One for the Devil

Baines had knocked several times on the mahogany door that morning but no response. You never knew with Mr. Lavery he could be a real devil, give you hell. Yet when mother was dying, he’d been so kind. You had to handle him carefully. Not everyone would suit the job.

Ricky Lavery finally rolled out of bed at eleven o’clock. His plump hands and stubby fingers ranged over the night’s detritus on the bedside table, empty glasses, half a bottle of whiskey, a gold cigar box, a scattering of white powder like early morning frost. At last, the pale, fleshy fingers found the bell he’d been searching. The ringing sound echoed through the house.

A few minutes passed. Lavery pulled himself up. Fat, hairless white legs hung over the bed, like lumps of tripe from a butcher’s hook. A soft knock on the door and his breakfast tray was carried in by an old, grey -haired manservant who looked too frail to have carried his burden from the kitchen. Baines was getting old, but you could always trust him.

“Ok Baines, just pour me a strong, black coffee and clear away the rubbish. After a light lunch, washed down with a couple of cocktails, Ricky glanced at the list of girls waiting for the auditions scheduled for later that April afternoon at Wayward Studios. A redhead and a tall, slim blond looked possibles and worth a punt. The rest he could hand over to one of the Juniors to interview and to reassure them – they’d at least had a screen test.

“Well, it’s been great meeting you, Chrissy. Make sure you’ve left all your contacts with my secretary. Ricky stood up to shake the elegant, perfectly manicured hand of the willowy blond. He noted the black dress, a little too high in the neck, the hem far too low over, it had to be said, decidedly skinny legs. Even the limp hand was unresponsive to Ricky’s suggestive squeeze. One of the lettuce leaf brigades, he thought, as the door closed behind her.

The redhead who followed was a very different type. Perfectly applied scarlet lipstick to full, pert lips, long eyelashes, lightly touched with mascara and a firm, responsive handshake from the brightest, longest crimson nails that Ricky had seen that afternoon. Confident and articulate, Lilith filled all the roles that Ricky had been considering. The low-cut red Amani dress was just that tiny bit tight, enough to sustain the illusion that, given time, the full, seductive breasts might escape their velvet restraint.

“Now, Lilith, your CV and your portfolio fit, just what I,” he hastily added, “Wayward Studios, I mean, have been looking for to take the part of Dorina. As you can see, I’m very busy this afternoon. I should like you to call round at my personal address about six this evening to settle the matter. My secretary will give you the directions.

That evening, just before six, Ricky Lavery sat in his dining room.  His chef had been asked to prepare Beef Wellington with an assortment of spring vegetables and a number of salads. Just as the last stroke of six sounded in the hall, a knock came at the front door. A few minutes later Lilith was ushered into the room by Baines who looked frailer than ever. I shall ring when we want dinner, just tell chef, Baines,” ordered Ricky as Lilith sat down. She was wearing the same bright red dress with a fine, georgette scarf over her elegant shoulders. Her long, luxuriant red hair hung loose down her back, held by a brilliant diamond clip. She sipped a glass of champagne, while Ricky was already on his third or fourth.

“I’ve recently purchased two paintings by Georges Braque at a London auction. I’m sure you’ll be interested. “Without waiting for an answer, Ricky took Lilith’s arm and propelled her upstairs.

Ricky opened the bedroom door and indicated the Braques on the wall. “They are a pair, “Mephistopheles tempting Faustus” I was told. For the first time, Ricky noticed the girl’s eyes glowing red as coals as she gazed at him. Ricky was about to gather her in his arms but he was strangely paralyzed. A knock on the door broke the tension.

A handsome, suave young man in black evening dress entered the room. Ricky looked up in angry surprise.” Who the hell are you? Where’s Baines?”

“I am Nick, sir. The agency replacement for Baines who’s been taken ill.”

It was late that night by the time Ricky had ushered Lilith out and the front door shut behind her. He felt a failure as he rolled into bed. All his usual tricks and charms had failed to seduce the elusive redhead! He blamed the presence of Nick and the young man’s arrogance. All would have been plain sailing with poor old Baines. Ricky fell into an uneasy sleep in which the events of the day took an increasingly frightening turn . . . trussed up on the back seat, Ricky trembled as the car accelerated once they were clear of Ealing.

They seemed to be following narrow, country roads and travelling much too fast in the darkness. Pulling himself into a half-sitting position, Ricky could see Nick’s face reflected in the driving mirror. His eyes too were red and glowing. A cynical smile flickered over his face every time he rounded a sharp bend on two wheels. Lilith urged him to go ever faster and more perilously. A flock of black birds flew beside them. Every so often their huge wings struck the roof or windows of the car.

Suddenly, Nick turned right off the road down a stony track. Ricky imagined his car with the tires ripped to ribbons as it sped through a gate into a grassy field.  The car lurched from side to side. Lilith turned to look at him. Ricky trembled in terror. The beautiful face was now a ruin. Her complexion a strange, sallow, sickly green, her eyes dying embers, her toothless mouth screaming in triumph. The thick red hair was now a series of green snakes, writhing madly.

Ricky could see a broad river looming ahead. He closed his eyes in terror. He felt the car take off, then nosedive into the gloomy water. Severed arms and legs floated past, a decapitated green head with writhing snakes. Then suddenly, the bodies reassembled. Nick and Lilith pressed their faces against the windows. Inside, Ricky was suffocating as they floated slowly upwards. He tried to touch the seat belt, but it was just out of reach. Odd, grotesque faces pressed against the windows. His feet suddenly felt wet…

Ricky woke up still feeling very tired. He looked at the bedside clock with sleep- filled eyes. He couldn’t believe it. Blearily, he registered three pm! Luckily, he had no studio appointments that day. He rang the bell by his bed impatiently. Instantly Nick appeared, smartly dressed with his dark hair slicked back.

“Where’s Baines, still too ill to work? I seem to be the last person to be consulted.”

Nick had already cleared and wiped the small table. “I’m sorry but it’s bad news sir. Baines suffered a fatal heart attack last night.”

Ricky felt as if a strange battle was being fought somewhere deep inside him. He didn’t trust Nick, too slick and confident, rather Baines, for all his slowness and confusion. Yet Ricky heard himself saying, “Poor old Baines; things were getting beyond him. You’re much quicker, more competent too. What’s your surname then?”

“Horn, sir, but I prefer “Nick” sir, if you don’t object.”

Ricky did object. Who was this arrogant youngster to set conditions? Yet he heard himself saying, “No not at all. “Nick” it shall be. On your way to the kitchen just take a couple of photos of my Jaguar. I’m thinking of selling it.  You’ll need my phone and this.” Ricky waved a key at Nick.’

As he watched him shutting the door, Ricky tried to remember the details of last night’s terrifying dream. Every time he got as far as Nick arriving to replace Baines, a mist seemed to descend. Try as he might, he couldn’t penetrate the fog. Ricky was still struggling in the mist when Nick returned with a snack and the phone.

“Thanks, I’ll ring if I want anything. I’ve got some paperwork to finish.”

As soon as he heard the lift going down, Ricky looked at the photos of his car. The wheels were covered in thick mud, as if the Jag had been through floods or over muddy fields.  Images of the car had floated vaguely through the nightmare but the last time he had driven any distance was on the A22 to Brighton! Where could the mud have come from? When Nick brought his late lunch, a few hours later, Ricky mentioned the mystery of the mud on the car wheels.

“That’s odd sir, I didn’t notice that.”

“Well, look at the pictures.” Ricky passed Nick the phone.

“Sorry sir, I can’t see any mud,”

Ricky found himself gazing at four bright shining chrome hub caps and spokes. “Oh well, I must have drunk too much champagne last night.”

“Talking of last night, sir, I was wondering if you’d like to meet Lilith again, on business of course. That’s if you\'re not busy.”

Ricky wondered what the connection was between Nick and the stunning redhead. He felt it was something to do with the dream but again the mist descended. “Well as a matter of fact, I am thinking of casting her in a new production. I need to contact her again to discuss contracts.”

“Perhaps you would like to join us at a private club this evening, sir? We could leave here at about eight, if that suits you.”

The club room was in the dock area near the river, an area to which Ricky would never have ventured after dark. That evening a strange stillness and silence hung over cargo vessels anchored by heavy chains which barely moved with the calm ebb and flow of the river. A mist hung over the dark warehouses. Ricky shivered in a chill which seemed to rise from the cobbled boat yards. He found himself constantly looking over his shoulder.

“It will feel warmer once you’ve had a couple of brandies,” Nick’s voice echoed as he turned into a narrow alley between dark offices. He stopped in front of a shabby black door which looked in dire need of repainting. Nick knocked discreetly. Footsteps could be heard approaching before the door opened to reveal a tall, thickset man who looked as if his nose had been broken more than once and whose front teeth were missing.

“Evening Sol, I’ve just brought a friend along to join us this evening.”

The man said nothing but turned back down a long passageway behind him.

Perhaps he was the “fall guy” for Mohammed Ali?

At the end of the gloomy corridor, they stopped in front of a door covered in rich red velvet, edged with gold cord.

“This is a bit unexpected after the dreary entrance and freezing passage!”

“Never judge on first impressions,” laughed Nick as he opened the door to reveal a large room with a bar at one end. Tables and chairs were arranged near the bar with an assortment of smartly dressed women and men in evening dress sitting and chatting.

Looking at his denim jacket, Ricky felt conspicuously underdressed. Nick led him to an empty table and went off to buy drinks. Ricky had hardly sat down when a tall, skinny man was introducing himself. “Hi, I’m Ken Lynch. You’re a new member, I guess?”

“Yes, a new visitor. I was invited by Nick Horn. He’s at the bar buying drinks.”

The skinny man gave Ricky an odd look. Almost a look of disbelief. Then he seemed to recover his composure. “Oh Nick, yes, everyone knows Nick.”

Somehow, Ricky felt it would be out of place there to speak of Nick as his employee.

You’ve got a full house today. Is it someone’s birthday?”

Again, Ken looked questioningly at Ricky. “Ah, yes, well put sir, well put!”

Nick returned with three glasses of champagne.

“You must let me buy the next round,” Ricky insisted.

“Certainly not, you’re our guest tonight,” retorted Ken.

It must have been half an hour and several glasses of champagne later, when Ricky

saw Lilith walking towards their table. If anything, she looked even more attractive than he

remembered. The lights in the room had become fainter and yet a brighter light seemed to

surround Lilith. A chiffon dress of pale green accentuated her figure and her long red hair.

She slipped elegantly into the empty chair beside Ricky.

“Hello, Mr. Lavery, or may I call you ‘Ricky’ this evening?” She made Ricky feel like a bumbling college student on a first date.

“Of course, it would be a pleasure. Can I order you a glass of champagne?”

“Well, I was just about to show you our club room upstairs. I know you are a connoisseur of the arts and would enjoy seeing it.” She walked across to a small side door and Ricky followed.

Outside on a wide landing, Lilith switched on the lights to reveal a narrow staircase leading upward. She led the way, carefully lifting her dress above the wooden steps. She opened the door at the top to reveal a large room with beautifully carved rafters in a dome-shaped roof. Ricky’s eyes were drawn to the strange pictures on the walls of the Earth, the Seas and the Heavens. Imposed on the background were elaborate drawings of devilish creatures, neither man nor beast. On the back wall was a terrible image of a goat-like creature. Scabbed horns protruded from a hairless head; cloven hooves were visible beneath a purple robe. Slanted eyes burnt a fierce red and seemed to glare down on Ricky wherever he stood. Freezing air rose from the wooden floor, while a fetid smell of rotting flesh filled the room. Only with great effort was Ricky able to force his eyes from the dreadful goat which held his gaze.

At last, he looked down. On the polished wooden floor was a perfectly drawn five -point star enclosed within two concentric circles. Between the circles were letters in an ancient script. Ricky guessed them to be Greek or Egyptian. Suddenly the lights faded until the room was almost in darkness. Shadows were moving in the corners of the room. A dark, sickly green mist covered the pentacle. Out of this a head gradually formed. Arms, legs a torso appeared. Ricky recognized the specter as Sol the door keeper, his broken nose, toothless head and bulging eyes glared at Ricky with a dark, relentless stare.

Then the astral figure towered above them, twice its earthly size. Frightening though it was, Ricky felt compelled to step towards the pentacle despite his effort to stand still. Suddenly, the lights came on and there was Lilith, talking quite normally, “It’s impressive, isn’t it?  Time for another drink. The others will be wondering where we are.”

A few days later, Ricky failed yet again to contact Lilith. He had rung her number several times since his visit to the strange club hidden in the docks.

“Nick, I seem to have mislaid Lilith’s number, could you jot it down for me?”

“I think she’s been away for a few days, sir. She’ll be at the club tomorrow if you want to catch her.”

“Well, this contract needs signing. It’s getting urgent.”

Ricky woke after a long, troubled sleep, to find himself in a strange room. The curtains, long and dark shut out the light, even in early afternoon. How he had arrived and what had happened, he had no memory of. If his watch was right, it was after four in the afternoon. As he lay thinking, Nick appeared with a tray of snacks and a pot of coffee.

“Are you feeling well-rested? You’ve been asleep long enough!”

“Where the hell am I?” Why have you brought me here?”

“When is your birthday, Ricky?”

“If you’ve brought me here to give me a present, it better be worth my time!”

“It’s the same as mine, 31st October.”

“Thousands of people have that birthday.”

“Yes, but not with the same occult number as we share.”

“Look, Nick, I don’t believe any of this voodoo mumbo- jumbo. I confess I don’t know how you do it but it’s fake, just as conjuring tricks are. I admit I’m not a spiritual being. I’ve not been near a church since I left school. But, like millions of others, I think Jesus got things about right.”

“Wasn’t it in “Hamlet” that Shakespeare said, “There are more things in Heaven and Earth than are dreamed of in your philosophy?”

Ricky felt suddenly sleepy. The room had become very cold. In the corners, shadows lurked. Ricky turned back to sleep. Nick had vanished.

Ricky awoke some hours later, to find himself trussed up in the back of a large car with shaded windows. He could hear a low exchange between Nick and a woman’s voice which he soon recognized as Lilith’s.

“He’s essential as a medium. After that…” Nick drew his fingers across his throat and Lilith laughed, a cold, emotionless laugh.

Ricky peered out of the back window. Mile after mile of wild, desolate country fell behind them. As it grew dark, Ricky made a desperate but useless attempt to free himself from the ropes securely tied round his arms and legs.

“Don’t waste your energy,” Nick’s voice sounded from the driver’s seat.

For the rest of the journey, Ricky battled with a power which drew him relentlessly to it, however much he tried to resist. At last, he sensed the car slowing down and turning left into a flinty lane. He could hear stones hitting the wheels and under-belly of the car. The sound stopped, to be replaced by silence as the car bumped and rocked over dry mud and grass. It seemed they were travelling over a field or rough, open countryside.

At last, they came to a stop. Ricky could hear a whispered conversation around the car and a crowd of dark shadows gathered round Nick like wasps drawn to a honey pot. Nick opened the back of the car and Ricky shuffled out. The scene that met his eyes amazed and terrified him. He was standing in an old chalk quarry like the palm of a giant hand hidden in the folds of the hills. A full moon sailed out from behind a bank of dark clouds.

Ricky saw most of the old chalk pit was full of people standing around in groups or sitting at the many chairs and tables scattered about. At one end of the pit, a gigantic altar of stone shone eerily in the moonlight.  Ricky found himself summarily handed over to Sol, the mute gatekeeper who showed no sign of recognition. They walked towards a great throne bathed in bright moonlight. The crowd gathered in a circle when four dark figures began to light eleven black candles in a circle and a twelfth in the middle. They burnt with tall flames flaring upwards in the still air. A group of hideously masked priests appeared, their faces covered with skeleton masks, fierce wolf heads, snake-like viper faces and devilish, grotesque heads of demented bulls.

The sound of strange music, discordant, yet compelling, wafted round the abandoned pit. The congregation was on its knees, chanting prayers or invocations, heads bowed. An unseen power forced Ricky to look up as a shadowy figure was emerging inside a purple mist, above the moonlit altar. It looked human in form, with smoldering red eyes, and two small horns pushing through its shock of black hair. The mist cleared momentary, to reveal cloven hoofs beneath a swirling black cloak. From the hills the sound of thunder growled, and a flash of lightning cracked across the sky.

The next time Ricky looked up the dark figure had disappeared and a golden throne now shimmered behind the altar. As he watched out of a purple haze a repulsive image was forming. legs, body and finally an enormous goat’s head.  emerged. Ricky tried to look down but his body refused to move a muscle. He was a mere fly paralyzed in the blazing stare of the Goat of Mendes. A straggly beard, skull-like head, great horns, terrified as he was, Ricky could not turn away!

The freezing cold air seemed to rise from the golden throne. Two of the strange priests swung censers filled with powdered aconite, foxglove, hemlock, nightshade and mandrake. The smell of death, decaying flesh and puss-filled wounds filled the air. The goat seized between its cloven hoofs, a wooden crucifix and with fury dashed it against the stones then threw the broken slivers of wood to the devil worshippers. In a mad frenzy the crowd leapt on these, stamping and trampling them into the ground. The repulsive goat, turned the broken cross upside down and stuck it in the ground.

Ricky, no angel, felt physically, emotionally, mentally, utterly sickened. He watched as the frenzied mob started feasting from the hampers and bottles of wine they had brought to the dark celebration. Like insane animals, they gnawed flesh from the bone and swallowed mouthfuls of red wine from the bottles. It was strange how bestial they became.

Ricky’s heartbeat raced as Nick, in his horrifying wolf mask, dragged him towards the altar. The group of priests, stripped him of his clothes. Amid the drunken mob, wild cheers broke out at the prospect of human sacrifice. Lilith stood on one side, Nick on the other. He felt

as if he were floating in the clouds over the first sunrise millions of years ago at the innocent birth of the world. He felt for a second the cold point of the dagger. Below, far below, was the baying of the mob, the insane profanities of Nick and Lilith

The sound of police sirens, the noise of helicopters in the dawn sky, resounded in the old quarry. In minutes the Satanists had fled. into the surrounding hills.

Two policemen warily approached the naked body lying before the pile of rocks and boulders at the center of the old quarry. With gloved hands they rolled Ricky over. His eyes now stared unseeing into the rough, chalky ground.

“He”s dead all right, no doubt of that, sir.”

“What”s that mark on his back, just between the shoulder blades?” The Inspector”s voice was curious but nervous.

The serjeant peered at a sign, on the dead man”s back. An inverted cross had been carved in Ricky”s pale, flabby flesh.

“The mark of Satan, sir.”

At that moment the ensuing silence was broken by the steady drip of blood on stone and a cock crowing from a nearby farm.