Twenty minutes later, Cain descended the stairs. He was transformed. The dark blue suit, though off-the-rack, fit him well, lending him an air of professional confidence he hadn't felt in months. A small, determined smile played on his lips as he sat on the bottom step to pull on his polished dress shoes. He only noticed too late that his socks were mismatched, one black, one dark navy. He shrugged, deciding it didn't matter.
From her spot on the couch, Lucifer's nose twitched subtly. A new scent, clean and sharp like starched cotton and subtle cologne, cut through the familiar smells of the house. In a motion faster than a blink, she was suddenly standing right in front of him.
Cain, caught mid-shoe-tying, jerked back in surprise. He lost his balance, tilting backwards toward the hard stair edge. Before he could fall, Lucifer's hand shot out, grabbing a fistful of his crisp white dress shirt and pulling him firmly upright.
"That was close," Cain breathed, his heart skipping a beat. He straightened his suit jacket, feeling awkward. "Thanks."
Lucifer released his shirt, smoothing the fabric where she had gripped it. "I apologize for startling you. I am still calibrating the appropriate speed for domestic proximity." She smiled, then reached into the pocket of her borrowed trousers. She took his hand and pressed a neat fold of paper bills into his palm. Four thousand pesos.
Cain looked at the money, then at her, his brow furrowed. "What's this? Where did you get it?"
Lucifer lifted her chin slightly, a hint of pride in her expression. "A male human extended an invitation to me within his vehicle yesterday, while you were procuring goods. He proposed an exchange. In return for terminating him via explosive force, he provided this currency. As the transaction concluded moments before your return, I was able to resume my position without temporal discrepancy."
Cain stared at her. He looked from the money in his hand to her guileless face. He walked past her into the kitchen, absently stuffing the pesos into his own pocket. He poured himself a glass of water from the pitcher and drank it in one long gulp, trying to process her words. He sat heavily at the table. The memory of the small, rust-colored dot on her collar yesterday flashed in his mind.
Should I call the police on her?
The thought was immediately followed by a colder, more rational one. That's dumb. If she can kill a man that easily, what would the police do? She might decide to make me permanently dead if I cause trouble.
He looked over at her, leaning against the doorframe. "Wait. You said last night you can read the 'melody' of a soul. You can see true intention. So you knew what that man really wanted from you, but you killed him anyway. Is that right?"
Lucifer vanished from the doorway. A second later, the sound of the television paused. She reappeared, sitting on the stair step where he had just been. She gave a single, definitive nod. "That is correct."
"You know what you did was wrong, right?" Cain said, his voice low. "It's like you stole that money. You took a life for it."
"We do not possess, nor do we require, a conscience as you humans understand it," Lucifer stated plainly. She shrugged, a confident smirk on her lips. "From my perspective, my action was neither correct nor incorrect. I simply acted. There are no eternal consequences for my choices, unlike for yours."
As infuriating as it was, Cain knew she was technically right. The sermons of his childhood echoed in his head. Angels were messengers and soldiers, not creatures made in God's image. Humans were the ones given conscience, the moral compass to choose, to weigh right and wrong, to consider future ramifications. Angels operated on a different set of rules, if they operated on rules at all.
Cain sighed, a long, weary sound. He set the empty glass down with a soft click. "Listen," he began, choosing his words carefully. "You can't just do whatever you want simply because you have the power to. You said it yourself, multiple times yesterday. You want to blend in with humans. If you truly mean that, then you have to try to live as we do. Follow the same basic rules. And if you want to stay here, in my home, you have to stop acting like you can just… step over me. Here, we are equal. No one is higher than the other."
He stood up and walked over to her, stopping at the base of the stairs. He extended his hand, not for a handshake, but as a gesture of agreement, a proposed contract. "Do we have a deal?"
Lucifer looked from his face to his outstretched hand. Her confident smirk faded into an expression of thoughtful consideration. After a moment, she nodded. "Very well." She placed her hand in his. Her grip was cool and firm.
Cain's smile returned, relieved. "Good." He released her hand. "I have to leave now, for my meeting with my boss. Try not to get too bored with the movies until I get back."
Lucifer nodded again. The word 'boss' was unfamiliar, but she understood the context of him departing for a purpose. She stood up as he moved toward the door. She took a few steps after him, a question on her lips—May I accompany you?—but she stopped herself. After their conversation, she felt a new, unfamiliar need: to adjust. To be less of a disturbance. To avoid causing the tension she saw in his shoulders yesterday. She would wait.
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After an hour of navigating traffic, Cain pulled up to a sleek, modern café in a more upscale part of the city. His boss had texted him during the drive, changing the meeting location with no explanation. He checked his reflection in the rearview mirror, adjusted his tie, and stepped out.
He found the table easily, exactly as described in the photo she'd sent. Sitting there was his boss. She was a striking woman with long, straight hair the color of fresh snow, contrasting against smooth, dark skin. Her lips were painted a deep crimson, and behind a pair of subtle, elegant glasses, her eyes were an unusual and piercing shade of violet. She held a delicate teacup with the poised grace of royalty. Two imposing men in dark suits, her bodyguards, sat at the adjacent table.
Cain smoothed his jacket and approached. He gave a respectful, slight bow of his head. "Good morning, ma'am."
His boss glanced up from her tea. A slow, unreadable smile touched her crimson lips. She set the cup down silently on its saucer and made a slight, dismissive gesture with one manicured hand toward the bodyguards. They stood immediately and moved to a more distant table.
Her violet eyes settled fully on Cain. "Good morning, Cain," she said, her voice smooth as velvet. She gestured to the now-empty chair across from her. "Please, sit."