The Demon

by Rick Bonogofsky

  Erin nodded, fully intent on leaving Dante if a fight erupted. Every one of the soldiers were staring at Dante, none of them seeming a bit concerned about her. They were obviously here for him.

  “Stand aside, madam,” the big man said to Erin. “We have no quarrel with you.”

  “Then I’m right to assume you’re here for me?” Dante asked.

  The big man nodded.

  “Great…” Dante muttered.

  “We have it on good authority that you are a demon,” the big man stated flatly.

  Dante nodded, his eyes narrowing. Somehow, he felt Victor was behind this. “I am, though I fail to see why I should be approached like this. I’ve done nothing wrong.”

  “Not yet,” the big man countered. “I have been ordered to ask you to vacate our town. We do not wish any harm to befall anyone, including yourself, if we can avoid it.”

  Dante raised an eyebrow. He was not used to soldiers treating him this way. “Have you laws against demons in your town?”

  The big man paused, caught off guard by the question. “Well, no, but history speaks for itself when it comes to your kind.”

  Dante rolled his eyes. Those few humans left who believed in demons still held on to their old prejudices.

  “Good thing we were already on our way out of here,” Erin whispered.

  Dante almost nodded, but a defiant nagging crept up in the back of his mind. Something was compelling him to stay.

  “What if I want to stay?” he asked the soldiers. Several of them leveled bows and crossbows at him. The rest drew their swords, axes, maces, and hammers. “Just as I thought,” Dante nodded. “If I don’t leave quietly, you’ve been ordered to kill me.” His hand gripped his sword tighter and the soldiers looked to each other and their leader for support. Dante could almost taste their fear, and it was sweet indeed.

  “Dante,” Erin pleaded, “Let’s just leave.”

  “Hush, little girl,” Dante hissed. His demeanor had completely changed. While before he was just like anyone else, now he was fearsome to behold. His body was tensed and ready to burst into action like a tightly coiled spring, but he also retained an outwardly calm demeanor. His breathing was steadier than normal, his gaze analyzing everything, and his pulse seemed to slow. Erin could see that this was the calm before the storm and she backed away cautiously. Her grandfather had warned her of this. Very few times had Gerard seen Dante get this way, but the memory haunted the poor old man. Never in his long life had he ever been as afraid as he was when he saw Dante get this calm. All joviality was gone, replaced by what could only be described as a hunting cat about to pounce on its prey.

  “Leave in peace, sir,” the big man commanded. “We outnumber you twenty to one and we have all been trained in how to kill one such as you.”

  The words slid off Dante like water off a stone.

  Erin kept backing away and finally broke through the circle of soldiers. One of the men stood protectively in front of her.

  “Do not force our hands in this,” the big man warned. He drew his enormous axe from its place on his back and brandished it threateningly. “I will not warn you again.”

  Dante calmly drew his sword and stepped into a ready stance. His right foot slid into a lead position, while he placed most of his weight on his left foot, resting on the balls of his feet. His sword hand rested near his right thigh, sword held parallel to the ground. His torso pivoted slightly, bringing his right shoulder forward a bit. With his sword held so low, his entire body was open to attack. Even so, his utter calm scared the soldiers more than they cared to admit.

  The big man took a threatening step forward and raised his axe for an attack. That was the signal the bowmen were waiting for.

  Crossbows clicked and bows sang as they released their deadly shots.

  Dante smiled.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Crossbow bolts and arrows whistled through the air, streaking through the area Dante had just been. Ten soldiers fell to the ground dead. Just before the fletching had cleared the weapons’ edges, Dante crouched low to the ground, nearly going prone. He had memorized where each soldier stood and shifted himself into a position to force each sharpshooter to unwittingly line up with each other. He knew that each arrow or bolt would find its way to the heart of whichever soldier was unlucky enough to be directly across from the man who fired it. As soon as the air was clear, Dante sprang into action, lunging for the leader. His sword tip was at the man’s throat before the dead men had hit the street.

  “Face me yourself and no more men will die this day,” Dante growled. The big man visibly shook but held his composure. He nodded, knowing he was a dead man.

  Dante grinned, revealing needle-like teeth in the place of the regular ones he had but a moment before. “Good choice.” He stepped back, allowing the big man to step into the circle of soldiers.

  “Terms?” he asked.

  Dante shrugged. “You win, I leave. I win, you leave me the fuck alone.” His calm tone did little to hide the burning fires in his eyes.

  The big man nodded, unsure of how he would explain this to Victor if he survived. Victor had expressly forbidden any of the soldiers to face the demon alone, but he did so in order to spare as many lives as he could. He knew his men would honor the agreement as well. Sighing, he readied himself for the coming fight.

  Dante took a stance, different from the first. This time, he stood with his feet in the same position as before, but held his sword in both hands in front of him, mimicking the ancient samurai of feudal Japan. The straight, double-edged blade was not suited for such a fighting style, however Dante’s obvious comfort with the stance spoke of the decades of practice he’d had with it.

  The sergeant began to sweat. A bead of sweat rolled down the side of his face and off his chin. Before the droplet had reached the ground, Dante struck. The big man barely felt anything, had barely even perceived the demon move, but suddenly Dante had his back to him. What was more disconcerting was the blood dripping from the demon’s blade. Then the pain came. Burning fire seemed to burst through the big man’s body, starting at his right hip and flowing up toward his left shoulder, just above his arm. The last sensation he felt before his upper half began to slide downward was the bursting of his own heart. The two halves of the big man fell to the street with a sickening wet plop and blood and entrails spilled all over the ground. Several of the soldiers, so unused to such carnage, vomited. Even Erin couldn’t hold her stomach and retched in the street. The few townsfolk who had the courage to stay and watch screamed and ran off.

  Dante lifted his sword to his face and licked the blood off the blade. The big man’s fear-induced adrenaline had given the blood an especially coppery taste. As the warm fluid ran down his throat, Dante realized what he had done. He looked around at the carnage and ran his free hand through his hair. He looked at the soldiers and shook his head.

  “Inform their families that they died honorably in battle,” Dante commanded. “Tell them these men died in defense of their home and that their sacrifice was not in vain. Tell them the town is safe and that no harm shall come to those who do not seek it.” The promise was clear.

  Most of the men, those who were not too shocked and afraid, nodded in agreement. Victor was right; this demon did have a sense of honor.

  “All of you shall honor the agreed-upon terms, as well,” Dante added. “You leave me alone and I promise you that I will leave the citizens of this town in peace.” He looked at Erin, who regarded him with terror on her eyes, and nodded toward the tavern. She nodded and cautiously followed him.

  “He did what?” Victor hissed. His anger seethed within him and threatened to burst out.

  The militiaman fidgeted nervously with his helmet in his hands. “He… He killed sergeant Moreau, sir… Killed him in single combat after causing our bowmen to kill each other.” His words sounded damning in his own ears, but he was the highest ranking member of the militia now so it fell to him to give the full report. “
He ordered us to… to tell the deceased men’s families they died honorably in combat in defense of the town, and that the town remains safe due to our actions.”

  Victor was flummoxed. How was it possible that this demon would allow this town to remain unharmed? Dante was responsible for hundreds of cities burning to the ground. He was the one responsible for millions of deaths. “He’s lying, then,” Victor surmised. “He is trying to lull us all into a sense of false security before he strikes.” He turned away from the soldier and looked pensively toward his scrying bowl, cursing himself for not thinking that he was simply sending his men to die.

  The soldier opened his mouth to say something, but closed it. He sighed and decided to speak anyway. “With respect, sir,” he began, “why leave defenders of the town alive if he means to kill us all anyway?”

  Victor turned to look over his shoulder at the soldier, his anger abating somewhat. “What better way to make us feel safe than to let the townspeople see they are still defended?” he asked, offering some wisdom to the young man. “I have tasked myself and the militia with keeping this town safe. It falls to me to think of every possible way this demon can destroy us. Go, have your men return home for the night. They’ll need some rest.”

  “Thank you, sir,” the soldier bowed. He left the church and made for the barracks.

  Victor turned back to his scrying bowl and waved his hand over the water, conjuring an image of the school. Staci was sitting at her desk, grading papers. She rested her chin on one slender hand while the other wrote small corrections on a paper. She blew a strand of hair away from her face and glanced at the clock on the wall. She shook her head and stood up, gathering her things. She slid the stack of papers in a bag and slung it over her shoulder. She walked out of the classroom and down the street, on her way to the inn to go to her other job.

  Victor was glad to see her safe, knowing that the demon could have easily killed her as he had so many others. The angel worried for her safety. He knew of the evil things in the town and they knew of him. They knew that if they laid a harmful finger on any of the townspeople, Victor would come down on them with righteous fury. Staci walked down the street in complete safety, never knowing that her guardian angel was watching.

  Victor watched until she was in the bar then dismissed the image, not wanting to invade her privacy as she changed into her gown. He respected her enough to not spy on her like that. He turned away from the bowl and sat at his desk. What was he going to do about Dante? The one person he dreaded coming to his small town had appeared out of nowhere. Was it a mistake to leave that message at the demon’s home? Was Dante here to make him suffer? Or was he here to kill Staci? In all of Victor’s centuries-long life, he had never met a more caring, generous person than her, including the angels. She was the most precious person in Victor’s life, and he was eternally grateful to call her friend.

  Victor’s thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door.

  “Come in,” he said, turning his chair to face the door. In walked a young man Victor had asked to tail the demon. “Do you have news for me?” Victor asked politely.

  The young man nodded timidly. “Aye, sir, I do. The demon has purchased a room in the Ruby Rose Inn. I came as soon as he was settled in his room.”

  “Good work, young one,” Victor commended. “Go to the cellar here and take home some extra food for your family as payment.”

  The young man smiled and bowed respectfully. “I thank you, sir, but we have ample food. I ask that you distribute my reward to those less fortunate than I.”

  Victor nodded, smiling at the man’s generosity. “I shall,” he agreed. “Though it will be hard to find a family in need,” he added.

  The young man nodded. “Aye, you do so well in keeping us all fed and healthy. Again, I thank you, sir. You are truly a boon to us poor folk.” With that, he left the church and headed home.

  Despite the distressing thoughts of Dante’s arrival, Victor smiled. It brought him joy to see the people he helped also extend some generosity toward their neighbors. When he had come to this town, the humans were destitute and starving. After a year of Victor’s direct aid, the farmers had plenty of food to trade with the rest of the town and crime and poverty became scarce indeed. It warmed Victor’s heart to help those in need.

  Dante reclined in the comfortable chair in his room. This room was by far more inviting than the room Erin purchased when they first arrived. Erin sat in another chair across the room, by the fireplace and made certain to avoid eye contact with the demon.

  “What’s wrong?” Dante asked flippantly.

  Erin huddled in her blanket, unwilling to answer.

  “You know,” Dante teased, “if you want to continue to travel with me, you’ll have to talk to me at some point.”

  Erin shivered despite the warmth of the fire and her blanket, and slowly shifted her eyes toward Dante. “You… you’re really a demon, aren’t you?” she stammered.

  Dante tilted his head in confusion. “I thought you knew this already?”

  Erin shook her head. “I never actually believed it,” she whispered. “Grandfather told me stories, but I never took him seriously. When he told me of you, I thought he meant another human, and when I met you, I thought you were simply that person’s son. I was so desperate to see the world, I jumped at the chance to do so. I never believed you were actually a demon.” She made sure to leave out the fact that she always thought of him as her hero back when he was just a story he grandfather told.

  Dante smiled. “Well, then, now you know we exist. My kind did in fact wipe out nearly all of humanity. But I was born near the end of the war, to a couple who fought alongside the angels. I’ve never even been to Hell.”

  “I thought demons and angels were just stories, though… But you… You’re really a demon. No human can move with that kind of speed. No human can muster the strength to cut a man in half as you did… No human can be as calm during battle as you were. It was like you became a different person entirely, as if you were always meant to be in combat. That was the real you, not this man… demon I see before me.” She shivered again and returned her wild gaze to the fire. At least there, in the flames she could find some solace.

  “Do not be afraid of me, little girl,” Dante growled. The low timbre of his voice caused her to shakily glance back at him. “I promised to keep you safe. Follow my instruction and you will survive. Allow your fear to control you, you will die. You will die bloody. Yes, I live for the peace I find in combat, but that is not who I am. I may be a demon, but I live as a human by my own choice.”

  Erin mumbled something incomprehensible and turned back to the fire. Dante looked out the window and watched the sun’s last rays disappear behind the horizon.

  “Get some rest, Erin,” he said. “I’m going out.”

  Staci stepped onto the stage, as she had so many nights before, and let the music take her away. She let the music move her, swaying her hips in undulating, wave-like motions. Her hands weaved through the air like a snake charmer’s cobra. Her flowing auburn hair swayed with her motions, accenting every move and mirroring her crimson skirt. Her bare feet made not a sound as each step created another movement that allured the bar’s many patrons. This was her release. This was her way of finding peace. After the myriad emotions she had felt over the events of the day, she needed to dance her worries away. Who was this mysterious man who came to her school? What was it about him that set her soul at ease? Was he truly a demon? She scarcely believed they existed. Also, how would Victor know what a demon was? Why was Victor so against Dante? As she danced, Staci let her worries flow off of her shoulders like a soft rain. As the tempo of the music sped up, so too did her movements. She barely felt anything as she danced. Her muscles seemed to move with the music of their own accord. She closed her eyes against the swirling lights of the stage.

  When she opened them again, mid-swirl, she was facing the bar. There, seated at the bar with a bottle of Helgen’s expensiv
e Russian wine firmly gripped in his hand, was Dante. Their eyes met, and time stopped. All that mattered to Staci was him. She knew that she would do anything for him. She had never believed in love before, especially after only knowing someone for such a short time, but she knew deep in her heart that this man was to be hers. She stared into his crimson eyes, lost in their swirling fires, knowing there was a creature of passion hidden beneath those beautiful orbs. But there was more than that. Staci saw a great sadness there, coupled with such fiery wrath, and a penchant for killing. She saw what she could only describe as a demonic essence hidden just beyond the ruby windows to his soul. Within that raging hellfire was a man so wrapped in tragedy and anger that his potential for the purest good was almost invisible. But she saw it. She saw every bit of good hidden deep within his eyes.

  Dante was floored. He had come to see Staci dance again, but never expected this. As soon as her eyes found his, his world came to a halt. Entranced as he was simply by watching her dance, he was completely unprepared for those eyes. Her emerald eyes caught his and enthralled him. He would sacrifice everything he was for her, without her ever needing to ask. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that she was who he was meant to hold. She was all that mattered to him in this world. He stared into her beautiful green eyes and felt his very essence being stripped away. Every layer of anger, of sadness, of guilt, of unbridled fury, was stripped from him, leaving him bare and defenseless for her. He was completely and utterly exposed to her scrutinizing gaze. He would hold nothing from her. If she asked for his most precious, deepest, darkest secret, it was hers.

  But then, two memories rose up in Dante’s mind. The first was of a middle-aged woman with sandy blonde hair lying on her side in a burning building. He had tried to heal her, but she was too far gone. The second memory was of a young, brown-haired woman. Her head lay next to her corpse, tears still wetting her cheeks. Her dead eyes still blazed with the damning question of why he would kill an innocent woman in cold blood. She did not understand. She never would. He could never tell her about that. It did not matter if she was reincarnated from those other lives. The simple fact was that Dante had killed her twice before. But he would sacrifice everything he was, his very soul if need be, to see her safe. No matter what happened, even if it meant his utter annihilation, he would be her protector, her savior, her knight.