I'm The Devil

Lucifer walked down the cracked city sidewalk, weaving through the crowd with silent steps. Neon signs flickered against the coming dusk, colours bleeding across windows and parked cars. The city buzzed with tired horns, laughing drunks, and the hum of a world pretending it wasn't dying inside.

He turned a corner and found himself in front of a small underground club. Its rusted sign read NOIR in thin red letters that pulsed softly. A line of people stood outside, girls in tight dresses shivering under denim jackets, guys in loose jeans and hoodies scrolling their phones, bouncers checking IDs one by one.

Lucifer didn't stop.

The bouncer didn't even look at him. It was like his eyes skipped over the space Lucifer walked through. The line parted without meaning to, people shifting slightly to the side as if pulled by invisible strings.

He stepped inside.

Music pulsed heavy against his chest, a thick bass line vibrating the stained concrete floor. Purple lights washed over everything, flickering like veins through a dying heart. Bodies swayed and twisted on the dance floor, shadows moving like demons with nowhere else to go.

Lucifer walked past them all and sat at the bar counter. The stool creaked under his weight, though he barely weighed anything now.

The bartender glanced over. A young man with an undercut and tattoos crawling down his neck like dark vines. He had tired eyes, but they softened when he saw Lucifer's face.

"What can I get you, man?" he asked, flicking a rag across the counter.

Lucifer smiled faintly. "Something sweet."

"Sweet?" The bartender chuckled. "You don't look like a sweet type."

Lucifer tilted his head slightly, eyes dim under the neon light. "Humour me."

"Alright." The bartender grabbed a shaker and started mixing. His movements were quick but graceful, like someone used to making drinks for people they'd never see again. "Rough night?"

"Rough eternity."

The bartender snorted and slid the drink across the counter. Pinkish, with a sugared rim and a thin slice of lime. "Try that. On the house. You look like you need it."

Lucifer lifted the glass and took a sip. The sweetness curled on his tongue, sharp and artificial.

"Not bad," he said softly, setting it down.

The bartender moved on to other customers. Lucifer sat there, elbows on the sticky counter, watching the dancers grind against each other under the shifting lights. Their bodies blurred together into a single mass of heat and hunger. They weren't demons. They weren't angels. Just humans. Just tired, desperate humans looking for something warm before morning came.

He almost felt jealous.

Someone slid onto the stool beside him. The scent reached him first—old blood, ancient earth, and faint copper.

Lucifer turned his head.

The man sitting there looked no older than thirty, broad-shouldered with dark hair cut short. His skin was pale, almost colourless under the purple light, and his eyes glowed with a faint crimson ring. He wore simple black jeans and a denim jacket, scuffed boots tapping idly against the footrest.

Cain.

The first vampire.

Lucifer watched him quietly. Cain didn't notice the stare. He flagged down the bartender, nodding once.

"Whiskey. Neat."

His voice was low, thick with an old accent that didn't match anything modern. The bartender didn't seem to care, pouring him a shot and sliding it over.

Cain picked it up, swirling the amber liquid once before downing it in a single motion. His throat moved as he swallowed, the muscles tight with practiced ease. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and sighed.

"God, I hate this place," he muttered under his breath, eyes flicking across the dance floor. "So damn loud."

Lucifer tilted his glass slightly, letting the pink drink catch the light. "Then why come?"

Cain blinked and turned to him for the first time. His crimson eyes met black, but there was no recognition there. Just annoyance that someone was speaking to him.

"Who are you supposed to be?" Cain asked. His tone wasn't hostile. Just bored.

"Just a traveller," Lucifer replied softly. "Passing through."

Cain snorted. "Yeah? Well, keep passing. I don't do bar conversations."

He flagged the bartender for another whiskey. Lucifer watched him in silence. The music shifted to something deeper, the bass hitting harder as the crowd screamed approval. Sweat and cheap perfume thickened the air.

"You don't drink blood here?" Lucifer asked suddenly.

Cain paused, glass halfway to his lips. His eyes narrowed slightly. "What?"

"This place is filled with it. Warm bodies. Easy prey. But you're drinking whiskey."

Cain set the glass down without drinking. His fingers drummed against the counter. "What's it to you?"

Lucifer smiled faintly. "Nothing. Just curious."

Cain turned fully now, studying him under the dim light. He leaned back slightly, assessing. "You're not human."

"No."

"Vampire?"

Lucifer shook his head. "Older."

Cain frowned. "What's older than a vampire?"

Lucifer didn't answer. He just sipped his sweet drink again. The sugar burned slightly down his throat. Cain's eyes lingered on him, suspicion flickering behind the red glow.

"You know my name?" Cain asked finally.

"Cain," Lucifer said softly. "The first son marked. The first drinker. The first cursed."

Cain's jaw tightened. "Who told you that?"

"No one. I was there."

Cain froze. For a second, the entire club seemed to still. The lights flickered. The music dropped in pitch like a slowing heart.

Cain's fingers clenched around his glass until the rim cracked. "Who the fuck are you?"

Lucifer tilted his head, hair falling slightly over his eyes. "No one important."

"Bullshit," Cain snapped, leaning in close. "You talk like them. Like the angels. Like the ones who watched from above."

Lucifer smiled. "I never watched from above."

Cain's breath caught. His pupils widened slightly. "Then… below?"

Lucifer didn't answer. He finished his drink, set the empty glass down, and slid off the stool.

Cain grabbed his wrist, grip cold and unyielding. "Wait."

Lucifer looked down at the hand, then up at Cain's face. There was fear there now, buried under the anger. Old fear. The kind that never went away.

"You're not… him, are you?" Cain asked quietly. His voice trembled despite himself.

Lucifer leaned in close. His breath brushed Cain's ear, warm and soft against the vampire's cold skin.

"I am whoever you need me to be," he whispered.

Then he pulled back, breaking Cain's grip like it was nothing. He walked away from the bar, past the dancing bodies, past the flickering lights. The club seemed to shiver as he moved through it, people stepping aside without knowing why.

Cain watched him go, his chest heaving slightly. The crack in his glass widened, spilling whiskey across his fingers. But he didn't notice. His eyes stayed locked on Lucifer's back until he disappeared out the club's front door.

Outside, the street was dark. The city lights flickered under the coming night. Lucifer walked down the sidewalk, hands in his pockets, head tilted slightly back as he looked up at the dim sky.

Somewhere out there, beyond the clouds and the light pollution, something waited. Watching. Breathing. Learning this world, tasting its sins, understanding its joys.

Lucifer smiled faintly.

Let it watch.

Let it learn.

He'd spent enough time holding back the tides.

Now he just wanted to see how far they would rise.

And with that thought, he kept walking into the neon night. Quiet. Alone. At peace.

For now.