Chapter Text
Three days passed before Azazel became functional again. His wounds had healed within the first twenty-four hours with nary a scar, thanks to Ella’s meticulous work, and his physical strength returned fully the next day, but he’d had to take that third day for his mental health.
What story Ella and Alastor told everyone, Azazel didn’t know, nor did he care.
He finally dragged himself out of bed and took a much-needed shower, afterward donning a pair of pajama pants. He exited his room, pausing as Shax walked out of Alastor’s room. The blue-haired incubus stopped at the sight of him, ignoring Alastor as the fawn followed. The sprout looked between them and rolled his eyes as he took the bag from Shax’s hand.
“I’m going ahead,” he muttered. “We leave in thirty.”
Shax nodded, not removing his eyes from Azazel. Blue eyes looked him over, assessing. Azazel resisted the urge to fidget, letting Shax look his fill. If he tried to hide, he’d only cause his friend more concern. He likely looked worse for wear with his hair still damp and unbrushed, hanging heavily down his back. His bare back. Azazel was suddenly self-conscious. Was he making Shax uncomfortable?
“Leaving?” Azazel questioned.
Shax jerked, his cheeks flushing a bright red. One hand moved up to rub the back of his neck as he looked away. Azazel arched his brow with interest. That was new.
“Yeah.” Shax cleared his throat. “Lucifer is taking Alastor and me to Hell with him and Trixie.”
Ah, Azazel moved to get a drink until the words registered, and he whipped his attention back to his friend. “You’re going back to Hell?! What? Why?”
“Trixie asked if I would.” He shrugged nonchalantly.
What has he missed over the last three days? His stomach churned. “Why doesn’t Maze go? I think she’s feeling a little left out,” he explained, thinking of their last conversation and how quickly she jumped to the conclusion that their Kings would actually leave them for Heaven.
“I’ll mention it, but I’ve already agreed this time.”
“You hate Hell,” Azazel tried again. “Alastor said thirty? That’s plenty of time for me to get ready.”
Shax rushed forward to grab him before he could reach his room. “Zaz! It’s fine! You need to rest!”
“Rest? I’ve rested for three days.”
Shax wouldn’t let him go. “Lucifer gave you the entire week. Stay put.”
Wait, what? “The entire week? What for?”
Shax looked at him strangely. “Alastor said he’d found you out cold, and Ella said it was exhaustion from being overworked.” Overworked?! He wasn’t overworked! He was bored most of the time! Shax read his expression easily. “They’re covering up for something, aren’t they?”
Ah. Well, shit. Azazel gently pulled out of Shax’s grasp. “It’s nothing.”
“Zaz.” Shax cupped his cheek, turning his gaze back to him. His friend was touching him an awful lot this morning. “You’d tell me if it was something, right?”
“If only I could,” he muttered, avoiding eye contact. Shax’s expression tensed. “I’m fine now. I can go in your stead.”
Shax stopped him again, grabbing his arm. “Ella bought you a week of rest. Don’t blow it. I’ll be fine.”
She’d bought it with a shit-ass excuse. “Lucifer truly bought that I’m overworked?”
“I don’t know if he did or not,” Shax admitted. “But he gave it to you, anyway.”
It didn’t make sense. Michael, at least, should have seen through their bullshit.
“Linda may have also mentioned that your last session seemed hard on you.” Azazel blanched, staring at Shax as he quickly continued. “She didn’t say anything specific! I swear! She wouldn’t do that. But it did help sway Michael in your favor. If anyone knows how hard sessions can be, it’s him and Lucifer. Honestly, they seemed relieved to hear that you were taking the sessions seriously. Think of it as being their way to support you.”
Support him?
“Jane made a few meals for you as well. They’re in the fridge, so all you have to do is heat them up.”
Azazel broke away, walking to the fridge to check. Sure enough, stacked in neat piles, were enough meals to last him a week. A few meals, Shax said. Right. When he closed the door, he noticed the plate of cookies sitting on the counter.
“Trixie made them,” Shax said, noticing where his attention had landed.
Azazel blinked. The feel of tears told him he wasn’t as recovered as he thought. They had everything so wrong. He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve any of it.
“Zaz.” A warm hand settled between his shoulder blades. He tensed as a gentle kiss was placed on his left shoulder blade. “Don’t turn around,” Shax whispered before he could. Azazel froze, not daring to breathe, as Shax stepped closer, wrapping his arms around his middle and pressing against his back. Azazel swallowed thickly. “This okay?”
“I should be asking you that.” What was happening right now?
Shax chuckled softly. “I’m the one doing it.”
Those hands moved up his chest, catching on his nipples, hitching his breath. Shax froze at the sound. Azazel closed his eyes, only opening them when Shax relaxed against him. One hand gently moved his long hair off his neck. He felt his friend shift to his toes to press a kiss against the back of his neck just as the other hand rose to wrap around it. Azazel’s stomach jolted, not from pleasure, as his body completely locked up. In response, Shax went still.
“Boundary,” Azazel forced out shakily. “Firm boundary.”
Shax let him go, immediately stepping away and placing two arm lengths between them. Azazel closed his eyes, breathing in through his nose and out of his mouth.
“Never put anything around my neck. You can pin and hold my wrists, but don’t tie them.” He turned to Shax, taking in his seriousness as he listened. “I’m good with everything else.”
He wasn’t sure they’d ever get to that point, but it felt important to tell Shax now, just in case they did manage to move past friends making the attempt for something more. There was no way he could explain his reasoning for the limits, but Shax wouldn’t need him to.
Shax nodded. “Heard and filed.” He hesitated. “I’ll never be under you. I…I can’t even have women on top of me.” Pink colored his cheeks; embarrassment and shame.
“Okay.” He’d expected that one, maybe not the women bit, but it made sense. “I prefer to bottom anyway.”
Azazel knew immediately he’d said too much. Shax turned into a fish, cheeks a bright red. He stammered, glancing around quickly, looking for a way out. He chuckled. Only this incubus would get flustered so easily by sex. “Linda already fed you, I see.”
Those blue eyes landed on him. “How can you tell?”
Act normal. That’s what Linda said. “You’re embarrassed. You’re not hungry.” Shax tilted his head, processing his words. His eyes lowered to his neck, making Azazel’s skin itch. “You’re sure you want to go?” he asked before Shax could say anything.
“I already told Trixie I would.” Shax was not happy with the interruption but allowed it.
“Well, be careful then.”
Shax walked to him, an indulgent smile on his face. “I can take care of myself, you know?”
Azazel huffed. “Excuse me for worrying about you.”
“Only if I’m allowed to worry about you in return.”
“I’m not the one going to Hell.”
“I’m not the one who collapsed from exhaustion.” Shax was going with the excuse given, but his arched brow said he wasn’t buying it. “Besides, my job while we’re there is to watch over Alastor and Trixie. We’ll be staying in the castle.”
He snorted. “Even in the castle, those two will find some way to cause trouble.”
“Most likely,” Shax agreed with a laugh. “I promise I’ll be fine. I can handle a few days.”
“Then why are you still here?” Azazel teased.
The incubus shifted on his feet. “I’m trying to work up the nerve.”
Azazel waited for him to continue. “Nerve for what?” He finally asked, unable to handle the silence any longer.
Shax swallowed. “Nerve for this.” He moved so fast that Azazel didn’t have time to register the touch of lips to his before Shax was backing away. “I’ve got to go! Bye!”
Wait. What just happened? Did…was he just kissed?! “Hold on! Shax!” But his apartment door was already closed, and Shax was gone. He rushed to it, yanking it open. “Shax!” The blue-haired demon was not in the hallway any longer. Well, damn.
Azazel stood dumbly, staring down the hall, as his fingers slowly rose to touch his lips. Had he imagined it? He had to. Right? The door to the apartment down from his opened as Ella leaned out of it. His gaze slowly met hers. She looked him over, stepping out of her rooms.
“Are you okay? I heard yelling.”
“I…” He stopped, lowering his hand, and shook his head. “It’s nothing. Just my mind playing tricks.”
Ella stepped forward to place her hand on his forehead. “You don’t have a fever.”
“I never had a fever.” He brushed her hand away.
She hummed. “Go get some rest, Zaz. And tell me the next time you feel an attack coming on. Hear me?”
He hadn’t felt this one until it was too late, but, “I hear.”
“My offer is still open.” Her expression was solemn. “Just say the word and I’ll tell them.”
Azazel gave her a grateful but sad smile. “I know.”
He wasn’t ready for them to know. He had to fix things first.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Michael didn’t know which was worse: that his mother was all so powerful and yet so clueless as to trust a human with a suitcase of money, or that their only lead to the final piece of the Flaming Sword was currently bleeding out on the floor. He couldn’t even collect the money he allowed his mother to borrow, seeing as the killer had scurried off with it.
Maybe he should have gone with Lucifer and the others.
Chloe, thankfully, had come when called, despite it being the weekend, with little more than a look that said he’d be explaining later.
“Do I want to know how your mother ties into all of this?” She whispered to him, making sure those working the surrounding scene didn’t hear.
It still felt weird to him that Chloe knew who Charlotte was, well, at least who was housed in her body. She had no clue who his mother actually was, even so, every time Chloe mentioned it, Michael watched her carefully for any signs of distress. Learning about the Goddess of All Creation would definitely be the thing that broke the wall said Goddess had placed in her mind for protection.
“He’s a client of hers.”
“A client?” Michael nodded, waving his mother over reluctantly because she refused to leave. Chloe squeezed his biceps sympathetically, turning her question to Charlotte. “Why is Zeke Moore, a manager for an import/export company, a client of yours?”
“Because he works for Bianca Ruiz,” Charlotte answered simply.
“Oh, wonderful,” Chloe drawled unhappily. “The woman that deals in guns, drugs, and, don’t let me forget, people.” If a look alone were enough to kill, Charlotte would have dropped.
His mother either didn’t notice or didn’t care. Michael figured it was most likely the latter. The two women stared at each other long enough that he became uncomfortable. No love lost here.
“Find anything, Ella?” he called, breathing a sigh of relief when Chloe took his guidance and moved over to the demon. “Can’t you just leave this to us?” he hissed toward his mother.
He and Lucifer disagreed with allowing Chloe to know she was their mother, regardless of the fact that she needed to know the reason for the woman’s desire to know Beatrice. Michael disagreed with that as well, but he did agree that the less time the two spent together, the better.
For someone who didn’t want them sharing anymore secrets, Lucifer was sure handing them out.
Goddess scoffed. “I don’t think so. This is far too important.”
Michael groaned, giving up, and moved to hear what Ella was saying.
“Too bad he can’t catch bullets,” Ella finished.
“So, not a professional hit. Maybe a robbery gone wrong?” Chloe speculated.
“Any idea what was stolen?” Goddess asked, ignoring Michael’s glare, trying to get her to shut up. She rolled her eyes at him.
Ella answered. “Trace elements point to your typical bad guy stuff - cash, cocaine, gunpowder residue pointing to guns.” She shrugged, turning back to the safe. “No sign of forced entry though.” She leaned over. “Wait, hold on. Ha! A phone,” she said excitedly as she held up the phone in question. “No dust on it, so it hasn’t been there long.”
“Zeke had his phone on him,” Chloe said as Ella brought the phone closer. “So, this one could be the killer’s.”
Unfortunately for all of them, the phone was passcode protected with no clues except for a pair of ‘boob-eyes’, leaving them with the only option being to return to the precinct for research. Through it all, Goddess stuck to them like glue, separating only to bother and flirt with Daniel. Michael thought briefly of trying to save the man, but Daniel looked like he had it handled for the time being.
“Is it really a good idea to let her hang around like this?” Ella asked, running the symbol on the phone through recognition software.
“I don’t know,” Michael groaned. “It’s keeping her out of trouble.”
“But letting her be so close to Chloe?”
“I know, Ella.” Michael leaned against the table. “I’m backing myself into a corner here, I know.”
Ella hummed, saying nothing. Michael knew the hole he was digging for himself. Chloe knew about Charlotte posing as their mother though, so it wasn’t like he had to worry about that coming to light. He only had to worry about her discovering that they were trying to piece together a sword made from the blade that had killed her. That was sure to rattle the hornet’s nest.
Why did their lead have to get himself killed?
“Hey, I found it!” Ella cheered, waving him over. He signaled Chloe, who quickly came to them. “It’s a record label that only exists to publish this guy’s music.”
She pushed the play button and they were assaulted by the worst music Michael has ever heard. He grimaced. “Seriously? They publish this of their own free will?”
Ella shrugged. “Money talks.”
“Who owns it?” Chloe asked. “And can you please turn it off?”
Silence has never sounded so good.
“Chet Ruiz,” Ella told them.
“Bianca’s youngest son,” Goddess said, entering the room behind them. “I thought I recognized that racket. Half of our billing goes to keeping him out of jail. Officially, he’s not part of the family business so he does,” she pointed to the computer, “this. Bianca keeps him far from it, actually.”
“So, he decided to make a play himself then dropped his phone while doing so?” Michael snorted. “No, wonder she keeps him out of it.”
“If Chet is the killer, this could blow the head off of Bianca’s entire operation,” Chloe added. “We could actually get her this time.”
“Only one problem,” Ella said. “The phone only proves that Chet was in the room, not that he killed anyone.” Unfortunately.
Chloe passed the task of getting past the phone’s passcode to Dan and made another valiant attempt to get Charlotte to leave. Once again, his mother refused, wagging a golden opportunity in their faces with an invitation to a party being hosted by Bianca. Chet was going to be there, and it was too good an opportunity for Chloe to pass on, despite Goddess insisting that she was going since the invitation was in her name.
“Detective Espinoza could accompany me,” Goddess tried.
“Nope.” Chloe wasn’t having it. “I’ll go. No arguments.” She pinned Michael with a glare when he tried.
“Fine.” Goddess looked over Chloe critically. “But I suggest you go shopping,” she said haughtily. “This isn’t the kind of place you can attend in pajamas.”
“Mother,” Michael groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. Was she trying to start a fight?
Chloe narrowed her eyes at the insult as Goddess walked away. “Pajamas?” She turned to Michael, aghast. “Who does she think she is?”
“Goddess of all Creation,” he answered honestly, freezing as he noticed his slip. Ella stared at him unbelievingly.
But Chloe only scoffed. “I’ll show her, Goddess of Creation,” she mumbled darkly. “I’m going through your closet, and Maze is helping me.”
Michael balked. “My closet?!”
“Yep.” Chloe crossed her arms. “I know the dress I want is in there somewhere.” He made to argue, but she didn’t let him. Her chin lifted stubbornly. “I can always have Maze raid it instead,” she threatened. It was the most ‘Lilith’ thing he’d seen from her. Merging indeed.
Ella was trying not to choke on her laughter in the corner–and failing. Michael groaned. “Alright, fine. I’ll let you in.”
Chloe rummaging through Lilith’s clothing couldn’t go wrong.
It would all be fine.
“Good luck,” Ella sang as he followed Chloe.
He was so, so screwed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Trixie held her hand over her mouth, trying to keep her breathing quiet. It was so dark in the wardrobe that she couldn’t see anything except for a thin sliver of light through the doors. It was getting hot from her breathing and the heavy cloaks hanging around her. She could feel her heart racing and mentally begged it to be quiet. It was going to give her away.
A door opened outside the wardrobe. Trixie’s breath caught as the gentle ‘clip clop’ of tiny hooves on stone reached her. The sound came closer. Closer. Stopped. Silence. Was she found? Her heartbeat was so loud there was no way she wasn’t.
Trixie screamed as the doors of the wardrobe flew open and clawed hands grabbed her ankles to drag her out.
“Caught you,” Alastor grinned triumphantly.
Trixie laughed. “Oh, yeah?” He wasn’t going to win that easily.
She jumped onto him. Alastor grunted in surprise as the two of them rolled on the floor. They wrestled, their laughs echoing off the stone of her room. Despite their being the same size, Alastor easily took the upper hand, much to Trixie’s frustration.
“Not fair!” She cried, unable to get out of his hold.
Alastor laughed. “Get stronger, Princess.”
“Well, now that I know no one is dying…” They stopped to look at Shax. He was smiling, watching them from the doorway with arms crossed as they detangled themselves and stood. “That was a valiant effort, Princess, but Alastor has won again.”
Trixie pouted. “I backtracked like he told me to. I even touched all the doors in the hallway to leave my scent on them.”
“It’s all over out there,” Alastor added. “It’s so strong it led me straight to this hallway, but it was harder to determine which room you went into.”
“Then what did I do wrong?”
“You chose your room to hide in,” Shax explained patiently. “Granted, had Alastor been someone who didn’t know that information, he’d have had a harder time. Instinct tells us to go somewhere familiar and safe.”
“So, I should have hidden in a room I’m less familiar with.”
“That’s a start,” Shax agreed. “Where did you hide?” Trixie pointed to her wardrobe. “Obvious and dangerous. Why?”
Trixie frowned, looking at it before looking back at Shax. “Because it’s the biggest thing in the room?” Her confidence grew when he nodded encouragingly. “And it, um…” She trailed off, looking at the wardrobe again. It seemed perfect to her.
“There’s no escape route,” Alastor answered for her. She sighed. Why was this so hard?
“Exactly,” Shax agreed. “And the second most obvious place in this room to hide?” He directed toward her again.
“Um.” She looked around. “Under the bed?”
“Very good. Alastor, where would you have hidden?”
Alastor looked startled to be included. “In here?” Shax nodded. Her deer-eared friend didn’t hesitate and pointed toward the four-poster bed. “Up there.”
Trixie scrunched her face. “The top of my bed?”
Shax arched his brow, intrigued. “Why?”
Alastor shrugged. “It’s shadowed, gives the best viewpoint of the room, and while the threat is checking the wardrobe, I can flee out the door. Plus, bonus, no one ever looks up.”
Shax thought a moment before conceding, impressed. “Fair enough.”
That’s if the person fleeing could even get up there, Trixie thought grumpily. Her wings needed to hurry and mature. Dad won’t let her attempt using them until then.
“But what about my heartbeat?” Trixie asked. “Alastor’s ears are so good, even if I did hide up there, he still would’ve found me.”
“Not necessarily,” Alastor argued. “Your heart rate wasn’t that fast.”
“Really?” Was that a compliment? It was, wasn’t it? Trixie felt pride bloom in her chest.
He nodded. “I could barely hear it over my own.”
“That would change if she were being chased for real. In this scenario, she knew you wouldn’t hurt her,” Shax stated. “But most demons, while advanced, don’t have hearing like Alastor’s.”
He had a point, Trixie knew, but the swelling from Alastor’s previous compliment dwindled in the face of it. “Then how did you find me? Besides looking in the obvious spot,” she asked her friend.
Alastor smirked. “Your breath caught.”
Trixie stared. “You heard that?! You were way over there!” She motioned to the door.
He laughed. “My ears are good, remember?” His ears wobbled to show off.
Trixie scowled and flopped onto her bed. “I’m never going to win this game,” she groaned into her pillow.
“Chin up, Princess,” Shax said with a chuckle as he sat on the bed beside her. “Wendigo are formidable hunters. Not many can outsmart them. Even Ella would have trouble, and we know how good cats are at sneaking around.”
Trixie turned her head, looking at Alastor curiously, who was watching her in turn. What was he thinking? “How would I survive a wendigo?” From the sounds of it, if she could manage to outsmart Alastor, she could outsmart any of them.
Alastor tilted his head before smiling, showing off his sharp teeth. “Win the game, and I’ll tell you.”
“Alastor,” Shax chastised.
He huffed, crossing his arms and looking away, ears flat. “Unless she ventures into the forests in the far north, she won’t even come in contact with another wendigo.”
“You made your way here,” Shax argued. “Who’s to say others won’t follow?”
Alastor remained stubbornly silent. Trixie moved to him, leaning around him to meet his eyes. “Please?”
He blinked before scowling and twisting away. “Are you that scared of me?”
“Of course not!” Where did he get that idea? Trixie walked back in front of him. “But part of learning to survive down here is learning how to survive different demons.” He still didn’t look happy. “I’d never be scared of you, Al.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Princess,” he mumbled.
“I’m not!” If he was talking about his monster form, she’s already seen it the day the snake attacked them. She wasn’t scared of him then, and she knew she wouldn’t be in the future.
“Look,” he snapped. Trixie flinched, and he took a breath, observing her before relenting. “Just don’t go to the woods at night. If you do, stay near a fire, and don’t leave it, no matter what you hear, even if it’s your dame or sire yelling for you. Remember, we’re mimics. You can’t run, you can’t hide. We’re too fast. We can hear and smell you miles away.”
She knew all of that already.
“What about trees?” He’d mentioned no one ever looks up. Did he often climb to stay safe?
Alastor shook his head. “You already said that I’d hear you,” he pointed out. “We’re good climbers. Hiding in a tree won’t help you.”
“On the ground,” Shax added. The two sprouts looked at him. “Remember, Princess, you have wings. Learn to fly well and fast.”
Yeah, well, they needed to mature first. She’d have to survive on the ground until then.
“They won’t protect her against harpies or sirens,” Alastor challenged.
“No,” Shax admitted. “But she’s small. She could get in a small space and cover her ears.”
Trixie had read about those. Harpies were bigger and more bird-like, with feathered bodies and sharp talons for feet, than their cousin the Siren, who had wings for arms but otherwise resembled beautiful humanoids and used their voices to hypnotize their victims. There was an offshoot of sirens who had crossed with mermaids, taking on the fishlike features of the more docile race, but were just as vicious as their flying counterparts. According to her aunt’s journals, one could sing loudly to disrupt the Siren’s song and weaken its effects.
“Honestly,” Shax continued. “The best defense you have, Princess, is praying. Send Lucifer a prayer and keep it open. He will find you.”
Alastor snorted bitterly. “If he can fly fast enough.”
Shax crossed his arms. “The three of us weighed him down, and he wasn’t in a hurry. Trust me, he’ll get there.”
“He wasn’t able to get here hundreds of years ago, was he?”
Shax’s face darkened. His eyes took on the same eerie blue glow as that night. Trixie felt her breath catch in her throat as the blue faded from his roots. Her mind flashed back to the Shax that had tossed her into the elevator; the large claws and teeth, face covered in blood, the same red soaking into his snow-white hair.
She worked to control her breathing. She wasn’t afraid. He hadn’t hurt her then, and he wouldn’t hurt them now.
“Watch what you say next very carefully, fawn,” Shax growled, sending shivers down Trixie’s spine.
Alastor narrowed his eyes at the threatening tone, straightening his spine. His ears stood tall, cupped toward Shax, and his nose twitched, taking in the scents in the air. A flash of white caught Trixie’s attention as Alastor’s tail flicked, the only sign of his anxiety. He snorted, loud and deep, but breathy. Shax’s brow rose.
“Are you challenging me, little fawn?” He inquired slowly, eyes watching Alastor intently.
Alastor stomped a cloven hoof on the stone as he snorted again. His eyes glanced at her meaningfully. What was he trying to do? Trixie decided then that she needed to do some research into deer behavior when she got the chance. It would likely help her extremely in understanding her friend, especially in times like this when he reverted to instincts instead of words.
Shax laughed and stood, eyes glowing, his hair fully white now, and crooked a finger. “Come on then, if you think you’re big enough to do so.”
It was a trap. The feeling rushed through Trixie, filling her with alarm. Alastor recognized it too, judging by his anxious step back, his ears twisting uncertainly before settling back on Shax. Another glance at her and he stood his ground, stomping again with a drawn-out wheeze that was alien to Trixie’s ears.
Shax grinned at the sound, recognizing it where Trixie didn’t, and took a step forward, testing Alastor’s resolve. Her friend stomped again, straightening further, his tail flicking with increased anxiety. Their guardian wouldn’t hurt Alastor intentionally, she felt sure of that, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t forcibly put the fawn in his place. She didn’t understand the dynamics the demons had between them, but she had read enough of her aunt’s journals to know they had a very strict hierarchy, and her friend was currently right at the bottom.
Shax wouldn’t let Alastor climb without challenge, but something in the air warned Trixie that now was not the time for her friend to push his luck.
“Alastor.” She called his name as firmly as she could, fighting to keep her breath steady. The ear closest to her twisted in her direction. He grunted, a soft, low sound that, once again, Trixie didn’t understand. “Shax.” There was a minute twist of his head to show he heard her. Trixie took a deep breath. “Stop it.”
They continued to stare at each other until Shax finally blinked, took a step back, and sank onto the edge of her bed. Seeing the older demon concede, Alastor relaxed, though he kept his eyes focused on the other. Shax checked his hair and groaned, leaning onto his knees and gripping his hair in his hands. He looked up with a heavy sigh, his eyes, thankfully, back to normal. Trixie let out a breath of relief.
“We didn’t keep a prayer open for him when we should have,” Shax said, voice distant as he explained. “If the prayer remains open, he can fly along the connection to her much faster than he could normally.”
Trixie bit her lip. Were they talking about the night they died? No one talked about that night, and she has been too hesitant to ask. Her heart raced, but curiosity won over her fear. How did Shax feel about that night? Could she learn something from him?
She slowly let her power leak in his direction. It was still hard for her to control it, but she was getting better as she let it settle just around his feet.
The pain hit her first, making her gasp. Her chest ached so much she found it hard to breathe. Intense regret, guilt, pain, and sadness bombarded her. Shax blamed himself. Did they all lay the blame at their feet? It all stopped. Trixie blinked to find herself on her knees as she sobbed.
Shax rushed to her, kneeling in front of her, though he didn’t touch her. “Trixie! Don’t do that! You haven’t gotten strong enough to filter it as you should.” He was upset, but not with her. “Unholy hell, I’m sorry. So sorry. You should never have had to feel that.”
It was Alastor who tugged her into a hug, pushing calm and strength to her through her power. “Foolish girl. Pull it back in before you hurt yourself further,” he muttered into her hair.
Trixie focused on his warmth, catching suggestions of frustration with her for her ‘foolish’ impulse. There was also another feeling there, hidden yet blooming steadily, warm and comforting. She reached for it, not understanding what it was, but she wanted to wrap herself in it. Alastor tensed, pulling it away and pushing his rising frustration at her instead.
“Stop digging, idiot!” He snapped. “Pull it in.”
“Alastor. Be nice,” Shax ordered.
She heard Alastor huff and weakly laughed, focusing on doing what he said. Trixie wiped her eyes as she sniffled. She attempted to soothe her guardian. “It’s not your fault, Shax.”
He sighed forlornly. “I’m not debating that with you, little princess. You shouldn’t look at other people’s emotions. It’s an invasion of privacy.”
She didn’t need to use her powers to know more guilt now rested on Shax’s shoulders. “I’m sorry.” Trixie rested her head on Alastor. “I just want to understand all of you. I want to help.”
Shax gave her a sad smile. “There are some things I hope you never have to feel or understand, Trixie. Your parents would agree.”
He sat on the floor, motioning her into his embrace. Alastor grumbled and resisted, but let her go when she gave him a gentle pat on his arm. Shax held her close as Alastor settled across from them.
“You have a big heart filled with love, and you care greatly about everyone. It’s not a bad thing to want to help, but there are better ways to go about that than spying on the emotions of your loved ones.” Shax combed his fingers through her hair as she listened.
“But how else am I supposed to know what they’re feeling?”
“You could ask,” mumbled Alastor. “I’m fairly certain I’ve mentioned that before.”
“I do ask,” Trixie complained. “No one ever tells me the truth! Mom always tells me she’s okay, even though I can tell she’s not. Dad acts like he’s happy, but he still feels sad most of the time. Aunt Jane has been sad and angry with Uncle Michael because he won’t talk to her. And Uncle Michael’s angry at himself half the time and the other half his chest hurts with longing, I think that’s what it is anyway, every time he looks at Aunt Jane or sees Dad with Mom.”
She took a breath, continuing before either could speak. “I ask and I ask, but I always get told not to worry about it, or they distract me with something else. Why can’t I care about them? Why won’t they let me help them?”
“Trixie,” Shax started.
“You’re a sprout,” Alastor interrupted, not looking at them. “They’re adults and your parents. Isn’t it their job to shelter and protect you, even if it’s from themselves? Aren’t they supposed to make sure you’re happy and fed and safe?”
“They make sure you’re fed. They make sure you’re clothed, have a bed to sleep in, and you want for nothing. They’re there when you’re upset and heal your wounds. You’re welcomed with smiles and hugs whenever you need them, and you want to complain because they’re not dumping their issues on you?”
Green eyes rose to meet hers. She was surprised to find them wet but hard as he stared at her.
“You want to know how we feel? I wish I had a dame like yours. I wish Michael were actually my sire because you know what mine did? Mine worked me until I bled. Mine beat me, trying to toughen me up, and when that didn’t work, mine tried to feed me to my own brothers so they would live because I was too small and weak to be worth the effort anymore.”
Trixie was crying with him as he spoke, voice breaking more and more with every word uttered. Shax tried to stop him, but Alastor continued as though he hadn’t heard.
“My bed was tree limbs, dirt, or rocks. My food was rotten scraps or rodents if I was lucky, tree bark or moss when I wasn’t. I was only ever greeted with snarls and glares, or spit on, or attacked. I had to heal myself if I ever got hurt. When I had to hide, it wasn’t for some game because if I was found, I was dead.”
“You want to know how I feel, Princess? I hate that you’re so pampered and spoiled that your biggest complaint is that they don’t share their feelings with you. I hate that I never got to be a sprout that was protected and loved like you are. I hate that I’m so small, weak, and worthless! What happens when Michael realizes that? When Lucifer realizes? When you do?”
Alastor’s voice broke completely. Tears raced down his cheeks, and his lips trembled from trying to hold them back. His arms wrapped around his knees, pulling them close to his body. Trixie moved to go to him, but Shax kept one arm tight around her waist.
“I don’t think you're weak, Al,” she tried, but her friend shook his head, ears drooping as he turned from her to hide his perceived shame of his tears.
Trixie tried to go to him again, but Shax stood, not letting her go. She looked at him angrily, but remained silent when he shook his head as he carried her to the bed and sat her down. The look on his face…Trixie couldn’t read it.
He went back to Alastor and dropped to his knees. The fawn eyed him suspiciously, letting out a distraught bleat when Shax leaned forward and took him into his arms. Shax sat back on his heels, holding Alastor to him as the fawn struggled and kicked, letting out frantic bleats before he finally slumped against the older demon, boneless and silent.
The next breath, Alastor tucked his face into Shax’s shoulder and wailed, ears pressed so tightly to his head they disappeared into his hair, and his clawed fingers dug harshly into Shax’s back until blood bloomed in the fabric.
Shax whispered, “You’re not weak. You’re not worthless.”
“But I’m so small,” wailed Alastor.
“So what?” Shax parried gently. “You are small but mighty, just like Ella.”
“I’m not supposed to be small!”
“Being small is not a weakness. You are strong. Want to know how I know? Because you stood your ground against the danger I posed earlier. You survived odds no one else could because you are smart and willful. The Kings have taken you in, and they don’t just take any demon. You’re in training to become the Attendant to the Princess of Hell, and I know Lucifer wouldn’t bother training a weakling to protect his only daughter.”
Shax held Alastor’s tear-streaked face between his hands, forcing the fawn to look at him. “It doesn’t matter what some lowlife demon thinks of you when the very Kings of Hell themselves see something special in you. Remember that.”
Alastor nodded shakily and didn’t protest when Shax lifted him up to join Trixie on the bed. Instead of leaving them, Shax settled down between them, tucking them both close as their tears dried.
Trixie watched Alastor fall into an emotionally exhausted sleep as she listened to the gentle rhythm in Shax’s chest. Her dad had told her that Alastor had not had an easy life before them, but he hadn’t come close to the truth of it. The part of her that had been frustrated at the time now understood why her dad had left the information out. Did all of them have such nightmarish histories?
The horror and sadness of it all settled heavily in her chest as more silent tears left her eyes. Alastor was right. She was spoiled compared to him. If this was what her parents were protecting her from, she was glad for it. She didn’t like this feeling at all and half-wished that Alastor had said nothing.
More tears leaked from her tired eyes. Shax gently brushed back her hair. He’d been so silent that she hadn’t realized he was still awake. She wiped her tears away.
“Shax?” He hummed to signal he’d heard her. “Why does your hair turn white?”
He froze momentarily before his fingers started playing with her hair again. “Still asking those hard questions, are we?”
Trixie winced. “I’m sorry. I won’t dig.” She didn’t think she could handle learning more harsh truths right now.
Shax sighed. “It’s my natural color,” he shared.
Oh. Trixie had known that he dyed his hair, but figured he lightened it beforehand. “Don’t incubi normally have black hair?”
More silence. “I’m mixed,” he admitted slowly. “I’m not full incubi.”
Oh. This time he sounded more reserved, signaling that this was a topic that he didn’t want to continue with. Lesson learned, Trixie remained silent, closing her eyes. She let the steady beat of his heart lull her into sleep. The image of Shax from her vision appeared to her. She smiled.
“I kind of like your hair white,” she mumbled sleepily.
His shock was clear. “You do?”
Trixie nodded sluggishly, snuggling closer, her head almost touching Alastor’s. She drifted into sleep a few minutes later.
That was how Lucifer found them a few hours later; all three sleeping soundly cuddled together. He smiled tiredly, moving to cover them with a spare blanket and rekindling the fire so they remained warm. The King spared one last look, frowning as he finally noticed Shax’s white hair, but seeing as neither sprout was harmed, he let them be as they were. He’d discuss it with Shax in the morning.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chloe left work so that she could prepare for the party that night. Charlotte’s parting words still bothered her greatly. She recognized the challenge in the woman’s gaze as she had trailed her eyes judgementally over her. Chloe had thought they were past this, but apparently not.
She didn’t care about getting Charlotte’s approval, but she wouldn’t be insulted in such a manner. She knew her current wardrobe was lacking (there were more important things for her to spend her money on than fancy, high-end clothing), but she knew where she could easily find something to meet the standards of the supposed Goddess.
Something twisted in her gut as she remembered how Michael described his mother: the Goddess of All Creation. It tugged at her, filled with spite and a warning combined. The woman was dangerous, no matter how much they hated and reluctantly respected her. But despite the warning, Chloe would refuse to back down from her. She would not be cowed.
Chloe entered her apartment to find Jane on the couch, tablet in hand. Her sister looked up, reasonably surprised to see her. “I didn’t think you’d be back until much later.”
“Sting operation,” she explained as she passed, heading for the bedroom to gather her makeup bag. “Want to help me pick a dress?” She asked as she reentered the living room.
“What kind of event?” Her sister listened as she explained the party before wincing. “I don’t think we have anything on hand for that, Chloe.”
“I know, which is why I was going to raid what Michael and Lucifer have in their closet.”
She’d thought briefly of wearing one of the dresses the men had given them during the cheating guru case, both of which hung in garment bags in the closet as neither man would accept them back, but decided against it. There was another dress she wanted, one she couldn’t see in her mind, but she knew she’d know it when she saw it, and she knew it would be here. How, she couldn’t fathom, but figured her currently silent mental partner was guiding her.
Jane’s expression shuttered. “I think I’m good. Have fun.” She returned her attention to her tablet.
Chloe set her bag on the table and sat beside her sister. “Jane, what’s going on?”
She’d let her sister have her space, but this has been going on for weeks now. Jane avoided Michael whenever she could, sleeping alone instead of joining them, which resulted in Chloe leaving their bed to stay with her sister. Jane’s avoidance didn’t extend to Lucifer; her sister still engaged in cuddle time when Lucifer joined them while keeping her boundary of no intercourse with him.
Chloe had questioned Lucifer about whether Michael had shared anything with him about the issue. All he’d been able to tell her was that Eve had taken over and said something she probably shouldn’t have. She’d picked up on the subtle anger in Lucifer’s words but didn’t comment on it.
Was Eve continuing to cause issues? Something in her raged at the thought.
“Jane, talk to me,” she encouraged when her sister stubbornly said nothing. “Is it Eve?” Jane flinched. Bingo. “What’s going on?”
Jane sighed, lowering her tablet to her lap. “She’s not happy that everyone is moving on without her. She feels like she’s being forgotten, and she’s pissed about it.”
That would make some sense. “But if she’s concerned about everyone, then why are you only avoiding Michael?”
“You think it’s just Michael?” Jane laughed bitterly. “Sure, Michael is the biggest sore point, but she’s irritated by Lucifer, too.” She set the tablet to the side, pulling her knees up.
“Lucifer? Why?”
“I don’t know.” Jane shrugged. “She keeps going back and forth. It’s like she’s having trouble deciding what she wants.”
Could that be why Jane would seem fine with Lucifer, then suddenly pull back from him? Chloe frowned. “What do you want?”
“It doesn’t matter what I want,” Jane said morosely.
“Of course, it does!”
“Not when she can apparently just take over whenever she wants,” Jane snapped bitterly.
“She shouldn’t be doing that,” Chloe repeated what Lilith said to Michael. The rest of the conversation was blurry, but that statement had been very clear. “What do you want?”
Jane huffed, looking away in frustration. “I want things to stop being so complicated.” She turned back to Chloe. “I want to be with you and Lucifer without feeling like a huge chunk of us is missing.”
Chloe smiled empathically. “We know. We feel it.” She wrapped an arm around her twin. “Being with Lucifer is great, but, admittedly, I also have moments where I feel your and Michael’s absence. Lucifer hasn’t said, but I know he does too. Sometimes, he’ll reach for someone who isn’t there, or he’ll have a random thought that he’ll pop up to share, only to find the one he wanted to tell isn’t there to hear it. The only thing we can do, though, is wait. Michael said that he wants to join us, so we need to trust him and keep faith that he will when he’s ready.”
“And try not to go crazy in the meantime,” Jane muttered.
The sisters chuckled. “Easier said than done,” Chloe agreed.
She sat with Jane until her sister kicked her out, insisting that she would be fine while Chloe handled work. On her way up to the penthouse, Chloe stopped to ask Maze if she wanted to assist. The demon had looked completely flummoxed by the question but quickly agreed.
Michael was waiting for them, anxiously pacing by the steps to the bedroom. He grimaced when he noticed them. “Are you certain that this is a good idea?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?” Maze asked. “It’s just clothing.”
Michael glared at her until Chloe grabbed his attention. She wasn’t arguing with him about the dresses–she was finding the one she wanted–but she could ask about something else. “Why would Eve be so scared of being forgotten?”
Michael blinked in confusion at the abrupt change of topic. Maze watched her as though she had lost her mind. But if anyone had an idea of what Eve’s issue was, it would be Michael.
“Is that what’s going on?” Michael sighed sadly when Chloe nodded. He hesitated, chewing on the inside of his lip as he attempted to get his thoughts in order, trying to determine what was safe to tell her and what wasn’t.
“She’s really messing with Jane, Michael,” Chloe said. “It needs to stop,” she added firmly. “Extra identity, past-self, whatever, I won’t have someone hurting my sister.”
Dark eyes met hers. Finally, he caved. “When you hear the name Eve, who is the first person that comes to your mind?”
Chloe frowned but answered. “The first woman, according to the Bible, but what does that have to do with anything?”
“Everything, unfortunately.” He sighed anxiously, hand running through his hair. “What the Bible doesn’t mention is that there was an Eve before the first human woman came to be.” He watched her intently as he slowly spoke. “When we were cast out, our father reused her name, completely erasing her from history as punishment. Only very few Dark Churches know of her, and those only because Lucifer and I planted the knowledge.”
Instead of focusing on the implications of what he was saying, considering the moment she tried her head gave a throb of warning, she instead focused on the point of what he was trying to tell her. If Eve had already been forgotten once, her resistance currently made perfect sense.
“How do we help?”
Upon seeing that she wasn’t going to self-combust, Michael relaxed, breathing out heavily. “I don’t know.”
Maze rolled her eyes. “Could you not talk to her? Make her see sense?”
Michael shook his head. “I can’t, not without hurting Jane.”
The migraines. Chloe sighed. “Then talk to Jane. Eve will hear.”
“I won’t risk her taking over again,” Michael said firmly. “The last time took Jane out for hours. I don’t know what is so hard for you two to comprehend, but if you remember the wrong thing, you could literally go brain-dead. It almost happened already.”
Chloe remembered the mess they were in when she collapsed after the poisoning incident. He just confirmed her suspicions, but she couldn’t argue as another throb of pain blasted across her skull. “Then how can we make her see that she won’t be forgotten this time?”
“He could finally have sex with her,” Maze drawled.
“Not helpful, Mazikeen,” Michael growled.
Chloe frowned thoughtfully. “You’re not moving forward right now because you’re trying to move on from her so you can be with Jane. If you-”
“Because Jane told me to,” Michael yelled, interrupting her. Chloe gaped. She hadn’t known that. “I made a move and made my intentions very clear. Jane told me no until I could see her and not Eve.”
Oh, Jane.
“They’re the same fucking person,” Maze argued heatedly. “Who cares which name is used?”
Chloe bit her lip, chewing on it in thought. “It matters because one name will die.”
Lilith?
We prefer the other one.
Chloe.
Lilith has already chosen to let her name die. Maybe that was why Chloe could no longer hear her and could only feel imitations of her now. Their identities were becoming one, whereas the identities in Jane were still fighting for dominance. It was a losing fight in Jane’s favor, considering she still kept control most of the time, but Eve’s identity was fighting back.
I feel like I’m competing against myself. Jane’s words from their session with Linda so long ago echoed in Chloe’s thoughts. They were both afraid of fading into nothing.
She understood, but dread filled Chloe’s stomach at the thought of losing Jane to a, to her, secondary identity.
Chloe looked at Michael to find him deep in thought, staring at his feet. Was he coming to the same conclusion? Which identity would he choose? Did they even have a choice in the end? Did Jane? Did Eve?
Her head started hurting more consistently, steering her away from that line of thought. Chloe rubbed her temples to soothe it, noticing Michael’s immediate focus on her.
“I’m fine,” she said before he could comment. “It’s mild; a warning.” He wasn’t pleased in the least, but there was nothing she could do about it now. “I still need to raid your closet.”
“I’d rather you didn’t, especially now.” His voice was hard but wary.
Chloe glared at him. “You two keep asking us to trust you, and we do, but that trust needs to go both ways. We trust you to share what you guys believe to be important, but you have to trust us to know our own bodies and limits. I’m being pushed to find a certain dress, and I aim to do so.”
Michael’s jaw tightened stubbornly, not giving her an inch. Why was she surprised that he was fighting her on this? It was nothing new for Michael to speak his mind and stand his ground. The surprise would be more understandable if he simply submitted to her. How could she feel the same surprise at two different ends of the spectrum? Was her surprise now from Lilith’s memory of him?
There was a flash of irritation before it settled uncomfortably in her stomach. Maybe she and Lilith weren’t in agreement as much as she thought.
What if Michael’s resistance was deeper than even he knew? She has picked up on subtle and not-so-subtle clues that they had not been strictly ‘vanilla’ in the past. Chloe remembered Ella’s comment about it being the Queens who ruled and the suggestive look that went with it. Michael’s clearly been in charge since the incident, taking care of Lucifer and handling business mostly by himself. That was bound to mess with the dynamic they’d had before.
“It’s just a stupid dress, damn,” Maze bit out. “Tell me which one and I’ll go get it.”
Chloe appreciated her attempt. “I don’t know what it looks like. I just know that I’ll know it when I see it.”
“And if it’s not here?” Michael asked tightly. “We didn’t exactly bring everything of theirs with us.”
He had a point. “It will be here.” Her instincts insisted on it. “Lucifer wouldn’t have left it.”
Michael narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “I think I know which one it is.” He stepped up the stairs, looking over his shoulder. “If it’s not, then I’ll let you raid the closet.” He waited for her agreement before disappearing.
“You guys are ridiculous,” Maze muttered, settling on a barstool. “If you weren’t so in your heads, you four could have been fucking months ago.”
Chloe cut her eyes toward the other woman. “Our relationship isn’t built merely on sex,” she defended.
Maze grunted, picking at her nails. “Whatever,” she dismissed weirdly respectfully. “Too much trouble if you ask me.”
No one asked you, Chloe resisted saying, and chuckled lightly with bemusement instead. Maze was a character for sure.
Michael reappeared at the top of the stairs. A white garment bag hung from two fingers as he held it out for her. He remained silent as she approached, sudden nerves wrecking her stomach. Why? As Maze said, it’s just a dress.
She reached for the zipper, pausing as her eyes lifted to Michael’s. His face was carefully neutral as he gave her a short, encouraging nod. Chloe pulled down the zipper just enough to see the dress inside.
She gasped, her fingers shakily moving to touch the black material. It felt like the softest satin. It felt like nothing. “This is it,” she breathed.
This dress was special and held so much meaning that tears suddenly flooded her eyes. She vaguely remembered wearing it a handful of times on very special occasions. It was old but always looked meticulous, as though freshly made, and was always there, no matter how many times she thought she’d lost it. It was an original, and there would never be another like it; could never be another like it.
Michael gently pressed the dress into her hands before letting go. He was smiling when she looked at him, his expression filled with a mix of melancholy and nostalgia. He stepped down as he guided her until they were standing face to face and brushed away her tears. “You are the stars,” he whispered.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She stood on a hilltop, gazing at the stars. The universe would change them as time goes by, shifting them into new patterns for generations to come, some dying as new ones are born. They twinkled merrily in the sky in a multitude of refracted colors, creating the intricate galaxy above their heads.
“You wore it.”
She turned to see Lucifer…no, that wasn’t right. He hadn’t changed his name yet. What was it again?
“I can read, you know.” She turned back to the stars.
He chuckled as he came to stand at her side. “Enamored with my stars, are you?” She scoffed, not believing him for a second. “You can ask Mikael if you don’t believe me. Ask Father if you must, but they are mine.”
She twisted to look at him, retort sharp on her lips, but paused at the look in his eyes. They were dark, filled with appreciation as they roamed over her body. Heat flooded through her as she shifted nervously under his gaze, a rustle of feathers behind her.
Feathers?
Something drew her eye over his shoulder. A flicker of light? She couldn’t bring it into focus.
He smirked, sensing her discomfort, looking rather proud of himself. She harrumphed at him, turning back to the stars to hide the flush on her cheeks. His pride would be his downfall one day.
“I’ve made a million stars, but these are my favorites.”
“Why?”
She turned to him when he didn’t answer. He wasn’t looking at the sky. He was looking at her.
“Because you’re wearing them.”
That was the moment she knew…she was doomed to fall with him.