Chapter 29:
– Amara –
The safehouse had this weird way of feeling both safer and more claustrophobic at the same time. The ocean was still crashing against the rocks outside the big bay windows, the sky was that bruised purple color it got right before night truly settled in, and the air smelled like salt and coffee and whatever Lois had been cooking an hour ago. I was sunk deep into the plush couch in the main living room with my bare feet tucked under me and Supergirl curled up against my side like she was determined to merge our bodies into a single person.
Kara was still in her full costume, which I found deeply entertaining. The blue top, the red skirt, the cape bunched up underneath her because she hadn't bothered adjusting it when she flopped down, the tall red boots crossed at the ankles on the coffee table. Her blonde hair was a little messy from flying, a few strands falling across her forehead, and she smelled like sunshine and clean cotton and something faintly floral that I was starting to think was just how Kryptonians naturally smelled under a yellow sun.
My hand was on her thigh.
Not in a subtle way either. I had my palm flat against the soft, warm skin just above her knee, my thumb stroking slow, lazy circles, and I was very, very slowly sliding my fingers up and under the hem of that ridiculous little red skirt. The fabric was smooth under my knuckles as I pushed higher, feeling the firm muscle of her thigh give way to softer, more yielding flesh the higher I got.
She was so warm.Like holding my hand next to a radiator that had been humming all day.I could have fallen asleep just touching her, which was hilarious considering where my hand was heading.
Kara was pretending not to notice. She was staring very hard at the Flash, who was pacing a trench into the expensive rug on the other side of the room, but I could see the way her throat kept working and the way her cheeks had gone pink in that pretty Kansas-farmgirl way. Her breathing was doing that thing where it tried to stay even and absolutely failed at it.
Gotcha.
Barry was oblivious. Barry was deep in his own spiral. The poor speedster had been back in his own body for maybe two hours now and he was still shaking off the aftertaste of Lust wearing him like a cheap suit. He had a bottle of Gatorade in his hand that he kept uncapping, forgetting to drink, and then recapping. His red suit was unzipped to the chest and his hair was sticking up in about forty different directions.
"I just," he said for about the fifth time, "I just want to be clear about something."
"Go ahead, Flash," I said sweetly, inching my fingers another inch up Kara's thigh.
She shivered. It was a full-body thing. I felt it roll through her like a small earthquake, and she made this tiny little noise in the back of her throat that I was pretty sure only I could hear. Her thighs pressed together around my hand, but she didn't actually move me away.
"You did not tell me," Barry continued, jabbing his Gatorade bottle in my direction, "that Batman teamed up with Morgana le fucking Fay for this mission. Morgana le Fay. The dark sorceress. The one who it took the whole League combined to take down and arrest! And then she escaped from maximum security prison barely a few days later."
"That escape was because of me by the way," I pointed out. I then sighed and made a little "go on" gesture with my free hand. My other hand was very busy discovering that Kara Zor-El wore white cotton panties under her costume, which was the most wholesomely sexy thing I had ever encountered in my entire life. The side of my pinky had just grazed the edge of the fabric and Kara had gone absolutely rigid beside me, her breath catching audibly.
Barry didn't notice any of that. Thank god for tunnel vision in traumatized speedsters.
"And you're telling me," he said, "that the two of them, Batman and Morgana le fucking Fay, went after Wonder Woman together. As a team. While I was getting my legs snapped by Supergirl on an ice rink."
"To be fair, Barry, that was also us saving your life," Kara said, doing her best to keep a straight face. She was a decent actress when she needed to be.
"I am aware. I am grateful. I am also losing my mind. Is Diana dead!?" Barry raised his voice but still wasn't even looking in our direction as he kept pacing nervously. That must be a speedster thing. Always having to keep moving.
As for Diana being dead?
I hoped not…
That was the honest answer and I didn't give it to him.
That would be a waste if she was. I had such a big fangirl crush on her in my last life. At least that's what the memories I had shoved in my head told me. And in this one too, I would absolutely let her sit on my face with those toned thighs any time…
I just shrugged one shoulder and kept my face calm, the way Morgana had taught me to do when I didn't have information I wanted to share.
Barry took that as confirmation of something and started pacing faster, the Gatorade sloshing in his hand and spilling on the floor. "Because, okay, let's think about this. Wonder Woman is the one who killed Morgana's son. Right? Mordred. Wonder Woman ran him through with her sword. That is a fact. That is documented. That is in the Justice League case files. And now Batman has brought Morgana le Fay on a mission specifically to capture Wonder Woman. Alive. Allegedly."
"Allegedly," I agreed.
"Amara."
"Barry."
"Is. Diana. Dead."
Fuck if I know.
I did not say that out loud either. What I did say was, "Batman wouldn't let that happen."
And I was trying to believe it. I really was. Because Bruce Wayne had planted his flag very firmly on the whole "no killing" thing and he had specifically structured this entire operation around the idea that the possessed League members were victims, not enemies. Zatanna and Constantine were on call for exorcisms—Constantine had fucked up but I'm pretty sure Zatanna wouldn't screw over Batman.
Bruce had been very, very clear about that, clear enough to make Morgana grind her teeth hard enough that I had actually heard it from across the room.
The problem was that Morgana had been grinding her teeth for a reason. She hadn't wanted to agree. She had agreed because I had asked her to, and because Bruce had been stubborn, and because on some level I think she was starting to realize that burning down the woman who killed Mordred wasn't going to bring him back and was going to upset the weird little family we had built.
But that was a hell of a lot of wanting-to-kill being held back by what amounted to "my apprentice will cry."
And Morgana had been talking about Mordred less and less. That was the part I couldn't stop turning over in my head. A couple of months ago, Mordred's name had come up in conversation at least once a day. She would drop it casually, bitterly, lovingly, angrily, all of them at once. Lately I had gone whole days without hearing it. Whole days where she hadn't mentioned her dead son at all. Whole days where her green eyes had been on me instead of on some distant memory.
That was a good thing.I knew it was a good thing.It also made my possessive demonic side happy in a messed up kind of way. She doesn't need him when she has ME!
I really didn't want to think about it anymore, so I did what I always did when I didn't want to think about something.
I distracted myself.
My hand slid another inch up Kara's thigh, deliberate this time, my fingers pressing into the plush softness of her inner thigh, and I felt her entire body go tight beside me. The red skirt was bunched up around my wrist now and my knuckles were actually brushing the front of her panties, the cotton warm and just slightly damp where I touched her. I could feel the subtle, firm swell of her pussy through the fabric and the heat of her practically radiating out.
"Nnh," Kara said, very quietly.
Barry kept pacing. "And another thing! If Morgana is here, how bad is this situation really!? Batman would never team up with a known villainess unless we were truly FU—"
"Barry, breathe!" I called out to him.
"Don't tell me to breathe!"
My fingertips pressed flat against the front of Kara's panties. The cotton was definitely damp now. I dragged one finger slowly up the seam of her, right along the slit I could feel through the fabric, and Kara made a sound like she had swallowed a squeak whole. Her thighs clenched around my hand, trapping it there, and her bright blue eyes snapped to mine in wide-eyed panic.
I gave her my best innocent look.
Kara turned a gorgeous shade of pink from her cheekbones all the way down to where her costume's collar dipped, and she reached down with that lightning-fast Kryptonian reflex and gave my hand a sharp little smack. Not hard. Not hard at all. She could have shattered my wrist if she had wanted to. It was the kind of smack you gave a kid reaching for cookies before dinner.
Fep!
I pouted at her. The full bottom-lip pout. I had been practicing it in mirrors and I knew it was devastating to be on the receiving end.
"Stop," Kara whispered, her voice a pitch higher than usual and her mouth barely moving. Her eyes kept flicking to Barry like she was terrified he was going to turn around and see my hand three-quarters of the way up her skirt.
"But you're warm," I whispered back.
"Amara."
"Karaaaa."
"I am in my costume."
"I noticed. It's hot."
"We are in a room with the Flash."
"He's very distracted."
"I am trying very hard to be professional right now."
"You can be professional with my hand right there, it's fine."
"Amara, I swear to Rao."
I grinned at her and slowly, slowly pulled my hand back down her thigh, letting my fingertips trail along the soft skin the whole way, just to make her shiver one more time. She shivered one more time. Her chest rose and fell under the House of El crest like she was trying very hard to remember how breathing worked. I left my palm resting innocently on her knee when I was done, fingers curled loosely around the cap.
Kara exhaled. Long, slow, careful. Her cheeks were still pink. She scooted a little closer to me instead of farther away, which I thought was a very interesting decision on her part, and her cape bunched up between us in a soft red pile.
I pressed a quick kiss to her temple because I couldn't help it. She smelled incredible up close. She made a small, pleased noise that she immediately tried to cover with a cough.
Barry had stopped pacing, which was the only reason I even noticed the door opening behind him.
Nightwing walked into the room looking very tired and very handsome, which was an aesthetic combination I had developed specific, dangerous feelings about. He was out of the full Nightwing suit and in a black t-shirt and dark tactical pants instead, the domino mask pushed up on top of his head so his hair stuck out at odd angles. He had a tablet in one hand and his other hand was running through his hair in a gesture I was starting to recognize as "I have news and some of it is going to make Amara do something."
"They're back," he said.
My stomach did a small, stupid flip. I sat up a little straighter on the couch, which meant pulling away from Kara slightly, and she made a quiet disappointed sound that nobody but me and maybe Dick's slightly-raised eyebrow caught.
"Batman and Morgana just came back," Dick continued. "They're in the war room."
Barry spun on his heel so fast the air in the room actually moved. "And? Diana? Is she?"
Dick held up a hand. "She's alive."
The whole room seemed to exhale at once. Barry actually sagged, his shoulders dropping about six inches, and I felt my own breath leave me in a rush I hadn't realized I was holding. Kara's hand found my knee and squeezed.
"She's alive," Dick said again, "but Bruce wants everyone in the war room to debrief. Now. He said, and I am quoting him directly here, 'bring the younger witch and the speedster before Morgana starts rearranging my furniture.'"
I got up off the couch in one smooth motion, already straightening my tank top and running my hands through my hair. Kara floated up beside me, her cape settling back into place automatically, and Barry was vibrating in place hard enough that the floor was buzzing faintly under his red boots.
"Is she okay?" I asked Dick, keeping my voice casual. "Morgana, I mean."
Dick gave me a long look. The kind of look that said he knew exactly what I was actually asking and was deciding how much to tell me in front of the Flash.
"She's fine," he said carefully. "Bruce is fine. Diana is alive and contained. Nobody died."
Nobody died.That was a very specific way of phrasing it.
I was pretty sure not even the deepest corners of the internet had ever seen Diana Prince looking this miserable.
Her gorgeous black hair was singed at the tips, little frayed black curls that looked like they had been held too close to a candle. Her skin was a map of burns and scratches and bruises, some of them still shining with the wet redness of fresh blood and some of them already scabbing over thanks to that demigoddess healing she was famous for. Her famous red, blue, and gold costume was in absolute tatters. The bustier was held together by what looked like, and I am not exaggerating this, a single frayed thread and a lot of wishful thinking, and her big, heavy, perfect tits were one deep breath away from popping out completely and introducing themselves to the room.
Fuck me, Morgana really did a number on her.
Diana was sitting very upright on one of the hard wooden chairs Bruce had dragged into the war room. Her back was straight, her chin was up, and she was doing her best to project wounded dignity through the fact that she was three wardrobe malfunctions away from a Playboy spread.
I let go of Kara's hand. Kara made a tiny disappointed sound that I felt more than heard, and then I was already crossing the room toward the other woman I needed to check on.
Morgana was standing near the big tactical map Bruce had pinned up on the far wall. She was leaning one hip against the edge of the long wooden table, one arm crossed under her breasts, the other dangling loose at her side, and she was wearing this expression I had come to know very, very well. It was her "I won and I want everyone to know about it" expression, which was also somehow simultaneously her "I am extremely annoyed and someone is going to pay for it later" expression. Morgana had a very beautiful and efficient face.
I shared that same face, I would know best.
Her black dress was mostly intact, which was already a better result than I had feared. There was a long scorch mark along one sleeve and what looked like a splash of something dark and wet along the hem, but her hair was still perfect, her makeup was still perfect, and her eyes were bright and sharp and locked on me the moment I started walking toward her.
I came up next to her and she turned her body toward me without saying a word. Her fingers reached out and found mine, and she stroked the back of my hand with her thumb in this slow, tender way that had absolutely nothing to do with seduction and everything to do with comfort. It was the way she touched me when she wanted me to know she was okay without having to announce it in front of other people. I laced my fingers through hers and squeezed once and she squeezed back harder.
"I kicked her arse," Morgana said quietly, just for me, though her voice was pitched to carry exactly far enough to reach Diana across the room. There was that particular smug lilt in it that I had come to associate with Morgana having had a very good fight. "The demigoddess was not half as tough as she seemed to think she was without her little league behind her."
"Oh, do not be so smug," Diana muttered from her chair. Her voice was raspy and tired and somehow still carried that old-world accent like she was narrating a historical documentary. "You had Batman helping you, sorceress. I was fighting two of you, and I was not in my own mind. The demon could barely use my powers correctly!"
"Details..." Morgana scoffed.
"It is factual details!"
"Mhmmm…"
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. This was actually a much lighter situation than I was expecting from these two.
Diana took a deep breath. The thread on her bustier flexed and I genuinely held my breath along with it. She let the air out slowly and then turned her head very deliberately toward Barry, who was hovering near the doorway like he was not sure if he was allowed in yet.
"Flash," Diana said, her tone shifting into something warmer and more earnest. "I am glad that you are free of your own vile demon. I saw, while I was trapped within my own mind, I saw fragments of what was done through my body. I know the same was done to you. You have my sympathy, and my solidarity."
Barry's whole face did something complicated. He rubbed the back of his neck and gave her this awkward little half-smile. "Yeah, uh, thanks Diana. Same to you. Really glad you're back. And, um, also really glad you're not dead, which was a concern. A genuine concern. For about two hours while we waited for you guys to make it back here."
"I am also glad I am not dead."
"Great. Great. We agree on that."
"Yes."
Morgana made a small noise that was somewhere between a snort and a hum, and I elbowed her in the ribs before she could say something. She gave me a wounded look like I had just kicked her familiar if she had one.
Over in the corner by the big windows, Starfire cleared her throat very loudly and very deliberately. She was standing next to Raven like she had been posted there as a royal guard, which, knowing Kori was an alien princess, was basically what had happened. Raven was wrapped up in her big dark hoodie with the Veil Chain bracelet glinting on her wrist, her knees pulled up into the big armchair she was sitting in, her dark hair falling across one side of her face. She looked up when Kori cleared her throat and gave me this small, soft, grateful smile that made my chest do something stupid.
"Everything here was of the calmness and the uneventful," Starfire announced proudly, her hands planting on her hips in a pose that made her already absurdly exposed cleavage look even more so. "I did my best to keep my best friend Raven safe from all of the bad things, and I am pleased to report that no bad things came. Therefore, I am an excellent guardian and I should receive several praises."
"You were very good, Kori," Raven said, in the quiet, embarrassed voice she used when typically dealing with Kori in public. I was glad they were all friends again.
Kori beamed. "I was the best. I was the most vigilant. I flexed in the windows periodically so that any enemies flying past would be intimidated by my muscles."
"You did what…?" Kara muttered in confusion.
I was glad that nobody had come for Raven while the rest of us had been out playing Ice Capades with an evil horny demon that my wand ended up devouring.
Kori had volunteered to stay behind as the last line of defense almost immediately when we had drawn up the plan, and Raven had hated it, absolutely hated it, because Raven was a fighter and she wanted to be out there, but we could not risk her getting captured or even located. Raven was the key to Trigon's plans after all.
The war room door opened again and Lois Lane walked in. She had a tablet tucked under one arm and a steaming mug of coffee in the other hand. Jonathan Kent trailed behind her, and Damian Wayne trailed behind Jonathan, both of them looking vaguely like they had been herded.
"Well," Lois said, her eyes sweeping the room and cataloguing everyone present in about two seconds flat. "That is a much fuller war room than it was an hour ago, and I am thrilled about it. We have got Batman. We have got the Flash. We have got Wonder Woman, who, Diana, honey, I am saying this with love, you need a bathrobe."
"I am aware, Lois."
"I will find you a bathrobe in a few minutes."
"Thank you, Lois…" Diana muttered softly.
Lois turned her gaze on Bruce, who had been standing silent and ominous in the corner next to the map this entire time, arms folded, cowl pushed back so his actual face was showing. Bruce had the specific expression of a man who had recently watched his plan go off the rails and then get back on them just slightly askew. "So that's three down," Lois said, her voice carefully level. "I am very glad. I hope we can free my husband next."
Diana's head came up. Her blue eyes were fierce even through the exhaustion. "I will not rest," she said, and her voice had the weight of a vow on it, "until Kal-El and every one of our comrades is freed from those vile fiends. You have my word, Lois. I owe him more times over than I can count, and I owe you as well."
Lois's throat moved. She nodded once, sharply, and took a sip of her coffee to cover it. "Okay," she said, setting the mug down on the table with a soft clack. "Okay. So, Batman, what happens now?"
Bruce opened his mouth to answer—
"Yes, what happens next. I am very curious to know as well!"
The voice came from the doorway. It was smooth, English, amused, and absolutely did not belong to anyone who was supposed to be in this safehouse.
Every single person in that room flinched.
Bruce's hand went to his belt in a motion so fast I almost missed it. Diana tried to reach for a sword that wasn't on her hip. Barry blurred a full three feet to the left out of pure instinct. Kara spun so fast her cape snapped audibly, her eyes already starting to glow red. Dick had a batarang in his hand from somewhere I had not seen him reach. Kori's fists lit up green. Raven uncurled from her armchair with shadows already pooling at her feet.
Oh, he decided to show up early. Of course he did…
Lucifer Morningstar was leaning in the doorway of the war room with one shoulder pressed to the frame and his hands in his trouser pockets, the very picture of a man who had strolled in off the street for a cocktail party. He was wearing a beautifully tailored midnight blue suit, not quite navy, with a crisp white shirt open at the collar. His dark hair was styled just so. His smile was lazy and wolfish and amused by every single person in the room.
Mazikeen was standing just behind his right shoulder. She was in tight black leather pants that looked painted on, black boots with wicked little buckles, and a black tank top that was cropped just high enough to show off a strip of her toned dark-skinned stomach. The tank top was also doing absolutely nothing to conceal the fact that she had not bothered with a bra, her full breasts pushing against the thin fabric and her nipples visible in a way that made several people in the room very carefully not look directly at her chest. She was grinning, and her grin had teeth in it.
I was about 95% sure that she was showing off for me.
"Please, please," Lucifer said, raising his hands in a mild gesture that was meant to calm the room and was absolutely not calming anyone. "No need for the weapons, darlings. I am a guest. I have been invited. By her." He nodded in my direction without looking at me. "And I do try to use doors when I can manage it, although I confess I did pop in right through your quaint wards this time."
Morgana huffed next to me and muttered: "my wards are not quaint!"
Lois was the one who actually spoke first. She had taken one very long look at Lucifer and then one very long look at Mazikeen, and then she had crossed her arms over her chest and tilted her head in that way reporters do when they are about to start asking questions. "And who," Lois said, in a voice as flat and professional as a scalpel, "are you supposed to be?"
Lucifer's smile got wider. He pushed himself off the doorframe and took one slow, languid step into the room, spreading his arms just slightly like he was presenting himself for inspection. "Why, my dear Miss Lane," he said, "do you not recognize me? You pray every night to keep me at bay, after all…"
The silence that followed lasted about two full seconds.
Lois's eyes got very, very big. And then Lois Lane, investigative journalist of the Daily Planet, Pulitzer Prize winner, wife of Superman, mother of a half Kryptonian teenager, said, very loudly: "HOLY FUCK, YOU ARE THE DEVIL!"
Everyone else in the room made various versions of a strangled sound.
"Mom!" Jonathan yelped, his voice cracking right down the middle in a way that made his mother's head whip toward him.
Lois did not even acknowledge her son. Her eyes were still fixed on Lucifer, and they were doing something very specific, a slow up-and-down sweep that I recognized immediately because I did it to pretty much every attractive person I met. Her face had gone slightly pink. "Why," Lois demanded, and her voice had gone up about half an octave without her permission, "why is the Devil so handsome? That is not fair. That is false advertising. Every single Sunday school I ever went to lied to me! Where is the red skin!? Where are the goat legs and horns and the pointy tails. Even Amara has a pointy tail sometimes!"
"Mom, oh my god, please!"
"What, Jon? Look at him. Just look at him."
"I am looking at him! I am looking at him because he is the Devil! He is literally the Devil! You cannot, you cannot say things like that about the Devil, Mom, that is in the rules, that is like page one of the bible rules!"
"Jon, honey, sweetie, light of my life, I love you with my whole heart, but Mommy has eyes and Mommy is going to use them."
"Mommmmm."
Lucifer, for his part, was preening. He had one hand pressed flat to his chest over his heart, his head tilted back slightly, his smile absolutely incandescent. I had never seen a man absorb a compliment quite the way he did. "Miss Lane," he purred, "you are, without question, the single most delightful human being I have encountered in the last decade. I am genuinely considering asking for your phone number. Your husband will forgive me, I am sure, once I have helped save him from being a demonic meat puppet."
"Don't push it, hot stuff."
"Duly noted."
Damian had gone the color of his own red tunic. Jonathan was audibly whispering something that might have been a Kryptonian prayer he learned from his father. Diana was staring at Lucifer like he was a particularly interesting zoo exhibit.
Kara was standing next to me again, her hand sliding quietly back into mine, and her eyes were enormous. "Amara," Kara whispered, "is that actually the Devil…"
"Yeah…"
"Is he going to be on our side?"
"Yeah."
"Is he a good guy?"
"Absolutely not. But he is going to help… I hope."
"Okay. Okay. That is fine. That is a thing that is happening. Rao, I need a minute…" Kara mumbled.
"Everyone listen up! It's time to discuss the plan!" Batman spoke up and not to my surprise, he was able to command the whole room into actually listening.
Batman had been talking for what felt like a solid hour, and I had been trying very hard to pay attention the whole time, but my brain kept slipping sideways because Lucifer Morningstar was sitting across the table from me making direct eye contact every thirty seconds and I was starting to suspect he was doing it on purpose. Bruce had laid out the entire rest of the operation in that low, clipped voice of his, no nonsense, no wasted words, the way a field general talks when there is no room in the plan for anyone to get cute.
Tomorrow.
That was the short version of it. Everything went down tomorrow. We had a window, and the window was closing, and by sunset tomorrow we would either have freed the rest of the Justice League and shut down the Trigon ritual, or we would be dead and the world would be ending and none of this would matter.
No room for failure.That was how he kept phrasing it.No room for failure.
He went through every League member still under demonic control. He went through the order we were going to hit them in. He went through the contingencies. He went through the backup contingencies. He went through the contingencies for the backup contingencies, because he was Bruce Wayne and he did not know how to stop.
Lucifer had nodded along pleasantly the whole time while drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair.
When Bruce was finally done, he snapped his tablet shut with a soft click and looked around the table once. "Everyone rests tonight," he said. "We move at dawn. I do not want to see any of you burning yourselves out before the actual fight."
"Understood, Batman," Diana said from her chair, still wearing the bathrobe Lois had eventually found for her. It was fluffy and white and three sizes too small in the chest, and she had the dignity of a woman who had decided to pretend she was wearing full Amazonian armor instead.
Bruce stood up. He pulled the cowl down over his face in one smooth motion, and just like that he stopped being Bruce Wayne and started being Batman again. It was a transition I had seen him do twice now and it still creeped me out a little. He turned toward the door without another word and started walking.
Damian peeled off from where he had been glowering in the corner and went after him immediately. Jonathan was half a second behind, already tugging at his shirt sleeves.
"Father. Father. A word."
"No."
"Father, I have not even said what I wish to say."
"I already know what you wish to say and the answer is no."
"You do not know what I wish to say."
"You wish to be included in the operation tomorrow. The answer is no."
"Father!"
"Mr. Wayne, sir, if I could just," Jonathan started, and Bruce did not even slow his stride.
"No, Jonathan."
"But my dad is one of the ones still possessed, sir, and I really think I could"
"No."
The three of them vanished out of the war room door, Damian's voice rising into the kind of outraged hiss that only Damian Wayne could produce and Jonathan's voice cracking in that specific, adorable way teenage boys cracked when they were trying to argue with a grown man who was ignoring them.
The door did not even get a chance to close behind them before Lois was already pushing up out of her chair with that focused look she got.
Oh, here we go.
Lois Lane crossed the war room like a woman on assignment. She had her tablet tucked under one arm and her coffee mug in the other hand, and her hips had a certain purposeful swing in them that I recognized as the walk of a reporter who had just spotted the interview of her career and was not about to let it escape. She came to a stop directly in front of Lucifer's chair and planted herself there, her weight on one hip, her head tilted just slightly to one side.
"So," she said. "You're really the Devil, huh?"
"In the flesh, Miss Lane."
"Uh huh. Would you mind terribly if I asked you a few quick questions? Just off the record for now. Purely for my own education. I have about forty of them, give or take, and I will try to keep them under ten minutes."
Lucifer's smile went from amused to something significantly more dangerous. I had seen him do this before, back in his penthouse, and I recognized it for what it was. It was the smile of a man who enjoyed this kind of game more than most people enjoyed anything. He leaned forward in his chair, one elbow on the table, his chin coming to rest on the back of his hand, and he looked up at Lois Lane from under his dark lashes with an expression that should have come with a warning label.
"Miss Lane," he said, his voice dropping into a register that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up, "when a beautiful woman asks me questions, I generally prefer for them to be asked while she is sweaty and naked in my bed. It is a long-standing tradition of mine. I find the answers come out more interesting that way."
Lois made a sound. Her face went pink from her throat to her hairline in about a second and a half, and she actually took a small step backward before she caught herself and planted her feet again. "That," Lois said, and her voice had gone up half an octave, "is absolutely not what I meant by off the record!"
"I am aware."
"I am a married woman."
"I am aware of that as well."
"I am a married woman to a man who is currently possessed by a demon, which I will remind you is the thing we are all here to fix, and you are hitting on me in his absence."
"Miss Lane, I am the Devil. Hitting on married women in their husbands' absence is practically in the job description..."
Mazikeen, who had been lounging in her chair with her boots still up on the table and her arms folded behind her head, was watching Lois with the air of a woman who had seen this exact routine a thousand times and never, ever got tired of it. She caught my eye across the table and tipped me a small, private wink that made my stomach do a stupid little flip.
Dick cleared his throat now, loud and pointed, and took half a step forward. "That is hardly appropriate," Dick said, in the specific tone I had come to recognize as his Responsible Adult voice. He used it on Damian a lot.
Lucifer slowly, slowly rotated his head to look at Dick. "Appropriate?" Lucifer repeated. "Appropriate. Oh, that is precious. Young man, who do you bloody well think I am? I am the Devil. I am the original rebellion. I am the patron saint of every bad decision ever made at two in the morning. Seducing married women is, quite literally, the least of my many, many crimes. You are scolding me about manners. Me. It is rather like telling a shark to please not be so wet."
Dick opened his mouth and then closed it—which I thought was fair.
"Besides," Lucifer continued, and I could feel the tonal shift coming before he even got to it because his eyes were already sliding away from Dick and onto me, "to be perfectly honest with you all, there is another woman in this room that I would very much rather be charming tonight."
He looked at me. His dark eyes were lit up with something mischievous and genuinely warm at the same time, and the little half smile on his mouth tilted in a way that made a hot little flicker shoot straight down my spine and settle somewhere low in my belly.
Oh, fuck me, no.That stupid accent.That stupid face.The stupid fact that he was technically the king of demons and I was one.My slutty succubus blood was already rolling over and showing its stomach and I had not even agreed to any of this.
I felt my cheeks go hot and I knew I was blushing, and I knew everyone could see it, and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it. I tried to give him my best unimpressed look, which I was pretty sure came out as my second-best unimpressed look, and I heard Morgana make a small, extremely displeased sound from my left.
Then I heard several small, sharp, extremely displeased sounds from around the room.
Morgana's green eyes had gone cold and flat. "Back off," Morgana said quietly, and her quiet voice was honestly scarier than her loud one.
"Back off," Dick said at the same time, from behind my chair, his hand tightening on the wood.
"Back off," Kara said from my right, her bright blue eyes going just the tiniest bit red around the edges.
"Back off," Raven said from the armchair in the corner, shadows pooling a little deeper at her feet without her seeming to notice.
"Back away from your flirtations with friend Amara, Lucifer of the Hell," Kori said from where she was still standing next to Raven, her hands already lighting up a faint, dangerous green.
Lucifer actually looked taken aback from everyone ganging up on him, but only for a moment. "Oh, I do love a challenge—when it is worth it. And clearly from how defensive you are all being, she is worth it…" he finished.
That just made Dick glare at the other man in the room even more. The two of them started peacocking in the background.
Mazikeen burst out laughing. "Oh my," Maze said, pushing her chair back and standing up in one fluid motion that made the leather of her pants creak softly. "Oh, my. The beautiful succubus has built quite the possessive little harem for herself, has she not?" She strolled toward me.
She did not stop until she was standing directly in front of me, close enough that I could smell her, close enough that I had to tilt my head back just a little to keep looking at her face. Her tank top was doing even less to contain her tits from this angle, and I caught myself looking before I could help it and she caught me catching myself and her grin got even wider.
Of course.
"Hello, little succubus," Maze said softly, just for me.
"Hi, Maze."
Then her dark eyes flicked sideways. They slid past me and landed on Morgana, who was now standing just behind my shoulder with one hand resting very lightly on my lower back.
"Hello again, Witch of Avalon," Mazikeen said, in a voice that had gone from playful to something more formal, more careful. It was the way one dangerous thing spoke to another dangerous thing when both of them had decided they would rather not start a fight today.
"Mazikeen," Morgana said, with a very deliberate coolness. "You are a long way from home. I didn't think you or Lucifer would really come, even if it was my darling Amara that invited you both."
"I am more than happy to be where Amara is, Witch of Avalon. And I can practically smell the protectiveness radiating off of you from here and it is delicious. But you do not have to worry. I would never hurt a beautiful woman like Amara. Even a general of Hell has certain standards, you know. Sinful ones, to be sure, but standards nonetheless."
"I appreciate the clarification, Mazikeen," Morgana said. Her voice was still cold, but it had softened by maybe two degrees. "I will admit to being somewhat on edge. It has been a long day."
"You fought Wonder Woman and you barely have a scorch mark on your dress. I would call that a good day, personally."
"Hah. Yes. Well. There is that!" Morgana declared smugly.
"Quite an amazing feat! You certainly live up to your legendary reputation, Witch of Avalon!" Maze said, sounding completely sincere.
"I do, don't I?" Morgana nodded to herself proudly again and I rolled my eyes a bit.
Darn it, Maze was playing up to Morgana's prideful nature and it is working!
Mazikeen's eyes swung back to me and softened into that private look she had given me in the penthouse. She lifted one hand and, very slowly, so slowly that everyone in the room could see she was doing it and nobody could object, she reached out and brushed a single fingertip along my lower lip.
I felt the demonic pact bond between us pull tight in my chest like a plucked string. My breath caught for just a second and my Sin of Lust gave a little happy shiver at the back of my brain, and I had to fight very hard not to lean into the touch, because every single person in this room was watching and at least four of them were probably planning on talking to me very sternly about it later.
"Be safe tomorrow, little succubus," Maze murmured. "We will be right there with you. And after the fight is over, you and I are going to have a very long, very private conversation. I have been patient. And remember that we have a contract."
"...Noted," I managed to say.
"Good girl~" She pulled her finger away. She turned on one boot heel. She sauntered back around the table to her own chair and flopped into it, propping her boots up on the table again like she had never moved, and just like that the whole moment was over and my cheeks were on fire and I was extremely aware that Morgana's hand was still on my lower back and getting slightly heavier.
Lucifer, in the meantime, had recovered his composure enough to steeple his fingers in front of his mouth and smile at all of us over the top of them. "Well," he said. "Now that we have all thoroughly established the pecking order, shall we discuss sleeping arrangements? I assume I am not actually expected to share a room with the Flash. No offense, Flash."
Wait? Flash is still in the room with us?
Poor guy…
I think everyone forgot about him once the literal Devil walked in an hour ago and Flash was too nervous himself to speak up til now…
"None taken," Barry said from across the room, in the voice of a man who was very grateful not to have to share a bedroom room with the Devil.
Lois Lane finally cleared her throat. "Right," she said, and I had to give her credit, her voice was almost back to normal. "Right, okay. I am going to go check on the boys, because I can hear Damian trying to argue with Bruce through the wall and I would like to prevent him from picking a fight with his father the night before a Justice League rescue operation. Amara, sweetie, a word in the hall before I go?"
I blinked at her. "Me?"
"You. Just quickly. Nothing bad. I just want to ask you something." Lois was already holding the war room door open for me with one hand. I walked past her into the hallway, and she followed me out and pulled the door shut behind us with a soft click.
The hallway was dim and quiet and smelled faintly like whatever Lois had been cooking earlier. I could hear Damian's voice arguing somewhere in the distance, muffled by several walls. I leaned my shoulder against the wall and folded my arms and looked at Lois, who had set her coffee mug down on a little side table and was now giving me her full, undivided attention.
Okay.What does Superman's wife want to say to me alone in a hallway?This is either going to be extremely normal or deeply, deeply weird.
"So," Lois said, and her voice had gone quiet and surprisingly warm. "I am going to keep this short because I know we are all running on fumes. I just wanted to say: thank you."
Huh?
"Thank you for what?" I asked her and tilted my head.
"For bringing the Devil to the party."
I laughed before I could stop myself. It came out short and startled and she smiled at the sound of it.
"I am serious, Amara. I have been sitting in this safehouse for two days watching a bunch of very good, very brave people try to figure out how to save my husband, and I have been holding it together because that is what I do, that is my thing, I hold it together. But every plan I heard in that room before you left had about a fifty-fifty shot of working, at best. And then you walked out, and you came back with the literal Devil on a leash, and suddenly we have maybe the second most powerful being in existence after the Lord above. And I know he probably didn't agree to help for free either. So. Thank you. From me. Personally. Off the record…"
I did not know what to do with that.
My throat did a complicated thing and I looked down at my feet floor for a second because I genuinely did not trust my face to stay neutral. I had not been thanked like that very often in my life. I had been thanked by Dick and Kara and Raven, sure, but those were my people now, and being thanked by a stranger, a stranger who was also Lois Lane, the Lois Lane, was doing something I was not prepared for. "You are welcome," I said, and my voice came out smaller than I meant it to.
"Hey."
I looked up. Lois's eyes were soft.
"Dick told me a little bit about you. Not much, just the broad strokes. Enough for me to know that your version of growing up was not a great one. And I just want you to know, from one stubborn woman to another, you did a good thing today. You did several good things today. And tomorrow you are going to do a very big good thing, and then my husband is going to owe you one, and Clark Kent is a man who takes owing people very seriously, so I hope you are ready for him to be weird about it for the next ten years. You might be the apprentice of a supervillain and call yourself a villain too, but you're a good girl in my book."
I laughed again. It came out wetter than the first one. That's the second beautiful woman to call me a good girl in the past five minutes.
"Ok… You're welcome," I finally told her back.
"Good girl." The milf reporter said again as reached out and patted my arm once, gently. "Now, I have to go stop Damian and my stubborn half alien son from picking a fight with Bruce. Get some sleep, Amara. You have earned it and you are going to need it."
She turned and walked off down the hallway toward the distant sound of Damian's raised voice.
I stood there for a second with my arms folded, listening to her heels click on the floor, blinking at nothing.
Good girl? Did I get off on being called that?I was going to have to think about that later, in private, preferably with my hand between my thighs. Or more preferably someone's tongue since getting myself off was pointless.
I took a breath and turned back toward the war room door.I opened the door and walked back in.
XXX
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