“That is fair,” Artemis muttered. “Be a good king, Dante. I would hate to kill what was left of my family.” With that, Artemis spread his great black wings and flew away, leaving Dante standing over the corpse of his enemy.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Dante raced through the dead city, following the emanations from his ring, leading him to Staci. At least, he hoped it was Staci. The heartbeat, though familiar, did not have the same rhythm. It seemed younger, stronger. As he rounded a corner, he found the first sign of life amid the obscuring smoke since he leveled the city; it was a woman and her child. The boy looked to be only about ten years old, but he carried a small dagger on his belt and his sharp eyes darted about, looking for any threats.
The boy spotted Dante and drew his dagger, fingers grasping the handle with a sure grip, and his mother stepped protectively in front of him. Before the boy was hidden behind his mother, Dante spied a flash of crimson in his eyes, and a familiar ring hung around his neck on a thin silver chain. It was his heartbeat that pulsed on Dante’s finger, and it was calm and steady, unafraid.
“You-” Dante gasped, reaching toward the pair.
“Stay away from my son,” the woman growled. Dante watched her draw a dagger of her own and backed off a step. He looked into her eyes and smiled.
“Staci,” he greeted. “It’s me.”
The woman dropped her dagger in surprise and gaped at him, eyes blinking as if she was coming out of a trance.
“Dante?” she asked, mouth agape.
Hearing her speak his name left him weak in the knees and he could not move.
“Mother?” the boy asked softly. He still stood with his dagger drawn, ready to leap to his mother’s defense.
Staci blinked, finally realizing that she was not dreaming, and placed her hand on the boy’s shoulder, easing his nerves. He slowly sheathed his dagger and stepped forward to stand beside his mother. He looked up and saw tears streaming down her face.
“Mom?” he asked. “Are you okay?”
Shaking, Staci nodded, never taking her eyes off of Dante. “Everything is fine, son,” she whispered, trying hard to keep her emotions in check. She recovered from her shock enough to run to Dante and fling her arms around him, letting her tears run free. She sobbed hard into his shoulder and felt Dante doing the same. He held her tight and let himself break down in her arms. He stroked her hair, feeling its silken smoothness for the first time in over ten years. He pat her head comfortingly and whispered softly to her.
“Everything is going to be okay, my love,” he said. “It is all over now. I’m here for you. I’m back.”
After several moments, Staci pulled back, her eyes red and puffy, tears still rolling down her cheeks, and looked into Dante’s crimson eyes. “I thought you were dead,” she sobbed. “When Victor and that woman came to me all those years ago, they told me you were dead. Your ring was quiet.”
“I know, dear,” Dante whispered. “That woman told me everything. I know it sounds odd, seeing as she died that day, but I’ll tell you all about it in time. Victor shielded your ring and blocked my enchantment. He lied to you. He lied to both of us. But it’s okay now. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”
“Where’s Victor now?” she asked.
“He’s dead,” Dante stated without further explanation.
Staci’s hand shot to her mouth and tears fell down her cheeks. “What? How?”
“He came after me,” Dante answered. “We fought and I killed him.”
She took a step back from him, looking at him in horror. “What prompted the fight?”
Dante wanted to tell her the truth, but knew that all it would do was hurt her. He had just ripped her and her son’s lives apart just to get them back. That fact did not disturb him as much as it should have, but he was planning on taking them away from Earth anyway. “He never trusted me. He thought I would kill you on a whim. He plotted with Erin and tore us apart. They made me think you were dead.”
Staci nodded in understanding, but the accusation in her eyes remained Then, she seemed to just remember something. “Oh, Dante, there’s someone you should meet!” she gasped. She stepped back and brought her son forward. The boy still eyed Dante warily. “This is Adrian, your son,” Staci introduced.
Dante nearly fell over. He was so filled with pride and happiness that his son had grown into such a strong boy that he was left speechless.
Adrian looked Dante up and down, taking in every detail. “You… you’re a demon?” he asked.
Dante laughed, nodding. “Yes, I am.”
Adrian nodded, his suspicions correct. “Did you protect us from this?” he asked, looking around at the ruined city.
Again, Dante nodded, this time without mirth. “I sent the protection spell through my ring here to shield you from the chaos.” He kept his involvement in the destruction quiet, not wanting to break Staci’s heart with the knowledge of his evil being unleashed on the city.
Adrian examined Dante once more and nodded. Dante figured the boy had already had some magical training and reasoned he was magically scanning for lies or illusions. There was a darkness in his eyes, as if he suspected Dante had a hand in the mayhem. Satisfied, Adrian extended his hand for Dante to shake. It was more than the demon had expected from this first meeting, especially since Victor had raised the boy up to this point. He shook his son’s hand and the newly reunited family left for safer ground.
Weeks passed, during which Dante moved his family to Hell to live with him in his tower. He took up raising Adrian and the two got along better than could be expected. Dante was truly a fine father. Staci helped Dante govern Hell, much to the delight of the people they ruled. She was a beloved queen, ruling beside a praised king. When the duties of ruling allowed, Dante spent his free time with his family. He even took up training his son in the art of combat and magic use.
During one such training session, Dante and son were sparring in the training hall. Adrian whipped his small dagger back and forth, fending off Dante’s vicious strikes. He moved faster than Dante had expected, and he soon held the advantage over the older demon. Within seconds of gaining the upper hand, Adrian poked his small blade against Dante’s chest, directly in line with his heart.
“Very good, son!” Dante beamed.
Adrian withdrew his dagger and replied, “You let me win.”
“Only after I regained control of the situation,” Dante laughed. “Seriously, you are a natural born fighter, just like me.”
Pride filled Adrian and he sheathed his dagger.
“You know, I’ve been thinking,” Dante began. “You’re rather impressive with that knife, but how are you with a sword?”
Confused, Adrian looked up at his father. “What do you mean?” he asked. “I’ve never trained with a sword.”
“Because Victor wouldn’t let you?” Dante guessed.
Adrian’s annoyed look was all the answer he needed. Dante drew a sharp knife from his belt and held out his free hand, kneeling in front of Adrian.
“Give me your hand, son,” Dante said.
Hesitantly, Adrian put his hand in Dante’s, palm facing upward. “What are you doing?” he asked nervously.
“Showing you something interesting,” Dante replied cryptically. Gently, he poked Adrian’s index finger with the tip of the knife. Adrian didn’t flinch as a single drop of his blood welled up and clung to the knife blade. Dante brought the knife closer to himself and the droplet fell from the blade. He caught it in the air with a small ball of anti-gravity magic.
“Now watch this,” Dante grinned. He poured powerful magic into the drop of blood and it began to quiver. “Focus on it, Adrian. Concentrate on who you are and what you know you can be. This blade will be your closest companion for the rest of your life.”
Nodding in wonder, Adrian reached forward and held the wavering ball of force within his own hands. He closed his eyes and looked inside himself.
Dante watched, amazed as the single drop of blo
od began to take shape. First, it elongated, growing until it was a paper thin line as tall as Adrian. Then, it began to thicken and distort, finally looking like a sword. Black leather sprouted from the ruby pommel and wrapped itself around a two-handed hilt. A blood red chrysanthemum bloomed at the top of the hilt and its gem-like petals curved to point upward. The blade, crimson with flecks of obsidian, curved gracefully from the heart of the chrysanthemum, its edge taking on a rough, unfinished, and jagged look and came to a wicked point. A deep blood-groove followed the curve and dark glowing runes flared within its depths. Finally, the katana finished forming and floated in the air before the father and son.
Dante sucked in his breath in awe and Adrian opened his eyes.
The boy gasped in wonder and watched as his father grasped the hilt and presented it to him.
“She is your mistress,” Dante said ceremoniously. “She will serve you and only you, and she will serve you well.”
Reverently, Adrian reached forward and took his new sword, running one hand along the blade. The runes glowed softly at his touch and the whole sword seemed to relax in his grip. He gave the sword a few easy swings to test its weight and already it felt as if it were merely an extension of his own arm. Forged from his own blood, the sword was a part of him, just as he was a part of it.
Adrian finally looked up at his father and confusion darkened his expression. “But, how did you do this, father?”
Dante smiled. “It is an ancient demonic spell, passed down from father to son. My father taught me that spell when he helped me forge my own sword.” He drew his sword and presented it horizontally for Adrian to inspect. The sword was a fairly simple double-edged broadsword, looking to be made of black steel. The hilt was wrapped in smoke-colored canvas and the pommel was capped in black crystal. Faint runes flickered and pulsed along the center of the blade. Its humble, yet dark bearing mirrored Dante’s own soul.
“Treat your weapon well, Adrian,” Dante said, putting his sword away and placing his hand on the boy’s shoulder. A devil came into the training hall and bowed respectfully, quietly begging for the king’s attention. “Get some practice, son. It seems I am needed.” Dante turned to the devil and nodded, allowing it to lead him to where his attention was required.
Dante walked into the kitchens and saw Staci sitting at a table, waiting for one of the many chefs to finish cooking a meal for her. She turned and smiled at Dante, but her eyes looked sad.
“What is it, love?” Dante asked.
Staci stood and walked up to the king and wrapped her arms around him. She rested her chin on his shoulder, but he saw the worried look on her face before she could hide it. Dante held her out at arms’ length. He looked into her eyes and grew concerned. Staci calmed herself and shook her head.
“I’m sorry, Dante,” she whispered. “I have troubling news.”
“What is it, Staci?” Dante implored. “What’s wrong?”
Staci took a deep breath to steady herself and looked deep into Dante’s eyes. “Dante… I’m pregnant.”
The Demon Page 27
