[Lucifer] Ch: 51 [A Few More Sins] (Patreon)

[Next Morning]

[LAPD]

Lucifer was already flirting with another cop by the time Chloe walked into the precinct.

He stood near the front desk with a female uniformed officer, one wrist loosely trapped inside a pair of police handcuffs while the officer demonstrated something that apparently required her to stand considerably closer than department procedure probably recommended.

Lucifer glanced down at the cuff around his wrist and smiled. "I must confess, Officer, I usually prefer my restraints with a bit more leather, but I can certainly appreciate the classics."

The officer laughed while tightening the cuff slightly. “You’re supposed to be learning how they work.”

"Oh, I grasp the concept perfectly. You lock them around the wrists, assert your authority, and pray they've been terribly naughty."

Chloe entered the bullpen, saw what was happening, and released a tired sigh without breaking stride.

She’d barely slept.

Her hair was pulled back quickly, the coffee in her hand was already half empty, and the dark circles beneath her eyes made it clear that caffeine had stopped being optional sometime around four that morning.

Chloe walked directly toward her desk.

Lucifer noticed her almost immediately. He smoothly twisted his wrist, somehow slipped free of the handcuff without unlocking it, and handed the cuffs back to the startled officer. “Fascinating demonstration, darling, though duty unfortunately calls. We shall continue our exploration of police bondage at a later date."

The officer watched him walk away with a disappointed smile.

Lucifer crossed the bullpen and stopped beside Chloe’s desk just as she dropped into her chair and placed her coffee beside the keyboard.

"Morning, Detective! You look... absolutely dreadful. Did someone keep you up all night, and if so, why wasn't I invited?"

Chloe slowly raised her eyes and gave him a deadpan stare that carried enough irritation to discourage most reasonable human beings.

Lucifer pulled a nearby chair over and sat beside her. "Right, no need for the death glare. I heard the glorious news. Your nemesis pulled a Lazarus."

Chloe leaned back and rubbed both hands across her face before answering. "Yeah. And apparently, cheating death wasn't weird enough, because he vanished around five a.m. One minute Malcolm is cuffed to the hospital bed with three uniforms guarding the hall. Next minute, someone checks the room, and he's gone."

Lucifer’s expression became more attentive.

Chloe picked up her coffee and took another drink. “The handcuffs were still attached to the bed. They weren’t cut, broken, or picked as far as anyone can tell. We had eyes on every exit, security downstairs... and nobody saw a thing.”

Lucifer leaned back slightly while considering that information. He already knew who could move a human being through a guarded hospital without appearing on a single security camera.

‘Amenadiel, you sanctimonious feathered idiot.’

He kept that thought behind a carefully neutral expression.

"I see. You've been up all night hunting a ghost. That explains the whole 'exhausted chic' aesthetic." Lucifer studied her face for another moment before his voice softened. “How are you holding up?”

Chloe stared at her monitor without turning it on.

For a few seconds, the chaos of the bullpen seemed distant.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Yesterday, they were pulling his life support. Today, he wakes up from a coma, looks me dead in the eye, and somehow escapes from a locked room before dawn.”

Lucifer watched her carefully as she continued.

“And this isn’t some scared civilian who panicked and ran,” Chloe said. “Malcolm was a cop for years. He knows how we search for people. He knows surveillance procedures, safe houses, informants, evidence storage, patrol patterns, response times, and probably every trick we’re going to use before we use it.”

Her fingers tightened around the coffee cup.

"He also knows his life is over."

Lucifer’s eyes narrowed slightly.

Chloe finally looked toward him. “His badge is gone. His reputation is destroyed. His wife and kid know he's dirty, and Dan confessed to putting a bullet in him. Malcolm woke up to find his entire world burned to the ground. That makes him really dangerous."

She lowered her voice.

“That makes him dangerous.”

Lucifer rested one arm against the back of the chair while listening without interrupting.

Chloe glanced toward the Palmetto files still stacked beside her computer. "If he's smart, he'll run. Cash in a favor with Aoudi's people and vanish before we lock down the city."

Her expression tightened.

"But Malcolm has a massive ego. He doesn't handle humiliation well."

Lucifer’s face became more serious.

Chloe continued, "He could go after Dan for pulling the trigger. He could come after me for exposing him. Internal Affairs, the Lieutenant... anyone who helped burn him."

She stopped for a moment before adding the part she clearly disliked thinking about.

"And if he really wants to make it hurt... he knows exactly how to get to the people we care about."

Lucifer’s expression changed instantly.

The playful warmth vanished from his eyes.

“Trixie?”

Chloe gave a small nod. “He knows Dan and I have a daughter. I already called the school and told them nobody picks her up unless it’s me or someone I personally authorize. I also asked patrol to swing past the house more often.”

Lucifer leaned forward, his voice becoming unusually calm. “Detective, if Malcolm Graham goes anywhere near the little human, he won’t make it within ten feet of her.”

Last night, he ordered Maze to watch Trixie. If Malcolm shows up, Maze is supposed to beat him up and then capture him for more torture. According to the cosmic laws, Malcolm is already dead, and his brother broke this rule. So, even if Lucifer kills Malcolm now, it won’t matter. His soul already belongs to hell.

"Lucifer, I appreciate the sentiment, but this is exactly the time I need you to not threaten murder in the middle of a police precinct."

"I wasn't threatening murder."

“You had the murder face.”

Lucifer blinked innocently. “I have several faces, Detective. You’ll need to be considerably more specific.”

Despite everything, a tiny breath of laughter escaped Chloe before her expression became serious again.

Lucifer noticed it and allowed himself a faint smile before looking toward the bullpen. "But Malcolm's miraculous recovery does present a rather intriguing puzzle. A man in a coma flatlines, pops back to life, and then simply vanishes from a locked room without touching the door."

Chloe turned toward him slowly. “Please don’t say angels dropped down from heaven to save him.”

Lucifer looked mildly offended. “I was going to say divine intervention.”

“That’s worse.”

“It’s considerably more accurate.”

Chloe shook her head and finally switched on her computer. "Right now, I don't care if he was spirited away by an angel, a magician, or a laundry cart. Malcolm is alive, he's probably armed, and he's desperate. I have no idea what he'll do next."

Lucifer watched her profile while something colder moved behind his eyes.

Amenadiel had crossed a line far beyond his authority. He’d removed a damned soul from Lucifer’s domain, returned that soul to Earth, and helped Malcolm escape police custody. Whatever his brother believed he was accomplishing, this had stopped being another irritating celestial argument.

He had placed a dangerous human back onto the board.

Lucifer slowly stood.

Chloe glanced up at him. “Where are you going?”

Lucifer adjusted the front of his jacket, his familiar smile returning just enough to hide what was happening beneath it.

"To fetch coffee and help you hunt down Malcolm, of course! We're partners, remember?"

Chloe gave a little smile. "Civilian consultant."

"Semantics, Detective."

Lucifer began walking toward the coffee machine before glancing back at her.

“And Detective?”

Chloe looked over.

His expression had become serious again.

“Until we locate him, do not underestimate Malcolm just because he's a cornered rat. Desperate men with nothing left to lose are precisely the ones most willing to embrace their inner monster.”

Chloe watched him for a moment before giving a slow nod.

“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.”

...

...

[Meanwhile...]

[Malcolm's Hideout Apartment]

By the time Malcolm Graham reached the small apartment hidden above an abandoned auto repair shop in East Los Angeles, every muscle in his body felt like it had been beaten with a hammer.

Getting there had been easier than it should've been. Amenadiel had removed him from the hospital without anyone noticing, left him several blocks away, then vanished after reminding Malcolm of their agreement.

Kill Lucifer Morningstar, earn redemption, and escape Hell permanently.

After experiencing the Golden Trough more times than he could count, Malcolm would've agreed to kill Godzilla if it meant never seeing another glowing oyster again.

He unlocked the apartment and stumbled inside before securing all three bolts behind him. Then switched on the light. The place smelled stale after months without anyone entering, which was exactly why he'd kept it. Years earlier, when his dealings with Aoudi had become increasingly dangerous, Malcolm had bought the apartment under a fake identity and paid for everything in cash. It served as an emergency hideout containing spare clothes, burner phones, weapons, money, and enough supplies to disappear for several weeks if something went horribly wrong.

Apparently, dying qualified.

Malcolm leaned against the door and breathed heavily. "Jesus Christ."

The words left his mouth before he remembered precisely how little Jesus had helped during his recent dining experiences. He grimaced and muttered, "Yeah, maybe I'll avoid taking names in vain for a while."

Months in a coma had left his body in terrible shape. His muscles had wasted away, his coordination felt wrong, and his lungs burned whenever he tried taking a deep breath. Amenadiel might've dragged his soul back from Hell, but the angel hadn't included complimentary physical therapy.

Malcolm shuffled toward the small kitchen and opened the refrigerator, only to stare into the empty interior before remembering nobody had used the apartment in months.

His stomach growled.

Memories immediately flashed through his head. Roasted pork, radioactive oysters, smiling maid Dan, and far too many meals that had ended with Malcolm screaming.

"It's normal hunger," he muttered while gripping his stomach. "Normal human hunger."

He repeated that until his pulse slowed, and then another thought occurred to him.

Pizza.

Somehow, during all those endless culinary nightmares, nobody in Hell had ever offered him pizza.

Malcolm pulled an old burner phone from one of the kitchen drawers, put the batteries in, and checked that it still worked. "10% is more than enough." Next, he took out and opened the old phone book and found the number for a nearby place. He had seen the name of the joint on his way.

Twenty-five minutes later, someone knocked.

He put the lights off and approached the door with a handgun hidden behind his leg and checked through the peephole. A bored teenager stood outside carrying a large pizza box, allowing Malcolm to release the breath he'd been holding.

He opened the door just enough to take the box. And since it was dark inside, the delivery guy couldn't get a proper look at his face.

"Large pepperoni?" the teenager asked.

"Yeah."

Malcolm handed him considerably more cash than necessary. When the kid glanced at the money and asked whether he wanted change, Malcolm shook his head. "Nah! Keep it."

He shut the door, locked everything again, switched on the lights, and carried the pizza toward the table. When he opened the box, hot cheese stretched across the surface while pepperoni glistened beneath a thin layer of grease.

Malcolm stared at it suspiciously.

The pizza remained completely normal. There was no green glow, no screaming face forming in the cheese, and nobody suddenly appeared with a violin.

He slowly picked up one slice. "Please don't kill me."

The first cautious bite made his eyes close in relief. The pizza was warm, greasy, salty, and probably mediocre by normal standards, yet after Hell it tasted magnificent.

He swallowed carefully and waited several seconds.

Nothing happened.

Malcolm let out a quiet laugh before taking another enormous bite. Within minutes, he'd eaten nearly half the pizza, and when he finally leaned back in the chair with one hand resting against his stomach, he experienced the simple pleasure of being full without exploding afterward.

"Best fucking pizza I've ever had."

The smile slowly disappeared as his thoughts returned to everything waiting outside the apartment.

Every part of Malcolm's old life had collapsed while he'd been unconscious.

Dan had shot him and then destroyed whatever remained of his reputation. Chloe had refused to let Palmetto die quietly, and because of her, Dan had eventually confessed. Lieutenant Monroe had publicly announced everything to the city, Internal Affairs would be tearing apart every secret Malcolm had spent years protecting, and somewhere out there were probably people celebrating his spectacular fall from grace.

His fingers tapped slowly against the table as a new thought began taking shape.

Amenadiel wanted Lucifer dead. According to the angel, killing the Devil would earn Malcolm redemption and keep him out of Hell permanently.

So why rush?

A slow smile spread across his face.

"So what's a few more sins?"

Murder, revenge, theft, whatever became necessary along the way, none of it mattered if Amenadiel could wipe the slate clean afterward. Malcolm could settle a few old accounts, deal with Lucifer when he was ready, and then walk into Heaven with a spotless soul.

The idea was almost beautiful.

Malcolm reached for another slice of pizza while considering where to begin. "Dan first?"

Dan had pulled the trigger, which made him the obvious choice, but killing him immediately would bring every cop in Los Angeles down on Malcolm's head. Chloe presented the same problem, and Malcolm wasn't stupid enough to start a war with the LAPD while climbing a flight of stairs still felt like running a marathon.

He looked down at his trembling left hand.

Revenge could wait a few weeks.

For now, he needed food, sleep, and enough exercise to get his body functioning properly again. Once he could walk around without feeling ready to collapse, he could start watching Lucifer and learn the man's routine.

Amenadiel had claimed Lucifer was vulnerable, although Malcolm wasn't stupid enough to trust that blindly.

Angels and Hell were real, which meant the nightclub owner who called himself the Devil might have more tricks up his sleeve than the angel had mentioned. Malcolm had already died once because he'd underestimated the people around him. He wasn't interested in making the same mistake with the literal Devil.

Malcolm finished another slice before closing the pizza box. "First rule of being alive again: don't rush."

He slowly stood, only for his knees to shake hard enough that he had to grab the table.

He remained there for several seconds before grimacing. "Definitely don't rush."

Malcolm limped toward the bedroom and opened the closet, where several changes of clothes still hung untouched. Beneath them sat a locked metal case containing two handguns, ammunition, cash, fake identification, and three burner phones.

He picked up a pistol and loaded it. 

By the time Malcolm reached the bed, exhaustion had settled deep into his bones. He pulled the curtains shut, checked the locks one final time, placed the loaded pistol beneath the pillow, and lowered himself onto the mattress with a groan.

His head barely touched the pillow before exhaustion swallowed him, dragging him into the first ordinary sleep he'd experienced since returning from Hell.

...

[Meanwhile...] [9AM] [Linda's office]

Linda had just opened her office and was organizing her desk when she heard a sound in the hallway. She had no appointments scheduled soon, and Lucifer told her he couldn't come today. He said he would take her out for wine tasting tomorrow. 

So, she got a little cautious. 

She slowly walked over, opened the door, and peeked out. There was no one there. 

"Hello! Is anybody there?" She asked, raising her voice.

No one replied.

"I know Krav Maga!" She said loudly.

Well, still nothing...

Linda gathered courage and decided to check out the hallways around her office. As she slowly took a few steps forward, she heard a weird flapping sound. She stopped and looked back, but no one was there... Then, as she turned forward...

"Oh!" She was startled to see a big, bald man in a suit standing before her.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," The bald guy said.

"How did you get in here?" Linda asked, looking a bit confused.

"I have a key." He then walked toward her. "Yeah, let me start over. Uh, I actually just moved into the office next door. I'm doctor Canaan." He extended his hand toward her.

Linda let out a little laugh. "Ah! Okay." She shook his hand. "Hi! Uh, I'm Linda. Uh, Dr. Martin." She let out a little chuckle as she felt a weird aura around the man that she couldn't exactly explain.