Dancing With the Devil

Chapter 8

Rose's P.O.V.

Walking into Dante's shop, yawning loudly and stretching to catch said half demon's attention, I observe him flipping through a phone book with a newspaper splayed out underneath its pages.

"You're late... Again," he grumbles, returning to his intensive search.

"Not my fault," I snap lazily, sitting in his chair and propping my feet up on his desk. "I had a customer to deal with. So, what are you up to?"

"Lady was talking to me about some cult called the Order of the Sword," Dante sighs, staring at a particular address for a few moments before closing the phone book. "They've been poking their noses where they don't belong, and now I've gotta do something about it."

"Can I-?"

"No."

He looks at me with a decisive glare in his ice blue eyes, making my heart give a painful throb. It must have shown on my face, because he walks over to me and ruffles my hair. I try to grab a hold on him as he turns to leave, but he walks away quickly.

"I'm sorry, Rose, but I can't take you with me," he whispers, picking up Rebellion on the way to the from door of the shop. "It's too dangerous."

"What if Vergil comes back?" I whimper, stopping him halfway out the door. "What do I do then, Dante?"

"He won't come back, Rose," he says flatly, not even looking at me as I come to stand just behind him.

"How do you know for sure?"

Dante sighs heavily with a slight shake of his head.

"I don't. But if he knows what's good for him, he'll stay far away from you."

There's a long silence as he walks down the front steps, leaving me standing in the doorway.

"But what if he does come back?" I call after him, my heart aching just watching him walk farther down the street.

"Then I'll fucking kill the son of a bitch!" Dante yells angrily, making me giggle a little bit. 

I watch him walk away until he's out of sight and start following him, making sure Ember and Spark are in their holsters. I take a slight detour to stop by my place, carefully selecting a double-edged longsword before continuing on my way. After a good half hour of following him at a safe distance, I find myself getting hopelessly lost. That is, until an entire mob of screaming people dressed in odd robes scrambled out of a church close by, some of them shrieking about a man in a red coat.

Dante in a church? I think to myself. That's begging for trouble...

Cautiously walking up to the entrance, I peek in and immediately spot Dante standing on the arm of a statue of his father, Sparda. Opposite him, on the other arm was... Nero. They had each other at gunpoint, neither of them moving a muscle. A female voice calls out to Nero from somewhere inside the church, and he responds by snapping at her to get out of there with her brother. Another voice, male this time, shouted something up at him before emerging into daylight. Quickly whisking myself out of sight, I felt my heart begin pounding as I recognized Credo and his sister, Kyrie. Almost directly behind them, half a dozen troops marched out, carrying an old man clad in priestly robes. He'd been shot in the head, right in between his eyebrows. As soon as I look back into the church, I hear gunshots echoing throughout the chapel, and I become entranced by the fight that plays out between Nero and Dante.

Keeping out of sight, I sneak inside to get a better view, my footsteps unheard, and my presence hopefully unnoticed. I creep behind a nearby pillar, glancing over at the only to see Nero standing alone, an old fashioned double barrel revolver pointed in my general direction. Footsteps break the dead silence as Dante meanders out from behind the statue of his father, his back turned to his opponent.

"I guess this doesn't quite cut it," Nero chuckles, holstering his revolver and kicking up a sword on the ground, revving the handle on the hilt as he turns on his heel to face Dante and jabs the point of the blade onto the marble flooring.

This is where Red Queen must have come from.

"What's the point of packin' a sword like that if you aren't even gonna use it?" Nero snaps.

Dante lifts Rebellion off his shoulder and examines it before holding it in the same position as Nero's sword, flicking his wrist twice as though in challenge. The younger male lets out a yell of frustrated determination and charges at him. They clash swords for a while, and I can't help but notice during this time that something's just not right with Dante. Every once in a while, he'll just stand there and wait until he's attacked.

He's holding back...

Finally, the sword that Nero is wielding is sent flying out of his grasp, and Dante lunges forward, Rebellion aimed at his opponent's chest. I look away, unable to bear witnessing the brutal, screaming death to come. I'm somewhat stunned when the air around me blasts my ears with nothing but the clattering of pews being scattered about the room. Very tentatively, I look back to the where the boys now stand, about a foot of space between each other. Nero's medical sling has been completely obliterated, revealing his demon arm with the tip of Rebellion's blade embedded into the blue crevice.

"Hm. You got a trick up your sleeve," Dante grumbles, not moving from his position, further confirming that he's deliberately holding back.

"I thought the cat had your tongue," Nero quips. "But if it's a trick you're looking for... then try this!"

Dante is once again tossed across the room, landing somewhat awkwardly on his feet as he straightens up.

"Looks like you too, are a-."

He stops once he looks back to where his opponent stands. With a heave of determination, using his demon arm, Nero lifts the massive blade once held by the statue of Sparda and chucks it at Dante in the same manner one might pitch a baseball. I know without a doubt that the experienced demon hunter will easily avoid the stone blade, but even so, I reflexively turn away from the scene, closing my eyes tightly. When I next screw up my courage to keep watching, my eyes lock on Dante flying through the air, having been thrown a second time. As if by miracle alone, he lands seated in a pew, and he crosses one leg over the other, the sound of his blade striking the marble floor once he comes to a complete stop. The very slightest hint of fascination is in his ice blue eyes as he smirks at the younger male, of whom gives an audible Tch.