Dancing With the Devil

Chapter 3

Dante's P.O.V.

My blood turns to ice when Rose's shriek rips the air. I make a beeline for her bedroom, pulling her out of the way, turning my back on the demons. Her pupils have shrunk to the size of the head of a pin. Knowing it's pointless to engage in conversation for several reasons, I instruct her to stay put, to which she complies. Turning around once again, I watch as the last of the demons flee through her bedroom window. I race across the room, groaning in annoyance, slam the window shut and lock it.

"Well, they may have gotten away," I grumble with a sigh, scanning the room for any possible stragglers. "But that's okay. Means I have more time to spend with you."

Looking back to Rose, my relief becomes nothing more than a memory. Her face is alarmingly pale, tears streaming from her eyes, and her body is tense, stone still. Sheer terror is emanating from her in tidal waves. Clearly, there's got to be more to those demons spawning in her bedroom than meets the eye. Walking over to her, I hold her shoulders firmly, kneeling in front of her on one knee, hoping that I don't appear as a threat. The last thing I need is for her to become afraid of me.

"Rose, you'll be okay," I whisper soothingly, gently cupping her cheek and wiping away her tears, standing up to leave.

"Please, don't go."

"If you ever feel the need for a good time, you know where to find me," I say flatly, walking towards the stairwell.

"I'm not safe anymore, Dante..."

Her voice is just barely audible, the words having come out as a strangled whimper. Next thing I know, she's shuddering as though racked by an earthquake, her knees buckling underneath her. Not knowing what else to do, I meander back over to her and hold her close, rubbing her back to help calm her down. After a few minutes, she regains enough of her composure to speak clearly.

"I've been alone for nine years, fighting for my life..." Her emerald green eyes lock on my icy blue ones, pain, loss, despair, and loneliness making her form fragile, as if one wrong step could shatter her entirely. "I can't do this anymore..."

Without saying a word, I pick Rose up bridal-style and head back downstairs to her workbench, letting her down next to a set of blueprints as per her directions. I try reading the handwritten notes, which earns me a small headache. To ease this discomfort, I go to observing the sketches, of which are strangely familiar.

"You made blueprints for my guns?" I huff, taking out Ebony to compare with the sketches.

"I may be a blacksmith, but the one thing I lack is proper weaponry," Rose replies distractedly, rapidly collecting little round somethings from a number of drawers I don't want to try counting.

"Why?" I press on, watching her place brilliantly colored gems onto the blueprints in a very specific order.

"All you need to know is that demons are responsible for it," she growls, shoving me aside while handing me a pair of wrap-around sunglasses. "Put these on or you'll go blind."

I hesitate to put them on as Rose takes off her tailcoat, letting it fall to the floor. Suddenly, her right arm has seemingly transformed. The charcoal-black outer hide is rough, whereas the ribbons snaking down her arm that connected at her wrist to form her palm were bright orange and looked almost like cracks in pavement. Rose opens her palm wide, facing towards the gems laid out on the blueprints. Even with the sunglasses on, the light from the white flames emanating from her palm is still very bright, and I'm forced to close my eyes. When the light fades, I open my eyes to see an almost perfect replica of both Ebony and Ivory sitting on the workbench.

"Wow," I gasp, picking up the replicas and pointing them at an imaginary enemy in front of me. "Nicely done... For an amateur."

Rose looks at me with a scowl, taking the guns from me.

"I've been a blacksmith for the past eight and a half years," she growls at me, grabbing some engraving tools from the open toolbox on her workbench. "Never before has anyone dared describe me as an amateur."

Looking over her shoulder, I watch as she prints the name Ember onto the silver Desert Eagle, and Spark onto the black one.

"So, is there any difference between your guns and mine?" I ask once she finishes, making her jump when she realizes just how close I am. "Other than their names, I mean."

"Yes, but explaining it would give you a migraine," she chides, picking up her tailcoat, holstering her guns, throwing the ensemble over her shoulder as she walks to the door. "So, why don't we go hunt for some demons?"

We walk around aimlessly outside for a while, neither of us feeling the need to strike up a conversation. Incidentally, we end up at the opposite end of the street from where my shop is before Rose stops in her tracks.

"The demons that were in my room... They have a leader," she admits sheepishly, avoiding eye contact. "That's why they left without putting up a fight."

"Who's their leader?" I ask, a fleeting guess as to who it might be already coming to mind.

"I have no idea. I've never seen his face."

"How do you know-?"

"Because I've heard him speak before," Rose snaps, cutting me off with an edge of anger and discomfort. "Only once, mind you."

"Rose, if there's anything else you know about this guy, please tell me," I whisper firmly.

In the blink of an eye, she whips her tailcoat up in an arcing semi-circle, Ember and Spark falling from their holsters in the process. Her arms slip flawlessly through the sleeves, and a heartbeat later, her guns practically fall right into her hands. I notice with a jolt of alarm that her expression is tense, afraid.

"He's here."