And neither would her eight o'clock interview tonight.
"You're going to be late." Amy popped her curly blonde head in the office door.
Andrea offered a reassuring smile to her assistant. Still unable to fully grasp how she swayed the press to budget one for her. She was a journalist among the staff of the Houston Dawn Bulletin, or better known as HDB. Other journalists deemed her a joke, even though she'd done countless radio interviews and guest starred on hundreds of TV shows. As much as Andrea traveled, she needed help on keeping up with the facts, names, and faces. Her boss Shanna wasn't going to have her most famous columnist without help.
Amy crossed her willowy arms and chewed her bottom lip roughly. A sign Andrea learned was her way of preparing to say something she thought would get her into trouble. "You sure you don't want me to go with you?" Andrea knew Amy didn't approve of the secret nocturnal meeting, but she had known how important Luc's interview was. Normally a blog and radio announcement would be made about her next interview, but Luc's servant made it clear that no preannouncements could be made about the meeting.
Not wanting another debate over safety and going into his manor alone, Andrea shook her head. A quick glance at her watch confirmed a quick stop home to change into something less business-like was out of the question. It was way past the allotted time she'd given herself to get properly dressed. Avery's article took her all damn day to make perfect, and the same would probably be said about Luc's when the time came to write it. She stood up and stiffly put her charcoal suit jacket on. She looked over at Amy, who still waited for a verbal response as to why she wasn't invited.
"He made it clear I had to come alone, remember?"
"No he didn't, his representative did. We could say the message was lost in communication," Amy said growing exasperated. "You'll need me to take notes and watch your back." Andrea couldn't help but smile. Amy desperately wanted to go. Tonight's meeting was the big kahuna of all her interviews, and everyone wanted to catch a glimpse of Luc. He was impossible to get a hold of, and when she'd finally gotten in touch with someone, she was politely told to bug off. Shockingly, after months of giving up on an interview, she received a detailed voicemail from the rude rep instructing his "Master" would see her now. He spat out an address and left a list of rules to be followed or the meeting would not happen. If she tried to slip up and break the rules she was sure there were no second chances.
Andrea leaned over and saved the document on her screen. "I need you to get this article to Shanna. She's been waiting all week on Avery Locke's story." Andrea sent a copy to her flash drive and pulled the USB out of the tower.
Amy chuckled. "And she will be disappointed it wasn't true. Everyone swore he was a vampire." Amy took the flash drive from Andrea's outstretched hand.
Andrea looked down at her attire, a bit disheveled from working all day. She fixed the lapels on her gray skirt suit, adjusted her pearl blouse, and then slapped her hands on her thighs in admission of defeat. "Well, how do I look?"
"Like a hard working journalist that needs a vacation from the paranormal world." They chuckled for a moment and Amy's face became serious. "Wow. Luc Ifer." She pronounced the first name as Luke, which was correct, but the last name, eye-fer, which wasn't right. Amy was too new to the paranormal world, but there was general hush, hush when people brought up Luc's name. As if uttering his name would contribute to negative things for the speaker's life. His name freaked people out; even Andrea mostly referred to him by Luc.
Andrea swiped a stray wisp of her hair out of her face. "It's pronounced If-er. Take away the space, soften the C, it's really a split up of a single name." Amy's eyes widened after she pieced his name together. A wave of apprehension shivered through Andrea's body. Only the truly demented would believe themselves to be Lucifer. "Yep. That's who he thinks he is." Andrea moved out of her office and began walking down the long hallway that ended at the main elevator.
"Seriously! I figured he was like some wizard or something. Andrea, you've gotta let me come." Amy kept stride with her all the way to the elevator. Excitement and worry etched in her southern bell face.
"Can't Amy, this exclusive interview came with too many stipulations. Alone, tonight, no voice recorders or cameras, or the whole thing is off. I've been after this guy for two years. I can't let him slip by." Andrea pushed the down button and crossed her arms. She didn't want Amy to see how nervous she was. She shook after each breath and tried to hide it with casual fidgeting.
"Seems fishy to me," Amy said firmly.
"You've said that on the last two interviews. Look, I know you're new and all, but this is no different than my other interviews. He'll turn out to be a whack job, it'll be fine."
After a few moments of silence, the doors dinged and Andrea stepped into the empty elevator and faced her anxious assistant. Amy was worried enough to nibble at her nails, a bad habit Andrea had tried to break her of. Tonight, she didn't voice an opinion, it would be wasted breath. Amy would gnaw them all the way back to her knuckles from her worry. She stopped chewing enough to voice her last cautionary advice. "Well, be careful. If he is winged and horny, the best thing for you to do is get on your knees." Andrea arched an eyebrow while an amused smirk played across her lips. Amy, being a modest girl, blushed at the out of context meaning of her sentence. "You know what I meant. I meant pray." She placed a hand over her mouth before the doors closed on the elevator.
Andrea stared at her watch as the elevator dropped to the main lobby. "Great, I'm late for my date with the Devil." Groaning she rested her head against the cool metal paneling. Tonight would be another squandered effort to search for supernatural truths in the world. It should be another ridiculous interview and probably not any different than the others. Still, it was laughable, and tonight would be an interesting one.
II
"Hell is empty and all the devils are here."
― William Shakespeare
Ifer Manor was placed in a secluded area of forty-three acres outside Houston, Texas. Lucky for her, Luc lived close to her home city. Most of her interviews required extensive travel. She interviewed nearly every popular mythical being rumored to be supernatural, except the one in her hometown. She wondered what had changed Luc's mind about meeting her. He was a recluse in comparisons to others she'd met in the past who were flamboyant about their "supernatural lives."
She pulled her car up and scanned the high-rise fence providing an eerie forefront to the bright half-moon. The wrought iron gate resembled angry hunting pikes, promising impalement if a person tried to breach them. Andrea rolled down her car window and pressed the intercom button on the pad. There was a slight humming, and she counted the red light blinks on the security camera as it stared back at her face. She counted to five before the gates opened on a hushed whisper. I guess voice clearance isn't needed. Probably because no one would be foolish to visit Ifer Manor on a whim. She followed the lengthy pebbled road up to the colossal residence and parked directly in front of the stone stairs leading to the giant doors. She couldn't help but glance out every window as the manor overshadowed her vehicle.
The mansion was an intense dark gray with numerous dim garden lights shining up the sides of the thick shrubberies. Dark ivy claimed the entire right side of the manse, twisting along the exterior and stopping just short of the ebony, jagged roof. The manor was a magnificent three story structure with baleful gargoyles stationed like sentries at each edge of the roof. No wonder many considered Luc Ifer as the Devil Himself. His broody residence had a thick sense of despondency around it. Even with his name aside, he lived in shadows and secrecy; it was easy to mistake him as a being of evil.
Andrea parked her BMW, reached over and grabbed her purse and writing pad. Stepping out as cautiously as she could in high heels, she got her "bad bitch" complex on. She couldn't show any emotion, even if any of the demonic facade got under her skin. It had to be the same stoic face she'd worn when Avery Locke sunk his cosmetic fangs into the woman's nec
k. She stayed calm, cool, and unimpressed; it was probably the only thing that allowed her to walk out safely. Obviously, Avery and his extreme friends got off on fear, and if she showed a hint of it, they would have carried her into the mix of their blood night. Sometimes the things she saw scared the hell out of her, but there were ways to dispute people's claims. The same went for Luc Ifer; she was a hundred percent sure he wasn't the Devil, but it didn't mean she couldn't fear the man. He could've been a serial killer for all she knew. Remembering her cautionary back up plan, she patted her breast to feel for the small knife tucked in her bra. Satisfied of its location, she continued on.
Andrea took her first step, but her attention automatically drifted to the sound of trickling water and she marveled at the enormous three-tier brass fountain. Lights accentuated the beastly figurine on top of it, and it wasn't an angel like so many she'd seen before. Its dark sienna body shined in the moonlight, adding magic to the view of it defiantly yelling at the sky. Its gigantic fists clinched in anger, muscled body bowed back, conveying the image of mental and physical anguish. Water came from between the creature's horns and dribbled down its brawny frame, as if it was trying to wash the agony away but failing. Part bull, part human, it reminded her of a nude Minotaur with bat wings.
Shutting the car door with her hip, she looked away from the fountain and juggled the items in her hands. Andrea unsteadily stepped up to the mansion, trying to maintain balance in her heels on the shifty gravel. She walked up the first couple of steps but paused to admire the twin grotesques that sat motionless on their pillars on both sides of the portico. Luc obviously loved sculptured art. It littered the foundations of his home. She could only imagine the inside was overrun just as the outside. However, the two statues seemed vaguely different than the rest lining the rooftops. Squinting, she eyed their refined evil detail and noticed Luc played up his devil image. The stone beasts were smooth, beefy, and resembled a cross between a deformed big cat and a monkey. Large eyes socketed above flared nostrils and stone sharp teeth. She touched the creature and ran a hand over its body, noting it's warmth from the day's sun which set hours ago.
The door creaked open and a small lithe man stepped out on the porch. He pushed about five feet. The traditional black outfit advocated he was the butler of the household. A gusty air current from inside the house lifted his silvery hair like a feather. His wrinkly face placed him anywhere between sixty and eighty. He offered her a smile but dropped it when his gaze followed her hand strokes on the stone animal.
"Miss Matthews?" He never took his beady eyes off her hand unconsciously caressing the stone. Not knowing if it offended him for her to be touching the expensive artwork, she promptly removed her hand. The butler relaxed and peered back at her, once more offering a pleasant smile. "Forgive me if I'm blunt, but perhaps it's best not to provoke the hellhounds. They were given orders to let you pass unharmed." She glanced between the two rock sphinxes and tried not to scoff. Right, hellhounds. Luc even has his butler playing the role.
She cleared her throat and offered the staid grin only serious journalists can muster. She usually gave one when someone said or did something off the wall. "Well, I'd hate to mess with those orders. Sorry I'm late."
"You are a female, therefore entitled to run late." He didn't say it hatefully; though, by his tone, thirty minutes late wasn't appreciated. She was going to retort the sexist remark but swallowed back the comment. Instead, she held a hand out, but the petite butler stared at it in confusion. "Andrea Matthews, Paranormal Investigator and Journalist."
The short butler stepped back in alarm. He cast a look behind him and then back to her. "Oh, no, Miss Matthews, I don't have the honor to properly meet your acquaintance before the Master. He will receive you in the library." The butler slid aside for her to enter the immense home. The comment took her a bit by surprise and summed up that Luc like to dominate people down to every last molecule in their body. Well, he'd probably try to control the interview, but Andrea wasn't going to let him. It wouldn't change her view on him being out of his mind if he believed he was the first fallen angel.
She stepped into the enormous, sun-gold-painted foyer of the mansion, which led straight to the Grand Ballroom. Her gaze instantly went up and stayed glued to the ceiling. The intricate artwork so precise it looked as if it would have taken centuries to complete. A vibrant mural pertained to hundreds of angels and demons choreographed in a passionate and gory battle. Providing light to the art were three large chandeliers, strategically placed so that their clear jewels seemed to connect somehow and highlight the best portrayed scenes.
"Good Lord," she said in amazement as she craned her neck up at the gigantic masterpiece ceiling. Her words echoed off the walls and carried off down the dimly lit hallways.
"Shhh, miss, please." The butler gave her the evil eye. "Might you choose a different phrasing when verbalizing your astonishment?"
"Sorry, I didn't know you were so strict on religion." That was one mark against Luc's credentials of being the Devil. A devout religious servant is sure to damper his evil complex.
The brooding expression on the butler's face deepened.
"I'm not religious," he said flatly, as if offended. It could've been her ears or the vast space and the echo, but his voice had changed a little. It became deeper, raspier, and caused her to stare at him in surprise for a moment. Just as quick, he turned his frown back into his usual pleasant smile. "Your coat and belongings." His tone switched back to being soft, elderly, and she watched him reach a white gloved hand out in her direction.
"Oh no, I keep my purse with me," she said clutching the strap.
He stood up straighter, nearly making him the full five feet. He calmly crossed his arms in front of him. "That, I cannot allow. You may have a recording device in the bag."
She snorted. "As well as on my body."
"I have to take it on faith you don't." He held a hand out again.
"I guess to go any further I have to comply." When he nodded, she scoffed, took her purse off her shoulder, and then handed it to the quaint little man. He gently draped her jacket across his arm and turned to walk down the widespread hallway to the left. "You may keep the pen and notepad. Follow me, please."
The butler's frame moved down the chardonnay-colored hall. Ageless paintings and sculptures stared back at Andrea as she passed them with awe-struck excitement. She'd never really been into art, but seeing ancient things blew her mind to say the least. The paintings on the walls were a minimum of three feet wide and showcased graphical art that looked as though it would have been depicted in an alternate version of the biblical art. Most celestial art portrayed the angels stabbing the demons; these were the other way around.
She heard the flowing of water somewhere, either an interior fountain or waterfall to an indoor pool. One thing was for certain, Luc Ifer had money, old money. Andrea found herself wondering how Luc had come into his riches. She'd Googled him over and over and turned up nothing. No family inheritance, stocks, businesses, nada. He had been heavily linked throughout the so-called supernatural community circles she ran with. Even though most had never met him, they feared him. She wondered if she should too. A man with money can be a man to be alarmed about. She hesitated on a step, wondering how she might escape if things turned ugly. Her little knife in her bra might do diddlysquat to Luc Ifer.
The short servant opened a door to reveal a collection of books in an enormous room. "The Master is in here, his office is in the very back of the library. I will alert you both when dinner is ready." The butler turned away before she could say she wasn't staying for dinner. This was just going to be a quick chat about how he believed he was the Devil. She'd see his faults and exploit them in her next article. A well-ingrained plan in her brain but easier said than done. In and out, no need to stay longer than absolutely necessary. The exclusive should be easy-peasy, like when a man had claimed to be the wandering spirit of Abraham Lincoln. She had that interview shut down in five minutes
when he messed up on reciting The Gettysburg Address.
But something seemed different about Ifer's whole setup, from the butler's comments about hellhounds and the demonic artwork that should've probably been in museums. His Devil persona was too over the top for a show no one saw. She doubted he did all this for her. It seemed like a waste of time, but she didn't know Luc Ifer personally. So either Luc loved to invest his money in pretending to be the Devil, or he was crazy enough to believe he was.
Andrea took a long blink and glanced down both ways of the empty hall. The butler vanished from sight. She never heard retreating footsteps or a door announcing his departure. Where the hell did he go? If she didn't know any better, she'd say he vanished in thin air. She had to keep a close eye on these two men, they're going to try their hardest to prove Luc was the Devil and had special abilities. Playing sinister magic tricks to throw her off. Andrea straightened and cleared her mind of all the possibilities of it being true. The true cynic in her rose to the surface. She'd see the rest of the night through and never verbally offer her doubts. That's how she interviewed, a seemingly open mind about the individual's beliefs, and then when it was time for her article… She'd exploit all the inaccuracies and inconsistent timelines in their stories. She'd often describe the bogus appearances they tried to achieve to make the lie believable.
Wasting her time mostly.
Andrea turned back around and faced the thousands of books lined from the floor to the second story library balcony. She stepped warily on the soft brown carpet, and moving deeper into the library caused her to stumble. Though vast in size, it wasn't very open. The bookcases could have made a strategic maze. Though curiosity nagged at her to swipe a book and see what literature Luc kept in his archives, she continued down the center aisle, afraid that straying would result in her becoming lost.
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