Castaway

The Wire

Chapter Notes

Thank you so much as always to anyone who takes the time to leave me feedback! Chapter title credit goes to Haim.

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"So, the warehouse Anton visited last night is owned by a Möbius, Inc.," Dan says as he returns to Chloe's desk.

Lucifer looks up from his phone for the first time in an hour. "Möbius, eh? Like the mathematician?"

Chloe has no idea what mathematician Lucifer is referring to, but she doesn't get a chance to ask.

Dan shoots an unfriendly look in Lucifer's direction before continuing, "Looks like a global antiquities dealer. No idea who owns the company, specifically, but I did find a contact number for their C.E.O. A man named Asaiah Möbius."

"So... not the mathematician," Lucifer decides.

"Well, given the name," Chloe says, considering, "either Asaiah is more than just the C.E.O., or a relative must own the company."

"Probably," agrees Dan.

She minimizes the affidavit she's been working on. 

"Can you spell the name?" she says.

"Yeah," Dan replies, nodding, and he rattles off the letters as she types them into the D.M.V. database, with a brief timeout for her to Google how in the hell to wrestle an umlaut out of an American keyboard.

Luckily, Asaiah Möbius's name is weird enough that there's only one of him in all of California, which removes the need for process of elimination. She clicks the only search result, and his license photograph loads in seconds.

Cold amber-colored eyes stare back at her through the computer screen. The hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Gelid fingers stroke her spine. She's never seen that shade of iris on a human being before, though she thinks hazel eyes caught in odd lighting could possibly mimic it. She swallows, taking in the angular, craggy features, the beak nose, and the slicked-back black hair. The urge to close the picture is almost overwhelming, but she diverts her desire into a shiver.

"Um," she says. "Is he...?" Not human...?

From the low-pitched, stupefied, "Whoa," Dan utters, she isn't the only one who's creeped out. "Talk about feeling like someone stepped on your grave."

She glances at Lucifer to gauge his reaction, but he seems... almost sedate. Intellectually engaged, perhaps, but not unsettled. Like an entomologist examining a centipede. 

"I know this man," Lucifer says, frowning as he reaches for the screen. 

She blinks. "You... do?"

"I..." He shakes his head like he's trying to clear cobwebs. He strokes the side of the monitor with his index finger. "Yes...?" More a question than a certainty. His perplexed tone makes her feel uneasy.

"From where?" she says.

"I... haven't a clue." His frown deepens, as though the idea of him not remembering something disturbs him more than he's willing to admit. "I can't fathom when I ever would have crossed paths with him. But I've an eidetic memory. How could...?

"Maybe, at Lux?" she prods.

Lucifer peers intently. "No... No, not at Lux." 

"But you just said you don't know."