Caught in the Fire

Chapter XXII: The Lost Souls

Michael and Lucifer left the abandoned cathedral and found themselves at Lux, at the nightclub, with loud music playing, but looking surprisingly empty as there were only two people. One of them was sitting at a table with his back to him, and another was tending the bar.

"Slow night," Lucifer said to himself before heading to the bar, pushing past his one guest, needing a drink.

"I am watching you," Michael warned the two people there, who wouldn't look at him. Then he went to stand next to Lucifer at the bar, with his hand on the hilt of his sword. "Why are we here, brother?"

"Why not?" Lucifer asked as he filled a glass to the brim with whiskey. Then he chugged it down and set the glass down, shuddering at the taste. Then he noticed Michael there, staring at him. "Where are my manners?" Lucifer got another glass and filled it with Vodka. "Here, have a drink, brother. You could use one. It tastes horrible like everything else in Hell, but I imagine you won't notice the difference, being the lightweight that you are."

"No, thank you," Michael said, giving him a sidelong look at the offered drink, so Lucifer shrugged and drank it himself. "Brother, are you trying to distract yourself?"

"Maybe." Lucifer pounded back another drink just before coughing furiously and wiping his mouth. Then he gasped and pointed at something. "Look, my piano!" He ran over there and quickly sat down to play a brief tune, ignoring Michael trying to stop him.

"Oh, Michael! Look at that chap over there."

Lucifer grabbed him by the hand and took him to the one patron sitting at a table, who was drinking a Shirley Temple. It was a man with black hair and brown eyes, hiding his face behind thick rimmed glasses, a curtain of long hair and a large beard. He was wearing a dark brown turtleneck, tweed jacket and dark blue dress pants. His posture was slightly hunched with a raised shoulder.

"Right after I opened the nightclub for business," Lucifer continued, "he came to Lux every night for a whole year. All he ever ordered was water. Water! I finally told my bartenders to serve him free Shirley Temples every night on the house."

Michael stared at the man with wide eyes, and then he bit his lower lip and gave Lucifer a pained look. "Uh, brother..."

"I said I wouldn't sleep with him, and he ran away from me in disgust, so I took it as a challenge. I offered to sleep with him multiple times, but he'd always refuse to talk to me." Michael looked uncomfortable at that, so he rolled his eyes, imagining that Michael didn't like discussing those topics like the prude he was. "I sent one of my patrons to get his name, and he said his name was Abel." Michael continued gazing at the man before them with a pained expression, and Lucifer simply didn't understand it. "What? Do you know him?"

"Yes," Michael said, sighing, almost ashamed, "He is in Hell, defying his Father, trying to save his brother's soul before demons condemn it to an eternity of suffering."

Lucifer looked between the man and Michael, disbelieving. "Michael, that was you?" Michael nodded, still looking at himself sitting there. "Did Dad send you to spy on me for abdicating, brother?"

"No, He did not send me," Michael admitted, and from his tone, Lucifer could tell he dearly wanted to change the subject.

"Then what the Hell were you doing in my club? For a whole bloody year, Michael! That's a lot of free Shirley Temples!"

"I did enjoy the free Shirley Temples..."

Lucifer gasped, horrified, and he cupped his mouth at the sudden onset of nausea. "Michael, I offered to sleep with... Oh, Dad, no!" He quickly went to fill another glass to the brim with whiskey and chugged it down, thinking this was almost as bad as when Charlotte kissed him. Having managed to fight off the nausea, he finally demanded some answers. "Michael, why?!"