Chloe paid a visit to the 'Lux' four days later. First, she needed time to process everything that had happened and correct her own beliefs about the possible and the impossible. Secondly, to conduct research about the Devil, because among the areas of knowledge in which she was strong, religion was absent. Thirdly, it was her day off.
The study was generally of little use. There were too many theories, hypotheses and assumptions about what such a famous figure was, and there were too many contradictions in them. Given what Lucifer said about self age, the woman decided not to limit herself to Christianity, which he clearly preceded - and expanded the search to the mythology of various times and peoples. Many of them mentioned a son, a younger brother, or some other relative of the supreme deity, who did strictly not agree with the latter in his views. All in all, the scientist inside her spat from the confusion and, most importantly, the unprovability of all this. As a result, Chloe decided to rely only on what she learned from personal experience.
So, Lucifer was invulnerable, possessed abilities that affect the mind of others, and could instantly burn to the ground, at least a person. Each of these things individually made him immeasurably more dangerous than anyone she had come across before, and in combination…
The part of her personality responsible for adaptation strongly recommended that she do absolutely everything so as not to anger literal Satan. For example, do not test his patience, waiting for your own day off, but go to bow to him as soon as possible.
That's just... a flair for a personal threat kept deathly silence. The longer the woman analyzed their conversation, the more she became convinced of his sincere goodwill. Aside from the glowing eyes that he said should have terrified her, Lucifer made no attempt to intimidate her, even veiled ones. Not only that, he kindly helped with the disposal of the body when it turned out that his intervention confused her cards. Definitely not a scoundrel, which is quite unexpected for someone so powerful.
In short, Chloe decided not to pull... but to stroke the 'tiger's' whiskers, and come to his lair when it was convenient for her - after all, no one called the date.
Before leaving the house, she took two flat, oblong caskets of lacquered wood from the drawer of her desk, placed them on the table and threw back the lids. Inside both were slots, numbered from one to fifty, intended for preparations with blood smears. One of the caskets was completely filled with them, the second was filled up to the twenty-sixth number, and the drop of blood in the last preparation still had a reddish tint, in contrast to the brown color of all the others.
Closing her eyes, the woman gently ran her fingertips along the edges of the preparations. The combination of that sensation and the soft chime of the glass sent a pleasant tickle through her mind, giving her a lighter version of post-murder zen. Sometimes she regretted that she could not carry the trophies with her and stroke them when she pleased - how much easier it would be to control herself! Alas, at best, others would not understand, and at worst, they would understand too correctly. Putting the boxes back, she set off.
Arriving at around 1 pm, she found the club had a minimum of visitors, which made the place much more attractive to her tastes. However, after looking around and not finding Lucifer in the hall, Chloe realized that she did not know where to look next... and was slightly confused. In her head, the Devil knew when she would come to him - and met, so to speak, at the door... but it seems that she overestimated his awareness.
And then a woman came out from behind the bar and purposefully walked straight towards her. She was about the same height and build as Chloe, dark-skinned and attractive, and her short, tight black leather dress left little room for fantasy. And something about the bartender's confident, flowing gait made her instincts wary.
"I lost my bet because of you," she said sharply by way of greeting as she stopped a few paces from Chloe. "Lucifer was sure that you would come, but I thought you would run away. Usually people like you are very cowardly." She suddenly leaned forward and sniffed the air. "But you are definitely special. You don't smell of fear at all, although you have been under his gaze…"
Chloe's bewilderment didn't last long. The conclusion about the identity of the interlocutor suggested itself, but out of caution she decided to check: "Are you Mazikeen?"
"That's right." Her lips twisted into a sharp smile. "You think fast. Lucifer in his penthouse. Come after me."
With these words, without even thinking of waiting for an answer, she turned around and headed for the mezzanine stairs.
Chloe, with a soft chuckle, followed the… what Satan called her… demonic 'right hand'? She was no stranger to dealing with rude people - many cops sinned with this, especially in relation to forensics. Usually she coped with this by imagining how she to them inflicts wounds incompatible with life with improvised means... however, in this case, her instinct spoke of a much greater danger of a potential opponent than it seemed at first glance, because of which the scenario of a possible confrontation strangely did not want to develop into a whole 'thought-video'. Curious…
A ride on the elevator - and the doors parted, revealing to the guest a spacious, bright hall, furnished with easy chairs, sofas and several glass coffee tables. Everything was decorated in a soothing black-brown-beige tones. In general, Lucifer's dwelling, despite the size, felt cozy. Attention was also drawn to the various (probably memorabilia) antique pieces scattered here and there. Particularly striking was the huge bar, which occupied almost an entire wall - someone was definitely not indifferent to alcohol. I wonder if the Devil can get drunk at all? Will have to ask...
The owner of the premises was behind the piano, playing some lazy melody on it. It seems that he really knew how to do it - there were no false notes. Chloe could not appreciate it deeper - she almost always remained indifferent to music, since it concerned emotions, dividing for her into two categories - annoying and one that can be easily disconnected from.
Apparently, the Devil was deep in his thoughts - after all, he paid attention to the visitors only after Mazikeen turned to him: "Hey, boss, look whose killer ass honored us with a visit!"
"I have a lot of killer things in me, but my ass is not on this list," Chloe joked dryly, crossing her arms over her chest. Surprisingly, humor was quite accessible to her... however, mostly black. Luckily, this wasn't out of the ordinary for the homicide forensic scientist, so from time to time she allowed herself to say the witticisms that popped into her head aloud. Of course, usually not as obvious as it is now, however... everyone in this room knew about her 'hobby'. A very unusual feeling, but not to say unpleasant!
When Lucifer's gaze found her, his lips slowly but irresistibly stretched into a wide smile. He slammed the cover on the keys, jumped up from the bench and, deftly walking around the piano, stood in front of her.
"What a pleasant surprise!" the man exclaimed. "The Huntress-for-hunters herself has come! The day ceases to be languid!"
"Huntress-for-hunters…?" Chloe raised an eyebrow slightly.
"You see, I like titles more than names," he explained with sudden seriousness. "The second ones are just what our parents wanted to designate us, while the first ones are what we deserved. You hunt scum, both officially and... privately, so that nickname seemed appropriate to me. Can be shortened to just the Huntress. Although, of course, if you insist on using the name…"
"Hmm… when you put it like that… it sounds flattering," she thought. "You know, I was thinking about the options, what they would call me if they found enough evidence to open a case. I think, given how I saw up bodies, it would be something like 'LA Butcher'." A smirk crept onto her face. "Of course, I understand why the press tends to give derogatory names to maniacs... but how are they not afraid of being killed for this? Psychopaths can be very sensitive…" She shook her head. "Surely, I'm not talking about myself - I have strict standards."
"Curious to hear what they are," said Macykin from the bar, pouring herself a glass of vodka.
Chloe, turning to her, blinked slowly, then said: "I don't remember promising to tell you anything," she froze for a second, then looked at her with a dangerous squint. Chloe didn't mind at all. "I have a deal with Lucifer: we answer each other's questions. There was no mention of any third parties," probably not the smartest tactic... but she smiled enough in her life in response to rudeness - and to tolerate such bullshit from someone who was aware of her dark side was beyond even her self-control.
"You won't talk to me like that, human…" the demoness hissed. In her hand, as if out of thin air (or maybe out of thin air), a small, but no less dangerous-looking crescent blade made of black metal appeared.
"No, you will not threaten my guest, Maze," Satan intervened with a good sense of the moment. "A deal is a deal. If she is against your presence, then so be it."
"Great!" she spat out, after which she drank the previously poured glass in one fell swoop. "Three days of uninterrupted surveillance - and that's what I get in gratitude!" she walked to the elevator and, entering it, added with a barely perceptible note of disappointment. "Well, have fun without me, you two assholes!"
When the shutters closed, Chloe looked at Lucifer: "Will she be in trouble?"
"Pay no attention," he said. "This is her usual behavior. For a demon, she has a great personality, and without my permission, she does not harm anyone... at least here on Earth," a joyful smile returned to his face. "So, settle down! May I offer you a drink? Or food?"
"I've already had dinner, and we are… incompatible with alcohol," the woman refused, sitting down on the sofa. The devil sat in a chair opposite.
"Really?" he raised his eyebrows. "May I know why? It's just hard for me to imagine how one can not love this wonderful invention of mankind…"
"Well, first of all, here," she tapped her temple with her index finger, "there are too many secrets that should not be revealed to the world. Secondly, with my inclinations, it is much more likely than the average person to wake up in the morning and find out that I made holes in someone that were not intended by nature with the help of piercing and cutting objects. Thirdly…" Chloe shook her head, "I don't want to talk about it. For now." She closed her eyes for a moment. "Before I go into details about myself, I want to know a little about you. I've done a bit of research these days... but there are too many interpretations of who you are and they all seem like speculation."
"Maybe the most common opinion about me is true?" Sarcasm was heard in the interlocutor's voice. "You know, the incarnation of evil and all that? No wonder billions of people have thought so for thousands of years?"
"They also thought the Earth was flat," the woman snorted. "The truth was different, it was just, as you yourself said, remained outside their knowledge. So, I want to hear your version."
"And would you believe me?" There was disbelief in his voice.
"You see, when I'm looking for someone to put on my table and wrap in plastic, I don't do it until I find irrefutable evidence of guilt. However, before I can unearth anything tangible, I rely on my instincts. I don't have any real evidence about you, and my instincts…" she shrugged a little, "they whisper that you're damn dangerous as a whole, but, oddly enough, you don't pose a threat to me. You also claimed that you weren't lying... and although it's hard for me to believe in such a thing, you really feel sincere. I've seen all sorts of liars in my lifetime - and you either don't belong to them ... or the best of them. I'm not sure why myself, but I tend to believe the former."
"I think I know why," a note of warmth slipped into his voice - something similar happened when he explained the impossibility of his murder. "Your curiosity plays a role, but it's not just about that… you want to talk about yourself, right?"
Chloe felt the attraction in his gaze again, forcing her to reveal the truth... but now that she knew what it was, she tried to resist: "Yes, that's right... but much more I want you to..." her face contorted with tension, "fucking stop doing this!"
"Oops," Satan was taken aback, and the pressure on her mind immediately disappeared. "Strange… No one has complained yet."
"Well, I'm complaining!" the woman said. "I don't like how I feel about it!"
"But my power only weakens the prohibitions, granting the freedom to understand what you really want and act in accordance with it…" Lucifer explained. "What's bad about it?"
"Loss of control, that's what!" Chloe exploded in an extremely uncharacteristic way. "I can't afford that luxury! And I can't stand it when this happens! So I'll be extremely grateful if you stop doing this shit with me!" then she took a deep breath - and added more calmly. "I'm still ready to answer - we agreed."
"Okay… I guess your request is fair," the Devil nodded slowly. "After all, I myself added a clause about the possibility of not answering too uncomfortable questions... and I have an unfair advantage."
"Glad to hear it." The woman relaxed a little. "And you know, about a drink… do you have any coffee and creamer?"
"You won't believe it, I just brewed a whole coffee pot for myself," he smiled. "Wait a minute…" he rushed off somewhere deep into the penthouse and just as quickly returned with the aforementioned coffee pot exuding excellent aroma, as well as two cups, a jar of cream and a sugar bowl on a tray. "Help yourself!"
Chloe poured herself a full cup, added half a spoonful of cream and began to stir. In the meantime, the owner snatched a bottle of some amber alcohol from the bar, poured half a cup out of it, then poured coffee to the top and threw in a couple of spoons of sugar.
Watching the preparation of this cocktail, she voiced the question that interested her earlier: "Can you get drunk?"
"At most I can be 'slightly tipsy'," the man replied, taking a sip and rolling his eyes in pleasure. "For such an effect, I need to continuously refuel for a couple of hours, and it does not last long. With the help of drugs, a decent buzz is easier to achieve. So I like strong drinks just for the taste."
She chuckled at the last statement — every something short she'd tasted in one way or another tasted disgusting. But there is no arguing about preferences, is there?
Taking a sip from her cup, Chloe closed her eyes and swallowed slowly, enjoying the warmth and bitterness softened by the cream. This allowed her to relax as much as she could without cutting someone's throat. Now the woman felt completely ready for perhaps the most interesting conversation in her life.