Chapter Text
Lucifer hated parties.
Everything was an act, a showcase. Parties were nothing but an excuse for everyone to dress to the nines and brag about their boon in power and finances. All across the room there were authentic furs, golden watches, encrusted jewelry, long trains and tailored fits.
Even Lucifer wore a suit specially crafted for the occasion. To accentuate his persona of the devil fallen from Heaven, Lucifer’s suit was a crisp white with a red vest that resembled the fires of Hell itself. Golden threat adorned his lapels and trailed down his sleeves, causing him to glimmer like the crystals of the overhead chandelier.
Across the expanse of his back, etched in both gold and crimson thread, were the six wings of the fallen angel. Gaudy as they were, the wings were a proclamation. He was Lucifer: the king of their underworld. No one could mistake him. No one could approach him by accident.
Lucifer refrained a sigh as he swirled the red wine in his glass. The clamor of the crowd mixed with the constant thrum of the live music was like buzzing static in his ears.
He glanced across the ballroom, watching as everyone mingled and chatted — noting that no one was dancing to the music — and became acutely aware of the space.
No one got too close. No one got too chummy. There was a level of respect between all of them, none wanting to cross some unseen boundary and causing a war that would be too costly to finish. No space was wider than the one between him and everyone else. Yet, despite the distance, he still felt crowded.
“Another lovely gathering, wouldn’t you say, Lucifer?”
Lucifer’s attention snapped to the present at the sound of his name. Standing before him was the dazzling and deadly Rosie Canibal, one of the heads of the Nine Powers. She and seven others swore allegiance to Lucifer and helped him run the city. Thanks to her widespread influence in the fashion world, Lucifer now had many politicians and businessmen in his back pocket.
“As expected,” Lucifer responded, forcing a grin on his face. “Your parties never disappoint, Rosie.” He offered his glass, to which Rosie gently clinked with her champagne flute.
She stepped in close. Not close enough to bump shoulders, but close enough to make it feel almost normal. “Don’t give me that,” she teased. “I know you’re miserable here. Not enough razzmatazz!” She vaguely gestured to the crowd. “These stiffs don’t know how to relax and have fun.”
Lucifer snorted into his wine. This was perhaps the last place any of them could relax. Presentation was everything with a crowd like this. Not only were the heads of the Nine Powers present, but there were also extended allies and colleagues hoping to do business or keep the peace. There were even potential partners hoping to gain connections. This party was meant to establish trust and display character. This was not meant to be a fun evening.
“I don’t see you out there cutting a rug.”
It was Rosie’s turn to snort. “With these people? Hardly. I’d rather dance with a board.” She sipped her champagne and Lucifer’s enviously watched the strawberry bob at the bottom of her flute. “Although, if I could find tall, dark, and handsome, a dance with him might make this evening worthwhile.”
“He’s around,” Lucifer assured.
“I’m sure he is.” She winked at him. “The devil’s shadow is always close by.”
Some people preferred to have their men lingering at their shoulders to intimidate any who got too close. Lucifer, on the other hand, didn’t need intimidation, nor did he want it. Though, his consigliere often disagreed with him on that.
“What tasteful gossip have you unearthed this time?” he asked, swiftly changing the topic. “You don’t typically approach me unless you have something to say.”
“I always have something to say, darling,” she said with a delicate wave of her hand.
That was true. Rosie had a talent for sniffing out information and judging what small details could stockpile into something worthwhile. It was one reason Lucifer relied so heavily on her.
“Shall I start with something juicy?” she teased. Before he could answer, she leaned in close and said conspiratorially into his ear, “The mayor’s got himself a side piece.” A subtle nod of her head indicated who she was referring to, which was a relief to Lucifer. He was terrible at putting names with faces.
Stolas Goetia stood with Mammon, another head of the Nine Powers who managed the banks, and some politicians Lucifer didn’t recognize. While Stolas was smiling, it was tentative. Lucifer didn’t blame him. Mammon made a habit of making everyone uncomfortable.
Standing close by was Blitzø, one of Lucifer’s trusted men. Blitzø, along with many others, were on duty this evening to keep everything tame. However, he was lingering a little closer than most. Possibly to keep Mammon on his best behavior.
“And the wife?” Lucifer asked, keeping his voice low.
With another subtle nod, she drew his attention to the bar, where Stolas’ wife — Lucifer couldn’t remember her name — was chatting loudly with other women. She was one of the causes of the loud chatter. Really, it was a miracle the band could be heard at all over her loud squawking.
“Stella is aware of the affair,” Rosie informed, “but she’s choosing not to make it public. After all, this would tarnish her family name. Good information to be had if you want her brother in your pocket.”
Lucifer raised a brow. “Who’s her brother?”
“Andrealphus. He runs the factory on the south end. They produce 20% of America’s plastics.”
Lucifer let out an approving hum. They could use some more influence in distribution.
“I thought you’d like that,” she said with a snicker.
“A wonderful start,” he praised. It almost made his sip of the red wine enjoyable. “What else do you have?”
Rosie had plenty to share. From small tidbits, such as how the police chief — who was stuffing himself at the buffet — had a newborn daughter, to far more fruitful insights, like how the treasurer of the city was embezzling money for herself. With Rosie’s nod, Lucifer was able to identify the woman in the circle around the mayor’s wife. He’ll have to address that issue soon. They couldn’t have the city’s finances be wasted for one person’s gain.
When a waiter tentatively approached them with a serving tray, Rosie happily grabbed another champagne flute. She then took Lucifer’s wine glass from him — hesitating just long enough to get his approval — before replacing it with another. Lucifer made sure not to frown when he was handed more red wine.
Rosie didn’t need to dismiss the waiter. As soon as she was done, he scurried off to the next guest of the party. Lucifer idly wondered if the waitstaff knew who they were serving or if they just made an educated guess.
He made sure to smirk, showing all his teeth. “Thank you, Rosie,” he said as lifted his glass. “You always know what I need.”
“Naturally,” she said with a smirk of her own.
“Tell me about business on the south end,” he urged. He had been wanting to address that from the start.
The south end was the poorer part of the city where the common laymen typically labored away their lives. Yet, the south end was far from their lowest profit. Not only did they benefit from the fish market that operated at the shore, but the bordellos provided a hefty profit.
Recently, though, whispers of a narcotics trade in the south end had caught Lucifer’s interest. Once Lucifer had gained power, one of the first things he did was wheedle out the abundance of drugs within the city. It had not been received well and almost caused a civil war within the Powers. But Lucifer was a cunning man, and it didn’t take long at all for his silver tongue to convince the others to bend to his will.
Some specially timed deaths didn’t hurt either.
So, to hear that drugs were making an uprise in his city again had him more than peeved. There was no stopping drugs entirely — the common man would get his hands on it one way or another — but he recognized a coordinated business when he saw one. This wasn’t some underhanded trade between the common man. No, someone was organizing it. And once they found out who was making a pretty penny off the suffering of addicts, Lucifer was sure to make a personal visit.
“No update yet.” Rosie’s tone was light and solemn. While she had not been around during the initial war on narcotics, the bloodbath that had taken place was no secret to the public. “Thankfully, the dastardly thing hasn’t impacted anyone in my circles. Once it does, I’ll be sure to contact you the moment I find out.”
Lucifer nodded gravely. He supposed he should be happy that the drug remained in the lower class and hasn't impacted those of higher power and money. However, he hated to know that it was the lower class that was suffering.
It was always the lower class who suffered…
In hopes of drowning his souring mood, he took a deep gulp of his bitter wine.
“On a positive note,” started Rosie cheerfully, “I’ve got a fashion show scheduled this summer. And the governor already bought a ticket to the show.”
Positive, indeed. If Rosie could get the governor in her net, that would be a major step to broadening the business across the state. “Good luck.”
“I believe in making my own luck, darling,” she responded smoothly. “By summer’s end, I’ll have him eating out of my hand.”
Lucifer chuckled at the thought. “I have complete faith in you.”
“As you should. Ah! It seems our time has run out.”
Lucifer looked up from his drink to see Asmodeus patiently waiting idly by. He was close enough to the crowd to make him seem inconspicuous, but his consistent glances Lucifer’s way implied he was waiting his turn.
“Thank you for your time,” Rosie said, lifting her glass.
Lucifer reciprocated by lifting his own and clinking it against hers. “Thank you for your business.”
She briefly curtseyed before leaving his side. As Rosie merged back into the crowd, she stopped to address Asmodeus. She gently placed a hand on the tall man’s arm and leaned forward to give him a kiss on the cheek in greeting. Asmodeus responded with a deep chuckle as he placed his large hand over hers.
Lucifer’s heart ached at the sight and he looked away. Just a few minutes ago he had felt crowded and claustrophobic. Now he felt isolated.
A sudden tap on his shoulder was the only warning he received before a long arm reached across him and dropped a strawberry into his wine glass. When Lucifer looked up, he saw none other than Alastor looming over him.
Unlike Lucifer, Alastor’s three-piece suite consisted primarily of black fabric with crimson trim. Anyone who didn’t know better would mistake Alastor for any regular guest of the party. But anyone in Lucifer’s ranks knew to respect anyone wearing multiple layers with decorations sewn into his labels. Regardless, Alastor likely wouldn’t have anyone approach him anytime soon. His monocle did little to hide away the jagged scar across his right eye, and most people avoided those with facial scars.
Alastor gently folded the napkin he had used to hold the strawberry as he said, “Remind me again why I can’t strangle Vox.” His signature grin was stretched tight across his face, revealing his sharp canines.
“First and foremost, he’d probably like it,” Lucifer responded smoothly. He chuckled at the grimace on Alastor’s face. “But most importantly, we need him to manage the media. He has too much of a pull in the entertainment industry to kill him.”
Alastor’s grin grew tight as he growled. “Of all your partners, I find him the most detestable.”
Lucifer raised a brow then jerked his head towards the opposite side of the room. “Even more than Mammon?”
Alastor’s gaze followed the gesture. “Yes, even more than Mammon. Although, it is a close running.”
Lucifer chuckled as he took a drink. The added strawberry didn’t do much to take away from the bitter taste, but Lucifer was grateful for it. But a new taste gave him pause and had him smacking his lips. “Did you pull this from someone’s champagne glass?”
Before Alastor had a chance to respond, Asmodeus finally made his approach. “Ah, Lucifer, what a pleasant evening this is,” he said in greeting.
Why did everyone insist on greeting him by lying about what a great evening they’re having? Regardless, Lucifer nodded in agreement. “Good evening, Asmodeus.”
“It’s just us two,” said Asmodeus with a sad smile. “I don’t mind you calling me Ozzie.”
Lucifer whipped his head around to where Alastor had just been standing, only to find empty space. That bastard.
“Right, Ozzie. Good evening.”
Asmodeus beamed under the nickname, his chest puffed out proudly. “Thank you, sir.”
Lucifer fought the urge to frown. For someone who insisted on informality towards himself, Asmodeus was poor at reciprocating it. But Lucifer really couldn’t complain. They were still in a public setting. While Asmodeus’ business allowed a more informal approach, Lucifer couldn’t risk it. At least Asmodeus was one of the very few who attempted something closer than mere business partners. And he was the only one Lucifer was willing to accommodate.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” Lucifer asked.
“I am! It’s always a good night when I get to party with Bee again.”
Turning his head, Lucifer found Beelzebub lingering by the dessert buffet. She had a bright smile on her face as she chatted amicably with the others. Yes, if anyone brought life to a party, it was Beelzebub. It was one reason she was trusted to manage the clubs and casinos. She knew how to ensure everyone had a good time and kept spending money because of it.
“Hopefully you’re not partying too hard.”
“We’ll be saving that for the after party,” Asmodeus informed. “Any chance you’re coming this year?”
Absolutely not. The mere thought had his stomach flipping and his throat clenching. “That’s kind of you to offer, Asmodeus, but I’ll have to decline.”
Asmodeus visibly deflated. “You know, Lucifer, you could really use some proper relaxation. I invite you every year—”
“And every year I decline,” Lucifer cut in coldly. “I would think by now you’d learn not to ask.”
Asmodeus took a half step back. “You’re right, sir. I understand.”
Lucifer’s stomach flipped again, but it was for a completely new reason. “How’s that little thing of yours doing?”
“Froggy? He’s doing great!” The change in subject seemed enough to improve Asmodeus’ mood. “Vox’s influence is helping get his name out there, but his hard work is paying off on its own. I’m really proud of him.”
Lucifer’s brows furrowed. “His name is Froggy? I thought it had a Z in there somewhere.”
Asmodeus chuckled. “His name is Fizzarolli. Froggy is my little… pet name for him.”
“Oh,” said Lucifer. “That’s really cute, actually.”
“Right? It suits him so well!”
The smile that spread across Asmodeus’ face was one Lucifer hadn’t seen in a long, long time. It was open and hopeful, with a quirk at the end of his lip that verged on downright dorky. It was almost uplifting to see such adoration. In reality, though, it hurt to see.
“Speaking of Froggy,” Asmodeus started hesitantly, “he’s brought something to my attention.”
“Is that why you wanted to meet with me?” Lucifer asked.
“I wanted to meet with you to invite you to the after party and get you to relax for once!” Asmodeus lifted his elbow as if to rub it against Lucifer’s ribs, but stopped just short. “But, yes, this was something I wanted to address with you.”
Lucifer raised a brow. “What did you hear?”
“There’s someone running a pornography company who’s abusing his stars,” Asmodeus informed. “Valentino is his industry name. He’s recruiting people outside of my fold by forcing them into debt. They’re then stuck in servitude and have to endure his abuses.”
Lucifer saw red. His whole body grew taught and the wine glass in his grip shattered to pieces.
“Damn!” Asmodeus swiftly slipped the pocket square from his breast pocket and wrapped it around Lucifer’s hand. “I didn’t realize you’d get this upset.”
Lucifer yanked his hand away and examined it. Outside of a few stinging cuts along the length of his fingers, the greatest casualty was his suit. Red splatters now stained his sleeve and speckled the front of his jacket. He accepted the offered kerchief and used it to dry his hand.
“I’m not fond of extortion,” Lucifer said bitterly.
“As we’re aware. Damn, though, I’ve not seen you this angry in a long while. Had I known, I would have taken your drink out of your hand first,” Asmodeus jested.
Lucifer smiled despite himself. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Ozzie. I give my word that I’ll look into this personally.”
“Thanks, Luci. I appreciate it.”
Lucifer paused. “Luci?”
“Don’t like that one?” Asmodeus asked warily.
Lucifer did. He really did. “No. Just Lucifer.”
Asmodeus’ smile turned sorrowful. “Yes, sir.”
The sound of rushing footsteps drew Lucifer’s attention behind him. A waiter was rushing across the room towards him. Lucifer expected he was coming with some club soda — at the behest of Rosie, no doubt, to save the suit she designed. But as the waiter approached, his tray was discarded. The clattering of bronze against the marble floor combined with the shattering of several glasses did little to draw Lucifer’s attention away from the Magnum the man pulled from his vest.
A sudden yank on his arm had Lucifer stumbling behind Asmodeus’ broad chest. But the waiter didn’t even bother looking Lucifer’s way. His eyes remained transfixed on someone in the crowd as he barreled past Lucifer and Asmodeus, using his arm to push them further out of his way.
A stray bullet fired, cracking one of the tall windows. Screams echoed in the hall as the crowd scattered. Lucifer was vaguely aware past the ringing in his ears of guns cocking and the waiter screaming, “Crimson, you son of a—”
Everything came to a halt with a blur of red silk and dark skin. The waiter’s gun clattered across the floor as he fell in a heavy heap. Crouched over him, firmly pinning his arms and legs with carefully placed hands and feet, was Alastor.
“Such poor decorum,” Alastor said smoothly, though the sharp grin on his face promised deadly intent. “This is a party of the highest esteem and you dare come in here with your sloven state and sloppy behavior?” He shifted to where one arm pressed against the waiter’s throat to free his hand to fetch the switchblade at his waist. “And worst yet, you touched Lucifer. No one touches Lucifer.” With a snap, the blade sprung from the sheath and Alastor pressed it against the man’s cheek. “What do you have to say for yourself?”
The waiter’s face contorted as he choked out, “Who the hell is Lucifer?”
Alastor’s carnivorous smile spread wider. “Wrong answer.”
The waiter let out a strangled cry as Alastor plunged the blade into his cheek. It was at that moment Lucifer decided to step it. He placed a hand on Alastor’s shoulder and that was enough to stop him from further carving the man’s face.
The display was enough to let the guests know this act would not go unpunished. However, what needed to happen next was not something he wanted all of their guests to see. He gestured to some of his men on standby and they hustled in.
“Finally,” said Blitzø once he got close. “I was hoping this night would get interesting. And nothing is more entertaining than exploring new holes, if you know what I mean.”
Lucifer chose to ignore that. He stood back and casually put his hands in his pockets as Alastor and his men hefted the waiter to his shaking feet. “Take care of this,” he said to Alastor, loud enough to be heard by the majority of the crowd.
“With pleasure,” Alastor said, voice saccharine as he stepped back and adjusted his suit.
The waiter was a shuddering mess as deep crimson rivulets dripped from the tear in his cheek and dribbled down his lower lip onto his chin. While he was being dragged out of the room, he cried out, “Crimson is a monster! A monster! You can’t—” A swift punch by someone Lucifer didn’t see was enough to silence him.
Alastor lingered by Lucifer’s side just long enough to look him over before nodding approvingly. “Loathe as I am to agree with that tasteless lech, Blitzø has a point. It’s about time we had some fun around here.” His smile looked hungry as he turned away from Lucifer and followed after the others.
Once Alastor was gone, Lucifer was crowded by various heads of the Nine Powers: Beelzebub, Leviathan, Belphegor, Rosie, even Vox.
“Lucifer, darling, are you alright?”
“Whoa, what was that?”
“Did he hurt you at all?”
“Is that blood on your suit?”
“Are you okay, Lucifer?”
All the voices overlapped with one another, turning into an incoherent din. Lucifer waved them off, quietly assuring them that he was fine. All the while, his eyes lingered on Asmodeus. While in the end his willing sacrifice wasn’t necessary, Lucifer was in awe.
“Thank you.”
Asmodeus smiled down at Lucifer and, for the first time, he placed a hand on Lucifer’s shoulder. It was heavy and warm and oh so comforting. “You’re welcome, Lucifer.”
As much as Lucifer wanted to revel in that brief contact, this was not the place to do it, especially not after such a dramatic show. He shrugged off Asmodeus’s hand and straightened his suit.
“Everything is fine,” he said to the group at large. “Due to recent events, please feel free to make your leave. Anyone who chooses to may remain and enjoy the party. Rosie, can you help me with my suit?”
Rosie, in all her poise and care, knew exactly when to take charge and Lucifer was grateful for it. “Right. Come with me to the bar. Let’s see what we can do about that.”
Before they could take so much as a couple steps, someone unfamiliar approached Lucifer. He was a short man — someone shorter than even Lucifer — who carried himself like a man who held the world in his hands.
“Yes, Lucifer,” the man said in lieu of greeting.
Lucifer clenched his teeth in irritation. Even Rosie was irritated, if the way her jaw dropped was any indication.
“It’s a pleasure to finally meet the big man in charge,” the man went on to say. “My name’s Crimson. If I understand correctly, your men are the reason I’m still alive tonight. Great work. That’s the kind of professionalism I want to do work with.”
“Fancy that,” said Rosie smoothly, “because you lack the professionalism we want to do work with.”
Lucifer snorted a laugh, but otherwise remained composed. What she said was nicer than the words lingering on the tip of his tongue.
“Hey!” Crimson lifted a finger, perhaps to tell her off, but a glare from Lucifer silenced anything he had to say. Instead, Crimson took a deep breath and instead said, “I apologize that a vendetta against me caused a commotion at your fancy party. Maybe a deal between us can make up for it. I’ve got this lucrative business on the south end that will be more than worth your time.”
That caught Lucifer’s attention. “Did you say the south end?”
“Yeah,” Crimson confirmed confidently. “It’s still growing, but it’ll be worth your investment. What do you say we talk business? Just us men?”
Rosie huffed indignantly. “Excuse you?”
Lucifer brought up a hand to stop her from saying anything indecent yet deserved. “We can arrange a private meeting. Please speak with my consigliere. He’ll sort out the details.”
“Your consigliere?” asked Crimson. “What’s that?”
“His name is Satan,” Rosie informed with a smug grin. She gestured to the window where a tall, broad man was standing in front of the spider-webbed glass and speaking with the mayor. “Make sure you speak loud enough, deary. He has a hard time hearing. Especially from someone so… let’s say low-grounded.”
Crimson snarled, but Lucifer cut in before he could say anything snarky. “Don’t be intimidated by his glower, either. That’s just how he normally looks. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have important business to attend to. Rosie, shall we finally address my suit?”
“Of course, darling! Let’s get that seen to.”
With that, they stepped around Crimson. Neither of them deigned to give him another glance. As they made their way to the bar, Lucifer thought back to what Blitzø had said.
“This party has turned into quite the interesting evening,” he said, a wicked grin stretching across his face.