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"Is this real?" Chloe asked, slamming a set of manilla folders down on Dan's desk. She had that look on her face that promised Hell to all her crossed her path. "Someone paid Lucifer's bail?"

Dan sighed. This was not how he wanted Chloe to find out. "It's real. The courts processed the check this morning and rumor is they're planning to put a pool in the Venice Beach precinct."

"That bail was set at two million."

"Come on, you've seen where that guy lives. Two million's probably what he spends on a weekend in Vegas."

Cheap shot, bringing up Vegas. But hey, Dan wasn't in too great of a mood this morning either. He woke up late because Trixie had turned his alarm off (it was his weekend to have her, and they spent the majority watching the latest Marvel series and eating chocolate cake until they passed out), his best shirt had a suspicious stain on it, the coffee in the break room was burnt, and someone had eaten his emergency pudding again.

Chloe's pout was enough to make Dan regret his words. She crossed her arms over her chest tightly and looked through the glass walls out the window, knuckles pulled white at her elbows.

"Hey, don't be like that," Dan sighed, getting up from his desk so he could pry Chloe's hands off her jacket before she lost feeling in her fingers. "We had no real proof to keep Lucifer in lock up. And you only arrested him because you were mad at him."

"He knows something Dan, I can feel it."

This case was really weighing on Chloe. There was a manic edge to her that he hadn't seen since Palmetto Street. She was right about things then; maybe she was right about Lucifer now.

"We can't drag him back here on a feeling. We need proof." As if Chloe needed reminding that they were detectives and needed just cause to slap cuffs on people instead of hunches and half-baked obsessions. "If this Raziel person really is Lucifer's brother, then that means he's Amenadiel's brother too. Have you tried talking to him?"

A look of clarity crossed over Chloe's face.

"It never even crossed my mind," she gasped, like a whole new channel of possibility had opened. And in a way, it had. "I was so focused on trying to get Lucifer to cooperate that I forgot." She smiled so widely, Dan forgot to feel badly about throwing his best friend under the bus. "Thank you, Dan. I owe you!"

"I'm gonna start keeping track of those IOUs!" he called after her retreating back.

He didn't mean it, not really. He would do anything for Chloe, and he would never stop owing her after all she did to keep his skin in the game at the LAPD.

Besides, he had to admit, Chloe was onto something. Lucifer was acting sketchier than usual. And someone had to answer for all his missing pudding.

All roads seemed to lead to Nephilim Headquarters.

Lucifer was a frequent flyer in these parts these days. Someone should give him a badge. Or at least a membership card that prevented a full security lockdown every time he stepped through the cathedral doors. They weren't even trying that hard to search him anymore. It was a little insulting.

No one stopped Lucifer as he barged into Rob's office and splayed himself across one of the two uncomfortable leather chairs.

"Hello Rob," Lucifer crooned, flashing his most winning smile to the tired man behind the desk. "Miss me?"

"What do you want, Lucifer? I'm dealing with a crisis at the moment - "

"I'm looking for a Nephilim by the name of Jace Herondale." At the name, Rob's eyebrows shot up. Any further, and the fuzzy caterpillars would fly off his egg head. "Heard of him?"

"What business do you have with my son?"

"Forgive me, but I was under the impression your last name was Light-wood. Quite a far cry from Her-on-dale." Lucifer enunciated, making sure that Rob was still sound of mind. Humans were always so precarious when it came to their mental states.

"My ex wife and I adopted Jace into our family when he was a child. His parents were killed by a fanatic amongst our ranks."

Of course. Of course Rob did. Just how big was this damn family?

"How noble of you."

Rob let out a weary sigh. "I'll ask again, Lucifer. What do you want with my son?"

"He's running around murdering your precious disciples in the name of Lilith, and I need him to stop so I can kill Lilith. That's my business."

For a moment, Rob just looked at Lucifer, dumbstruck. Maybe Lucifer did indeed drive Rob into a precarious mental state. It wouldn't be the first time, but usually Rob was so much more resilient than humans like Doctor Linda.

"Do you have any proof that Jace is the Owl?"

"The Owl? What Owl?" Was Lucifer speaking in tongues? Was Rob? "No birds, Rob Bob Shish-ka-bob! Lilith came to me herself and proclaimed her absolutely bogus plan to take over the Earth, which is never going to happen, not while I'm here. And then your beloved, my somewhat less tolerated brother Raziel came to me while I was in jail and told me that Jace Herondale was the key to her defeat. Apparently she has him under her spell."

Rob processed all this, steepling his fingers under his chin as he thought. He was less emotionally distressed than Lucifer had imagined. Usually, when parents learned their children were into deviant things like BDSM or mass murder, they shed a couple tears. Some even threw things. Not Rob. Cool as a pickled, wrinkly cucumber.

"You don't seem too surprised about your son going Friday the Thirteenth on a dozen of his friends."

"We...had our suspicions. I had hoped...well, my hopes are irrelevant. And the Lilith angle makes this far more troublesome than anticipated. We thought we were dealing with a stray demon, maybe even a disgruntled Greater Demon. But the Mother of all Demons?" Rob looked at Lucifer at a loss. "How did she even escape Edom?"

Now it was Lucifer's turn to be uncomfortable.

"Ah, see, about that - "

A knock at the door saved Lucifer from the mortifying ordeal of having to confess he fucked up. The Nephilim who stepped in was big and brawny and absolutely indistinguishable from the other. A true mark of the breed. He stood at attention, eyes trained on the wall ahead of him as he delivered his message.

"Sir, I have news. It's about Inquisitor Herondale."

"Ah, speak of the little devil."

The Nephilim gave Lucifer a strange look, then returned his grave focus to the wall. "She's dead, sir."

The news sunk the room like a lead balloon. Rob collapsed back into his chair and grew ten more worry lines on his overly-large forehead. He rubbed his bald spot and closed his eyes. For a moment, it looked as though Rob might burst into tears.

"Hold on a moment," Lucifer said, confused. "She?" He could have sworn Jace was Rob's adoptive son. Perhaps he had misheard his brother -

Both Nephilim ignored him as if he wasn't in the room.

"How?" Rob asked, barely composed.

"Stabbed. Repeatedly." The Nephilim shifted on his feet. Nervous then, Lucifer surmised. He had more bad news to tell, and he didn't want to tell it. "We were able to obtain the surveillance recordings from Alicante. The perpetrator...well...it's best if you take a look at it yourself."

The Nephilim left a small flash drive on the desk and quietly backed away. Rob and Lucifer both stared at the drive, uncertain if either of them wanted to see the horrors of the footage. But this was Rob's job. He had wanted his proof, after all.

The recording itself was grainy, black and white with the typical surveillance angles. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, just a middle-aged woman minding her business until someone snuck up behind her with a knife. The murder itself was excessive, brutal, like it was meant to scar not only the victim but the perpetrator. The attacker wore a mask that resembled a plague doctor's shroud save for the haunting depth to his black eyes and feathers that were clearly not the result of stage makeup.

Well, now Lucifer knew what all the owl talk was about.

When that mask faded away, a blonde-haired man with one brown eye and one golden eye stared the camera down. He was covered in blood and had a smile on his face, completely unrepentant.

"He dug up graves and obtained one of Valentine's ribs from the Cemetery of the Disgraced. One can only guess as to what he wants with it," said the Nephilim at the door, his eyes now cast the ground, perhaps out of respect or mourning for his boss.

Rob was well and truly fucked.

"By the Angel," Rob muttered. He turned so pale he went grey. Lucifer had half a mind to call 911.

"Your son, Alexander, and the Fairchild girl were in the vicinity around the time of the attack as well. They claimed to have business with Jia Penhallow, but upon review were intent on taking the Malachai Configuration, presumably to capture Jace Herondale."

"Were they successful?"

"The configuration was reported missing after an emergency inventory," the Nephilim reported dutifully. Then, another hesitation. "Such an infraction, especially an infraction of this magnitude committed by a Head of Institute, calls for a trial. However, in light of recent events, the Clave is willing to let this be handled in-house."

"Handled?"

"Maryse has already been reinstated and re-runed. She awaits your arrival in New York."

Rob hung his head, rubbed at it like his bald patch was a crystal ball into a better future. "First Isabelle, now this..."

Lucifer's attention snapped back into place like a rubber band.

"What about Miss Lightwood?"

Rob eyed him with suspicion. Lucifer winced. Perhaps that was a little too enthusiastic for asking after someone who was supposed to be a complete stranger.

"It sounds to me like you can't keep your brood in line, Rob. That's all," Lucifer amended under the guise of cool disinterest. He crossed one leg over another, a judgmental look in his eye. "Maybe your ex wife preferred a more capable man to lay down the law."

"My marriage is none of your business," Rob replied icily, a nerve struck. Good. Anger was better than suspicion. "And I can handle my children just fine. Isabelle has been ill recently. She was taken to a special facility in Alicante to assess her situation."

"Oh?" Lucifer's heart rate ticked up ten notches. "I was under the assumption your kind never got sick. Part of your 'angelic blessings' and all that."

"We don't. Which is precisely why Isabelle will remain at The Gard until she is well again."

"The Gard."

Lucifer had heard stories of that place: a maximum security nightmare meant to hold the worst of Nephilim and creature alike. It was a prison. A haunted house full of death and cruelty. Many souls who passed into his kingdom likened it to Hell on Earth. Lucifer harbored hopes of seeing it one day, of taking notes, perhaps implementing some improvements. It was not a place of healing.

The knuckles of his left hand cracked under strain of his grip. Any tighter and the arm of the chair would crack.

Better the chair than Rob's teeth.

Lucifer forced a smile, the type that was definitely more malicious than kind. His eyes flashed red for the briefest of moments.

"Locking your daughter up to help her, Rob," he tutted, running his tongue over the edge of his teeth, wondering what this man's blood would taste like once he'd split his skull. "What kind of father does that make you?"

The temperature in the room dropped.

"What would you know about being a father?" Rob asked, eyes sharp and cold as daggers.

"Nothing much, it would seem," Lucifer replied, perfectly cool despite the hellfire brimming too close to the surface. "But I'm learning more and more each day."

Lucifer stood. It took every ounce of control to button his suit jacket and extend his hand in a civil manner. Rob didn't deign to take it. Good. Then he wouldn't have to feel the scalding burn of Lucifer's palms.

...

As soon as Lucifer was out of spitting distance from the damn Nephilim, he ducked into an alleyway, pulled out his phone, and punched the number four on speed dial.

The line rang once, twice, three times. Lucifer growled in impatience. The little shit better not send him to voicemail or so help him Dad -

"Lucifer, I don't have time - "

"You were supposed to protect her," he hissed into the line, finally allowing fire and brimstone to slip from his human shell, radiating divine energy all over this Dad-forsaken alley. "A handful of weeks since we last spoke, and I learn that Miss Lightwood has been locked up in Nephilim Alcatraz!"

He left that meeting with nothing! No information about the whereabouts of Jace Herondale, no information about Isabelle, nothing! Such a waste of time, such a waste of fucking time!

He turned and punched the wall, bricks crumbling to dust around the new hole. Lucifer frowned. One of the few downsides to being invulnerable was that nothing hurt, even when he wanted it to.

"I know."

Magnus sounded tired. Too tired. Like he hadn't slept in days and had been crying recently.

"Is that all you have to say?" Lucifer shouldn't be this mad. He should hold his temper, hold his tongue. Magnus was not his enemy. But the alley is sizzling with heat waves; he smells like sulfur and ash. In the reflection of the glassy metal of a dumpster, he catches sight of scarred, red skin. "This isn't just about her. This is my child, Magnus."

"I know, Lucifer. Believe me, I know."

Magnus, for all his unyielding youth and spirit, sounded every single one of his many hundred years. Lucifer could almost picture it: Magnus standing on his balcony, head tipped towards the sky and spare hand pinching the bridge of his nose as he held the other phone against his ear.

"Alexander, he - " Magnus cuts himself off. There's a rustle of something, feet against the floor. And then, Magnus is back quieter, more reserved. "We are trying to set this right. We just don't know how. And the demons..."

Blood whooshed through Lucifer's ears, drowning out the rest of Magnus's words.

Lilith.

In his anger, Lucifer had almost forgotten the conniving Mother of Demons and her sinister intentions for his baby. Lilith was a woman of single-minded focus; she would not rest until she had hat she wanted. Hell would freeze over before Lucifer let her sink a single talon into Miss Lightwood or the child in her womb. An unstoppable force meets an immovable object and all that. Which meant that Miss Lightwood would not be safe anywhere outside Alicante until Lucifer hunted down the demoness and returned her to Hell.

"Perhaps..." Lucifer started, tongue thick in his parched mouth. The alley cooled as his temper fled, replaced with resignation. "Perhaps Miss Lightwood is better off where she is."

"What are you talking about?" Now, Magnus was the one outraged. "She was taken against her will. She's in prison."

"But do you know that? I spoke to Robert Lightwood just now and he said she was undergoing light medical treatment. Relaxation and recuperation and all that."

Lucifer had to believe that Rob was telling the truth. Maybe he was wrong and The Gard had a wing dedicated to cutting edge medical technology. He had never been there; he had no way of knowing. Only blind faith that no father would willingly walk his daughter into danger.

"Why are you meeting with Robert Lightwood?"

"We have established a mutually beneficial arrangement to solve a common problem."

Magnus was quiet. Quiet was never a good thing coming from a man as loud and effusive as Magnus Bane. Lucifer should know; he raised Magnus to be that way.

"One moment you're raging against Isabelle's imprisonment, the next you're supporting the people who put her there." Magnus heaved a sigh, frustrated. There were more rustling noises, more hushed movements. "Have you ever thought that maybe, just maybe, letting other Nephilim run routine medical tests on Isabelle exposes the fact that she is carrying your baby."

"The thought has crossed my mind."

"And you're okay with that?"

Lucifer closed his eyes, lashes fluttering closed. There were no good solutions to this problem. Wherever Miss Lightwood went, she faced danger. This was the fate Lucifer feared for her, a fate he could not save her from. She was somewhere he could not follow. But if he could not follow, then neither could Lilith. He had to choose between two evils, and as horrible as Nephilim could be, they were the lesser.

"It's Lilith, Magnus. She knows."

Muffled cursing filled the line. Magnus didn't curse often. It was jarring to hear such creative words in languages he hadn't heard in centuries. But he wasn't surprised. Magnus had already figured Lilith was involved. Lucifer tried not to feel too much irritation that his nephew had kept such pertinent information from him.

"Alexander won't stop," Magnus said, finally. He sounded even wearier than before. Guilt tugged at Lucifer's breastbone. "Between Jace and Isabelle, he's losing his way. He won't stop until they're home."

"I understand." Blood thicker than water and all that. For once, Lucifer wished something could be simple. He tipped his head to the sky and silently cursed his Father. "Believe it or not, I'm working on the Jace front."

"This mutually beneficial arrangement?"

"Hmmmmm." The less said about it, the better. Magnus had enough to deal with. "If all goes to plan, I'll free the little bastard from Lilith's control, rip the miserable bitch's throat out, and storm the gates of Alicante well before the due date."

"You forget the part where you'll burst into flame the moment you step foot on Alicante's holy ground."

"Fine, I'll leave the storming to you lot."

Magnus huffed a small laugh. Lucifer could almost picture the roll of his golden cat eyes. "How do you plan to break Jace free from Lilith's control? I already tried placing Isabelle and Alexander into his mind. Even the Malachai Configuration couldn't break her hold."

"Not sure. Haven't worked out all the kinks yet, but I'm sure something inspiring will strike when the time comes."

That was a broad overestimation of his abilities, but Lucifer could be crafty when the situation warranted. He would call in every favor, stack every card in the deck in his favor until Lilith had no choice but to fold. He just had to figure out how.

"Good luck, Lucifer."

'You're going to need it' went unsaid.