Dante

  It wasn’t easy letting her leave his club without following her, but Dante hadn’t lied when he said he needed to attend to business.

  Certain business that, if a human was present, would make the situation more heated than they already were.

  Besides, what point had she made by showing up, uninvited, to a bar full of Malevolents aching to rip into her flesh? Could she not feel the danger emitting from them despite the Glamour the Keeper’s had placed?

  Dante shook his head at her actions, earning a curious glance from the Fire-Bender sitting to his right.

  He didn't feel the need to explain himself. Instead, he stared down at the cards in his hand and smiled, focusing on his probing.

  He'd wanted to descend to the Nether and snatch demons up to question them on what they knew about last night's attack but he knew he needed to be more stealthy about the situation. Which wasn't his style.

  He was in uncharted territory, actually trying to investigate instead of interrogating, torturing, and committing homicide.

  He looked around the table at the demons he'd offered a game to, their faces illuminated by the dim lighting of the establishment.

  They had already placed coins, jewels, and cash in the middle of the table; he'd had one of his employees move one from upfront to his office.

  They were also now playing halfway through a second game before one grew impatient.

  When he questioned the true purpose of the meeting, Dante chuckled but never glanced up from his hand. “Can't I just want to hang out with the boys?”

  When none of them responded, he nodded and got to the point.

  "Okay, outright it is.” He mumbled before looking at them all. “Any rumors from below worth betting against my soul. Old powers stirring, maybe?"

  The Stoner, a hulking figure with grey, rock-like skin, and broad muscles, slammed his hand to the table. A long, coarse black braid cascaded down his back, adorned with small, bone-like tokens and feathers. Each one representing a fallen opponent. His battered, earth-toned armor plates were studded with rough gemstones, and worn leather straps that creaked with his movements.

  "Everyone knows your soul is worthless, halfbreed." The Stoner's deep voice rumbled, like thunder in the distance.

  Dante held his smirk, keeping his cool. From his jacket pocket, he pulled out a rare nightwalker's Tooth, a sharp fang from a near-extinct and once powerful nocturnal beast. The players' eyes widened, impressed with the potential of winning a prize that was highly valued in dark magic circles.

  The Bender, a fire-wielder with red skin and piercing yellow eyes, leaned in, his voice low and menacing. His short, spiky black hair stood on end, like quills, and a neatly trimmed soul patch framed his sharp jawline.

  "Talk." Bender's voice was like a spark to dry tinder.

  “Are there any new plays for power? Talks of overthrowing the current Proxies, maybe?” Dante questioned cooly.

  The Caster, a pale-skinned warlock with black-stained fingers, trailed off smugly. His dark eyes gleamed with calculation, and rune tattoos marked his arms and torso; a stark black contrast to his pale skin.

  “One is mentioned... But information is valuable these days.” The Caster's voice was smooth as his fitted black silk suit and tailored black coat with subtle, intricate embroidery.

  Dante tossed another fang to the table, and the demon's chuckles became rambunctious.

  “The powerful demon hunter.” The Stoner's deep laugh rumbled out, and his massive body shook the table.

  “Play your hand.” The Bender waved forward, his flame-touched hair fluttering with the movement. “And we'll see how you'll fare with your questions.”

  Dante knew he had easily won this game with the hand he held, but he questioned if he really wanted to set down the cards. The Bender to his right was known for his short temper, and Dante would rather not end the evening with homicide and a burnt establishment. The Stoner to his left wasn’t any better, with his forged armor and battle-hardened physique. Finally, there was the Caster, small in stature but definitely not to be underestimated in his easy ability to scramble thoughts. Or rather, would be possible if Dante wasn’t the owner of a talisman that shielded his thoughts.

  Each demon at the table held a weakness that Dante knew he could handle, making him confident he would get the information he'd bargained for.

  He pushed the wad of cash he’d taken as payment for babysitting the human towards the middle of the table, and the Caster tossed in an amulet Dante knew he was in possession of. With the two teeth, he knew he'd upped the stakes, and the Caster would part with it. With a smirk, he informed the boys that he was in.

  One by one, they laid their cards face up in front of them. First, the Bender, his red skin seeming to glow with an inner fire as he pulled at his studded black leather jacket confidently. Then the Stoner, his massive frame and broad muscles rippling beneath his grey, rock-like skin. The Caster studied Dante with a calm yet perplexed glare, his dark eyes pulsing with an otherworldly energy. His irises brimmed with a deep purple hue, like the edges of a bruise.

  “Keep trying, prick.” Dante held his smirk. “My mind is a vault.” The Caster huffed angrily before displaying his cards.

  Dante couldn’t help the way his brows furrowed with confusion, then the easy smirk returned to his lips. “Well, boys. This is… a strange set of circumstances.” He placed his cards down, displaying the same winning hand the previous player held.

  “Dirty cheat!” The Bender shouted, heavy boots stomping as he stood abruptly. His flame-touched hair fluttered with his agitation. He slammed his fist against the table, setting the cards ablaze just as Dante pulled out his two pistols.

  “If anyone should feel cheated, it's me.” He replied calmly, pointing his weapons at both the Caster and Bender. “The cards belonged to you.”

  He thrust a weapon towards the Bender, who raised his hands, though not in a surrendering gesture. His eyes blazed with fury, and the air around his hands distorted with the potential heat building within his palms.

  “Can we all just settle this as men,” the Stoner's deep voice coaxed with wisdom. The large, black wings at his back shuddered with his agitation, their leathery texture rustling softly. His amber eyes gleamed with a deep, earthy warmth as he glared at Dante. “This is just a-”

  “No.” Dante chuckled low after firing a shot upward. “I don’t do ‘misunderstandings’. This hand is mine. I want the answer to my question.”

  “Halfbreed, bastard.” The Bender spat, eyes full-on flaming with the power he was pulling. The air around his hands rippled with heat, and his hair fluttered with the tense electricity.

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  “What difference does it make? A bounty on a few fleshwalkers? Their lives are meaningless, just like your whore mother.”

  Dante's eyes flashed with anger, his laughter was low and menacing as he tried to reign in his temper but failed. This surprised the other two who started a nervous laughter to accompany him.

  He knew he needed the Bender alive so he could ask follow-up questions, but the asshole had insulted his mother. Who was a goddamn saint. It wasn't her fault Dante had turned out so fucked up. So full of unbridled rage.

  When the Bender began a low snicker, Dante fired. This time, not a warning shot but directly between the demon’s eyes. The flame in his eyes extinguished, and the tense air in the room dissipated. The room went quiet as his body fell back, knocking over the chair he was once sitting in.

  “Was that really necessary?” questioned the Caster, his voice laced with a hint of curiosity.

  When Dante cocked the gun, the Caster nodded once with a polite smile plastered to his face. “Obviously, it was.”

  “Obviously,” Dante smirked. “Now, will there be any more misunderstandings or will I have the pleasure of disposing of one more dead body?”

  After exchanging unamused glances, the demons nodded, agreeing that no one else needed to die today.

  “The hand is mine, correct?” Dante confirmed, eyes still burning blue.

  Once he knew they were all in agreement, they coughed up the information they owed him.

  He lowered one pistol but kept its companion pointed towards the Caster, knowing his mind games were probably the source of the altercation.

  “Good, now, get the fuck outta my sight, before I change my mind about not shooting you cheating bastards.” Dante pulled his winnings towards him. A top sat a talisman that would keep the girls' apartment safer than anything The Keeper's could conjure.

  While the information was what he sought, he'd hoped the Caster would've been stupid enough to fall for his trap and bet the talisman Dante had once seen him boast about.

  His acquaintances left reluctantly, with their backs to the door, to not give Dante the opportunity to go back on his word.

  Unlike most Malevolent, Dante never went back on his word. And there was nothing Dante hated more than a liar or cheater.

  Which is why he figured the Keeper twin, Simon, angered him so much. Dante could tell he was a man of immoral standards and why his sister chose to protect him was a mystery.

  However, he understood the bond between family was strong in humans.

  For the Malevolent, on the other hand, or more specifically halfbreeds, he recalled it being far too easy to break.

  He would let her brother show his true colors, just as all shysters did at some point, and once she realized her mistake – he’d what?

  Be there to comfort her?

  Hell no. He wouldn’t think that way about her. She’d go to her parents for a strong shoulder to cry on.

  He wasn’t a pillow that would cradle her. He wasn’t that type of demon.

  He reminded himself that this was just a job, and finally, he was getting somewhere. The Stoner had reluctantly informed him of where he'd heard the murmurings of a power shift. From a drunk Shadowhand at The Oracle.

  He knew the bar; he'd frequent there occasionally to drink or to play against high rollers. It was how he made some of his money but most of his pay came from demons wanting their problems to go away. By any means necessary.

  As if to put emphasis on his thoughts, the Corvixys he'd hired when he first opened the bar sashayed into his office.

  Danai's rich, crimson lips curved into an enigmatic smile while she assessed the scene. The devious glint of her piercing golden eyes made her irises burn with an inner fire at her amusement.

  The ancient creature's essence of dark magic made her wild black hair flow like dark mist around her face and elongated ears while she came to stand above the body. Her stilettos tapped with every slow step she took.

  “Hmm, I thought thisss was going to end badly.” Danai's words were laced with a sultry, melodic cadence as she placed a hand on her slender waist. It was bare from the cropped tee she wore and the tight jeans riding insanely low on her warm golden brown hips. She wasn't ashamed to reveal the shimmers of delicate, ethereal markings all over her body that were native to her region of the Nether in Chaosia. “Sshhall I call for the Keeper'sss?”

  He didn’t hesitate with his refusal. There was no need to burden them with yet another disposal. He was more than capable of handling the situation.

  Or rather, he'd get the barkeep, who'd seemed far too interested in Evanora and had foolishly assumed she was just another of Dante's fleeting conquests, to dispose of him like the others.

  The Nightborne had joked he hadn't intended on killing Eva, just "relocate" her. His claims of assuming her proximity to Dante as a liability were a weak excuse that only served to fuel Dante's ire.

  Dante could feel his nostrils flare at the thought of the Nightborne potentially hurting her; his fangs seeping into the tender flesh of her neck. If the barkeep didn't watch himself, he'd send him back to a region of the Nether where fledglings like him were hunted for their unlawful turning.

  Danai’s long forked tongue ran over her ruby lips with appeal for the concoction she'd make of this body that many demons found pleasurable to the taste. Dante would rather eat a boot than that sludge.

  When she bent over, she exposed her cleavage, knowing it's what Dante liked to see. It had been the very reason he’d hired her; that and her kind were rare. She'd been looking for protection and Dante offered it with his bar.

  She began to pull the large man to the back of the bar with little effort. With her tiny frame, her strength always surprised Dante, though it shouldn't have. He knew never to judge a supernatural by its exterior, even if this one only came to his mid-chest in heels.

  Underestimating Malevolent in the Nether had gotten him into deep shit on more than one occasion, but nothing he couldn’t handle.

  With his charge being watched, he found himself with idle hands.

  Though sleep wasn’t a constant requirement for him, he chose now to catch up on the hours he’d missed. It wasn’t as if the place couldn’t run itself. He’d often leave for long periods and had yet to go out of business thanks to Danai. A few missing workers here and there, but he now had a full disclosure contract with everyone before placing them on the floor.

  Danai seemed like a perfect fit, not only for her beauty, but because she kept things in line.

  He didn’t mind Brief’s working his bar, they were just hard to keep around with the powerful entities that liked to stop by for a refresher. Most of his customers tended to either get too handsy or negligent, causing more work for the Keepers and leaving one less body to man Dante’s oak floors.

  He’d gotten smarter over the years, however. He no longer hired Brief’s, they were too much of a hassle when they went missing.

  After having to relocate from Brooklyn, Dante wouldn’t make that mistake, again. They were all so fragile. At least Dante’s human form was able to regenerate when harmed.

  Those in The Society were the only humans even allowed into his establishment. When he’d first opened, he’d gotten an incantation to Glamour his building, hiding it from all non-supernaturals.

  Not his idea, of course.

  The Keepers thought it was in bad taste to open a Malevolent bar above the realm, but since he normally did what he wanted, they knew arguing with him would do nothing.

  He'd always been a bit of a rebel, but ever since he'd first caught the attention of The Society back in the dark days of American slavery he’d been classified as a level four threat.

  At the time, he'd been hunting down Brief’s of malice and prejudice, convinced he was doing the world a favor. He'd ended a lot of bloodlines during his travels, but to them, his methods were brutal, and The Society eventually intervened.

  They'd sent a few Reapers after him, expecting to take down the rogue hunter, but he'd proven himself more than a match for them. He'd taken them down but spared their lives, a gesture that had only seemed to intrigue The Society further.

  They'd sent more, and he'd continued to evade and outmaneuver them, earning a reputation that preceded him in both the Nether and The Society's circles: Sarcastic Demon Hunter, Asshole Barkeep, halfbreed Bastard.

  He’d gotten to piss off a lot of beings within his long life. He had his father to thank for that, though that was all he’d thank him for.

  With his father’s Primordial blood coursing through his veins, Dante was near invincible; able to go through life aging at a snail’s pace. He’d learned a lot and lost even more but knew that was the way of the world. Watching those he’d once cared for die, taught him never to get too comfortable. No one lived forever; the good died far too young; and evil almost always prevailed.

  Guarding the girl was good money but eventually Lilith would escape. He was surprised the Keeper’s had kept her hidden for as long as they had.

  He’d only heard tales of her terror through whispers in the Nether. There wasn't much history written for the originals and what was, was either cryptic or kept guarded by The Society or the Nether's remaining Proxies.

  With Lilith being a Primordial, she'd be nearly impossible to take down. But he was always up for a challenge.

  If he was being honest, he’d gotten too lax in his little bar over the years.

  Protecting Eva, interrogating lower-level demons, and slaughtering hellhounds was more excitement than Dante had seen in a while. It was a welcome resurgence of the thrill he'd once experienced as a bounty hunter, tracking down rogue Malevolent and collecting rewards. Those days were behind him now, but the rush was still familiar.

  Yes, he had to deal with the occasional cheating Malevolent but those tended to be easy kills. The creatures coming after the pendant were sent by someone and it was only a matter of time before the source revealed themselves. And Dante didn’t mind getting his hands dirty when the time came. He hated to admit it; despite how much he worked to keep that part of himself contained for years, he loved the bloodlust.

  He craved it.