A/N: This is set vaguely after S3 so I'm making a lot of assumptions based on the latest episode. So, spoiler warning? This was written very quickly and not really proofread very well. I just couldn't get it out of my head after my bingewatch. Please forgive any grammatical/spelling errors that are inevitable at this point.

Do leave your comments, fic ideas, and whatnot! I would absolutely love to hear your thoughts! Leave constructive criticism! It always makes me nervous to try to write for characters I've never written before and I literally bingewatched all three seasons of Lucifer in four days because depression and I'm obsessed. Talk to me about them!

P.S. The new character is played by Jenna Coleman, just because I said so.

"love
can only be described in the way it is lived—

in parts—

hoping that the whole makes sense
even though we know
none of the pieces do."

Excerpt from "Love" by Jared Singer

Come one, come all! Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls of all ages…

Here is where nothing is ever as it seems, where all your dreams can come true…

Chloe groaned as she suffered through the sight of it all. The long queues of people waiting hours upon hours for three minutes of forgettable glee—if she wanted that kind of tedious disappointment, she'd go on another date with some basic guy on Tinder who thought "you're smile is enchanting" is a decent way to chat her up.

An old saying came to mind when it came to places like this—panem et circenses. Bread and circuses—an offering of deformity, of strangeness, of authenticity as something other. Places like this, she thought, reminded her of slaughterhouses. Cheap thrills for cheap laughter, masking the sounds of the haunted screams in the night of those who sacrificed dignity for the sake of a paycheck.

Just like she did once.

It was the promise of every land of lies, such as this, all secrets and likes and twinkling, artificial flickers and tricks that make you believe in magic for a second before it takes your faith for fodder. It's all smoke and mirrors here, façades that promised dreams while they hid nightmares in your pockets, in your shadows—beneath all the paints and the lights.

It was everything Chloe Decker hated about acting. No, that wasn't it—some actors were true to the craft and performance was an art. No, it was something else. She hated what was false and pretended to be otherwise. She liked for things to make sense.

Yet, her partner for this mission was a strange dichotomy of both and that always puzzled her. He was all expensive, three-piece suits, hyperbole and metaphors, decadence and sex on legs—he was Lucifer Morningstar and he was a man who was only ever what he said he was and for that truth, she was grateful.

At the very least, he was a story that she could depend on. For the most part.

Still, Chloe liked for things to be real. Art always said and gave something real and shit like this, shit like 'Hot Tub High School'—that wasn't art. Art always had some part of it ring true and after all the lies she's had to deal with—namely with Pierce and his using her for his own goddamn gain—quite frankly, she's has had her fill of falsities for the next lifetime or so.

She pouted and tried to hide her disdain. She kept her arms crossed against her chest and head held high, scouring the vicinities and trying to observe for abnormalities.

Business, as ever.

Her new lieutenant had called this case closed. The trapeze artist – a young Filipina named Cristen Pangan – had an unfortunate accident while rehearsing for a performance. But as forensics had scoped out that there was a chance that part of the girl's equipment had been tampered with and damaged. There was no concrete evidence to prove as such and, as this was the circus' last day as they were due to travel to Austin in a few days, they were on a time crunch.

There was something about this case that drew her to it. Part of her would not let the curiosity go and, for the life of her, she couldn't figure out why. Chloe kept asking questions, kept poking and prodding, and while she was here—she could feel it in her gut that she was right.

Hence, the undercover mission with Lucifer in the first place. If he could needle out a confession from someone—she had her suspicions that someone from Cristel's family had done it as the girl's body had displayed signs of parental abuse and since this was a family-owned circus, she had her hunches—then she knew she would be right. She just had to ask the right questions, poke at the right bear…

"Come now, Detective! You're undercover at a fair—at least pretend to enjoy yourself," he said, breaking her out of her trance.

"Huh, what?"

Of course, he found himself right at home in a place like this. His dark, almost definitely bespoke suit was the same colour of aged red wine. He was as sleek and chic as the words that left his honeyed tongue and yet, atop his head, was a ridiculous headband that had bright red firework-like contraptions made of synthetic fur and red fairy lights.

It was both hideous but when he wore it, oddly adorable.

The way he grinned like a cat that got the cream didn't help that picture. Try as she might to hide the smile, he didn't miss the small twitch of her lips. Still, she was as dedicated to her work as ever and she looped her arm around his and squeezed his arm much too hard, her nails digging into the expensive cloth and into his flesh. Lucifer's steps faltered at the pressure and he frowned his displeasure.

"Well, honey—" she said, through a forced grin. "—You can enjoy the fair enough for the both of us while I focus on the case. So maybe quiet it down with the whole detective thing?"

"Ah, yes, how careless of me, my darling," he said, recovering double quick. With the tip of his finger, he stroked her jawline quickly and tapped her on the nose. He quirked his brows and smirked. "My apologies."

Immediately, she knew that that had been his plan all along. He affectionately rested his hand against the back of hers that was holding on to the curve of his elbow. Chloe rolled her eyes.

"You could really stand to loosen up a bit, though," said the Devil himself. He leaned toward her—just by her ear that she could feel the warmth of his breath by the skin of her neck. "I, personally, know several ways I can help with that particular predicament."

"Lucifer," she said by way of answering, shooting him daggers for eyes. It was his turn to roll his eyes but there was an unmistakable mischief to the way he did it.

"Very well, my love," he replied, straightening up his posture and walking with her again.

The way he called her these names with such ease made her uneasy. After all, even when they were undercover, he could never get into any other character but the one he chose for himself.

Lucifer never lied—especially not to her. She believed that and would never doubt it. But in times like this, when he called her things like that, it made her think. It made her ask questions she wasn't too sure she wanted to know the answers to. She felt something sink in her gut and she swallowed.

"You're making me regret the whole undercover thing," she muttered.

"But honey, you're the one who reminded me of it," he said with far, far too much glee in his voice. "Just a regular couple on a regular, normal date night at a fair! How romantic. Perhaps they even have a good old Tunnel of Love! Shall we have a go?"

She tried desperately not to read too much into how easy it was for him to say that when she knew that he hated false façades almost as much as she did. And this was far too easy for him to be anything than a lie and when he called her these names, it felt far too goo—

'No, Decker. Shake it off. Don't go there,' she told herself. 'Not again.'

Part of her wanted to ask herself what she meant by that but there was no time. They were here on a case not on a date. This was not a date.

"We're not here to go on rides, Lucifer. We're here to talk to employees about the dead trapeze artist," she told him. "Focus."

"Copy that," he acquiesced. "Sweetheart."

Chloe rolled her eyes and groaned.

"Why can't we be brother and sister for a change?" she asked. Out of nowhere, really, but the question came from her lips anyway.

He scoffed and looked at her, appalled—all wide eyes, brows knit, and mouth agape.

"For one thing, my dear, the sexual tension between us is far much too palpable that your being my sister or any sort of relative is simply unacceptable," he rounded off, gesturing all the while. "I may look like your—well, not a regular one, surely, more a… particularly impressive cisgender white male human, yes, but never presume to think that I would ever abide by that part of their culture."

Chloe laughed, half covering her face with her free hand, shoulders shaking. Even Lucifer, though still somewhat aghast with her suggestion of something so distasteful to say the least, could not help his dark eyes from softening at the sight of her happy.

Especially because she laughed so openly and not just with her face but with her whole body—Chloe laughed with an open mouth, a wide grin, and shaking shoulders. When she covered her mouth with her hand, it meant she was trying to hold it back from turning into a cackle, because sometimes it did. And he remembered that sometimes, she'd confessed that she didn't like the way that it made her sound like the Wicked Witch of the West like Dan had jokingly told her once.

Lucifer liked making her laugh like that—unrestrained and wholly. The sound and the sight of it was enough to make him sing.

"Even the Devil has hard passes and relations with siblings is one of them. On top of the list, actually, now that I think about it," he concluded, giving her a look that would normally have people throwing themselves at him but she was still so unaffected.

"That really wasn't what I was getting at," she said, "You have a lot of issues with your siblings, don't you?"

"Yes, well—so would you if you were cast out of Heaven and your family just… watched. Though I suppose a fair few went down with me—that's on me."

"You're doing fine with Amenadiel," she pointed out.

"That is… that's different," he argued. "That's an affection born of forced proximity. It doesn't count."

"Well, he stayed," she said. "And what about your other siblings? You never talk about them."

"Well, they're far too enraptured with dear old Dad to ever want to sully themselves with the likes of me. Case in point, Amenadiel."

"Really? None of your other siblings have ever come to visit you or looked into how you were doing?" she asked.

Lucifer considered her and felt a tightening in his chest, in his back. As if there were some foreign, invisible pressure that pressed against him on all sides. This was not a line of questioning that he had prepared himself for and, in the back of his mind, he wondered what prompted this on from the detective. For it was through this slippery slope that unwanted memories came passing through.

He thought of Uriel and immediately rejected the direction this train of consciousness was going.

He thought of his other siblings—hundreds of them, really, and how he still knew them all by name. Their faces, forever etched into his memory, and how they'd looked up to him then.

Light Bearer, he was. An Archangel. The bringer of the dawn—of hope, of light.

This, all part of a life he left behind and the ones who'd followed him into Hell were not siblings that delighted in the sharing of his fate. Granted, he was the only Archangel who was banished while the rest of the others were lesser angels who were reduced to become the first demons. Mazikeen, for example, was a demon from and of Hell and so held no grudge against him in that particular regard. She had never known the likes of true, celestial Heaven. But there were demons there that did not serve him out of loyalty.

He knew those brothers and sisters just the same too.

Still, he'd become so accustomed to the darkness, to the filth, to the sweet, saccharine sins of the flesh that he'd somehow forgotten how it was to be with someone as pure, as light, and as brilliant as the detective herself.

Lucifer swallowed and smiled darkly, depth brewing in his eyes but he felt his body tighten.

"Angels aren't the type of brothers and sisters who do house calls, darling. Not without Father's permission, of course."

"Don't you miss them?" she pressed.

"Well, what about you!" he exclaimed, boisterous and flamboyant as ever, that several people turned to look at them that Chloe felt the need to hide her face with her hand, pretending to tuck her loose hair behind her ear.

He continued, "You're the only person I've ever known who seems to have a distinct displeasure at being at a place so devilishly delightful! Oh, the con artists and thieves, the hustlers and fakes—shoes and ships and sealing wax, of cabbages and kings! Devil's playground, really."

"It's nothing," she said, shaking her head. "Forget I asked."

"Oh come now, Detective," he said. "I gave up some of my demons, as it were. It's only fair if you share."

"Stop," she said. "I just hate fairs, let's leave it at that. Carnivals. The whole thing."

"Not as much as P.T. Barnum does, I assure you," he said.

Chloe turned to look at him with a smirk, a cocked head, and a raised brow—the universal, disbelieving expression that said: 'Really?'

"Oh, yes," he answered. "Tortured for eternity by the animals he mistreated in front of an audience that just cheers it on. One of my finer achievements in poetic irony, if I do say so myself."

"Yeah, whatever," she said, rolling her eyes. "I don't like it when… when things aren't what seem."

"Oh," he said, sombre. He knew what he meant and he felt a rage boil within him, liquid wrath in his veins bubbling as he remembered Cain. He stiffened beside her and she noticed as she quickly looked up at him.

"And I don't like clowns," she added, offering a small smile. "They kind of give me the creeps."

"Really, Det—" he started but she squeezed at his arm with her nails again and the rest of his sentence came out as, "Darling." She released him and smiled, more relaxed now.

Lucifer continued, "Not to worry, sweetheart, I'll be sure to take note of that hard pass off of the list of kinks for the future."

"Kinks for the futu—?!"

"Oh look, candied apples!" he said, walking towards the cart that sold them with a glee in his grin that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Lucifer!" she hissed after him and groaned when he simply went on his way.

Fine.

Both their questions had reached a place that, she figured, they both needed a breather away from. Still, she now found that she was hugging her jacket tighter against her.

"He's a right piece of work, your friend," said a small, unfamiliar female voice behind her. English accent, much like the Devil himself.

"Tell me about it," Chloe muttered without thinking.

"I could, actually," she said. "If you care to have your cards read?"

"What?" said the detective as she spun around and saw that she was right by a small tent.

Chloe did a double take as she hadn't noticed this table that she was apparently standing next to. The woman manning the tiny tent looked unfazed, offering an easy, tight-lipped smile. She wore a sheer, soft pink kimono adorned with flowers over a simple, plain purple dress. No appropriating headscarves or tattoos, fake black teeth, or hideous moles. The strange woman was beautiful, even Chloe had to admit, with something about her that made her want to know more.

In front of the stranger was a simple table that had a dark blue cloth laid across it. The cloth was embroidered with intricate patterns that mimicked constellations, she assumed, for she did not recognise any of them but she knew what the design meant to inspire.

Chloe could have sworn that that table wasn't there before just a second ago. She was a homicide detective, for God's sake. She would have noticed. But still, inexplicably, there it was.

"Oh, sorry. I, uh—" she started, but the woman cut her off.

"Business is slow today," she said, bringing up a set of large tarot cards to her hand. Lined with gold all over and with a simple gold back, the cards shone as if they were made of genuine starlight in her hands. She started knocking at the cards from every side. "First spread's on the house?"

The woman set the cards atop the table before her expectantly.

"Oh, I don't know," Chloe started. "No offence but I, uh—don't want to waste your time. I… don't really believe in the whole… prediction, divination, Harry Potter thing so, no thank you."

The woman chuckled and wrinkled her little retroussé nose in a way that reminded Chloe of Samantha from Bewitched.

"First of all, Joanne didn't invent divination," said the mysterious tarot woman, smirking. "Second of all, my cards don't tell the future and I won't presume to know yours. Mine simply tell you things you may need to know."

"Oh, yeah?" she asked, crossing her arms.

"Your friend over there seems a bit preoccupied," said the woman and Chloe turned to see that Lucifer was busy with a cotton candy vendor who seemed to be not turning out as much product as he could. Chloe sighed as the woman said, "Might as well, don't you think?"

"You're not… dressed like most fortune tellers are. No offense," she said, sitting in the chair that seemingly appeared out of nowhere.

Her attention was all over the place, it seemed, or there was a shroud of doubt that followed her—like a shadow. Chloe found herself second-guessing everything, questioning anything. Strange. And yet, there was a simple, wooden stool that she could have sworn wasn't there just a split second ago. But she found herself intrigued anyway; curiosity piqued somehow—a need to know more pulling at her from somewhere deep.

"Expecting a crystal ball and some burning sage? A phony, probably offensive, stereotypical accent?" said the woman with a smile.

The woman had short dark hair that framed her heart-shaped face with big eyes that sparkled with a familiar mischief. By the woman's ear was a copper ear cuff in the shape of a wing that protruded by the upper part while small stars dangled by the bottom of it. She had dimples on her cheek hers were dark eyes that, like Lucifer's, were not distant and drowning. They were wide and warm and kind. Chloe found herself transfixed and curious and curiouser.

The woman continued, "For a start, I'm not a fortune teller. That's not what tarot's for, not really. I don't read cards to tell your fortune. I simply… deliver wisdom that you may need to know if it rings true for you."

"Wisdom from who? Or what?"

"From whoever or whatever it is that you believe in," the stranger said. "Be it the stars, the universe, capital G God… they're all the same thing. And they're always listening."

She raised her brows at that and considered. Teeth biting her bottom lip, Chloe considered it while the woman only held her gaze. There was an intensity there that looked familiar though she couldn't quite put her finger on it.

"Okay, sure," Chloe found herself answering. "Why not?"

This woman was certainly another sham, she thought, and yet, the detective wanted to see where the story would lead. It was that feeling you get when you're reading a book and you simply could not stop until you finished reading until the end; the impulse to keep flipping pages, impossible to resist.

The woman gave her instructions.

"Take the cards," she said. "Shuffle the deck and while you do, ask the cards: what is it you wish for me to know?"

Chloe took the cards in her hands and, immediately, it already felt like it was tingling against her skin. She felt the hair of her neck rise up and a rush up her spine. She coughed as if to hide it but she shuffled the cards, as instructed, while the tarot reader spoke.

"Let the question sink into your soul and flow through your heart. Let it envelop you in its embrace and then, you feel certain cards pulling at you, you choose three cards, face down. Don't flip them over and don't think about it too much, just lay them out as one, two, and three. Choose whatever feels right."

"What do you mean?" Chloe asked as she shuffled.

"You'll know it when you feel it."

It was unnerving that this short, probably British woman was giving her something to do and here she was… actually doing it as if she believed in this sort of thing, when she didn't. Chloe hated places like this and tricks like this. For all she knew, there could be a thief by her back with quick fingers who was trying to pull a fast one and reach for her wallet. Or worse, her gun.

"This… it feels silly," said Chloe, but she was still shuffling.

"You'll find most things do when you think about it," said the woman simply, patient as she smiled. "Tarot spreads are a lot like love, you see."

"How?"

"Love doesn't make sense until you give it meaning – and each part tells a story that will only ever make sense to you."

"I… I don't get it," said the detective as she laid down cards as the woman said to do.

"You will," she said, her lips turning into a smirk, making her dimple burrow into her cheeks.

Chloe closed her eyes as she held the cards in her hands, shuffling as she did so, and she asked them the question. Part of her, for some reason, felt as if the question were some kind of prayer.

"Take your time," said the woman. "Focus."

As she shuffled the cards, she could feel her heart beat against her chest and it rang in her ears. The noise around her – the screaming from the rides, the ruckus from the game booths – faded slowly and she felt as if she were floating and there was nothing else but her, the woman, and the cards in her hands.

'What do I need to know?' she asked the cards. And though she might never admit it, part of her kind of started to believe in it.

One, two, three went the chosen cards when she felt the back of them pull against her touch. Chloe set the deck back down where she got it and exhaled. She shrugged her shoulders and grimaced as she looked at the spread, the cards looking like one-dimensional bars of gold.

"There you go," she said. "I think… I hope I did that right."

"You did great," said the woman. "You first card speaks from your past."

She waved a hand over the first card that Chloe put down and when her hand moved, the card showed a watercolour painting of a building burning and crumbling to the ground. The name of the card faced the woman and before Chloe could read it, the woman declared its name.

"The Tower, Reversed… interesting," she said, tilting her head as if deep in thought. She hummed and Chloe tilted her head just the same and pressed on.

"Why—what is that supposed to mean?" she asked, her hands atop her lap, leaning forward. Wide eyed, she listened with bated breath.

"The Tower is a card of chaos and destruction, you see," said the woman. Chloe looked at her and the two women's eyes met and never faltered away. The blonde felt as though she might implode, her chest suddenly tight at the description she was given. This was a bad idea—and yet, she kept wanting to know more.

"It suggests that there was something you held dear and true that was… very recently called into question. You had to face some difficult truths that—well, made you question some things you didn't want to question. The Tower is often dreaded in readings when upright but reversed, like yours is… the card suggests a survival. That the destruction of this… this thing… whatever it was that you used to believe in was necessary to make you better. And while it hurt that you've recently gotten through some hard times, you've survived it."

Chloe looked at the drawing and instantly thought of what had happened with Pierce. His face flashed in her minds eye and her hands turned to fists atop her lap.

Fierce betrayal boiled through her veins then and rage rose up her throat like hot bile as she remembered it again and tried to shake off. She stared at it and stared at it, and then she sighed.

"You got all that from a card?" she said with forced levity, a smile that felt false and foreign to her lips.

The tarot woman looked at her, an apology in her gaze for the blunt nature of the reading, but she kept going. The woman reached for the card and by the edge of it, she pulled it toward her to read the art.

She narrowed her eyes and said, "But it also says… that you're… afraid of change."

"Afraid of change?" Chloe repeated.

"You may have been… reluctant to accept a transformation in your life for fear that it will bring disaster. You may feel yourself comfortable in your life but there's change that's trying to happen, that's been holding on, waiting and as asking for you to let it in," said the woman, a knowing smile on her face. "A new situation—accepting a development in a relationship, perhaps."

An image of Lucifer flashed through her mind's eye—the memory of his forehead against hers, the feeling of the bridge of his nose just against her own, his hand against her cheek and her hand in his hair, his lips just a breath away from a kiss, and how the light seemed to pour out of him.

There, too, was the taste of his soft lips against hers, the sweet sound of how he'd whispered 'Detective' before she kissed him again. The smell of the ocean wafted its way to her memory again and the echo of crashing waves reverberated throughout her memory.

Chloe swallowed and blinked, mouth suddenly dry.

"Huh," she said simply. A beat later as the woman only smiled, a bit infuriating now for her stare gave her the impression that it meant to say 'I know something you don't know'. She licked her lips and said, "Uh—what's the second card say?"

"Your second card speaks from your present."

The woman waved her hand atop the gold and before her was a creature drenched in red, all Cheshire grin, with bright white wings on his back and chains at his hands and feet.

"Of course it is," said Chloe, biting back a laugh.

"The Devil," said the woman, grinning.

"I think I already know what this one's got to say," said the detective, her tone laced with sarcasm.

"It's interesting, actually, as it speaks to the previous card," said the reader.

"That makes sense, my Devil goes with chaos and destruction, all right," she joked.

"No, no. It's not that," said the woman. "You and many others may read it as such and I don't blame you. Not really. The Devil certainly does get a bad rep for things that are not always his fault. But this actually speaks more of the Devil within…"

It flashed in her mind's eye just as soon as the woman spoke it.

Them on Lucifer's couch at his penthouse with her on top of him, and the feeling of his warm chest against her hands that felt far, far too real. There were his hands in her hair, on her hips. His heated, gentle kiss that consumed, that devoured, that gave and gave and gave.

A lump formed in her throat and all she could do was blink, and blink again.

"You see, your card suggests that you're feeling stuck and chained to an endless loop – a will they, won't they – and that this situation may leave you feeling powerless." Chloe said nothing. "And of course, the Devil speaks of desire."

"He sure does," said the detective, smiling as she said it and nodding as if enjoying a private joke.

"And he invites you to be unafraid of them—don't be afraid of what it is you desire. Of what it is you want. Enjoy them and let yourself be happy. You may feel as if you're not in control on some level, but you are. Everything that's holding you back from getting it—getting what could make you incandescently happy—are chains are of your own making. You can set yourself free and invite the change you might be dreading. So, the Devil asks—"

"Let me guess… what is it that I most desire?"

"Yes," said the woman. "And what, exactly, are you so afraid of that you won't let yourself have it?"

Well, shit.

Chloe's self-assured smile fell and her mouth fell open.

"I…" she tried to say but found no other words to follow. "I, uh…"

A pause later, the woman continued, "Your third card… the card of your future says—"

"You said you don't do predictions," Chloe interrupted.

"I don't," said the stranger, winking as she did so. "This spread is advice from different points of your life. Tells you nothing of what is to come—only what to look out for in yourself. A probability you might say."

"Okay…" she answered, uncertainty trailing off at the end.

"And your third and final card speaks of your future, and you drew—"

But, just as the woman was about to wave her hand above the last card...

"Raziel?" came a more familiar British voice from behind Chloe.

He held a rather ridiculously large stick of bright pink cotton candy in hand, outlandish headband still on his head, and yet his very tone was threatening.

"Brother!" said the woman—Raziel, apparently. Chloe could only stare.

Raziel bounced up from her chair and ran up to her brother and, before he could reject her, held his torso in a tight embrace. The woman was much shorter than Chloe had imagined, though she spotted that the other woman wore high heels, and still the top of Raziel's head only barely reached his chin. Lucifer's arms simply hung up in the air as if he did not quite know what to do, holding on to his well-earned cotton candy treat for dear life.

"Brother?" said a baffled Chloe Decker, snapping out of the air of curiosity that Lucifer's sister apparently casts.

"Sister, what are you doing here?" he asked her. "No wonder the Detective kept asking questions about… things."

"What—you're the only one who's allowed a vacation?" said Raziel, finally releasing him. She had an impish little smile on her face that made her that much cuter as it made her dimples more prominent.

The detective could only chuckle, if a bit bemusedly.

Raziel added flippantly, "Plus, I'm not even serving a sentence. I don't have to explain myself."

The more Chloe looked, the more she could see the family resemblance.

"Does—" Lucifer started but his sister cut him off.

"I asked Dad if I could, if you were wondering. And I knew you lived around here. I was actually waiting for you to show up."

"You knew I'd be here, of all places," he said. It wasn't a question. Raziel shrugged. A beat later he asked, "Did Father put you up to this?"

"As if I always do what Father tells me to do," she answered, rolling her eyes. "You're not the only rebel in the family, you know."

"Uh—hi?" Chloe tried again, hand raised as if to wave Lucifer's attention to her. Bright blue eyes trying to catch his dark ones and he got the message.

"Ah, yes. My apologies… Detective, this is my sister. Raziel," he said. "Raz, this is…"

"Detective Chloe Decker, LAPD. Homicide," she said, introducing herself and extending her hand to offer a handshake. Raziel took it firmly but gently and shook it once. Chloe continued, "So, let me get this straight… you work here?"

"Not really. Not full time, at least. More like I freelance—for the fun of it," Raz replied.

"Yes, well, you do love toying with the humans, don't you, sis?" Lucifer commented.

"I do not toy with them, Lucifer," she retorted. "I just… sometimes… give them knowledge they're not, apparently, ready for. It's up to them to get acclimated. They really do get too comfortable in their little routines sometimes."

Raziel took the cotton candy from his hands, started picking it apart with her fingers, and eating it. He frowned and picked at it too before she held it farther away and shook her head, as if the cotton candy was hers now.

The more Chloe looked at the pair of them, the more it looked that these two were obviously siblings.

"Sometimes, they just…" Raziel continued. She met Chloe's eyes then and she smirked as she continued, "Need a little extra push."

Lucifer frowned, pouting as he did so. Chloe tried not to think that that made him look adorable and so, she coughed. Business as ever.

"Right, okay—so we were supposed to be here undercover? But I guess there's no need to do the whole story thing with you since you know Lucifer," said Chloe. "Anyway, we're looking into the death of one of the trapeze artists? Cristel Pangan?"

"Let me guess, you're undercover because you suspect Tito Boy has something to do with it because someone suspects there was foul play in her death and reported it, and you're afraid he'd get spooked if the authorities asked him any more questions than they already have, pack up before you've solved your case, and cross state lines, yeah?"

Chloe blinked once, stunned. Raziel spoke words out in the same way machine guns rained down bullets. There was hardly breath in that sentence and nothing about her amiable features even twitched.

"Tito Boy?" Lucifer asked, practically scoffing at the name, as if that was the only thing about his sister's speech that caught his attention.

"Salazar Pangan," Raziel clarified. "Everyone calls him Tito Boy. Did I get all that right, Detective?"

"…Yeah, that's pretty much it," said Chloe, crossing her arms against her chest. Her brows furrowed and looked Raziel up and down.

"Well, you're not wrong but still a teeny, tiny bit off," said the shorter woman, mysterious, curt, and annoyingly vague, much like her brother.

"Do you mind if I ask where you were two days ago between 9 and 11 PM?"

"In the air on my way here," she answered, pinching off more cotton candy to eat. "I landed just yesterday morning."

"From where?"

"Up north."

Chloe rolled her eyes. Lucifer's siblings — hell, his entire family, it seemed— were certainly were in a league of their own.

"I'm going to need to confirm your alibi," she said.

"You can ask Tito Boy when you question him. Just started this booth today. Filling in for the regular psychic, actually, and I'm only here on a one day only offer."

"To surprise Lucifer?" the detective asked. Raziel smiled in response while her brother pocketed his hands and shrugged his shoulders, still giving his sister a pointed look. "But even he didn't know we were doing this until this afternoon…"

"Call it a lucky guess," said Raziel, her knowing smile so aggravatingly familiar. "My brother's a little reckless when it comes to… well… everything."

"Come now, Detective. Surely, I can vouch for my baby sister," he said, gesturing to her. Raziel beamed.

"Baby sister?" Chloe echoed, biting back a laugh. It seemed obvious that Raziel was his younger sibling in their dynamic and yet, she couldn't help the little smile on her face as Lucifer referred to her as such. He was not an affectionate man — not by traditional standards at least — but it was cute when he said it. Still, she went on. "You didn't even know she was here until two seconds ago!"

"Yes, but she's not capable of murdering humans!" he argued.

"Yeah, that is true. I'm really not," Raziel added.

"Nice as you are, Ms Morningstar, it's just protocol," said Chloe.

"Oh, please no. Call me Raziel. Heavens, I'm not a Morningstar. That's just my brother," she said. "And I just started in this fair today—what do you think I'm supposed to know?"

"For starters, you seem to already know an awful lot about the investigation for someone who just got here yesterday," said the detective, raising a questioning brow at the other woman.

A pause as the siblings looked at each other with a knowing glance—where Lucifer was frowning, Raziel looked smug.

"Am I a suspect now, Detective?" she asked, smirking. "I mean… it really is Tita Baby you need to be looking into but you didn't hear that from me."

"Tita who now?" Lucifer interrupted.

"Tita Baby," Raziel repeated. "She's Tito Boy's wife – real name, Lita Pangan."

"Pangan? They're related to the vic, right?" Chloe asked.

"Yes. Cristel was their niece," Raziel answered.

"Why do they call her—" Chloe tried to ask.

"It's a Filipino thing," Raziel answered. "Family business. But you knew that."

"Yes, yes, this is all very boring, but speaking of the family business and back to the more interesting part of all this that relates back to me—what in Dad's name are you doing here, Raz?"

"I told you," she said. "Holiday. And you know I don't lie."

"That's my thing," he said, straightening up his suit jacket.

"I know," she said, smirking up at him. "I got it from you. Plus, it goes with the brand. Secrets. Knowledge? Falsities don't do well for my name."

"Yes but mysteries are all part of your whole act so don't try to stall, sister—come on… tell me the whole story," he said in that same intense way that he asks for desires.

Raziel simply raised a brow at him, unimpressed, and popped another bit of cotton candy into her mouth.

"I'm… gonna let you two catch up?" said Chloe after a beat of awkward silence, coming in between the two Angels, with her hands raised in surrender. The two looked at her but she had already begun to walk away from the pair as she continued, "And I'm gonna try to question Salazar and this… Lita you mentioned and confirm your alibi. Thanks, Raziel."

"Don't mention it, Detective," she said after her. "And really! Don't!"

The Angels watched her walk into the crowd, the noise swallowing the rest of the humans whole, and all the while, the cotton candy in Raziel's hand about halfway finished. Lucifer quickly grabbed at it, scooped up the remnants in one quick motion, and swiftly stuffed the rest of the pink treat into his mouth with his fingers. The sugar fizzled and dissolved on his tongue in seconds.

Raziel stared up at him, her lips in a tight line. He made a show of swallowing it and she rolled her eyes at her brother, scoffing with a fond little smile on her lips.

"I can see why you like her, Luci," she said, looking toward the direction that the detective went.

"Oh, don't start," he said.

"What? It's all anyone can talk about back home. You, Amenadiel, Mazikeen… here. Involved with humans."

Lucifer scoffed, a hand against his well-dressed heart.

"Whatever happened to thou shalt not bear false witness?"

"Has anything of what I've said so far been false?" she challenged.

"No," he answered begrudgingly as he took turns sucking on the tips of his sticky fingers. "Have you heard about Mother?"

"I have," she answered. "We all have. Father told us as much."

"That's generous of Him," he spat.

She should have known that mentioning their Father would open up old wounds—and she did. It was a subject that they could not escape given who they were and what they are. Still, it was as good enough a time as any to broach the subject… one of the many she came down here to discuss with him in the first place.

"And I know about Uriel too," she said, quiet and kind.

Lucifer froze and stiffened. He reached for the flask inside his coat pocket and took a generous drink of it. She watched as he did and said nothing.

"Of course, you would." He grit his teeth as he said this, shoved the flask back into his coat, and pocketed his hands.

"If it helps, I forgive you," she said, reaching for his arm.

"It doesn't," he said, his voice low. Lucifer swallowed.

"I know," she said. "But know I don't hate you. Many of us don't."

"But some bear a grudge?" he asked, practically daring her to say otherwise.

"You know how Michael can be," she answered. Quickly, she added, "Don't tell him I said that."

"Should I be expecting Michael any time soon, then? Make a whole thing of it? A whole family reunion on the Earthly planes?"

"No, no. It's just me," she answered. "Just… trying to lighten the mood a bit."

"Yes, well, bringing up our dead brother's not exactly the best of icebreakers."

"No, but it's something I'd have to mention eventually. Might as well rip the band-aid off now," she said.

"So, you don't…" he started. "For Uriel, you don't…"

"No," she answered. "I don't blame you for it. It was an impossible situation, brother, and choosing the other option would have destroyed you."

"And killing him didn't? Our own brother?"

"You're still here, aren't you?" she asked. "And besides, I'm not one to judge. I never have."

"Afraid that's dear old Dad's schtick," he commented. "So—holiday for the first Know-It-All herself, eh? Silver City lost all its splendour for you?"

"No, never," she said. "But you know I love them—the humans. Giving them a bit of a push in the right direction is… kind of my thing."

Raziel looked the crowd as she said this, leaning back against her table. She spoke with a fondness for the humans that he never really understood. While he, too, liked the humans well enough, he knew that his sister held a different kind of fascination for them. She and their Father were rather similar in many regards but, unlike their Father, she was not quite so megalomaniacal.

One of the kindest Angels, his little sister was, if a bit of a pest. Though she meant well, she always did. But Lucifer always did think that she acted more like a helicopter parent than anything else. Humans were so much better when they figured things out for themselves instead of relying on Heavenly powers and gifts to get them through their everyday.

Still, she only ever wanted to help. And of course, as his duty was as her older brother, was then to tease her for it.

"'Cause that worked out so well for Adam and Eve," he mocked.

Bit of a sore spot for him that she, too, tried to go against their Father's whims when the first humans were cast out of paradise—thanks to his own machinations, of course—and yet his sister was never punished for trying to gift them with a book. That famed bloody book of the Angel Raziel – and its bloody secrets on how to get back to Heaven and all that.

He supposed that since her rebellion was in the interest of the humans, she merely got a scolding from their only all-too forgiving Heavenly Father. Whereas he'd orchestrated an entire mutiny against Heaven itself. Still, it stung that she seemed to have gotten away with her own transgression rather easily.

And, perhaps, it was not the best idea to go at a battle of wits against his little sister because she'd countered his mocking without missing a beat as she said, "Much like knowledge of the divine's working out for Dr Martin."

Lucifer's eyes widened then narrowed back as he realised to whom he was speaking.

For his sister was Raziel, of course—Angel of Knowledge and Mysteries, after all. The Keeper of Secrets. Hers was a presence that inspired and compelled curiosity. In fact, the only Being in all of Creation who knew more than his little sister was their bloody Father Himself. After all, she was basically His glorified personal secretary.

Why many believed her to be a man, he would never understand. He would blame those confound Young Adult novels turned film adaptation turned Netflix series, with the hunters and the terrible tattoos.

"I do hate it when you do that," he muttered.

"Can't help it," she said, almost apologetic. She shrugged. "If it's a fact, I know it."

"And that's really all you're here for? Of all places, this is where you announce your presence—while I'm with the detective?"

"Well…"

"Raziel."

"I wasn't going to throw away my shot at seeing what you'd be like at work," she said impishly, as if trying to hold back a laugh at her own little joke.

He raised his eyebrows at her and she tucked in her lips. He scoffed and drawled, unimpressed, "You've seen Hamilton."

"Not yet," she replied cheekily. It almost made him smile. "Before I go back, though, I will."

"Well, you already know the story—why bother seeing the show?"

"Luci, you and I both know that knowing something is altogether different from experiencing it."

He tilted his head, conceding to her point. "That I do. Touché."

"So, I really am just on holiday," she said. "Getting to see my older brothers is just a tiny bit of a perk."

"Brothers? You've seen Amenadiel, then?"

"No, not yet."

"Ah, so you missed me more?" he asked.

"Well, I haven't seen you as often as I saw him," she replied, biting her tongue as it pressed against the wall of her cheeks.

"So you missed me more than you missed Amenadiel?" he repeated, grinning. "Admit it, little sister. You missed me more."

Raziel sucked in her lips and her cheeks, looking up at him like she couldn't believe it. She squinted and scrunched up her little upturned button nose and, finally, said, "So what if I did?"

"Yes, well…" he continued on. "I always did hate you least in Heaven,"

He took his flask from within his suit jacket again and took a swig. Raziel looked up at him with those big eyes and he could not help but want to smile in her presence. Of all his sisters, she was always the one who was the least judgmental of the lot. Being almost as all-knowing as their Father gave her that trait.

He remembered during his rebellion that she was one of the few who chose not to take sides between him and their Father.

"Coming from you, I'll take that as a compliment," she said. He offered her the flask and she took it. After a swig, she asked, "But how is Amenadiel doing by the way?"

"Ask him yourself and, while you're at it, you can tell him to leave me alone," he said as he pocketed back his flask.

"Who do I look like to you? Gabriel?" she said, hands on her hips. "I'm not your messenger, brother. Tell him yourself."

As she said that, she went back around her table and started to gather her things.

"Is this your tent?" he asked. "I must say, Raz, I hate to think of you slumming it just to make rent. You could always stay with me at my penthouse above Lux, if you like."

"Shut up, you idiot. I don't actually work here. This isn't my tent," she said. "It was here when I got here. I think the regular tarot card reader's on a break."

It was only then that Lucifer noticed the spread on the table in the first place.

"You did a reading for the detective?"

"I did, yes."

"There's me…" he said, taking the Devil card before his sister could tuck it away with the rest of the deck. "Tell me, what does this say for her?"

"You know all readings are confidential," Raziel answered. "I don't give out secrets without consent. Part of the deal with Dad after the whole book fiasco happened."

"You didn't—Raz, you didn't say anything untoward about me, did you?"

"You? What could I ever say…?" she asked, the picture of innocence. Lucifer gave her a pointed look that said he was buying none of it. So she added, "That she doesn't already know."

He raised his brows.

"I just… told her some things…" she said, taking the card back from him and setting it on top of the deck. She took the other card and placed it face down on top of the deck. She added, "Like I said… sometimes, people just need a little extra push. You'll thank me later."

"Thank you?" he asked, incredulous.

"You're welcome," she answered, a maddening grin on her face.

"That's not—"

But before he could finish that, his phone buzzed in his pocket and he swiftly reached to retrieve it. Raziel wrapped her tarot deck with the dark cloth and held it close to her chest. He read the text message and his eyes widened.

"Chloe needs you," she said.

It wasn't a question—she knew. He tried not to think about the fact that the smug look on her face suggested that she meant that in more ways than one.

"Right," he said, looking up at her. "I…"

He hesitated, not quite certain if it was the right call to leave his sister for his detective.

"I'll drop by Lux soon. We'll catch up properly there," she told him. "Go."

He couldn't help himself. Lucifer grinned.

"Oh, I have missed you, sister," he said, reaching over to kiss her forehead. Raziel smiled and closed her eyes.

"I know. And I you, brother," she said. "Go!"

With that, Lucifer ran to where his beloved beckoned while Raziel watched as he did, for she now already knew how this case was going to go, with the evidence that Chloe Decker would collect that night. She yawned as she smiled to herself, knowing no one else could see—except her Father.

She felt a warm breeze wrap around her and she turned upward and smirked.

"I know, I know… no meddling. And I'm not! Never do," she said, to seemingly no one at all. "You have to admit, though, Dad—your plot was moving a bit slow."

The breeze around her blew cooler and faster, tussling her short hair as if God were messing up the top of his daughter's head with his own hand. She laughed.

"Yes, yes—in Your perfect time. I'm well aware, Father," she said, shaking her head knowingly. She hollered up, "Artistic differences!"

And as they were in Southern California, no one looked twice at the odd British woman who looked to be shouting at nothing at all.

Raziel chuckled to herself and unwrapped the cloth that held her tarot cards together. She plucked the top card – Chloe Decker's third card – and she grinned. She looked upward and winked again.

"Don't be afraid of what it is you desire, Chloe Decker," she whispered to wind.

With a flippant toss, she discarded the tarot card and allowed it to be carried off by the wind. She smiled as she watched it go, knowing the wind will return it to her later. The remaining Angel then unfurled her copper wings – her feathers, as rich and warm as her eyes in sunlight – and set off.

Meanwhile, the card continued to drift off, the watercolour art on it depicting two figures with the majesty of Earth just behind them, both Heaven and Hell above and below them—the figures, together in a tight embrace.

And together, The Lovers were encased in the glow of Heaven's light.