Chapter 10: Demon's Interrogation
The buzzing of her phone had been a death knell for the afterglow. Chloe had dragged herself from Lucifer’s bed, her body protesting every movement with a deep, satiated ache. A quick, awkward shuffle into last night’s clothes, a lingering kiss that tasted of sweat and promise, and she was out the door, the stolen leather restraints a secret weight in her blazer pocket.
By midday, the ache had settled into a dull, pleasant throb, a ghost of him between her legs that she could feel with every step down the precinct hallway. It was a distracting, dangerous souvenir. She’d been staring at the same financial record for twenty minutes, seeing not numbers but the dark hunger in his eyes as he’d buckled the cuffs.
She needed a reset. A blast of cold water. A glimpse in the mirror to remind herself she was Detective Decker, not some devil’s plaything.
The precinct bathroom was empty. She pushed through the door, the hinge squeaking its familiar complaint. The air was thick with the smell of industrial lemon cleaner trying and failing to mask older, sourer scents. The fluorescent light buzzed and flickered, making the graffiti on the stall doors look like it was moving.
Chloe leaned over the sink, the porcelain cool under her palms. She splashed water on her face, the shock of it clearing the fog. She looked up into the cracked mirror. Her reflection was familiar—the determined set of her jaw, the faint shadows under her eyes—but there was a softness there too, a bloom in her cheeks that hadn’t been there a week ago. She looked… used. In the best possible way.
The stall door behind her swung open with no sound.
“Long night, Decker?”
Chloe froze. The reflection in the mirror gained a second figure. Mazikeen, Lucifer’s demon friend—or more accurately, his torturer and former right hand—leaned against the tile wall by the paper towel dispenser. She was dressed in her usual uniform of tight leather and menace, a predatory smile playing on her lips.
“Maze.” Chloe straightened up, reaching for a paper towel. Her heart kicked against her ribs. “What are you doing here?”
“Heard there was a murder with a fancy brand. Sounds like my kind of party.” Maze pushed off the wall, her movements sinuous and unnervingly quiet. She took a step closer, then another, her head tilting like a shark catching a scent. She stopped inches from Chloe, her dark eyes wide with mock innocence.
She sniffed the air. A long, dramatic draw through her nose.
Chloe’s skin prickled. “What?”
“Oh, wow,” Maze purred, her grin widening to show perfect, white teeth. “You reek of him. Like, really reek. It’s all over you.” Her gaze dropped, traveled slowly down Chloe’s body and back up. “Eau de Morningstar. A particularly potent batch.”
Chloe felt the blush ignite, a searing heat crawling from her chest up her neck. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t you?” Maze’s hand moved faster than Chloe could track. The cool, flat edge of a small, wickedly sharp blade pressed against Chloe’s flaming cheek. It wasn’t a threat, not quite. It was a punctuation mark. “Smells like brimstone and expensive cologne and, well… sex. A lot of it.” She leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “How many times did he rearrange your insides last night? Three? Four?”
The vulgarity, the sheer accuracy of it, left Chloe speechless. She stared at Maze’s reflection, the demon’s dark eyes glittering with amusement and something darker—curiosity, maybe envy.
“That’s none of your business,” Chloe managed, her voice tighter than she wanted.
“Everything about him is my business. I was there before the first sin, sister.” Maze eased the blade away, flipping it deftly in her hand until it disappeared somewhere on her person. “He’s not human, Decker. He gets bored. He plays with things. Breaks them.”
“I’m not a thing.”
“Aren’t you?” Maze shrugged, a lazy, elegant movement. “You’re the shiny new toy. The detective who doesn’t bow. It’s cute. I give it another month before he’s on to the next distraction.”
The words were meant to wound, and they did, scratching at a fear Chloe kept locked in a deep, dark drawer. She turned from the sink to face Maze directly, crossing her arms over her chest. “Did you just come here to piss on my parade? Or did you actually have something useful to say about the case?”
Maze’s expression shifted, the mockery fading into something more businesslike. “The brand. It’s infernal contract work. Old school. The sigil is for oath-breakers, like Lucifer said. But the method… the searing. It’s not just any heat.” She paused, watching Chloe. “It’s hellfire.”
“Hellfire?”
“Takes a special kind of… individual… to wield it on Earth. Not many can. Leaves a specific trace. Like a fingerprint in the burn pattern.” Maze pulled a folded piece of paper from her pocket and handed it to Chloe. It was a photocopy from an ancient-looking book, showing the same intricate brand.
“This is from one of Lucifer’s old library books?” Chloe asked, unfolding it.
“Borrowed it. He won’t miss it.” Maze smirked. “The point is, your killer isn’t some human with a grudge and a hot poker. It’s someone with a direct line to the infernal resources department. Someone who can manifest actual hellfire here. That’s a short list.”
Chloe’s detective mind latched onto the information, pushing past the personal discomfort. “A demon? Like you?”
Maze scoffed. “Please. If I wanted to torture an oath-breaker, you’d find pieces of him in six different states. This is… formal. Ritualistic. This is someone following the letter of a very old, very nasty law.” She took a step toward the door, then paused. “Look for someone new in town. Someone who seems a little too comfortable with the concept of eternal punishment. And maybe,” she added, her eyes dropping pointedly to Chloe’s blazer pocket, “check your own evidence. Hellfire leaves a residual energy. It can be… sensed. By the right equipment. Or the wrong people.”
Chloe’s hand instinctively moved to her pocket, where the leather restraints lay hidden. A cold dread seeped into her stomach.
Maze saw the movement and her smile returned, full of sharp edges. “Oh, you’ve been a naughty girl, Detective. Stealing from the evidence locker? Tsk.” She shook her head, the picture of false disapproval. “Better hope your hellish boyfriend doesn’t find out you’re using confiscated gear for your little games. He does love his luxuries. Might be offended by the used, municipal quality.”
Before Chloe could fire back a retort, Maze was gone, slipping out the bathroom door as silently as she’d arrived.
Chloe was left alone with the buzzing light and her pounding heart. She looked back at the mirror. The woman staring back wasn’t just blushing now; she was pale, a sheen of cold sweat on her brow. The afterglow was gone, utterly incinerated. In its place was a chilling clarity.
The killer wasn't human. The murder weapon was hellfire. And the stolen goods in her pocket might as well be a beacon.
She pulled out her phone, her fingers trembling slightly. She needed to talk to Lucifer. Now. Not about them, but about this. She started typing a text, then deleted it. This wasn’t a text conversation.
The bathroom door swung open again, and Ella Lopez bounced in, her usual bundle of optimistic energy. “Chloe! There you are. We got a hit on the security system bypass from the construction site. It’s weird, like, super-weird code. You gotta see.”
Chloe shoved her phone and the hellfire document into her pocket, the leather restraints pressing against her thigh like an accusation. She forced a smile. “Yeah. Yeah, let’s go see.”
She followed Ella out, the demon’s words echoing in her skull. He plays with things. Breaks them. The case had just escalated into something celestial, and she was walking into it with a pocket full of stolen sin and a heart that was already in over its head.