minutes up the road to our snug little cabin.”
“Mmmmm.” Chloe stretched, pulling her arms above her head. “Sounds perfect. Mind if I wait here?”
He pulled his eyes away from watching the arch of her body. “I’ll just be a moment, my dear.”
In the restaurant, he dinged the bell at the empty host’s stand and took in the rustic decor. Yes, carryout had been the way to go. He dinged the bell until a young woman hurried out from the kitchen. He gave his name, ignoring her widened eyes, and watched her turn back the way she came.
He fussed with the jar of toothpicks and pile of spindled receipts and hummed a few bars of Rebel Rebel. It had been a good year with the detective. An effective partnership at work with the LAPD, and a very fruitful partnership off duty. They’d established quite the rhythm, so to speak. He smiled, pleased with his double entendre and planning to share it with the detective later.
They had moved on from the mishap in the loft nicely—better than he’d anticipated, certainly. He’d been very careful to make sure his devil face had not made an appearance again. The rest, though, she’d turned out to be quite accepting of—especially the wings for which she’d developed a distinct fascination.
When the woman who'd greeted him returned, Lucifer peeled a couple of hundies off the roll in his pocket and exchanged them for the several bags of food she was carrying.
“Thank you!” she said.
Lucifer shrugged. It wasn’t like he wanted to handle change.
“Merry Christmas!” she called behind him as he shouldered open the door.
From Bridgeport, Lucifer turned the SUV onto a smaller road heading farther into the mountains. Next to him, Chloe poked into the bags of food to see what he’d gotten.
“Smells good,” she said, laughing when her stomach growled in agreement.
He shot her a grin before turning his attention back to the road. At the GPS’s prompting, he turned onto a drive to the right. The beams of his headlights illuminated a sign reading Piney Knob Cabins. Even though he knew the name of the place, he giggled at the sight.
“Really?” Chloe asked, more amused than surprised.
“It’s perfect, don’t you think? It’s not our little house on the lake, but a cozy cabin in the mountains to celebrate a year of partnership?”
“Perfect, yeah,” she agreed, and Lucifer’s smile grew wider.
The driveway curved to the right and spit them out on a gravel lot in a circle of nearly two dozen identical cabins, built all but side-by-side and looking more run down than quaint. The nearest one had a split-wood sign stuck in the ground in front painted with little fur trees and declaring “check-in” with an arrow pointing toward the door. Lucifer’s eyes narrowed, and his knuckles tightened on the steering wheel. This wasn’t at all like the pictures online, which had artfully photographed one cabin without capturing its neighbors. This place was very nearly a motel plopped down on the edge of the woods.
“Did the hill people decide to open a Motel 6?” he scoffed. “This bait-and-switch won’t do at all. We’ll find somewhere else suitable for—”
“It’s okay,” Chloe said, laying a hand on his arm. “I know it’s not what you had in mind, but it’s late and I’m hungry. We can decide whether we want to stay in the morning. We can always head up to my mom’s place early.”
He sniffed. “Fine, but if cannibals come after us in the night, I’m blaming you.”
It was the thought that counted, Chloe told herself. And, really, this had been a sweet one—and surprisingly nostalgic coming from Lucifer. Probably cribbed from a movie, as many of his attempts at “boyfriending” were. Yes, it was the thought that counted, she repeated to herself as she mediated between a sniping Lucifer and the woman working to check them in: Charlene who—as Chloe reminded Lucifer—just worked there and definitely could not turn the cabins into something they were not. She pulled him out the door as soon as she had the key to cabin #8 in hand.
Chloe walked across the gravel lot while Lucifer pulled the car into the spot for number eight. Four steps led up to a porch. Between the twilight and the low overhanging roof, the front door was cast in shadow. She fumbled with the key until it finally slid into the lock, but it wouldn’t turn. She tried jiggling it, pulling the key out a little and trying again. It didn’t budge. She heard the porch creak under Lucifer’s weight as he joined her.
“It’s stuck. Can you…do your lock thingy?” She waved her hand in the direction of the offending entryway.
He chuckled and laid a hand on the wood…and the door swung open. Sometimes, it was convenient having the devil as her boyfriend. She ran her hand along the wall until she found a light switch which lit two floor lamps. The door opened onto the main room of the cabin. Surveying, she saw a bedroom to the right and the kitchen straight ahead at the back of structure. She pulled the key from the lock and helped carry their luggage and dinner inside. Once done, Lucifer stood in the middle of the room, apparently at a loss.
“Let’s eat,” she suggested, bringing the food into the kitchen.
Lucifer snatched a towel from the drying rack next to the sink and wiped down the table before he began pulling containers from the bags of carryout. Chloe folded her arms and leaned against the door frame, watching him, bemused by his fussing. He opened a cupboard and moued at the mismatched selection of plates before pulling out two.
He was outright muttering—something about charlatans—as he pulled open drawers looking for cutlery. Beyond the noise Lucifer was making banging the cabinetry, Chloe began to hear other voices outside. She couldn’t make out any words, but she was familiar enough with the bickering tone.
Lucifer glared at the window. “‘Private, rustic cabins’ indeed.”
“It’s okay, Lucifer. I’m glad to be here with you, regardless.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, leaning up to place a peck against the corner of his frown. “And I do appreciate the thought.”
He harrumphed, but she felt him relaxing against her. “I suppose we can rough it for one night.”
“I suppose we can,” she teased.
A screen door banged outside, causing Lucifer to startle, the plates clacking together in his hand. Chloe could make out the voices now. A man’s deep voice, rippling with rage, and a higher voice, a teenage boy or a younger man. Chloe’s cop instincts lit up like a Christmas tree. Whatever was unfolding was leagues beyond bickering.
“You absolutely useless little piece of shit. It was your job to get all the food packed in the car. A moron with less sense than two nickels could handle it, but not garbage like you.”
Chloe met Lucifer’s eyes. They were narrowed in anger, and his mouth drew tighter through the tirade they overhead. Then, a high yelp sounded, followed by the crack of splintering wood and a thud.
“Bloody Hell.” The backdoor squealed on its hinges as Lucifer wrenched it open and spilled onto the back porch.
Chloe followed through the open doorframe, leaning over the railing for a look since Lucifer’s tall form was blocking her view.
A lanky boy—she’d guess fourteen or fifteen—was sprawled in the dirt amongst the splintered remains of the railing from the back porch of the cabin next door. His right forearm was skinned, blood beginning to bead under the smear of dirt.
A rapid tromp, tromp, tromp down the wooden steps drew Chloe’s attention to a burly, red-faced man descending on the boy. He grabbed a thin wrist and wrenched upward, letting the boy dangle by his shoulder when his feet tangled under him.
The boy found his feet and gasped, “S-sorry. I’m sorry.”
“Who do you think is going to pay for that? Not you, you freeloading piece of trash. I don’t know why I even keep you around.” The man raised his free hand, readying the blow, letting the boy see it was coming. The boy ducked his head away while he tried to yank himself free.
“Hey,” Chloe yelled as the backhand started to come down.
And Lucifer…Lucifer was on the big man, catching the falling arm in mid-arc.
Lucifer peeled the father’s fingers from the boy’s wrist, one by one. Once the grip was loosened, the kid pulled free and fell back, clutching his wrist and eyeing the situation unfolding. Despite Lucifer’s hold, the man continued to glare at the boy, a look promising retribution to come. That simply wouldn’t do. Lucifer gave the man’s arm a jerk, refuting him.
A snarl curling his lips, he turned to Lucifer. “You—”
But whatever he was going to say was lost when the boy lept to his feet and took off running between the two cabins. Lucifer heard Chloe’s boots in the dry leaves as she followed after.
“That’s right. Run, boy. I know where to find you,” the father howled, uncowed by interfering strangers.
Lucifer narrowed his eyes, focusing his attention back where it belonged, the hold on his temper slipping further. He dragged the bastard up onto the porch with the broken railing. He let his arm go and caught him under his chin instead, shoving him against the cabin hard enough that the wooden shingles shook.
“Enjoy beating up on children, do we?”
“The boy is worthless,” the man spat. “And this is none of your business. Let me go, or I’ll…”
Lucifer felt the rising tide of heat inside himself. The man’s jacket caught and tore on the splintering shingles as Lucifer lifted him up. He grabbed at Lucifer hand as his heels scrabbled against the wood in his effort to find purchase.
“You’ll what?” Lucifer asked in a precise, even tone.
The man squealed as Lucifer’s eyes flared red and bright.
“What, exactly, will you do? What does a father do to a ‘worthless’ son?”
“He’s not—” The man gasped. “He’s not—”
“What? Good enough for you? Worth it?” Lucifer saw flames licking along the hand at his prey’s throat.
The quivering jaw tried to open once, twice, before: “My son.”
Lucifer stopped flighting his devil face, and the man’s scream was high and thin but satisfying nonetheless.
Chloe rounded the front of the cabin to find the boy hunched over on the steps, arms wrapped around his knees. The abrasion on his forearm was on full display, along with the dirt streaking one side of his face and both arms. Keeping her distance, Chloe knelt down to eye-level.
“I’m Chloe. I’m an LAPD detective, staying here on vacation. Will you tell me your name?”
“Jeremy.” He shivered in his jeans and t-shirt. “Jeremy Riesner.”
At the sound of a door opening behind her, Chloe stole a quick glance over her shoulder. Charlene from the check-in desk, bundled in puffy purple parka, was making her way over.
“Jeremy,” Chloe said, aiming for low and soothing. “Are you here with anyone besides your father?”
“Father?” Jeremy shook his head, rubbing his wrist. “He’s my uncle. My cousins and my other aunt and uncle are supposed to meet us here on Christmas Eve.”
The day after tomorrow. “Your parents?”
He shook his head again, his teeth chattering as he stuck his hands under his arms. “I live with my uncle.”
Charlene was hovering over her shoulder, wringing her hands. When Chloe glanced her way, she took it as her cue.
“Is everything okay? Is there anything I can do?”
The uncle needed to be secured. “Do you have a first aid kit in the office?”
“Yeah, we can get that arm cleaned right up,” Charlene promised.
Chloe raised an eyebrow at Jeremy to check if that was okay, and he nodded. “Sounds good. I’m going to check on his uncle. Charlene, will you call your sheriff’s office and ask them to send someone over?”
“Yeah, of course.” Charlene turned her attention to Charlie. “Come on in. It’s freezing out here, but plenty warm in the office.”
As Chloe began trotting back around the cabin, she heard a scream. She froze, glancing toward the office. Charlene and the boy were inside, and the door was shut and didn’t open. She raced around the corner, heart thumping.
The man Lucifer was pinning to the back of the cabin was weeping and thrashing, trying to get away from the iron grip at his throat. The sharp smell of urine assaulted her nose.
“Lucifer!” she shouted.
He turned, and her eyes widened. He was wearing his devil face. Red and raw and ridged. She hadn’t seen it since the day in the loft almost a year and a half ago. It was both less and more than she had remembered, and she found her breath catching in her throat. She’d wanted to ask him to see it again. Every time she skirted toward the topic, he brushed her aside, and the time had never seemed right to press the issue.
Now, though, now was not the time to study it. Regardless, his face flickered back to the one she was used to, painted with a look of surprised panic. He let go of Jeremy’s uncle who slid limp to the ground where he curled his head under his arms and pulled up his knees. His soft whimpers and hiccoughs were loud as she and Lucifer stared at one another.
“We...called the sheriff. Can you...” She glanced from Lucifer to the shuddering form on the peeling slats of the porch floor. “Can you get my handcuffs from my bag?”
Lucifer’s head jerked up and down as if on a string before he headed toward their cabin. But he paused as he passed her, his mouth opening and closing without finding whatever words he was looking for. He gave himself a shake. “Right, I’ll just grab the restraints, then.”
Chloe frowned as she watched him climb the steps. His jaw and shoulders were stiff, his usual ease of movement absent. Glancing at the huddled ball on the damaged porch, she judged Jeremy’s uncle wasn’t going anywhere soon and ran up the steps behind Lucifer. He froze, eyeing her.
“Lucifer?”
“Apologies, Detective.” He shook his head, and tugged at his cuffs. “I... I certainly didn’t mean for you to see that. I’m not…if we could just…” He took a step backwards, breathing too rapidly.
Chloe reached out, meaning to reassure, but he jerked away and, with a sudden thwack, his wings unfurled, slapping both the railing and the cabin wall. He looked about as startled as she was.
“Lucifer!” She glanced in a panic at the man still whimpering on the porch next door. His arms were even more tightly wrapped around his head, and he was paying no attention. “What are you doing? Put those away!”
He’d gone pale, and his eyes were wide. “I didn’t mean…” He pulled the wings in close to his back as he did when he was preparing to make them disappear. He shrugged…and nothing happened. He tired twice more to no better effect. His brows drew together and his lips parted on shallow breaths. “I can’t…I don’t understand.”
Chloe bit her lip. Something was very wrong, but any curious guest could come to investigate the commotion at any moment—or even just pop onto the back porch of one of the nearer cabins for a poorly-timed smoke. “It’s okay. Look, we’ll figure it out, but please let’s get you inside.” Chloe pushed past him toward the door, giving one of his wings a gentle shove when it remained in the way. She opened the door and then hustled him through. Once he was in the kitchen, she flipped all the wooden blinds closed, blocking any view from the outside.
“Okay,” she said as much to herself as to him. “Okay.”
He was standing, staring at her, wings held close but still very much corporeal. She stepped into his space, taking ahold of his hands as he took two deep breaths.
“Okay,” she said again. “I want you to stay here and try to calm down. I need to go back outside, because the sheriff’s office has been called. I’ll secure our neighbor and wait for them to arrive, give a statement. Come join me when you can?”
“Of course, yes, of course,” he said through a stiff smile.
“It might be a little bit before it’s all handled.”
He nodded. “I’ll be fine. Just need to sort this little sitch, and I’ll join you. Need to make sure our miscreant is sent to his proper punishment, after all.”
“Good.” Chloe unzipped her bag and dug under her clothes for the cuffs she’d thrown in at the last minute. She shrugged into her coat and took the badge from the inside pocket and clipped it on her belt instead.
“Detective, I am sorry.”
She shook her head and tried to convey with a smile that all was well on her end, before she ducked out again.
Chloe waited with Jeremy’s uncle on the steps to the office. He was calmer now, but he leaned against the edge of the railing, as far from her as possible, staring at nothing in particular. Charlene peeked her head out to let Chloe know a deputy was on the way. A number of curious guests approached, as well. Most minded their own business when she pulled her coat aside to flash her badge, although she suspect more than a few were watching through their blinds.
Glancing at her phone, Chloe saw she’d been waiting almost half an hour. Lucifer hadn’t made an appearance, and she was about to text to check on him when a car marked Mono County Sheriff rolled around the curve. It was another hour-and-a-half later when she’d finished giving a statement and seen Christopher Riesner turned over into county custody. Another twenty minutes after that, a second deputy had taken Jeremy to town to wait while they tried to contact his aunt.
After both cars had disappeared, Chloe inhaled deeply and looked up, only to find her breath caught. The night had slipped to full dark and the moon had yet to rise. The sky was brimming with more stars than she remembered seeing in a very, very long time.
A hand touched her sleeve. She jerked, her heart skipping a beat, having been so lost in the moment she hadn’t heard Charlene join her.
“Beautiful, aren’t they? Hard to believe it’s supposed to snow all night. Do you need anything else, honey? Otherwise, I’m going to tuck in.”
Chloe blinked her way back into the moment. “No, no. I’m good. Thanks for the help tonight.”
The cabin door was still unlocked when Chloe reached it. She nonetheless gave a knock and said, “it’s me,” before pushing it open. The lights were off again, and she heard a rustling in the dark. She bolted the door and flipped the switch.
He stood in front of her, eyes still too wide, and the ends of his wings shook, betraying the slight tremor running through his body.
“Lucifer, what’s wrong?”
“I can’t…I can’t put them away.” He glanced over his shoulder at the offending wings. “It…doesn’t make sense.”
Chloe wasn’t sure what she could offer. This part of his life remained far outside her understanding. Stuck…angel wings? She stepped closer, placing her hand against his jaw, cupping it firmly until she felt the tremors subsiding. “We’ll figure it out.”